The Killjoys

Chapter 1

1.

They say it's important to nurture a gifted child. Treat them with care and provide them with the tools that they need to continue succeeding.

I can say that that is most definitely an accurate statement. If I hadn't been handled with care, my abilities nurtured and guided with a keen eye then I might have turned out differently. And that wouldn't be good for anyone, me especially.

Suddenly, I was snapped out of my thoughts when I received a hard tap on my shoulder. I looked up to see my partner Connor standing over me.

"Are you with me?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

I had been doing it again.

Zoning out.

It was something I did almost without failure before any hit. Almost like a ritual to bring me good luck. And not that I was the kind of person you could guarantee who did that, unlike Connor and those damn Mickey Mouse socks I was almost certain he was wearing. He had never told me about them- maybe it was a juju thing- but after seeing him wearing them consistently over our first half a dozen hits I knew that they were his good luck charms.

Not that they were subtle either.

They were bright yellow.

In the end it was to ensure I knew what was coming, but where, more importantly, I was coming from. And the idea of what could have been was what made me the best at what I do.

I nodded, readjusting my kevlar vest-which was two sizes too big- as I returned to cleaning my gun.

"You okay?" Connor asked, as he returned to surveying the area.

We were 56 storeys up on the roof of an apartment building that made up the lower Manhattan skyline. The sun had set an hour ago and now the line of orange on the horizon was slowly disappearing as I sat on the edge of the building. My feet dangling over the edge, the possibility of the long drop didn't faze me the least bit and I continued to peacefully clean and prepare my sniper rifle for what was coming.

Connor on the other hand was shit scared of heights and made sure he had both feet on the solid concrete rooftop at all times.

My silence wasn't and invitation for him to continue to ask me questions, but he was a persistent little shit. "What's going on?" he poked at, "Rylie? Rylie?"

I cracked. "I'm sorry but I just refuse to believe the Canteen 'misplaced' my vest."

Connor let out a long frustrated groan that rang out into the night air but was drowned out from the hustle and bustle on the streets below.

He was obviously annoyed that I was still complaining about this, as it was all I could go on about on the helicopter ride out here.

I went on though, "The last time I checked it out was for Dubrovnik and that was nearly a month ago."

"I told you, it was probably laundry's fault." Connor offered up.

I shook my head and immediately dismissed that idea. "It was a month ago! It doesn't take that long for blood to come out of kevlar. And if they had to throw it away why wasn't I informed and fitted for a new one. I'm telling you, someone took it."

Connor shook his head. "Who? Who could have possibly taken your vest? Moreover, who would be stupid enough to do it?"

I turned to face him and gave him my 'are you serious?' face, it looked a lot like my 'you've got to be fucking with me face,' only less irritated and showed more disbelief.