I swing around a branch of the rainforest, landing on the next one. I plant a foot on the edge of that one, launching myself through the air, swinging around the next branch and landing on the one after it. I continue this until I land on the treetop headquarters of the conquering army. I press a button on the side of my hood, and my visor retracts into my hood. I pull down my hood and mask, heading for the middle room—Sterling’s office, my inch-heeled boots thunking against the metal of the platforms. Sterling is the army leader and commander. Essentially my boss, but boring stuff out of the way! Who’d want a boss? I just call him ‘person who tells me what to do and I follow it because I can.’ Or Sterling. Though I think it’s giving the other generals strokes when they hear me calling him Sterling and not ‘Allmighty commander’ or ‘Commander Sterling’ or ‘Please don’t kill me let me live Sterling.’ Anyways, I push open the heavy double doors of his office, walking inside. Sterling is sorting papers on his desk—probably terms of surrender or more declarations of war from the rainforest cities—with a slightly annoyed expression. I can fix the annoyed part. Sterling is about my age and has neat, short black hair combed to the nape of his neck and dark blue eyes that are almost black. He wears a simple commander’s outfit with it—boring, but whatever. He looks up and gives me a slight grunt. “Patrol report.” I stop in front of his desk. “All clear except for a small dispute at the south river. Ten villagers rioting.” “And what did you do?” “Silenced them.” I reply. “A few died. The rest got scared off.” “Good,” he murmurs, sorting papers. “You’re dismissed.” I smirk. “Got any snacks?” His dark eyes meet mine. “Snacks,” he echoes, his voice deadpan and emotionless. “Yeah!” I chirp, knowing full well he’ll probably have me beheaded for this. “Jolly Ranchers, Cheetos, Doritos… anything’s good! I’m hungry!” He stares at me for a minute, long enough for a bead of nervous sweat to trickle down the back of my neck. Oh crap. I’m gonna die, aren’t I? This look is his, 'are you kidding me now I'm going to have to get rid of you' look. But then he grunts, opening a drawer in his desk. A trick of the light makes me imagine a shadow of a smile on his face, but he tosses a bag of Jolly Ranchers onto the desk from the drawer, closing it again. He just… had those in there? “Please eat something other than candy for lunch.” He growls. “I don’t need my assassin passing out.” “And don’t get anything in here sticky.” “No promises.” I chirp, popping three into my mouth at once. He slowly sets down the papers in his hand. “Yes, promises. Do not get anything here sticky. Or else I am putting you in a disciplinary class for two weeks to temporarily replace your assassin work.” I yelp, stumbling back as if I’d been shot. “No! You can’t put me in baby ninja classes! You need me!” “Don’t get anything sticky.” I shoot up in a non-serious salute. “Yes sir, commander sir!” And I beat down hysterical giggles bubbling up inside me. Then the door slides open, and a tense, sweating general shuffles in, clutching a tablet to his chest, the glowing screen a contrast against Commander Sterling’s boring dark room. I think this is General Gosley, but I can’t ever tell. “Commander, sir.” He says in his stuffy voice. Yup. General Gosley all right. Sterling sets down his folder with a sigh like, “I will never get this done.” And calmly meets Gos-Gos’s eyes. Gos-Gos. My brain makes up so much perfect nicknames, doesn’t it? Gosley sweats some more. “General Gosley.” Sterling says in a low voice. “What could be so damn important you feel you must disrupt me as I do my work? Should I have you sent to the lower chambers?” Oof. Gut punch. Those are the redirectment chambers. General Gosley squeaks and fumbles to show Sterling the screen of the tablet. While Sterling is looking at the screen, Gos-Gos shoots me a withering glare. I tilt my head, feeling confused. Sterling sits back in his chair. “And you thought this was important?” Gosley stutters, gesturing to me and the screen. “This is a complete breach of protocol! Not to mention it’s disrespectful! He should be punished!” I point at myself in question, still confused. Sterling sighs and takes the tablet, turning it to me. It’s a feed from one of the security cameras.
It shows me arriving yesterday, shooting a random new recruit with finger guns, and strutting inside, heading to the cafeteria and sneaking an ice cream. Then it switches to another feed where I’m still holding the ice cream and completely roasting Sterling. “Ohhh.” I whisper. “Oh, yeah, no that was definitely me.” “So that’s where you got the frozen dairy.” Sterling mutters, turning the screen back to face him. “I was wondering about that.” “Assassin Shadow acted rash and unprofessionally around a younger recruit, when he was supposed to be a role model for them, stole from the cafeteria,” Gos-Gos lists on his fingers. “...Ate frozen dairy, though it’s extremely stated eating that is only allowed during lunch, and it’s very obviously oh-three hundred hours in this feed, and then showed complete and utter disrespect to you, the commander of the entire army!” Sterling places the tablet face down on his desk, steepling his fingers. “So… what is it you want done, general?” Oh crap. I’m going to die, aren’t I? I subtly scoot towards the door, shoving my hands in my pockets. Gosley puffs out his chest at being recognized. “He should be sent to the lower chambers, along with classes on discipline, and should be suspended from his work for a month.” Help. Sterling’s going to kill me. He’s going to do what Gos-Gos recommended and more. Sterling slowly stands up, reaching over his desk and grabbing my belt, yanking me back to the desk. “You thought you were being stealthy. Stay.” “Now, General Gosley. About this matter…” Sterling’s knuckles are white as he grips the side of the desk opposite the one closest to him. “I happen to have many, many records of failed and succeeded missions. Assassin Shadow has none in the failed category. Not a single mission has he failed.” “Whereas…” he taps the screen of his laptop. “Ah, here we go. Succeeded missions; Shadow, Shadow, Shadow, Lianara, Shadow, Shadow, all the way down. Oh, look, not a single mission you’ve completed successfully.” “While in the failed missions; Gosley, Gosley, Gosley, and so many more missions under your name. I keep records, general.” He growls dangerously. “Not only has Shadow succeeded in everything I tell him to do, he’s also of higher rank than you.” “So tell me again, how he should be punished. Golden and gilded are two different things, general.” He sits back down, crossing his arms. “Disciplined and cooperative mean nothing when no results are made. I’d rather Shadow entertain himself and have a little fun when he’s not on duty than be gallivanting and unfocused on duty.” “It so happens that if you paid attention to the feeds in his assassin suit as well, that he’s extremely disciplined when he has an important order to carry out.” Sterling begins to sort his papers again. “You’re dismissed, General Gosley.” I pop another Jolly Rancher in my mouth, feeling entertained. I wave to the general. “Bye, Gos-Gos!” The general’s eye twitches at the nickname as he walks out the door.
