Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Memoirs of a Killer ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: destiny dreamer 
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense / Romance / Hentai / Drama / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 10.20.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.4K | Visits: 232 | Status: Completed
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense / Romance / Hentai / Drama / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 10.20.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.4K | Visits: 232 | Status: Completed
Three hours later, Constance sat on her bed and looked over at the new bed that was against the far wall. All day people had been bringing the new guys stuff in and setting it in its new place. She had already been through most all his things and now she was bored.
The sun was just coming up which meant that the men had to move quickly. If people saw them carrying a body into an apartment they might suspicious. Taking Jack's body up to Constance's room, they proceeded to dump him onto the bed. "He should be coming too shortly," one of them told her. "He'll be groggy, and apparently that isn't a good thing. He killed one of our surgeons in his sleep so be careful ma'am."
Just as he was about to leave he stopped and handed her a small box. "Here's his new I.D., birth certificate, and social security card. We did some work so he'll look the age his card say." He laughed at that.
With that the left, leaving the unconscious body of Jack dressed in nothing but a sheet laying on his bed with Constance. Just as soon as they left he began to stir. His head hurt like hell. In fact his whole body hurt. What the hell happened?
Constance moved over to him and looked down at him. "Poor thing. I know how you feel. When I was ten I had to get a bunch of stuff done too. Luckily, I didn't have surgery like you though." She put the box beside his bed. "Want some water?"
Jack groaned. "What the hell did they do to me?" His arms felt like lead. He could barely move. All he remembered was trying to duck and then...she kicked him. "What the hell did you do to me?" he asked, his voice getting angrier. At least he thought it was getting angrier. Actually it just sounded drugged.
Looking at the box, he groaned. "And what's that?"
"You sure do whine a lot, don't you. I didn't do nearly as much complaining as you." She sat next to him and grabbed the box. "Ian Davis," she said holding up his new ID. "Nice to meet you, Ian! I'm Constance, your new roommate and class mate. Apparently you are now right at seventeen and a junior." She handed him the box back and stood. "Don't worry. All of this is really fast, I know, but you will get use to it. Plus, killing can be so much fun when you get new weapons!"
"Wait what the hell!?" Jack sat up quickly, far too quickly as pain racked his body. Damn it, those doctors sure as hell worked him over. "What do you mean your class mate? I'm twenty-two! I'm not going to school." Looking over the I.D. and birth certificate he groaned. Someone was going to pay for this. He didn't know who, but they were. He wasn't going undercover for them. That wasn't part of the agreement. They wanted a killer. He killed people. He didn't want a new identity to go along with it.
He wasn't about to go to some damn school. The last time he was in school was the second grade. "Damn it," he muttered. "I need to talk to your boss...."
Constance smiled. "Sorry. You don't talk to him, he talks to you." She moved to her bed and jumped on it, grabbing her clown doll. "Really, it's not so bad, Ian. Just stop whining, it's getting annoying." She laid back. "Get some sleep, we have school first thing Monday morning so you have Saturday and Sunday to recover."
"The name's Jack!" he said coldly. He didn't know what kind of twisted game they were playing, but they were going to pay. Rolling over on his side, he groaned. His face hurt...God, here's hoping they hadn't done anything to that. That was one of the few features of himself which he actually liked. Shaking his head he couldn't believe this. In less than a day he'd gotten his ass kicked...twice... operated on, had God knows what done to him, and now he was suppose to pass as some kid in high school!? That wasn't even right....
They were fooling themselves if they thought he'd actually do any of that. He was an assassin, not a school boy. As he tried to survey his...no their room, he became aware of the fact that this girl loved clothes. Namely due to the various wigs, make up, and accessories she had around the overly girlie room. He had to get out of this place. In London he was the best of the best, but here he'd gotten his ass handed to him by a small girl. He was over his head and he knew it. Part of being an assassin was knowing when to plan your strikes and when to run and regroup. Now it was time to do the later.
Getting out of bed, he became aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing clothes. Groaning, he took the blanket and wrapped it around himself. He didn't want to look into any of the mirrors for fear of what he might see. Going to the only thing he knew that was his, namely his briefcase and backpack, he unzipped his pack and took out his laptop. Every move he made hurt like hell, but he pushed that to the back of his mind. He wanted to find out what the hell was going on. Connecting to the internet he began pulling up everything he could on himself...only to realize it was all gone. All his money in his different accounts were gone. All of his identities. Even his real identity and birth record were simply gone. Jack Frost didn't exist anymore. He never did. His entire life, everything he worked for was gone.... Looking through the box, he pulled out his new social security card and began looking up this Ian person.
