An Exercise To Fight
The topmost floor of the boys' hostel has a nasty reputation. Endless suicides and freak accidents plagued the floor for decades and a myth soon developed around it - Haunted.
So, Yohan found it to be convenient and occupied the entire floor all by himself, as other students and even the management became wary of that out of fear. And now he gave a share of that to Ramika.
"I can't sneak in every evening, hiding from the boys... Good thing that there's a shower room for every floor," lamented Ramika to the disinterested Yohan who was swiping his phone, looking out for suits.
After remaining mum, he finally spoke. "Seems like there's a cheap store nearby renting suits for low prices... I'll go and check upon them. You be ready with that silver gown—"
"Is it necessary?"
"Yes. Those fuckers have a strict code and had to maintain them diligently if they want to remain a secret... Silver gown, I'll go and fetch a suit."
Yohan left, walking all alone in the hallway, leaving Ramika alone. From a distance, a pair of eyes observed all of these with acute attention. But the eyes' priority was Yohan this time.
It was almost 9 at night; the time for the meeting to begin. With stylish neon billboards above and pop culture-themed performances happening across the roads while the roads were crowded by toy sellers, hookers and taxi drivers, the city looked vibrant as usual.
Not wanting to indulge in any of that, Yohan took the subway. He hopped into the metro train and paid for the ticket for the station, which was two stops away. He found himself a window seat and laid back, relaxingly thinking he will get a peaceful twenty minutes to enjoy his 'me' time.
It was short-lived. Yohan felt eagle eyes looming around him as he noticed the strange and familiar faces accompanying him on the train. It was painfully obvious that they were nothing but low-level assassins with possible maximum grades up to only 'B'.
'Not again...' he lamented, sighing and clicking his tongue. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, and snapped his neck, getting 'ready'.
"How many of you are here?" he nonchalantly asked, while he took some chewing gums out of his pockets.
Totally, ten hands were raised among the total of twelve people in the compartment. The contempt felt by Yohan on seeing their appearances had no bounds.
Mohawk haircuts, poorly drawn fake tattoos, knockoff brand clothes, and rubber toys disguised as jewels, Yohan was distraught and disappointed at seeing the new generation of assassins trying to be edge lords.
"You're going to pay for what you did!" a man with a bright yellow jacket and pink-coloured hair, which was semi-shaved, confidently said, with a grumpy face.
"My lord... Is that what the underworld has turned into? Guys, come on... This is not looking cool. The most skilled assassin I knew wore only 'uncle' clothes throughout his career. A checked shirt, old-school pants... Jeez! You guys are misguided terribly."
"Stop talking! Get ready to get your ass whooped..." another guy came forward, mouthing 'edgy for the sake of being edgy' quotes.
Others joined him too, crying the same war cry.
"Face your fear, asshole... You're going to be sorry..." another laughed out, with a fake accent.
Glaring with dead eyes, Yohan adjusted his usual sunglasses, so they don't fall and threw the six chewing gums on his hand all at once into his mouth.
"Shall we?" he muttered, standing up from his seat.
Wasting no moment, all the low-level assassins launched against Yohan in that narrow space inside the compartment.
Smiling inwardly, Yohan knocked the air out of the yellow-haired punk, punching him right into his chest with his open palm, delivering a crushing palm strike.
Like a bowling ball hitting the pins, the punk fell back to his mates behind him, clearing them out of the way as he flew back all the way to the end. The other assassins were forced to move to the sides, stunned by the sheer strength of Yohan.
'But he looks like a school kid...' was their thought.
"How about this? I'm not going to use any flashy tricks... Just clean hand to hand. Are you guys up for it?"
Eyes of the assassins flared up by the mockery and they again tried to pounce on Yohan, all at once. A lot of blows were made, but none landed. The space of the compartment only allowed three guys to stand together and Yohan used it to his advantage.
Yohan snapped the elbow of the first guy in front of him and pushed him to the metal rod in the middle, smashing his face. He then grabbed the forehands of the other two and pulled them against each other, while he rapidly punched their ribs, breaking them and rendering them immovable for a while.
Four down already and only six to go. Yohan stepped back, allowing the remaining to march forwards as they try to land at least a single blow on Yohan. Yohan kept walking back facing them, confidently evading their punches, much to their frustration.
