CHAPTER 2: In Sheep's Clothing

In the furthest back corner of the bar sat quite a large man, his eyes carefully scanning the room. Short, silvery-grey hair covered his head, and his face looked worn out, like he had lived a very tense life. However, his eyes were a very bright orange. Every now and then, if one looked close enough, he appeared to flicker, and it seemed like something else was actually underneath.

                No one was looking closely though �" people were either keeping their eyes on the various televisions playing Renard’s Sports channel, or preferred to only focus on their drink.

                Yet this man had no beer �" only a cup of coffee that looked like a child’s cup in his large hands. His eyes were focused on one of the women at the bar �" the one with pitch black hair and a long trench coat of the same color. It was interesting to watch how the coat would sometimes move, even if there wasn’t a breeze, or the woman hadn’t moved either. It also sometimes appeared as if it was made of leather, yet no light reflected on it �" it was if it simply absorbed the light that dare come near it.

                As the man watched the red-haired woman have a coughing fit, he began to think back on why he was even there, drinking cold coffee in a bar on an island that many thought was man attempting to play god on a continental scale. There were many other places he could be, this was true, but he had a job to finish before anything else.

                Still, his mind went back to a scene from a few years ago. The man closed his eyes as he saw the interrogation room.

                His hands rested on the metal table in front of him, with thin metal cuffs around his wrists. The room was dark; the men questioning him didn’t wish to be seen. He smirked; his eyes were well accustomed to the dark. He saw their faces well. In front of him sat a small recorder, innocently blinking, ready to listen.

                He pointed at the recorder. “That red light means it’s recording, right?” The men assured him it did. Then they asked him for his name. He thought for a moment. “That’s a little complicated, you see. We do things a bit different. Our names are a label for our ability or skills. I was given the title Waren.”

                Across the table, one of the men flipped through a folder and mentioned something.

                “Oh, you know about that? After that I was given the rank Peace.” Waren looked away in thought. “Waren Peace … it’s served me well as a ‘name’ for many years.”

                The other man revealed another folder, classified was stamped across it multiple times. After looking through it, he pulled out a satellite image of an island and slid it to Waren. Waren glanced at it, easily recognizing the island.

                “Ah, Manipi:  the southernmost Rogue Isle.” One of the men asked a question. “Last time I was there was in 2274.” Another question. ”Of course I was there for a job �" no one goes to the Isles for vacation �" not unless they want it to be a permanent vacation from life. No, I was after some villain. He’d taken over the Isles with his merry little band. Some weren’t too fond of him �" he had ideas, ideas about the Isles being run differently.” Waren shrugged. “Ideas tend to make enemies. Some had deals with the previous rulers that the new guy didn’t favour.” He smiled. “That’s when I got a call.”

                The men murmured between themselves, until one of them asked if there was more to the job.

                Waren got an annoyed look on his face. “There was. Usually I’m just meant to shoot and be gone, but for some reason, my employer wanted his coat.” The two men looked excited when he mentioned the coat. “Considering how much I was going to be paid, I didn’t question it that much. This Kavon guy seemed like an easy kill anyway.”

                An angry look crossed Waren’s face. “However, there was something I wasn’t informed of. I wasn’t the only one going after him. The day I had decided to take him out, someone else intervened.”

                In Waren’s mind, he remembered the day vividly �" the only time he lost a target. Kavon was in a warehouse across the street from where Waren was set up, waiting for someone.  Waren began assembling his beloved sniper rifle as he sat on the roof. Thunder rumbled through the sky as rain came in off the ocean. Waren ignored the weather as he kept a keen eye on Kavon, making sure he was still in sight as Waren finished assembling his rifle. As he laid down to get into firing position on the roof, he looked through his scope and spotted a young black haired girl approach Kavon. Waren had yet to forget how fast different emotions raced across Kavon’s face �" surprise followed by happiness, quickly followed by horror and finished with shock as he was shot. Waren had seen it all happen in a few seconds. At first, he thought he had gotten the shot until he realized his finger wasn’t even on the trigger.

                By that point, Waren couldn’t take his eyes off the girl who had stolen his target, the girl began shaking where she stood, dropping her pistol, an older fashion flintlock. After a few moments, she stood and moved to take the coat off Kavon’s body. As soon as she touched it, Waren heard a scream and the inside of the warehouse went dark. Waren came back to the interrogation as one of the men asked why he didn’t shoot the girl for interfering.  

                Waren glared at him. “Have you no honor? She wasn’t my target anyway. She had beaten me to the mark. I tried to get into the warehouse to at least grab the coat … but I couldn’t enter. It was like there was a force keeping me out.”

                The other man asked Waren if he knew who the girl was. Waren was silent for a moment. “I had an idea. Rumour was he had someone his gang referred to as Kavon’s Raven, but that something had happened. I’m not sure how many would have expected her to go after him. Regardless, she shamed me in beating me to my target. My clan saw me as a failure.” He paused a moment more. “Even though I had failed … I decided I would make up for what happened, no matter what got in my way … or who.”

                Waren slowly came back to the present, his eyes still focused on the girl that had stolen his prey ten years prior. Somehow, she hadn’t aged a day; however there were differences since then �" such as the mark across her right eye.

                His attention was distracted as a new customer entered the bar. Some of the other customers stared, thinking the man must’ve been a hero that never got the memo about ditching the costume. The trench coat and such could stay, but the skull-mask would only make him easier for the Tide to find. Waren watched him carefully as the masked man caught sight of the women Waren was following and made a bee-line for the seat next to the black haired woman.