He had found what he was looking for. School records, Birth records. Everything. He even had an account...with only $300 dollars in it. It was as if he really was a seventeen year old kid. This was bull.... Slamming his fist to the ground he winced in pain. Okay, not a smart idea when his body was still sensitive. Taking a deep breath he began to calm himself. He wasn't one to lose his head over things such as this, but to be quite frank this was ridiculous.
Looking at the picture of the kid in the photo, what was now suppose to be his photo. He realized that he looked nothing like the brown haired, red eyed American. At least, he hadn't looked like that when he'd arrived....
Constance watched him walk around the room and said nothing. Her hands played with her clown and her eyes never left his body. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Ian stopped moving about. Constance stood.
"It's not so bad. I don't even remember my name before I joined," she said. "Consider yourself lucky, Ian. I had to go through a lot more than you to get good at what I do. Once, I had all these needles in me for days!" She smiled. Walking over to his closet, she pulled out some clothes for him and threw them at him. "You should get dressed."
Jack stared at her. He didn't say a word as he closed his laptop. She was young when this...whatever this was, happened to her. She didn't have the strength or knowledge to fight it; but he did. "The name is Jack," he told her once more. Taking the clothes she handed him he stood and walked slowly to what he assumed was the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he stared at the mirror. His face was the face on the I.D. Jack was gone. Looking over his body, any distinguishing features that could've identified him were gone. He was gone.
Getting dressed, he exited the room and stared at her. What had they called her. Constance? Without a word he went to his bed and laid down. While he would've preferred not to sleep, he was simply too exhausted both physically and mentally. So sleep he did.
Constance grabbed a small bag from her closet after Ian hit the bed. She wrote a note telling him that if he needed anything to call her or the organization. She left the numbers then left the apartment. A limo was waiting for her outside and she got in. About thirty minutes later, she was back at the large office she works for. This time, she hit the second floor button in the elevator and was taken to a dance studio.
If she was going to be the best, she had to train. The Epsilon wanted her to take ballet and gymnastics, though she didn't take them like normal teens. She was taught to be flexible in the most unspeakable ways.
After changing and standing in the center of the room, she strapped a small anklet on her ankle. She waited for someone to come over the intercom and tell her what to do. Moments later, a harsh voice yelled out in another language to begin.
"Ai!" Constance yelled and began to dance with the classical music.
Before she was even five minutes in, she jumped and in mid air, screamed. Pain surged through her body as a volt of electricity hit her joints from the anklet. The voice on the intercom yelled at her in a different language again, telling her she was doing it wrong and to start over.
"Ai!" Constance yelled and started once more.
Jack woke up slowly that morning, which was unusual for him. He'd never exactly been a morning person, but still he felt like his mind was foggy. He wasn't as alert as he usual was. Of course he remembered what happened yesterday, and that thought alone made him angry. He checked to make sure that his gun wasn't under his pillow where he normally kept it. No, of course they wouldn't let him have his weapons. That would be just too convenient for him.
Shaking his head he stood and stretched. The place was quiet which probably meant miss song bird was out doing something. Rolling his eyes he searched through his clothes. Some of them were actually his, but the others were new. They looked like teenagers clothes. Grabbing a pair of his old dress pants and a button up whit shire, he proceeded to get dressed in peace before venturing out to see his new 'home'.
Constance took a deep breath after leaving the last training area for the night. The sun was up. How long was she in there? Her body hurt, but she was trained to not cry when in pain. Looking down at herself as she walked out of the building, she could see her body was cover in bruises and her veins were sticking out. She looked a mess. Getting into the limo for the drive home, she pulled out a needle and filled it with the medication she was given by the doctors earlier. She filled the needle then put it away. She would wait to use it when she got home.
As the car stopped, she grabbed her things and lazily walked to the front of her apartment building. A hot bath sounded so nice. She smiled at the thought.
Jack flipped the knife in his hand when he heard someone open the door. Keeping it tucked behind his arm he waited to see who it was. When it turned out to be nothing more the Constance, he sighed and stabbed the knife back into the cutting board. Turning his back to her he took what he had made and threw it onto the skillet. She looked like hell. Evidently Epsilon didn't treat their assassins well at all, go figure.
Constance yawned and her eyes fell on Ian's. "Good morning, Ian!" she said and smiled. Before he could answer, she pulled out the needle and stuck it in her arm. Afterward, she threw it away. "I'm going to take a bath."
She dropped her things beside her bed and walked to the bathroom. The whole apartment was completely open. The only door that existed was the front door and the one to the bathroom. Everything else was one large space. But it was very nice. It even had a fireplace. Constance ran some water and stripped down while grabbing her headphones and putting them on for some music.
Jack just shook his head. He could care less what she had planned or what she was going to do. That was none of his business. If she wanted to take a bath she could do so. It was her place after all. He watched as the bits of meat, eggs, onions, and cheese began to crackle while he flipped them in the skillet. His thoughts began to wonder, and before he knew it he was at the table eating his hastily made meal.
