4. Five Hargreeves

If they asked Elisa if she would kill to save Morgana's life, then she would.

She wouldn't let herself doubt. She'd use a knife, or even one of the crossbows that she used to train with back at the commission. She'd use whatever weapon close.

Everything for Morgana.

That moto has brought herself here. In the apartment of the assassin that might have murdered her girlfriend.

She's breathing in his neck, making him tense even more. He places the almost empty glass on the table behind him, probably doubting if he might drop it.

Elisa is loving this. Loving how she knows that he's uncomfortable.

But this is absolutely nothing next to what's waiting for him. He just has to wait.

"Then who am I?" he asks, almost sounding amused. He's still trying to continue his act.

In a sudden move, he rises, leaving Elisa leaning on the chair that's now behind him. He doesn't face her again, though.

Probably recovering, Elisa thinks proudly.

Elise takes the glass in her hand and let's the last sip burn on her tongue. She doesn't know what it is, but whatever it is, it's good. Strong and good.

"You really should sit down while I tell you every detail about yourself," she suggests, making him turn around.

The boy doesn't look threatened. Actually, he's looking very calm. Calmer than when she was breathing in his neck, that's for sure.

"I don't take orders from you."

"That's right," Elisa looks in the empty glass in her hand, as if checking if it's empty. No, she's just preparing to make everything that will follow this exact moment more dramatic, thrilling and dangerous.

Elisa was never born ready for dangerous situations. She just created them.

As a little girl she wasn't allowed to play with toys, or even watch a series about fairies on the television. It were knives for her. Oh, let's not forget about the cutlasses, too. She prefers those above simple knives. Always has. Even as a child.

As a smirk forms onto her face, she frees her grip on the glass, letting it fall on the ground. It barsts. It breaks. Tiny fragments fly around in the room, making it a very dangerous territory.

"You only take orders from the handler."

It feels good to say it.

It feels even better when she watches his face change. He's shocked, clearly. This time, he does not even try to hide it. There's no point in doing so.

Elisa was right. She was right from the beginning. Shs always knew the fighting style well, so the chance of her being mistaken was minuscule.

The boy clenches his jaw, makes fists with his hands. She knows what he's planning, but stays where she is.

He starts to move, heading for her, of course. He doesn't mind the broken glass on the ground. The only thing he does mind right now is Elisa's presence.

His one hans takes one of her wirsts in a strong grip. The other one goes around her neck. He feels strong, inevitable even. But he is not.

It might have been a year but she's still trained to be a fighter. A warrior.

She can still breathe without a problem because he isn't trying to choke her. Only scare her. He wants to scare her enough so she starts talking.

If he only knew the truth.

"Who are you?" he repeats his silly question.

"Are you counting the times you asked that question in the last fifteen minutes?" Elisa's smirk only grows.

"You should answer me," he tells her, probably meaning it.

He'd kill her, Elisa knows that. He is a killer. But so is she, even though she does not want to be. If it gets to that point, then she will kill him.

"Or what?" She spits. "You'll go to the handler? Will you tell her everything about me? Will you tell her that a silly girl disturbed your mission?"

"You don't know her," he growls.

It's so amusing, Elisa thinks with an entertained smile on her lips.

"Don't I?" she asks him, but he cannot answer.

Elisa feels the warmth of his breath on her face. His face is just inches away from hers. But neither of them realizes it. They're too busy watching each other's reaction to the other, waiting for a sign of weakness.

There is none in the both of them.

Not the boy, nor Elisa will back up from the fight.

This will happen.

"Don't worry," Elisa speaks up, daring to close in the little space between them even more just to threathen him. "I know her. I know what you are to her; a puppet."

"A puppet?" he repeats her words, a smile tugging at his lips. But he's still alert. He's still ready to kill.

"Yes," she nods. "You do whatever she says. You do everything for her. That's your fate. Boring is it not?"

She backs up when realizing how close she actually is. She doesn't want to be this close to him, only to his corpse when burying him.

While he narrows his eyes at her, she takes the chance to let her free hand glide down her belly to her waist. There she sneaks her hand up underneath her sweater.

He's a good assassin, Elisa must admit, but he made a huge mistake. He never, not even now, checked her for weapons. That could be fatal. It would be fatal if she was only here to murder him in a cold-blooded way.

