NaNo WriMo

2006-10-21T20:49:00.000-07:00

Laughter sounded in the distance. Chelsea continued to stare at the ever changing clouds decorating the bright blue sky. The clean warm air cleared her thoughts. She closed her eyes for a moment, forgetting all but the present.

Chelsea Lynn Newton, fresh out of high school, had no idea where her future was headed. She thought about a few professions with actual interest but still could not decide where she belonged. She did not feel connected to the small town she graduated in; she believed herself to be a visitor just passing through. She felt free with no ties. She felt she could control her own destiny because nothing and no one held her down. Sure, she had family; but loss can only hurt in remembrance and they were sure to forget her in a few years. She thought that if she left, never to see her family again, she would not suffer any sort of pain related to that loss.

Chelsea opened her eyes and took a look around. From the bleachers she was lounging on she could see roughly half the park. A football was being tossed back and forth while the two people throwing it were talking about a movie they had seen recently. A few kids were laughing and squealing on the swings. Skaters took turns showing off in front of each other. Giggles erupted from a pair of girls behind a tree. Chelsea stared ahead into space noting the soft footfalls growing closer from behind. They came to a stop on her left. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him.

He wore a dark, neat suit which was extremely uncommon for that town, especially with summer only a breath away. At least his sunglasses seemed in place, thought they did look ridiculously expensive. His deep voice was as foreign to ears as his clothes were to eyes, "Where are you going?"

Chelsea almost did not answer, but something about him convinced her to, "Eventually... where ever I am meant to be."

"Interesting answer," he continued casually.

"Interesting way to start a conversation with a stranger," she replied cautiously.

"Maybe, but we're not strangers."

"Have we met before?"

"No," he paused for a brief moment, "but we've talked before."

"When?" she sat up and looked him full in the face.

"Just a minute ago, don't you remember? I asked you where you were going." He smiled in a mildly mischievous way. His dark brown eyes told of secrets his mouth could never even whisper of.

Chelsea smiled in return. "So... where are you going?"

He turned and began to walk away. Any other person would have just watched him walk out of his or her life, but Chelsea was not just any other person and she loved proving it. She followed him all the way to the edge of the park's parking lot where he stopped.

"Are you going to answer me?" Chelsea was amused; and for the first time in a long while her life was starting to show sparks of excitement.

"Of course," he went back into his nonemotional mode, "When you give me a straight answer."

"Well..." Chelsea did not know what to say.

"Where are you going with your life? In order to reach a destination you must have a purpose." He spoke as if he were pointing out the obvious. "Do you have purpose in your life or for your life?"

"No," Chelsea answered wide eyed.

"So, you don't know what you want to do with you life. You don't know if you want to go to college or work. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Don't you want purpose to your life?"

"Of course i do." After Chelsea spoke a limousine pulled into the parking lot, yet another rarity.

"Good." he smiled, the driver of the limousine opened the door for the mysterious man. "I'll be in touch." He walked toward the open door.

"Wait!" Chelsea said. "What's your name?"

"Just call me Vincent," He waved and got into the vehicle. "See you soon, Chelsea."

Chelsea stood there openmouthed and unmoving while they drove away. She closed her mouth and went to sit in her car. She put the key in the ignition but did not turn it on. She sat there for several long minutes breathing the hot, stale air, and thinking.

What just happened? I talked to a complete stranger and we entered a philosophical discussion, or rather a lecture. This is way too weird. How did he know my name? I only wanted to get out of the house for a bit, and this happens.

Chelsea sighed, started her car and drove home. After she came home and started to watch television she began to forget about what had happened. Slowly she allowed herself to become mesmerized by whatever happened to be on.

That night Chelsea had a strange dream. All was pitch black in her dream but there was much noise and much pain. At one time, Vincent's voice echoed and commanded her to dodge left or right, to punch, to kick, or to jump. It left her feeling exhausted but it did not wake her.

