(3rd Person)

The girl hurried down the hall, her face impassive. "I have to run..." she muttered, anxiously to herself as her eyes darted from shadow to shadow. "Before they find me..."

She clutched a small vial full of...something a deep red to her chest. Her eyes wider than ever before, she glanced behind her, positive that she was being followed. Why else would she run?

Run, run as fast as you can.

You can't catch me...NOT!

She was a failure of the Society. And failures never get second chances because only the strongest survive.

The liquid inside the vial sloshed as the girl sort-of ran down the hall. She was being followed, she was sure of it. Because the Society always knew when one of their members screwed up big time. The Assassin was probably already in the school building, searching...searching...

Maybe if I deliver it to her--no. They won't let me. I should've never accepted their offer. What was I thinking?

The vial slipped from her sweaty grasp and hit the floor with a soft thud. She stopped, her heart beating frantically. Her eyes darted between shadow to shadow; shadow to window.

She was the recipient. Will they send someone else in my place?

Tmp.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate footsteps coming down the hall.

Tears began to fall down the girl's pale drawn face. Oh no, oh no. Someone help me! Please!

She would never see her friends, her parents, her crush again.

This was the end.

Tmp.

The tears fell faster as she grabbed the vial and dashed off. Maybe if the girl reached her, she would save her. After all, she was the cursed pureblood the Society talked so often about. The one they say can control the living.

Tmp.

"Why am I running?" She whispered to herself. "No one ever escapes the Assassin."

"Hello. You failed."

She stopped and turned, her heart feeling as if it was coming to burst. She stared at the tall pale boy dressed in black, a knife at his waist. His bright blue eyes were colder than ice as he stared down at the cowering girl.

The girl sobbed openly now. "Please! Please! Don't kill me!"

Why cry? It was fruitless.

The boy spoke again. "You failed. There is no second chance. In other words--"

There was a blur and the girl's body dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap.

"--Game over."

He studied the corpse, looking for the last two things he needed. It's in her hand, the other, her pocket. With long elegant fingers, he pried open the stiff fingers and withdrew the vial and withdrew the purple cased phone. Uncorking the vial, he dipped his finger in it and turned to the wall and began to write.

Finishing his task, he dropped the bottle in the corpse's hand and walked away, silent like a shadow. Just as he had come, just as he would leave.

Behind him, above the girl's body, in blood-red letters that were already beginning to run down the wall, it read:

Mikaela Amemyia.

Is it good, is it good? [panics]