Assassins Mind Games - Chapter one - My Own Blood

Sage is an almost sixteen year old runaway, who was taken in and trained to steal things. She has learned from her past that even if some one is your 'own blood' doesn't mean a thing.

- Chapter One -

(Unknown Months Earlier)

She awoke in an ally way before the sun had risen. Slowly the girl stood, her jeans were ripped and sweatshirt was muddy. Leaning with her back against the wall for support resting, while her mind was racing.
Limping she made her way down the dead slient streets. After a twenty minute hike that put her body through agony she was glad to show herself into, 'Cast Away Thrift Shop,' in down town New York.
She entered through the back door, the lights flicked on as the door shut behind her.
"Where have you been!" shouted a gruff voice.
She didn't know if a question had been asked, so she kept silent.
The gruff voice belonged to a man in his early forties. A rather large stocky, black bearded man.
"I asked where were you?" this time she knew it was a question. "Look at me girl." he said sharply.
Her hands lifted towards the hood, pulling it back revealing bruises along her left said of her face. Her two colored eyes gave nothing away. Her face was hard set, a gash ran along the bottom line of her jaw.
"Did you get what I wanted?" was all the man cared about, he could care less about her.
She still just stared at him.
The black bearded man took a threatening step closer raising his hand up, as if he meant to hit her. Yet the girl did nothing except take a defensive stance.
"I lost it." was all that came from her mouth.
Anger flashed in the mans eyes. "How could you lose it Sage? That was worth a fortune!" his hand slammed down on the glass counter, causing a tiny crack to spread.
Sage pointed to her beaten face. "How about this? Some guys saw me steal it, and mugged me for it."
Sage limped over to the counter and took a seat in an antique style wooden chair.
The man sighed, "I give you food for your stomach, a place to rest your head, and this is how you repay me?"
"No need anymore for your mind games, I quit Mr. Douglas." Sage mumbled.
"Excuse me?" Mr. Douglas's eyebrows raised. "You do not quit. Who took you in when you were a runway? I treat you as if you were my own blood." he walked closer to her.
Sage tensed, "I pity to see how you treat the ones that aren't your 'blood' then. Thanks, but I'll do fine on my own." she stood coming only feet away from him. He blocked her only way around the counter to the door.
"Your not leaving, not yet. I have one last job for you. Then you can leave, but Sage, if you don't do this job I'll have the police arrest you for theft."
Sage actually laughed. "You don't intimidate me anymore Mr. Douglas, out on the streets I've seen worse men than you. And - " she got up pushing past him, "Your thrift shop is filled with missing items that I happened to steal. I'm sure an officer would love to question you about your findings."
"You wouldn't....." growled Mr. Douglas.
"Oh, but I would." Sage said putting her dirty blond hair up into a pony tail. "What do I steal?" she asked, her two different colored eyes darted around.
Mr. Douglas cleared his throat. "It's in Mary Mount Hotels penthouse. A Prime Minister and his very expensive wife have come to New York for sight seeing and political events."
Sage interested now asked what it was she was suppose to 'borrow.'
"His wife has many jewels and some are said to be rare, find any fine lavish jewels bag em' and drop em' off here to me and then you'll be on your own... Unless you'll reconsider and stay. Your the best I've had, you've made it two years without being caught, that's by far the longest."
Sage kept a straight face, not impressed by his compliments.
"First things first, tidy up and do something about that horrid bruise you've gotten on your face." Mr. Douglas waved her out of the room, allowing her to go upstairs into his apartment to change and to clean up, while he opened up his thrift shop.

After useless attempts to cover the nasty shades of purple and blue with makeup, Sage gave up.
"What ever." she whispered looking at herself in the mirror. The gash along her jaw would leave a scar for sure.
Sage winced as she ran a finger along the red wide line. A knock sounded at the door.
"Are you done yet?" came Mr. Douglas's gruff voice.
Sage opened the door and shoved past him, heading down the stairs into the thrift store.
"A moment, please." Mr. Douglas asked grabbing her right bicep before completing half of the stairs. He handed her a new navy blue sweatshirt. "Take it. Now listen carefully, there is a gentleman down there who I personally know is not here to look at my old findings."
She took the sweatshirt slipping it on as Mr. Douglas whispered his suspicions. Nodding Sage continued down the stairs.
A man wearing a black suit and tie stood looking at old photographs along the walls.
His eyes met hers but Sage quickly looked away, pulling the hood over her bruised face.
That'll have questions coming, Sage thought. Hoods were her only way to hide her two colored eyes, besides sunglasses. Everyone always stares no matter the age. The man looked vaguely familiar to her, she noticed. Ah, Alexander Handerson. Head of the FBI or was it CIA? Sage thought.
He was relatively young, late twenties, early thirties at most. Yet when Sage exited the shop so did the suited man.
Mr. Douglas notice too, hoping Sage's street smarts and the early morning crowds made her easily escape.  

Author's Note

This is being edited in certain areas. So please enjoy, I'll be updating and posting new chapters as they are being written. Thanks, - Chris88 -