Fortunately for him, she's here for answers.

Underneath her sweater is a knife hidden just under the strap of her bra. She touches the knife's butt, folds her fingers over the handle.

She's so, so, so ready.

For the first time in a long time Elisa feels ready to fight. She has kept calm so long while she's been raised with fighting every day.

She faced horrible trainings multiple times a week and a little less hard trainings multiple times a day. It was her way of living. It was her normal. But it was not normal, not really.

"You're not the one who gets to decide my fate," he tightens his grip on her throat and her wrist. A fire burns in his eyes. It's an assassin's look.

"You're right." She slowly lows the knife underneath her sweater, so she'll be able to use it.

"I'm not the one to do so," she admits while slowly making sure she still has the knife firmly and in the right position in her hands.

Another mistake the boy made and is still making. He's underestimating her.

And please, he should've expected her to push up her knee in his private parts. So simple, but so effective.

The handler would've found it hilarious. Everyone always expects you to do these surprising stunts, which Elisa can also do, but they never expect the simple ones.

Without a problem, Elisa gets freed out of the boy's grip. His hands go to the place where she clearly hurt him, but he stops himself from reacting any more to this simple act.

Still, Eliza has time enough to lay her hands on his chest and push him away from her. He stumbles a little, still recovering from what just happened.

She grabs the collar of his shirt, making sure he has not a single moment to react to her actions. She puts her one foot behind his, and pushes him another time, causing him to fall right on his back.

Again, before he can do a thing, she presses the knife against his throat. Just now she allows herself to realize how fast everything went. How natural it felt.

The boy's eyes widen when she sits on his pelvis. He could try to throw her off. He might succeed by doing so if it wasn't for the knife pressed to his throat.

Both their breathing is heavy because of everything. Elisa stays quiet while letting the boy fill in the blanks.

"You're-" he stops to take a better look at Elisa who's looking like a true assassin. She's looking like she just became the person the handler wanter her to become. The handler won in her own way. "You're just like me."

Elisa does not like this. With a growl, she presses the knife a little deeper, cutting his skin a little.

"I am not like you." she narrows her eyes. "I don't kill innocent people. I don't murder-"

"Who I kill is not innocent," the boy points out.

"Morgana Davis was innocent."

"Who said I killed her?" he says, catching Elisa completely off guard. He knew that Elisa had an incredible big soft spot for the girl ever since she mentioned Mor's name, and now he used Morgana as his way out.

The boy slams Elisa's hand away, causing the knife to land on the other side of the apartment. Elisa was fast, but he can be even faster. That's what he hopes, at least.

He pushes her off him, and succeeds amazingly. Elisa flies on the ground to his right with a massive smack. His figure wouldn't tell you so, but he does have muscles in there.

It's as if the roles have changed, and they did. . . quickly. The boy sits up straight, doesn't waste any time, and crawls on Elisa's body.

She isn't fragile. But there's a small chance she'll escape from his grip once again. His body is too large for her, especially when all his weight rests on her.

Her arms are spread on either side of her body as he grabs her wrists firmly. This time she does not have a hidden weapon. She has nothing but her herself.

She can only hope that that is enough.

"Now you really will answer my questions, or I'll make this very unpleasant for you," he warns her, and she knows that he isn't kidding.

Still, she doesn't give him the satisfaction of nodding.

"How do you know the commission and the handler?" he asks, not lessening his grip on her one bit.

How the tables have turned. Elisa isn't liking this one bit.

She could be honest, and she probably should, knowing what her situation is right now. But being honest means spilling secrets that she hasn't even told Mor. Secrets no one knows of her here, and she always intended on keeping it that way

"Fuck off." For a moment she doubts whether to spit, but she stops herself. It wouldn't be a smart move. Especially when she's laying underneath him, so the spittle would land on her own face.

"Do you know how close you are to getting your throat slit?" he rolls his eyes, starting to get annoyed by her behavior. But Elisa won't budge.

"Are you an assassin?" he tries to ask another question.

No answer.

This is the last bit that he could handle. He takes both her wrists in one hand, squeezes his legs around her body to make sure she really doesn't throw him off, and grabs her chin with the hand that's now free.