Chelsea spent the next day wondering about. In the morning she had breakfast at the local donut shop. Then Chelsea went to a second hand book store where she bought a couple novels. She visited thrift stores for the majority of the afternoon and purchased a rather unique jewelry box. All throughout the day Vincent entered and left her mind any number of times. She was beginning to trick herself into thinking that she had fallen asleep on the bleachers and that he was merely a dream. That was easier, for her, than admitting he existed; and much easier than admitting he might have hit the mark when he said that she had no purpose in her life. Maybe she did fall asleep; but then again, maybe she did not. By dinner time Chelsea was no closer to figuring out what Vincent meant, about her purpose in life, than the moment he spoke to her. If anything she was even more confused.

Around six o'clock Chelsea found herself at the mall. She bought a slice of pizza and sat down to enjoy it. She was not truly hungry but she also did not want to stick out. She loved being unique but not in an obvious way. Besides, it was much easier for her to people watch when people were not watching her.
She enjoyed her hobby more so because it was nearly effortless. To not the detail of a person and imagine what his or her day was like seemed much easier to Chelsea than learning how to crochet. Daydreaming about the lives individuals led could keep her occupied for hours on end. However, that was not mean to be for her on that day.

Chelsea noticed three very suspicious looking men. One was pretending to us a pay phone. He never inserted any coins nor dialed any numbers; he did not even speak or mouth words into the phone. The second was reading a book. He had not turned a page in the ten minutes that Chelsea had watched him. The last was actually eating the food in front of him but he did make eye contact several times with the other two. All three were alone and made no other contact with anyone else in the food court. They, also, routinely glanced in Chelsea's direction almost as if making certain that she was still there.

Her intense observations left her unaware of any of the other mall shoppers other than those three. All other activity faded into the background including the footsteps approaching behind her. They came to a stop. It took Chelsea a moment to realize there was someone standing behind her, but when she did she knew who it was.

"Would you like to sit down?" Chelsea pushed out the chair across the table with her foot.

"Sure, why not?" Vincent answered. Chelsea noticed he had shed his suit for more casual clothes. They sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again.

"We don't have as much time as I had hoped we would. So you have to decide, now or never."

"Decide what?" Chelsea asked eagerly.

"To stay here and live out your dull life, that isn't going anywhere," Vincent whispered harshly, "Or come with me."

"What happens if i go with you?" Chelsea spoke just as quietly.

"You don't know," Vincent smiled, "And you won't, unless you choose to come."
Chelsea frowned, she was not one to rush blindly into something. The question was: could she trust Vincent? But that did not matter much to Chelsea. What mattered to her was that he offered excitement in life and if not excitement then at least something different. Her frown turned into a smile, "All right."

"All right what?" determination filled his voice.

"I'll go." Chelsea answered decisively.

"Good." Vincent said nonchalantly. "We have to loose the tails you picked up."

"Is that what they were? Were they really following me?" Chelsea inquired.

"That's exactly what they are." Vincent answered while they rose and began walking.

"Why are they following me, though?" Chelsea persisted.

"There will be time enough for explanation later." Vincent cut short Chelsea's questioning, knowing full well that one question would lead to another and there was not time fort that.

They walked swiftly toward the other end of the mall; the different stores past by in a blur as they blended with the rest of the mall traffic. Every few stores they would dive in hide for a moment and rush out just as one of the men came in after them. The suspicious men were having a difficult time following without being too obvious; soon they lost the pair completely. Chelsea and Vincent exited out of the mall and no one took any special notice.

A simple black sedan was waiting for them. They sat in the back seat and the driver drove off. "To the airport, Mr. Volt?" the driver asked.

"Yes, just as we planned," Vincent answered. "Now, Chelsea, you are no longer Chelsea. You are Veronica Volt. You have no past, and I determine your future. You will do as I say and when I say or... you will be killed; it won't be by me but by our enemies. Our enemies Veronica; you have chosen this, remember that. You chose this without knowing, and now you have to live with things that you have no control over. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"I understand, but..." she was scared.

