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Esper Chapter 1
Esper Chapter 1

Esper Chapter 1

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Gripping my daggers, I took a deep breath. I stared at the black silhouette and concentrated on the red crosshair in the center. The heart.
I bit my lip and threw my first dagger. It whistled through the air, the sharp edge cutting through the moist atmosphere. It struck the dead middle of the crosshair with a loud thunk.
I unleashed a wave of knives; seven in all. Some pinged off my first one, then embedded itself lower down. Others struck one millimeter next to the other ones, leaving no space from amateurs.
I smirked snarkily and walked out of the training room. Going through a maze of hallways, I stopped at the Dungeon. It wasn’t a dungeon; quite the opposite, actually. Pristine white walls, large glass panes, clean torture tables, wiped tools meant to cause pain… But everybody called it the Dungeon. Just like a real dungeon, this is a place of suffering.
My boots clicked on the white floor. I quickened my pace, making the constant clicking of my black shoes faster. I stopped at the third white door on the left. I knocked and leaned on my left leg, cocking my hip.
Somebody groaned. I ignored my manners and pushed the door open.
There stood my master...some could call him my creator, but that’s not true. My dead parents and my creators. He simply modified me.
He turned around and cleaned his tools. Wiping off the blood on them, he looked and me and smiled.
I met my master’s eyes. He wasn’t old. He was an inexperienced 22 years old, only six years older than me. He has unkempt blond hair and intelligent clear blue eyes.
He wasn’t ugly either.
Sharp jaw with a aristocrat’s nose. Just looking at him made other people scared. But also feel self-conscious and blush.
His name was Ajax. I’m not sure that’s his given name or not, but I rarely address him as Ajax. And he rarely addresses me as Acelynn. It’s Ace or Cobalt. Nothing more, nothing less.
“I’ve got information.” he said, grinning. Putting his hand around my waist, he lead me out of the room. I shot a look at the person on the table.
A man dressed all in black. 30 year old. Groaning, on the brink of death. Mutilated, half healed, skin everywhere. Blood pooling on the ground.
I suppressed an eye roll. Typical.
My heart did a flop as I thought about all the people my master killed. He started a World War. Killed civilians. Killed spies. Murdered children to get information from their parents.
His breath has tickling my nose. He tightened his grip around my hips. I tried to stop a shudder. This man, standing so close to me, had killed millions.
He thinks all my heart is filled with is ice. There’s still fire somewhere in there. He thought he broke me beyond repair. But I know better. There’s a tiny candle glowing in my soul. I guess there’s a voice telling me that maybe Ajax changed my genetic makeup, but not me.
He lead me-more like hauled me by the waist-up the stairs. He brought us to his office.
His office was huge with a glass dome as the roof and walls. There was no decoration or furniture except for a fireplace and a huge mahogany desk.
There was a black tarp on the glass dome. We couldn't see anything. I forgot what day it is today. Days, weeks, months and years blurred together.
What season are we, actually? Is there snow? Or is it vibrant green outside?
He sat down his his big black chair and arranged some papers in his drawer. After shuffling around his packets, he leaned back and looked at me.
Slowly, he smiled.
“I watched tapes of you in the training room, my dear. I have a few questions, then I think you might be good for a quite important mission.”
No, I’m not 007.
I inclined my head. “Go ahead then.”
"Can you lift that with your threads?"
I looked at what he was pointed at. A enormous polished obsidian ball. It was decoration, I guess. It was there the whole time. I had no idea what it was for. It looked like it weighed around 2 tons.
I tilted my head up, making myself taller than my usual 5 feet 9.
"I can try."
"Don’t try, Ace. Do it."
I looked at my gloved hands. It was those gloves where there were holes for the fingers so I could still see my fingers. I couldn’t see my palm or the back of my hand. They were black with lines of blue that imitated those of a computer chip.
Concentrating on my gloves doesn’t do anything.
Raising both of my gloved hands, I aimed my fingertips to the sphere of obsidian.
Taking a deep breath, I concentrated on the threads.
Like the name suggests, silk-like threads flowed from my fingers. The cobalt blue-swirled through the air like ocean waves.
I felt a slight heat on my fingertips. In the beginning, I had to pause every minute before the fire consumed my hand. Now, using my threads for hours didn’t bother me.
Practice makes perfect.
The threads circled around the obsidian. My threads held the bottom, lifting it. I strained a little, making my arms slightly ache.
Slowly, I lifted it feet by feet. My master smirked and leaned back into his chair, watching the ball move upwards gradually.
One bead of sweat rolled down my eyebrow.
I lifted it all the way to the glass dome. My master chuckled.
I dropped it gracefully back on the ground.
My master took a breath and his grin broadened. Out of the blue, he said “You hate me. Yes?”
“Yes.” I said without hesitation.
“Then why don’t you just kill me now?”
“Well?” he asked.
I kneeled in front of him. “I am a tool, a machine. The person who has power over me can control me. I have no free will, no freedom. I cannot control what I do. Only the person who is my master, can control me. My master is you. I must follow your orders.”
I clearly know my soul is as black as his; maybe darker. I killed people. I held children as hostage. But I didn’t question my master’s orders.
I guess the constant abuse in my life had changed me into a monster.
Even though it flickers sometimes. Then I lose control, letting my daggers fly before I acknowledge that I took them out.
And sometimes I can’t stop it from happening. I hate myself for this.
Returning to the present, Ajax thrusted his hand into his shining blond hair. He lowered his dark lashes, staring at the mess on his desk.
When he looked up, he didn’t have a smile on his face, but he had a certain bright winkle in his eyes that I never saw before.
"My dear Cobalt, you are ready."

Author Notes: New series! Yay! Tell me what you think.

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12 May, 2019
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5 mins
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