You sit there in your
Heartache,
Waiting on some beautiful boy to,
Save you from your old ways,
You pray forgiveness,
Watch it now,
Here he comes...

-- The Killers

8 years ago...

I am thrown down onto the dusty mat, but I manuver myself around so that I am able to kick the boy right up under the chin. His head is jerked back by the blow and he flies backwards onto the ground, dazed.

This is my chance.

I spring up, sailing towards him, positioning him into a choke-hold, strangling him with my legs and tugging on his twisted arm whenever he tries to fight me off of him. If I can keep the hold, this will kill him.

I look up with pleading eyes to my audience, scanning frantically until I find Aramis, who's leaning casually in his chair amongst the other moguls. He's smiling, proud of me, and then he whispers to his various clients, all powerful looking old men in suits.

The boy's face is turning a deep shade of grayish-purple, and his strength is beginning to fail him, the fist that was punching my shin only tapping at it now.

"A twelve year old killer! And a girl too!" One of Aramis' clients booms out in surprised laughter. "Now I've seen everything!"

The crowd of suited people nod their head in ascent, looking like strands of tall grass swaying in a field somewhere lovelier than this dark basement.

Aramis looks at me and gives a slight nod. Relieved, I let loose my hold, the boy gasping and panting on the floor, eyes rolled back into his head.

"She's my best," Aramis brags, "My Sasha could take down a grown man, I bet. Hell, she'll be the top of The Company Attendants, just you wait."

"Please," comes a mocking voice from the very back of the gathering. People step aside to reveal the source of the scoff. It's yet another man dressed in a dark suit, but this is someone I recognize.

A man I've seen on occasion, Neram Debaie, who is head of the New York Company branch. His broad body saunters out of the shadows where he was observing my match, the light casting down on his balding head, becoming entangled in the many gold rings he adorns on his small, chubby fingers.

He straightens his tie as he addresses Aramis, "Your girl is impressive, I'll give you that, but she's no match for my Viktor."

Aramis twirls his cigarette in his fingers, his signature grin sliding across his lips the way a crocodile slides  across the surface of a bog. Dapper in his dark blue suit, everyone's eyes stay on him as he stands to his feet and meets Debaie in the center of the room.

Debaie looks a little startled at Aramis' brazen behavior, opening his mouth to make some remark, but Aramis removes his cigarette from his lips and exhales a waft of smoke into the man's face daringly. Debaie sputters and steps back a bit, clearly about to let out a barrage of outraged insults, but Aramis raises his voice before the he can even speak. "Where is this Viktor? Might I see him?"

Debaie straightens his back and snaps his fingers haughtily at some goons looming in the corner.

A boy in filthy, tattered clothes is brought forth. My heart immediately accelarates as I take in the size of him. For a boy his age, he's already got a good foot over me, and his shoulders and chest are already filling out.

However, that's not what intimidates me the most.

Half concealed by the thick frock of his dark wavy hair are eyes that are completely flat, devoid of all traces of identity or humanity. At only about fourteen years old-- I know without a doubt in my mind just by staring into these cold, still pools-- this boy has killed already.

I swallow thickly as the boy is presented to Aramis.

Aramis studies him, even walking around him in a slow, easy circle. "He is quite the tool you have there, Debaie. You may just have a monster on your hands here," he concludes as he comes back around in front of Viktor, who remains placidly motionless.

Debaie smooths out his suit jacket, smiling from ear to ear. "I can't argue with you. He's my pride and joy-- a real killer."

My hands start to tremble as my suspicions are confirmed, but I clench them into fists to cover up my weakness.

Aramis drops his smoke on the ground and grinds the glow out with one carefully polished shoe. "Care to make a wager with me, perhaps?"

Debaie's smile fades a bit. "A wager?"

"Yes," Aramis nods, "one that is to your advantage."

Everyone starts to murmur around us, and Debaie's eyes slide all around. He has to accept, otherwise he'll look weak. "Fine, my friend. What exactly do you have in mind?"

Aramis gestures casually to me, where I'm still slunk on the mat. The kid who lost has already been dragged away...

"My Sasha against your Viktor. If your boy loses, I get to keep him. If Sasha loses, you get to keep her."

A tingle of dread surges down my spine and arms. From the dim light, I see Debaie's collegues eye me lustfully.

I can't lose.

Debaie nearly cackles in reply, giving me a once over and evidently deciding that Viktor will wipe the floor with me. "Fine, it's a deal!"

At his words, Viktor comes to life like an automaton. The boy steps into the center with me, on the mat, his eyes still glossed over with detachment.

I stare up at him, doing my best to look unafraid.

"You may begin," calls Aramis, settling back into his chair.

I don't even have time to process his words before the boy lashes out with a fist.

I move to dodge, but his knuckles still catch the side of my jaw. The force behind his strike is deadly, so I ignore the sting of the hit and work on anticipating his movements.

I swerve expertly out of the way of his fists, but then he dives down low, whirling around with a swift leg that sweeps me off my feet and onto my shoulder blades. The wind is knocked out of me, but I still am able to roll away from a fist that he is directing at my stomach.

He is so much bigger and stronger than me, but I am smaller and faster. I use this to my advantage.

For every second it takes Viktor to make a turn or a dodge to keep up with my strikes, it only takes me a millisecond to initiate my next attack. He cannot keep up with me.

I land an uppercut to his chin, and then grab either side of his head to bring his nose crashing down into my awaiting knee. He does not fall the way I expect him to, so I do something risky and tackle low at his waist.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall, but unfortunately for me, Viktor turns us as we plummet to the ground so that it is me who ends up being pinned.

He raises a fist to bring down between my eyes.

I bring my knee up between his legs. He sucks in a breath, and I use his momentary distractedness to get my legs up under his stomach and spring board him off of me.

I whip up onto my feet, flying on top of him, wacking at his face crazily with closed fists.

There is laughter and cheering, and I think I hear Debaie screaming something about me cheating by fighting dirty.

Aramis' voice dominates the room as I am being pulled off of Viktor by his men, receiving congratulatory smiles.

"If you aren't cheating, are you really trying?"