Vessa woke up from dreams that were blurry, but pleasant. With the taste of oranges and the smell of smoke in her room over and over again until she was used to it. All the while the days passed and the big day of the speech kept getting closer, and she wasn’t reading the file in the mornings as the starlight filled the room. She laid there trying to make herself until the knock at her door.
She got up and put it off until another day, opening the door and pushing thoughts of the girl away.
The Umbaan Rep smiled, and Vessa guarded her tongue, but still remained too open with him, as they chatted in the mornings and evenings. Sometimes he would touch her shoulder in a friendly gesture and she didn’t flinch. She didn’t mind it, and she should. Vessa hated when most people touched her. Even with Maggie, she only tolerated it.
Then she’d leave trying to understand what was going on as she traveled to either the Ports or the Imperial Spire. Trying to ignore the children, failing and trying again until she arrived, thankful that neither location allowed kids.
The times she was at The Ports were busy and hectic, with her gaining familiarity with the guard at the Little Doc and some of the foreman in the shipping yard. In and out of the Sisters or out into the shipping yard delivering packages and envelopes as she pulled numbers, and colors exploded out on the ships and her targets moved further away than should be possible. She’d considered teleporting, but their travel wasn’t far enough for it; leaving Vessa at a complete loss for what was happening. She had yet to see the Painters in action, as she was never up close.
In stark contrast to The Ports, where all her completed assignments seemed to have no effect. The security at the Imperial Spire tightened with each day she was there. Military Police in brown and red with a badge as their left pin and the IIA in green and black with an eye as theirs, swarmed the floors. They both took many people into custody, and both questioned her multiple times, but nothing came of it. Except, she learned there was tension between the military police and the IIA by passing them in the halls with weird stand offs. And also that the man and woman at The Ports watching her from a distance were IIA.
They and a few others consistently followed her through the building. Two of which were the ones to question her. A brunette who played the mean guy, getting into her space and accusing her. Sometimes being right, though, Vessa never let on. And a blond that played the nice guy whose kindness only highlighted the false charm of the Umbaan rep.
Not that it mattered. Vessa continued to open up to him.
So much so that on the day of the huge speech where she would murder a child after she finally forced herself to read the file, the Umbaan rep knocked, and told her that if she failed to complete her assignment, she could stay with the Umbaan until her people’s ire calmed. Vessa thanked him and said she would consider the offer, despite knowing that wasn’t an option. She believed him and trusted him and she shouldn’t.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Vessa went into breakfast with thoughts of the girl she would kill, persistent as the numbers always humming. The Umbaan rep gave a reassuring smile and patted her hand four times. Vessa stared. The hum of the people in the cafeteria filled her ears as their numbers filled her mind.
She couldn’t do it. She had to.
The file was ambiguous and had questions as to the accuracy. The girl’s parents had gone through a lot of trouble to hide her.
Vessa didn’t know what she’d do. The girl being where she supposed to be or if the other possibilities turned out to be true.
The Umbaan rep’s voice stopped and Vessa knew it was time. Time to go. Time to see if she could do it.
“And remember Vessa if the worst should happen you have a place with us,” He said and Vessa nodded before she got up.
Vessa almost got on the shuttle to go to the Imperial Spire, but at the last minute remembered and got onto a different shuttle and was taken to the suburbs.
Her stomach roiling and her throat squeezing. The world was moving too fast and Vessa was struggling to breathe. The shuttle stopped, and she got off as she began to think of a child’s nursery rhyme.
The star is in the wishing well
The wishing well
Down within its depths
In its depths
In its depths
The houses had silver roofs, same as the spires, with walls and doors of black or white, blue or purple. Some having all and others only having one or two.
She was in the right neighborhood and now only had to find the right house with a package in hand, continuing with the disguise of a messenger.
The star is in the wishing well
The wishing well
where it can’t be heard
can’t be
can’t be
The speech was starting even now. No doubt the man thought his daughter safe at home. She wasn’t. Vessa would murder her and he would never see his little girl again.
Her footsteps slowed and her heartbeat sped up as the house numbers got closer and closer to the right one.
The star is in the wishing well
The wishing well
And thus all is well
All is well
All is well
Vessa stood in front of the house. Silver roof and black siding with a white door. Blue and purple flowers all over the black, popping against the dark.
All was quiet as the wind blew at her and she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Finally she forced herself to look within her mind to the cacophony always humming.
She didn’t have to act on the numbers to look at them.
Male 45: 93%, Male 47: 95%, Female 62: 94%, Female 6: 92%
Female 6: 92%
Why was the number so high? Vessa pulled out the file and took the piece of clothing and compared the faint feeling of a number to the child’s. They weren’t the same.
Fuck!
