The Rockville Skill Institute was not known for friendships. It trained killers, not companions.
Micah Reed understood that. He preferred it that way.
He stepped into the common hall of the assassin division, where students lounged in silence sharpening weapons, adjusting gear, or reading combat logs. However mostly, the common hall was full due to students always on the lookout for new tasks on the assassin board. No one greeted him, but eyes followed him. Always.
He was tall, lean, but corded with muscle. His posture calm and calculated and any sane person would just let him be. His silver-gray eyes gave him away before his name did. He was sharp, unreadable and cold to even smiles.
His black hair tied into a loose tail, a faint scar over his right brow, a gift from a failed mission at fourteen.
His nickname on campus. "Kumo."
Japanese for spider after the spider tattoo just below his jaw.
"Kumo," a voice called lazily.
Micah glanced over.
Spencer Ali, a fellow assassin trainee. Charismatic. Loud. Too curious. Noble.
"You dodged Instructor Laura's lecture again?" Ali smirked.
"I don't dodge. I choose," Micah replied without pause, "besides you know I know what she said by heart."
Ali laughed. "Cold as ever. Gotta respect it." He changed his demeanour instantly and said, "Mission completed as always I hear. Damn, you are good."
From the corner, Eliya, the only sniper and archer in the assassin tier gave Micah a brief nod. She respected efficiency. They had worked once, she covered from a roof while he slipped in to a hotel past three guards and a dozen cameras and slit a throat, all in under eight minutes and the mission ended with her never doing anything except Micah had had her carry his weapons after the mission.
"Hey," Ali added, catching up beside him. "Word is, one of the noble guilds asked to see you in the next round."
Micah didn't stop walking. "Then they'll see me."
"You ever gonna open up, Reed?" Ali asked. "We all bleed. We all live here. Might as well pretend to be human."
Micah halted.Turned his gaze to Ali. "I survive. That's enough and besides...," he paused a little, "If you know about the guild that wants a show that means you're in on it. Odds are it is your family again, not just another guild.
Ali held his hands up, half-joking, half-defensive. "Alright, alright. Kumo lives on."
Micah continued on, slipping into the shadows of the training wing, his hand brushing the edge of his collar where the spider mark was located.
Behind him, Ali muttered, "Guy's a mystery wrapped in talent."
Later that night, Micah stood alone on the institute's rooftop, overlooking the bioluminescent trees beyond the training walls. His mind was clear, but his instincts prickled.