"What is your name?" Vincent demanded.

"You know my name." her voice quivered.

"What is your name?" Vincent repeated.

"Veronica Volt..." she spoke slowly and quietly.

"Wasn't that easy?" he smiled. "Veronica, a name is only a name. Do you think that I've been Vincent Volt all of my life? I haven't. I've been thousands of people, I've had hundreds of names; most of which I can't remember. A name means nothing, nothing compared to what's in store for you."

"Really? And what is that," she was more shocked than angry.

"Soon," Vincent promised, "Soon your hunger for curiosity will be sated and your want for adventure will temporarily be appeased."

"Only temporarily?" her words dripped with frustration. He was not telling her anything, not even coming close to answering her questions.

"Well if I know your want for adventure, Roni," Vincent smiled brightly at her new nickname, "And i think I do; your thirst for adventure is not easily quenched."

"How do you know?" she blurted out. "How did you know my name?"

"I named you, Veronica," Vincent answered.

"No, I mean when it was Chelsea."

"We do not speak of lives past, Roni."

"Just tell me," she continued.

"What will you do if I don't?"

"There's nothing I can do."

"Sure there is," Vincent insisted, "You could leave."

"Out of a moving car?"

"If you want, but we've stopped at the stoplights too," he remarked casually.

Veronica sighed. She knew she was not going to get any of her questions answered, even the simple ones. She stared out the car window, they were outside of the town now, looking at the countryside. They would arrive at the airport soon.

"You won't leave though," he declared as a fact, "No, you won't leave. This is too exciting for you; you'll stay if there's more to be learned, more to be experience. There's always more to be learned of and more to do. Maybe you'll never leave. But then again, you did just leave your entire life behind just because a stranger offered to take you away. So maybe you will leave... eventually."

"I thought we weren't strangers," Veronica remarked distractedly.

"You're right," Vincent laughed, "I suppose we're not."

After a few minutes Veronica spoke again. "Only twenty four hours ago I had no idea what I would do with my life. Now, I guess you've chosen for me."

"You chose yourself," he spoke firmly.

"Is it really a choice though," Veronica countered, "If I didn't know what the options really were?"

"You did know. Option A was stay and live a dull life. Option B was leave and live a life of uncertainty."

"Well, I guess you're right."

"I've been doing this long enough," he laughed, "I ought to be right."

"How long?" Veronica asked, unsure of wether or not that question would be answered.

"Ten years yesterday," Vincent answered.

"Wow," Veronica offered.

"There's nothing I'd rather be doing," Vincent said.

"So you're happy?"

"As much as my occupation allows."

She was feeling bold and asked, "And what is your occupation?"

He acted like she had not said anything and began to gaze out of the window. He knew the girl would be persistent in finding out what was going on; but he also knew that the girl could handle herself just as well without knowing. Anyway, if she failed, or if their enemies captured her, there would be less clean up to be done.he did not believe that she would fail, though. She was different from the others, she was unique. That could be for good or ill but Vincent was willing to bet on good. If she followed the rules there would not be a problem; so far she had, and there was no reason to think that she would change.

The sedan turned off the highway onto a side road that would inevitably lead to a small airport, the only one within seventy miles. Veronica knew, by now, that Vincent was not going to answer her. She contented herself with watching the wildlife scatter as the car progressed down the desolate road. Jack rabbits, quail, and even a coyote or two ran from the roadside. The animal life was one of the few reasons she had liked this place; isolation was another. To be able to be completely alone whenever she wanted was a luxury she truly treasured. She began to wonder if she would have that in her life as Veronica. She could not be sure wether she would have it or not, she could not be sure of anything.

A loud pop sounded followed by shattering glass. The rear windshield was destroyed. Vincent and Veronica crouched down; the driver hit the gas. Another gunshot broke the silence of the desert. The bullet hit the front passengers seat; it had flown right over Veronica's head. "Here, when I say now start shooting," Vincent commanded.

