Outliers [L.S]

28

4 years ago, Louis' first assignment.

My leg bounced nervously against the leather chair. My father was in front of me flipping through pages of paper, his lips pressed into a thin line.

I knew what he wanted me for. I had just graduated which could only mean one thing to me and the others who graduated with me.

I licked my lips. They tasted of salt, from my sweat. I had just fought Cole, who if I beat I could graduate on time. It was the hardest training of my life. He was extremely skilled, knowing ways to take me down that I wasn't expecting. He had trained on his own with someone other than my father. When I had won against him I felt as if I won at life itself. My father had cheered for me, telling me how proud he was of me.

"Louis," My father says, breaking me from my thoughts. "You are going to be a good leader for us one day. You have proved that to me. I'm testing that today, with your first assignment." He passes a packet of papers to me. I brush away his other paperwork to take the sheets in my hands. It felt like fire in my hands. A burning reminder of what is to come.

I flipped through the packet. Looking through the information. It was one of my fathers cousins, I knew that much. I don't think about the reasoning on why my father wanted him dead. It was probably stupid and not something I needed to worry about.

I swiped the hair from my forehead, looking up at my father. He smiled half heartedly. His finger pointed to the first page with his cousin's name printed at the top.

"You don't know him. Even with him having your aunt's name. He left the family, resulting in his death." My father gives me a pointed look, then sighs. His eyes softened as he shook his head. "That would not happen to you, if you wanted to leave. I would let you leave. I only wish for you to be happy. Although, I wouldn't if I were you. You have come so far, and you're so meaningful to me. I would become very sad if you decided to leave me," My father mutters. He abruptly slaps his hand against his desk, leaning back in his chair.

"But enough with that! My son has his very first assignment. What are your thoughts," my father asks, a grin plastered across his face. My lips tugged up into their own small smile. I gave the sheets one last small look before grabbing them from the table and gripping them in my hands.

"I'm excited, sir,'' I mutter. My fingers tap against my thigh. My eyes are not able to look my father in the eyes, something I was never able to do. My father claps his hand against my shoulder. I could only notice that he almost burned a hole in his shirt from his cigarette due to him leaning over the table.

"That's very good! Most first assignments are done with other people that you graduated with. I picked a few from your year. You will be leading the whole assignment." My father pauses to lean over the table again, looking me straight in the eye. I fight to keep eye contact. "These people I have picked will be a big challenge to you. They will challenge you and your every move, but do not let them. That is your test." My father leans back in his seat, grabbing for his cigarette and taking a long drag, letting the smoke out from his mouth slowly. I trailed the smoke with my eyes, my fingers tapping faster.

"It's Noah, Oliver, James and Ethan. You know them, I'm sure. You had many classes with them," my father says. His voice is hoarse from another drag of smoke he lets out.

The papers crinkle as I grip them harder. Other than Logan they were the best in my year. Straight A's. Always decent at combat. James has always hit a straight mark on his target in the shooting range. I was intimidated by them yet I was leading them in an assignment. My first one.

"Now this assignment is sort of different. I've always given graduates just one, but this year I was giving multiple, that's why it's a packet. Each person is connected to the other making it much easier for you lads anyway," my father specified. He taps his cigarette against his ashtray. Small pieces of ash float through the air. "But enough with my blabbering." He turns in his seat, picking up his telephone and speaking into it. No more than seconds later the door is opening from behind me.