Elle

The coordinates that my watcher sends are further away from my usual hunting grounds but I kind of expected that with me going to sector twenty-five. It was all divided up once the earth became survivable after some idiot decided to drop bombs for political reasons that don’t matter anymore. When mankind emerged from their bunkers or space-age tubes, that's when we discovered the shifters. They somehow managed to live on the surface in the only pockets of ground not affected by the radiation, which of course meant the humans wanted it. The humans answered this by creating people like me. we’re raised in schools like The Academy, trained to kill, not to ask questions and give our undying devotion to our Master. I never believed in half of the crap The Academy taught us, which is how I made the plan to escape with Octavia, the only reason I stuck around was because they gave me the skills I needed to get the release my body craves. Even now I’m able to rock up to a random rest stop that will give me access to serums, bullets, knives and every possible weapon to kill a man several times over. I roll the van to a stop in the empty parking lot just as the sun starts peeking over the horizon. I’ve made good time thanks to travel between sectors being rare. This rest stop is worlds apart from the one I slept most of the day away at. There are no whores being screwed against the walls, no evidence of drugs or even smelly guys wandering around drunk looking for their next target. This rest stop is only known to people like me so in a way I suppose it's more civilised. I grab my bag of coins and jump out of the van. I quickly lock it up and dash across the parking lot to the main door. There are no neon signs to show what this place is; if you’re walking through the door, then you're either lost or you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. 

“Be out in a sec!” I hear a man shout from the back room; he sounds frazzled so I just grunt and start looking around the shop. The front is all the basic stuff. Food, clothes and toiletries – everything someone needs when on the road day and night, the stuff I need is locked away in the back and I’ll need to give up some blood to gain access. I gather together a new toothbrush, some soap and a three-pack of clean tanks; there's probably some kid in a sweatshop I need to thank for putting these together. Gone are the days of malls seen in old magazines; it looked like fun but I’d be bored in three seconds with no one to kill. 

“Take your time.” I say sarcastically when I’ve done a full circuit of the store, I’ve dropped multiple items next to the till and now I’m just waiting for the collector to come and help me. I made the mistake of trying to rush one of the collectors before and I have a scar on my left shoulder from where he shot me. Francis just laughed and told me he would have done worse if I had done that to him. Collectors run our shops; they have little to do with The Academy and have rules of their own. 

“If you had a nub instead of a hand, you’d take more time doing shit too.” The man appears from behind a beaded curtain; he’s older than the last collector I met. This guy looks more like santa clause with his heavy white beard and large stomach; he’s holding up his left hand to show me that he does, in fact, have a nub instead of a hand. There's no scarring so he was probably born like that. Sadly these days it is rare to be born whole and without missing or extra limbs; radiation is a bitch and it doesn’t discriminate. People are saying it's getting less common, though, now that mankind has been on the surface for over a hundred years.

“Sorry.” I mutter as I lower my eyes to the counter. “I was sent by my watcher to stock up for a job; I need all of this and some of your other goodies.” The man doesn’t say anything as he reaches beneath the counter so he can grab the device he needs to take a drop of my blood and confirm my identity. 

“You know the score, prick it so I can see who you are.” The man’s eyes narrow as I place the pad of my right thumb in the little divot; even though I’m expecting the prick of the needle, I still jump a little. As soon as I feel the needle, I pull my thumb away and stick it into my mouth. 

“Never get used to that.” I mutter around my thumb; the coppery taste of my blood fills my mouth as I press my tongue against the small wound so the bleeding stops sooner. 

“An Academy gal, huh? You’re a rare one.” The collector presses something on the device and I know my location has just been sent to The Acadmey and back to my watcher. “You gals are all about serving that head guy, whats it you call him?” The collector rambles as he walks from behind the counter and pulls out a bunch of keys. It always makes me chuckle that I need to give blood to get access to the room but all he needs is a little key.