Veronica nodded and grabbed the gun he offered; she could do nothing else. In that half a second she realized that she had finally found her purpose, whatever Vincent offered--that was it. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.

"Now!" Vincent shouted. They both turned to face the shattered window and rose while aiming. They shot at the van following them, both released three shots each. The van began to smoke. Another two shots took out the right front tire. The van careened out of control. The final shot fired came from the dying vehicle but missed the sedan all together.

Vincent sat back calmly and the driver slowed down to their former speed. Veronica was buzzing with adrenaline, even visibly shaking. She slumped back into the seat. Her heart continued to beat wildly and she started laughing uncontrollably. She handed the gun back to Vincent and still could not get a hold of herself.

"It's really a rush isn't it?" Vincent beamed.

"Yeah, it is," Veronica answered when she finally stopped laughing.

"Glad you came now?" Vincent asked seriously.

"Of course," Veronica looked out, "Well, here we are." The airport came into view.

***************************************************************

The long flight was uneventful. They had flown on a private jet. Vincent slept nearly the entire eight hours. Veronica occupied herself with reading a book she had found and dozing off when she finished it.

Vincent woke her after they had landed. "In a few minutes you'll be meeting our boss. His name's Dr. Victor Volt. You will call him Dr. Volt until he instructs you otherwise, if he ever does."

The ever naive Veronica asked, "What's his doctorate in?"

Vincent laughed, "Don't ask stupid questions, and don't say anything stupid or anything that might be remotely insulting."

"Wonderful," Veronica remarked sarcastically.

"Don't sweat it," Vincent smiled, "You'll be fine."

"You'll be with me won't you?" Veronica asked uncertainly.

"Sure," Vincent answered quitely. They left the plane and found a limousine, of the same make as the Vincent rode from the park in, waiting for them outside.
Veronica suddenly realized that she had no idea where they were. The airport was large and looked modern enough but as they rode into the city the buildings looked strange and foreign; she found she could not place them. "If it's all right to ask, where are we?"

"Another country," Vincent answered definitely, it was clear that he had said all he would on the subject.

"It's really quite pretty," Veronica mused.
"Enjoy it, we'll be spending most of our time out in the country." Vincent parted with more information than Veronica thought he ever would. She was rendered speechless. "It's an odd thing to know where you're going."

"I didn't expect it."

"There was no harm in telling you."

"There's no harm in telling me more."

"What do you want to know?"

"Well," Veronica thought for a moment, "What are you willing to tell me?"

"Nothing further," Vincent answered truthfully, "Until after you meet the Doctor."

"Fair enough."

"No it's not fair for you," Vincent spoke quietly, "It's not fair to know what your purpose is. But we shall remedy the situation soon enough."

"At least I have a purpose." Veronica admitted. Vincent said nothing.

They arrived at a large house. Veronica was shocked and awed by the pure beauty of it. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, yet she felt a kinship with it that should not have existed. That feeling of a deep relationship did not stop at the building but the land that it lied upon and the people who lived in it; though she had not met one yet. She felt that she finally came home.

The interior was just as impressive to her eyes. They made there way down several halls and corridors while being led by the most hospitable door keep. With every step she took anxiety built little by little. By the time she reached the room where she and Vincent would meet the Doctor her nerves were on the going berserk.

"Vincent," Veronica pleaded.

"Roni, everything will be just fine," Vincent assured her. His words soothed her for a moment; in the next second her worry returned, the door opened.

The Doctor stepped through the door. A tall and broad shouldered man, with graying hair that spoke more of power than age, smiled at Veronica. He wore a suit, but looked more comfortable in it than Vincent did in his casual clothes. His smile came as easily as Vincent's but his bright blue eyes told of more hidden secrets than Vincent's had. "Hello, Veronica," His musical voice, hinted with an odd accent, echoed through the room.

"Hello, Dr. Volt. Thank you for meeting me." Veronica meekly voiced.