He puts her chin up, forcing her neck to move with.

"Are you an assassin?"

She doesn't want to break, but she knows this is it or getting killed on the spot.

"I'm not," she speaks, hating herself for it.

"I don't believe you," the boy growls at her, and he's right not to believe her. No one who didn't have an assassin's training like the one at the commission would be able to fight him off.

"I'm not an assassin because I never killed for the commission," she tells him. "I do have the skills."

He frowns, probably trying to see if she's telling him the truth. She is, so he doesn't have to worry. But he does not know that.

"The main job as a commission's assassin is to kill, why haven't you?"

"Because I'm not their assassin," she rolls her eyes. "I escaped that shitty life that was awaiting me."

"I can see that," he remarks. "Now you've grown quite . . . soft."

"At least I'm happy and free," she shrugs, truly not caring if he thinks her a coward.

"What's your name?"

Which name to answer? Elisa does not know, so she takes her time to think.

"Samantha," she half lies.

"Your real name?"

"That is my real name," she growls back. Now she most certainly lied. It was convincing enough because the boy seems to accept her answer.

"All right, Samantha," he then says. "Why did you come here? To kill me?"

That son of a bitch knows why I'm here, Elisa thinks.

"No," she shakes her head as much as she can with his hand still holding her chin.

He notices his firm grip, and finally releases her chin. It's a start.

"I came here to ask about Morgana Davis," she tells him combined with another one of her eye rolls. "If that wasn't clear enough yet."

"Oh, yes," he says. "I remember her."

Elisa's eyes narrow again. It's the least he could do; know who the fuck he murders.

"She was scared," he starts. "And you're right, she was calling for a Sam."

He watches her closely as she swallows. It breaks her heart to get this information, and he knows it does. But this was some of the information that she came for. She just needs more.

Did he kill her?

"What did you do?" The words come out in a whisper. Her lips tremble, and she's close to breaking down right here and right now. She must stop herself.

The boy's head comes closer to hers, much like she did with him just a few minutes ago. His cheeck brushes hers, and then his wet lips touch her earlobe.

She hates this.

She hates him.

She hates being so powerless. So vulnerable.

"Wouldn't you like to know," She just knows that he's smirking. This is his triumph. It's a good one, Elisa must admit. But she'd have liked it way more if she was in his shoes, on the winning side.

"I want to know," she whispers, trying to forget about his wet lips that are still touching her ear. There was absolutely no chance that she would've added a please. No, not happening.

"I mean..." he trails off while leaning back. "It's the least I can do before killing you."

Elisa almost smiles. It would have been a ridiculously sad smile, but it would've been the closest to a smile in a whole week.

He watches her, waiting for her to beg to indeed give her some more information. She doesn't.

It surprises even Elisa when he speaks up again.

"I'm Five Hargreeves and I did not kill that girl, Morgana, that you care so much about."

Elisa's lips part. She's completely shocked. Morgana is not dead. She's still alive.

"What did you so then?" she asks, needing to know.

"Oh no," he sneers. "You've got enough information. Now, let's get on with it."

He doesn't have a weapon on him. Elisa had inspected that immediately when she had her knife to his throat.

When his hands free her wrists and go up to her throat, she knows what he's going to do to her. She knows how he's going to finish the job.

Two kills in one day, no, she cannot satisfy him so.

She can't give up, not while just having found out that Morgana is still breathing.

While his hands go around her neck once again, this time because he actually wants to kill her, Elisa hooks her foot around his, trapping it.

Using all the power inside of her, she rolls the side where she has trapped his foot. It works. He rolls with. It's a trick she learned while training at the commission. It was the handler who taught her.

Now she's above him. His legs try to go around her body. He tries to roll her back, but he cannot.

She uses the time that he is losing by kicking around aggressively where she had hit him just a while ago already.

He groans in pain.

She does the exact same again.

He groans even louder.

"Thank you for the information," she stands up, while he's bending over himself out of pain. "Five Hargreeves."

It's a very uncommon and strange name. It could easily be a fake one, but she does not care. Right now, she only cares about getting the fuck out of here.

And she does. She runs out of the apartment as fast as she can.

While she runs off the stairs, she touches her neck where Five held her.

Five Hargreeves, she thinks, I will make you pay for that.