Twirling the knife in between his fingers, he began eating slowly. He was starving, but his mind was on other things, so he decided to take some time. As long as he was eating he could think. Once he was done with that he wasn't certain what he was going to do next.
The sun was just coming up which meant that the men had to move quickly. If people saw them carrying a body into an apartment they might suspicious. Taking Jack's body up to Constance's room, they proceeded to dump him onto the bed. "He should be coming too shortly," one of them told her. "He'll be groggy, and apparently that isn't a good thing. He killed one of our surgeons in his sleep so be careful ma'am."
Just as he was about to leave he stopped and handed her a small box. "Here's his new I.D., birth certificate, and social security card. We did some work so he'll look the age his card say." He laughed at that.
With that the left, leaving the unconscious body of Jack dressed in nothing but a sheet laying on his bed with Constance. Just as soon as they left he began to stir. His head hurt like hell. In fact his whole body hurt. What the hell happened?
Constance moved over to him and looked down at him. "Poor thing. I know how you feel. When I was ten I had to get a bunch of stuff done too. Luckily, I didn't have surgery like you though." She put the box beside his bed. "Want some water?"
Jack groaned. "What the hell did they do to me?" His arms felt like lead. He could barely move. All he remembered was trying to duck and then...she kicked him. "What the hell did you do to me?" he asked, his voice getting angrier. At least he thought it was getting angrier. Actually it just sounded drugged.
Looking at the box, he groaned. "And what's that?"
"You sure do whine a lot, don't you. I didn't do nearly as much complaining as you." She sat next to him and grabbed the box. "Ian Davis," she said holding up his new ID. "Nice to meet you, Ian! I'm Constance, your new roommate and class mate. Apparently you are now right at seventeen and a junior." She handed him the box back and stood. "Don't worry. All of this is really fast, I know, but you will get use to it. Plus, killing can be so much fun when you get new weapons!"
"Wait what the hell!?" Jack sat up quickly, far too quickly as pain racked his body. Damn it, those doctors sure as hell worked him over. "What do you mean your class mate? I'm twenty-two! I'm not going to school." Looking over the I.D. and birth certificate he groaned. Someone was going to pay for this. He didn't know who, but they were. He wasn't going undercover for them. That wasn't part of the agreement. They wanted a killer. He killed people. He didn't want a new identity to go along with it.
He wasn't about to go to some damn school. The last time he was in school was the second grade. "Damn it," he muttered. "I need to talk to your boss...."
Constance smiled. "Sorry. You don't talk to him, he talks to you." She moved to her bed and jumped on it, grabbing her clown doll. "Really, it's not so bad, Ian. Just stop whining, it's getting annoying." She laid back. "Get some sleep, we have school first thing Monday morning so you have Saturday and Sunday to recover."
"The name's Jack!" he said coldly. He didn't know what kind of twisted game they were playing, but they were going to pay. Rolling over on his side, he groaned. His face hurt...God, here's hoping they hadn't done anything to that. That was one of the few features of himself which he actually liked. Shaking his head he couldn't believe this. In less than a day he'd gotten his ass kicked...twice... operated on, had God knows what done to him, and now he was suppose to pass as some kid in high school!? That wasn't even right....
They were fooling themselves if they thought he'd actually do any of that. He was an assassin, not a school boy. As he tried to survey his...no their room, he became aware of the fact that this girl loved clothes. Namely due to the various wigs, make up, and accessories she had around the overly girlie room. He had to get out of this place. In London he was the best of the best, but here he'd gotten his ass handed to him by a small girl. He was over his head and he knew it. Part of being an assassin was knowing when to plan your strikes and when to run and regroup. Now it was time to do the later.
Getting out of bed, he became aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing clothes. Groaning, he took the blanket and wrapped it around himself. He didn't want to look into any of the mirrors for fear of what he might see. Going to the only thing he knew that was his, namely his briefcase and backpack, he unzipped his pack and took out his laptop. Every move he made hurt like hell, but he pushed that to the back of his mind. He wanted to find out what the hell was going on. Connecting to the internet he began pulling up everything he could on himself...only to realize it was all gone. All his money in his different accounts were gone. All of his identities. Even his real identity and birth record were simply gone. Jack Frost didn't exist anymore. He never did. His entire life, everything he worked for was gone.... Looking through the box, he pulled out his new social security card and began looking up this Ian person.
He had found what he was looking for. School records, Birth records. Everything. He even had an account...with only $300 dollars in it. It was as if he really was a seventeen year old kid. This was bull.... Slamming his fist to the ground he winced in pain. Okay, not a smart idea when his body was still sensitive. Taking a deep breath he began to calm himself. He wasn't one to lose his head over things such as this, but to be quite frank this was ridiculous.