"It is truly my pleasure," He smiled again, "And thank you for joining us."

"I'm honored," Veronica's voice was gaining strength.

"Please, Vincent, Veronica, have a seat," the Doctor's commanding voice was quite powerful. They all sat down. Veronica stole a reassuring glance at Vincent who smiled in return. Dr. Volt continued, "Thank you for a well accomplished mission, Vincent."

"You approve?" Vincent asked the Doctor.

"We will determine that after her training. Did you encounter any trouble in the states?" Dr. Volt questioned Vincent.

"Not until my initial contact with our newest recruit," Vincent referred to Veronica. "Roni picked up several gnats but she spyed them out easily enough. We took out a white whale who attacked us just before the airport. Casualties were minimal to none."

"That's a shame," the Doctor frowned. "How many were working against us on this one?"

Vincent thought for a moment, "Well only half a dozen showed face, so six at the least."

"Did you say that Veronica spotted a gnat?" Dr. Volt said after thinking back.

"Three actually," Vincent smiled.

"Well done, dear Roni," the Doctor congratulated.

"She's not too bad with a tool either," Vincent added.

"What kind did you have her use?"

"I only had a pair of nine millimeters on me. I didn't expect any action when I planned it out at supplies."

"That's fine. Did you enjoy your first taste?" Dr. Volt asked Veronica.

"Taste of what?" Veronica was half lost, not completely understanding what they were talking about.

"Of what you will be doing for a long time now," Dr. Volt answered.

"Yes," Veronica smiled, remembering the rush of all the action, "I loved it!"

"Good," the Doctor smiled in return, "That will make everything more easy for you. Is that all you have to report Vincent."

Vincent nodded.

"Perfect," at that everyone stood, "Veronica, Vincent will inform you completely on all you need to know now. Everything he commands you to do you must do it. I have complete faith in him. If you disobey anything he instructs you on, you will answer to me. I'm sure this is not necesssary but precautions must always be taken. Farewell." Dr. Volt shook both Vincent's and Veronica's hands before parting.

"That wasn't too bad, now was it?" Vincent teased Veronica after the Doctor left the room.

"He had to be one of the most intimidating person that I've ever met," Veronica answered in all seriousness.

"Really?" Vincent raised his eyebrows, "He was really quite friendly tonight."
"That's just it; there's much more to him than that," Veronica followed Vincent out the door.

They began to make their way toward the front door. "Well, you won't be seeing much of him for a while."

"What's going to happen now?" Veronica fully expected to finally receive some answers.

"Training first."

"Training for what?" Veronica's eagerness showed through.

Vincent smiled and laughed, "To kill."

"To kill?" Veronica displayed no signs of shock. "For what purpose?"

"For most, and for the rest of the world, wealth. But as to what kind of wealth is entirely up to you," Vincent finished.

It was about a half an hour until they reached The Castle of Pain, as Vincent so fondly called it. Though it did look much like a castle Veronica could not find anything painful about it. She was sure she would find the misery soon enough though. After being led to a small room, she fell asleep on the bed without so much as taking her shoes off.

She was woken up at eight the next morning; she then enjoyed breakfast, a shower, and fresh clothes. She waited in her room until a distinguished looking male about her age came to show her to her first training room; there she found Vincent.

"Sleep well?" Vincent did not wait for her to answer. "The majority of your day will be spent here. If you're not eating, sleeping or training outside, you will be in here. Now that you know where it is you will be here every morning at seven and stay until I release you. I took an exception for you this morning since we did not arrive until late but that is the only break you get. For the next three months you will not leave this compound. Do you understand."

Veronica could only nod.

"Wonderful," Vincent grinned. "For your first lesson: always stay alert." After a brief moment she felt a hard hit on her back from behind. "And now your training begins."

The person who escorted her to the room had attacked her from behind. His weapon was a pair of short poles. "My name's Vance," he smiled as she looked up in shock at him, "Nothing personal about coming at ya from behind... but it's part of the job."