"I am getting late, guys... let's end this."
He then kicked hard on the legs of the other three in front of him in quick succession, breaking their lower leg and ankles; Leaving only three to stand remain who were so terrified as they stood with trembling hands and shaking legs.
They backed off, and immediately kneeled in front of Yohan, bowing down to him. Yohan stayed indifferent and simply nodded back, with his stoic face.
"Good to know... Resign soon, fellas, or get trained to read the situation. Good night to you all..."
"No sir, we were actually ordered to test you..." the one with tattooed eyes stopped Yohan. What came out of his mouth, deeply concerned Yohan.
"Ordered you to test me... Who's that idiot?"
The three looked at each other, puzzled, thinking whether to say it or not. Yohan had no patience, but he understood well that these guys are just kids.
"I'll make sure nothing happens to you...Or I'll ask someone to make sure nothing happens to you — But you'll be safe. That's a guarantee..."
The boys revealed the identity of the man who was behind them and Yohan stepped off the next station, distraught and angered as hell.
"That moron... Seems like he still didn't change his bullying ways..."
--
A FEW HOURS EARLIER--
Diana gathered all her courage, patience and resilience to stay still without getting enraged, as she sat opposite the one guy she loathed the most.
"Roach... Lance Roach... do you still remember the name, honey?" asked Lance Roach, the king of the 'Hunter Owls' Assassin guild and also the ex-boyfriend of Diana Jones.
In the lavish party crowded with popular faces and personalities, Diana was compelled to maintain her calm posture for the sake of her own clan and her current position, 'Head Of The Damage Control'.
"Yeah, I remember... Lan," she said with a sigh. Lance creepily smiled and tried to move his fingers towards Diana, yet Diana, knowing very well what he was doing, didn't mind.
"Your hands still remain the same... Pale, sexy and cursed with hundred of death—"
"At least change your pickup line, Lan... It was cringe five years back, and it's still cringe now."
"Why, so? You get turned on by blood, if I remember, so why not? Nostalgia is a good thing, right?" he caressed her fingers while letting soft moans out, much to Diana's disgust.
"Remember that we are at war, Lance..."
Lance immediately backed off as his face turned grumpy and serious. His green eyes shined and his wolf teeth peeked out.
"You should have stayed with me... Should have remained as my plaything. Sad that your father found out everything..."
"About your schemes, and plans to overthrow my father? Yeah, he did find out. And I was shocked as well."
Lance felt Diana's razor-sharp glare penetrating through him, shuddering him.
"Oooh, that eyes... Yeah, I mean, duh. A wolf in a relationship with a vampire? Of course, there will be some hidden agendas. What else do you think?" he chuckled, while Diana was gritting her teeth in silence.
'If I could, I would smash his head open... Sucks, that I am in a much lower position than him...'
"There was a guy, though... who truly loved me without expecting anything. You even had him beaten, remember? BEATEN... wait. Was it him or you? Who beat who?"
Lance's eyes twitched in anger as he controlled his rising fury, listening to Diana while tapping the table repeatedly to calm him. And to make it worse, Diana openly smirked at him, sledging him. That was when an interesting idea popped into her head.
"Do you know something? He is actually... returning. Returning to 'Me'. Back to the underworld and back to me..." she lied to her teeth, wanting to see the desperation in Lance's eyes. And as she expected, Lance was on the verge of losing it and she enjoyed the sight, smiling like a psychopath hungry for blood.
"No way, Diana... If he's miffed with anyone, it must be you—"
"Oh, come on, Lance... Don't you know the cliche? Love wins everything... Even anger. He truly feels it... If you don't believe me, try checking up on the guest list. He is on the way, arriving here... must be searching for a suit, I guess..." her eyes lit up with enjoyment, as she witnessed Lance squirming and losing himself to his wolf's anger because of the ego.
"He won't arrive on time! Maybe dead on arrival... You'll see—"
"Do you remember the spelling of his name? Y. O. H. A. N... Just try to see the guest list and you can send your men..." she said with a smirk, as she left the seat immediately, leaving Lance feeling humiliated while herself feeling happy and thrilled.
She found herself a new purpose.
'Now, we'll see how you face your old enemies, Yohan... I'll make sure you go through the most painful journey ever... This is my purpose. A purpose to give your eternal torment.'