Point of View : Cheshire Lancelot
As Cheshire walked into her single suite, it took only a mere three steps after slamming the door shut that she collapsed onto the couch in the middle of her home.
Laying in the soft leather of the couch, Cheshire rolled onto her back, inspecting the neigh-invisible tattoo inked on the top of her hand.
‘I lost. To a girl who hasn’t fought or struggled a day in her life. I’m gonna have to pay for this. For embarrassing Viper in front of one of our biggest donors.’ Cheshire’s mind raced, replaying the scenes of the fight over and over, noting every cocky and brash mistake she made.
Yet after only a few minutes of reflection the ink on her hand, on her brand, began to sizzle and burn her hand. A job had arrived, exactly as she had predicted it would. Sitting up and focusing, Cheshire mentally mapped out the usual meeting location. A beautiful high rise building in the middle of the city, her ‘sponsors’ opting to deal in both the light and dark. In a flash of auburn, the red-haired woman disappeared. Leaving nothing behind except her right hand, resting gently on the soft leather of her comfortable cage.
Appearing in the center of the office, the dark haired man was already staring directly into her soul. The man sitting in front of the carmine teleporter was tall yet fit, with a face built to sneer and hands filled with a ring on each finger. His deep set, dark eyes pierced into her very soul, judging everything she is, and everything she used to be.
“Report.” His command was simple, but a deep chill still ran down Cheshire’s spine.
“The initial phases of the plan went completely as planned sir. Wraith was selected alongside Harris, and Wraith won, displaying a purely defensive mastery of her abilities. The assessment level was completely correct. I then initiated the challenge after already planting a seed of resentment in her head earlier in the day. She accepted the challenge as planned without a single flaw.” The crimson warp artist’s voice began to tremble slightly as she continued. “But during the spar, she proved more physically resistant that initially expected, the passive effects of her ability most likely being the cause. I grew confident after her failed attempted to trap and subdue me and stopped focusing on decisive blows, hoping to further show off the value of the pro-”
“You lost. You got cocky and lost, disobeying orders and angering them along the way with petty taunts and a beating. Then you got shown what a natural born talent could do when under pressure.” His voice was deep and stern, yet there was not a trace of anger in his voice, only a twinge of sadness. “But it’s fine. You’ll learn to follow orders.”
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Grabbing a black folder from his test, he stood and tossed it in front of her. Papers spilling out of the file. Yet Cheshire’s eyes locked to the red lettering written on the front.
No Guns.
“Go, little shadow. You have a job to do.” The man said, turning away from Chesire and melting into the night.
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Cheshire appeared back in her single suite a few feet from her couch, willing her hand back to her body as she appeared. Walking into her bathroom, the clean and untouched hand was a stark contrast to the rest of her body, as she slowly peeled the black body armor off, carefully placing it on the floor in order to prevent the crimson blood still fresh on the suit from dripping or staining anything.
As she stripped off the last piece of her exterior armor, she scooped up every piece and set them into her already scalding hot shower. With a single fluid motion, she removed her bodysuit, peeling the now slightly sweaty material and stripping bare. A small exertion of effort was all it took to rip open a familiar hole in space and transport her left arm, carrying the now torn and used skin-tight outfit, into the incinerator she knew the location of by heart. Removing the now scalding hot protective outerwear, she returned them one by one into the hollowed out section of her personal wardrobe. Taking a careful step into the burning shower, Cheshire let out a small cry of pain as the near-boiling water spilled down her back.
Today was as awful as Cheshire had assumed it would be after failing a mission. The two men and one woman she had to kill today were bad people, who had done horrible things, and would probably have continued to do horrible things for as long as they lived. But that didn’t make it any more enjoyable. It’s never enjoyable to win an unfair fight, becoming what she swore to fight against, a Lord kicking down on Serf’s. Just as Ilyum had detailed in her orders, not a single shot was fired, and not a single death was allowed to be swift. The curses that the traffickers shouted at her, as they hung upside down slowly bleeding to death, followed by the cries and pleas for mercy, would haunt her for years.
So as she sat with her head between her knees in the burning hot shower, the pain and heat was her solace against the deep pit in her stomach. ‘In the end, the power will be worth it.’ She mentally repeated the phrase that had led her to signing that dubious contract, sealing her fate for nearly a decade. Her cocoon of heat eventually had to come to an end, but the buzz of an arriving text message is what eventually stirred Cheshire enough to step out of the heat and back into her reality.
Stepping out of the shower, she gingerly dried off her hands and picked up her backup phone to see who had disturbed her peaceful moment of self hatred.
‘Change of plans. Play nice with Blue. Based on what we’ve been able to dig up, she could become sympathetic to our cause with the right personal tie. Become it.’ It was a text from an unknown number, but Cheshire didn’t have a single doubt in her mind who the text message was from. In that moment, the pit in her stomach grew three sizes.