Looking at the picture of the kid in the photo, what was now suppose to be his photo. He realized that he looked nothing like the brown haired, red eyed American. At least, he hadn't looked like that when he'd arrived....
Constance watched him walk around the room and said nothing. Her hands played with her clown and her eyes never left his body. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Ian stopped moving about. Constance stood.
"It's not so bad. I don't even remember my name before I joined," she said. "Consider yourself lucky, Ian. I had to go through a lot more than you to get good at what I do. Once, I had all these needles in me for days!" She smiled. Walking over to his closet, she pulled out some clothes for him and threw them at him. "You should get dressed."
Jack stared at her. He didn't say a word as he closed his laptop. She was young when this...whatever this was, happened to her. She didn't have the strength or knowledge to fight it; but he did. "The name is Jack," he told her once more. Taking the clothes she handed him he stood and walked slowly to what he assumed was the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he stared at the mirror. His face was the face on the I.D. Jack was gone. Looking over his body, any distinguishing features that could've identified him were gone. He was gone.
Getting dressed, he exited the room and stared at her. What had they called her. Constance? Without a word he went to his bed and laid down. While he would've preferred not to sleep, he was simply too exhausted both physically and mentally. So sleep he did.
Constance grabbed a small bag from her closet after Ian hit the bed. She wrote a note telling him that if he needed anything to call her or the organization. She left the numbers then left the apartment. A limo was waiting for her outside and she got in. About thirty minutes later, she was back at the large office she works for. This time, she hit the second floor button in the elevator and was taken to a dance studio.
If she was going to be the best, she had to train. The Epsilon wanted her to take ballet and gymnastics, though she didn't take them like normal teens. She was taught to be flexible in the most unspeakable ways.
After changing and standing in the center of the room, she strapped a small anklet on her ankle. She waited for someone to come over the intercom and tell her what to do. Moments later, a harsh voice yelled out in another language to begin.
"Ai!" Constance yelled and began to dance with the classical music.
Before she was even five minutes in, she jumped and in mid air, screamed. Pain surged through her body as a volt of electricity hit her joints from the anklet. The voice on the intercom yelled at her in a different language again, telling her she was doing it wrong and to start over.
"Ai!" Constance yelled and started once more.
Jack woke up slowly that morning, which was unusual for him. He'd never exactly been a morning person, but still he felt like his mind was foggy. He wasn't as alert as he usual was. Of course he remembered what happened yesterday, and that thought alone made him angry. He checked to make sure that his gun wasn't under his pillow where he normally kept it. No, of course they wouldn't let him have his weapons. That would be just too convenient for him.
Shaking his head he stood and stretched. The place was quiet which probably meant miss song bird was out doing something. Rolling his eyes he searched through his clothes. Some of them were actually his, but the others were new. They looked like teenagers clothes. Grabbing a pair of his old dress pants and a button up whit shire, he proceeded to get dressed in peace before venturing out to see his new 'home'.
Constance took a deep breath after leaving the last training area for the night. The sun was up. How long was she in there? Her body hurt, but she was trained to not cry when in pain. Looking down at herself as she walked out of the building, she could see her body was cover in bruises and her veins were sticking out. She looked a mess. Getting into the limo for the drive home, she pulled out a needle and filled it with the medication she was given by the doctors earlier. She filled the needle then put it away. She would wait to use it when she got home.
As the car stopped, she grabbed her things and lazily walked to the front of her apartment building. A hot bath sounded so nice. She smiled at the thought.
Jack flipped the knife in his hand when he heard someone open the door. Keeping it tucked behind his arm he waited to see who it was. When it turned out to be nothing more the Constance, he sighed and stabbed the knife back into the cutting board. Turning his back to her he took what he had made and threw it onto the skillet. She looked like hell. Evidently Epsilon didn't treat their assassins well at all, go figure.
Constance yawned and her eyes fell on Ian's. "Good morning, Ian!" she said and smiled. Before he could answer, she pulled out the needle and stuck it in her arm. Afterward, she threw it away. "I'm going to take a bath."
She dropped her things beside her bed and walked to the bathroom. The whole apartment was completely open. The only door that existed was the front door and the one to the bathroom. Everything else was one large space. But it was very nice. It even had a fireplace. Constance ran some water and stripped down while grabbing her headphones and putting them on for some music.
Jack just shook his head. He could care less what she had planned or what she was going to do. That was none of his business. If she wanted to take a bath she could do so. It was her place after all. He watched as the bits of meat, eggs, onions, and cheese began to crackle while he flipped them in the skillet. His thoughts began to wonder, and before he knew it he was at the table eating his hastily made meal.
Twirling the knife in between his fingers, he began eating slowly. He was starving, but his mind was on other things, so he decided to take some time. As long as he was eating he could think. Once he was done with that he wasn't certain what he was going to do next.