Vincent tossed Veronica a pair of poles similar to Vance's. She grabbed them, one in each hand, and stood up.

He came swinging at her again; this time she was ready. She ducked and the first flew harmlessly high. She brought her right arm up and deflected the second, but by that time the first returned at her. She was caught on the side of her face and knocked to the floor once again.

"As far as rules go," Vincent's voice boomed through the room, "There are none. Keep in mind, though, that I'd like you both alive at the end of the day." He left through the single door and the only exit in the room.

Vance gave Veronica a clean hard kick and she let out a muffled moan. He backed away so she could stand up; she noticed that he had not stopped smiling. She rose slowly but Vance had little patience. She was still on one knee when he came at her.

She fell back once again, but this time she did it on purpose. Vance was unbalanced. Veronica kicked him right below his knee. He let out a surprised grunt, he had not expected her to try anything offensive so soon. He rewarded her with a hard hit on the head that knocked her unconscious.

She woke a few hours later. She was flat on her back staring at the ceiling with a ringing head. "Ouch," she commented having nothing else to say.

"Sit up slowly," Vance said, hovering over her. She obeyed but the room still
slightly spun. She accepted the ice bag he handed her. She put it on her injury and stifled a moan.

"Five minutes," Vincent voiced from her side, "Then back to practice. Bare hands this time Vance." He walked out of the room.

"Fine by me," Vance replied.

In five minutes Veronica had not fully recovered but she would not say so for fear of the consequences. They fought without weapons, but it was more Veronica taking a beating than two people fighting. For hours with only brief rests the toiled on. Veronica was exhausted after the first half hour and could barely eat when lunch time came. She nearly fell asleep on her plate but was too afraid of how she would be waken up to allow her self.

When they got back to the training room she found merely standing a difficult accomplishment. She ached everywhere the kicks and blows Vance had inflicted upon her, and everywhere else from the effort of trying to dodge his attacks.

Vincent took one look at her and frowned. "You really went all out, didn't you Vance?"

Vance shrugged, "It is only the first day, she would've taken anything hard."

"It looks like you just beat her, you didn't give her any instruction did you?" Vincent was furious.

"She knew to defend herself, don't forget it is the first day," Vance answered smugly.

"Oh, so you've taken a liking to Vlad's initiation day haven't you?" Vincent was growling now. "This is not Vlad's room, this is mine!"

"I wasn't near as viscous as he was, I didn't hurt her near as much as Vlad hurts his students," Vance whined.

"She isn't Vlad's student, she's mine!" Vincent whispered in a bone chilling tone. Vance was frozen with fear and knew full well that he had crossed a forbidden line. Vincent flipped open a knife, Veronica had no idea where it had been hidden. Vance quite literally screamed, he had found his motor functions by now, and ran out of the room. Vincent did not give chase.

"What was that about?" Veronica asked quitely, afraid to anger him.

"Whatever sort of beating Vance put you through is not the training you are supposed to have." Vincent looked over her quickly. "There doesn't seem to be any serious damage."

"I'm fine," Veronica spoke as much to Vincent as to herself.

"You're not fine," Vincent said softly.

"I think I know what I am and what I'm not." Veronica argued.

"No," Vincent protested, "You don't know... you can't know."

"Then what am I," Veronica scoffed.

"You are a contract killer in training," Vincent spoke meaningfully. "You now are in a kill or be killed carreer, literally. You are trapped in a life style where the only escape is death. Even after I've told you this you cannot understand what you are..."

Veronica did not say a word. She was not phased in the least but what she did not realize was that the reality of her situation had not hit her yet. She could not yet truly comprehend the meaning behind Vincent's words.

He handed her a piece of cloth, "Wrap it around your head like a blindfold. Your real training begins now."

Veronica did so without question.

From then on only Vincent taught her. He taught her hand to hand combat, weapons, and tactics and strategies. Vincent told her that she would endure three months of training but he wanted Veronica to be the best. Those three months turned into a whole year; twelve months of eating, sleeping and fighting. Though every couple of weeks or so Vincent rewarded her with some sort of present and allowed her half the day off.

Veronica had much time to think though she rarely took advantage of it. There seemed only two topics Roni could dwell on: what Vincent taught her, and her past life. In the beginning Veronica doubted much of what Vincent preached to her; but after a few weeks of his incessant, odd views Veronica took all he said as fact. She trusted him blindly and without question, though she knew very little of him. She had no idea how this happened and she hardly realized the transition. She thought like him without understanding him. She was becoming very much like him.

Veronica was content though she did get restless from time to time; Vincent noticed this and so often took their lessons outside or even let her just explore the countryside. After one such excursion it came to an end.

After several hours away from the castle Veronica came to the training room to find Doctor Volt talking with Vincent. They stopped when she approached.
Vance was the last person, other than Vincent, that Veronica had seen since she started training and Vance she never saw after her first day. However, Veronica acquired a confidence after learning from Vincent that she had not known previously. "Good evening, Doctor Volt," she greeted smoothly.

"Please, Roni, call me Victor," he smiled warmly.

"As you wish," Veronica nodded.

"It seems you have come to the end of your training," Victor remarked.

"Truly?" Veronica looked over at Vincent.

"It is!" Vincent laughed. "Congratulations!"

Vincent and Veronica shared laughs and hugs, Victor merely watched.

"What's next?" Veronica dared to whisper to Vincent.

"Your life, Roni," Vincent spoke in her ear. "Our life."

"Join me for dinner tonight," Victor commanded more than asked, "In the banquet hall, eight o'clock. Congratulations, Roni. See you both in a few hours." Victor
exited swiftly.

"Did I run him off?" Veronica asked after the Doctor left.

"Of course not," Vincent smiled brightly. "He's just jealous."

"What can he possibly be jealous of?" Veronica wondered.

"You have to figure that one out on your own," Vincent spoke slowly, "You are special Veronica; you have the potential to be the best in the business. Because of that, I spent much longer teaching you than any other mentor has since Victor taught me. I only want you to be as prepared as I can make you."

"Victor taught you?"

Vincent grinned, "It was his last year as a B class agent. He recruited me the same way I did you. He wasn't satisfied with the trainers at the time so he took it upon himself to teach me."

"That still doesn't explain why he would be jealous."

"Well, I'm sure you'll understand in your own time. Just keep in mind that as the Doctor and father figure of this perverse family he is alone at the top." Vincent sighed,

"Come on, let's forget about him for now. I left a special gift for you in your room. Go put it on and then meet me outside by your favorite oak tree."

Veronica smiled big, "Thanks Vincent! You're really very sweet."

"Enough," Vincent put on a fake tough front, "Just go do as I say."

Veronica giggled and walked to her room. She let out a short gasp. Draped across the foot of her bed a gorgeous silver, silk dress was next to a pair of matching high heels. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"Why are you so nice to me Vincent?" she questioned her empty room. She changed quickly. When she stood after putting on her shoes, she realized how long it had been since she wore dress shoes. She was wobbly in them at first but after a couple dozen steps she could walk smoothly.

She found Vincent waiting for her just as he said. He wore a tuxedo and a loving expression on his face. "You look amazing," Veronica told Vincent.

"Maybe," he laughed, "But you are far too beautiful to compliment."

"Thanks," Veronica could think of nothing else to say.

Vincent pulled out a case from his pocket. He opened it up and showed her a beautiful knife. "Wow," Veronica commented, "That's pretty."

"And deadly," Vincent added, "Much like you. Congratulations Veronica, your training is complete. This blade is only meant to be used for jobs that become
personal, otherwise do as I've trained you."

"What does it mean," Veronica asked.

"It means that I have trained you," Vincent answered. "Victor gave me one much like this when I finished my training."

"So it's a sort of symbol."

"Yes, one not to be displayed openly and only to be shown as a last resort."