Chapter One - Cassie

Cassandra Wrenwarn, that’s me. I was abandoned as a child because I was born different. My body is frailer than everyone else’s. If someone bumped their knee really hard they would probably get a good bruise, if I did I would end up with a fracture knee. My parents decided they didn’t want me because of my condition and cast me out of the house at the age of nine.

For the past five years I have been cooped up in this abandoned orphanage creating chemical weapons to sell on the black market. I make a good amount of money doing this, but I would be more likely to get caught if I moved into an actual house. So I save my money.

People ask for plenty of different things; smoke bombs, laughing gas, tiny nuclear bombs (I don’t make the latter often). I don’t ask questions as long as they give me the money.

I continue to work on my latest order for tear gas when there is a knock at the basement door. I put down the gas canister and wipe my hands on my lab coat before making my way up the stairs to the door.

I open the door to see, Tricky, my bodyguard for when I do deals. He is leaning against the door frame wearing a lopsided grin, green eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“Happy fourteenth birthday you genius!” he exclaims ruffling my hair, “I remember when I was fourteen three years ago!”

Yes, Tricky is seventeen, which is probably weird for me to have such a young bodyguard, but he is really strong and proficient in three different types of martial arts.

“Thanks Tricky,” I say moving to let him in, “the client should be here in the next ten minutes.”

He walks down the stairs to my lab I throw my long strawberry blonde hair over my shoulder and adjust my giant round glasses, getting back to work.

Tricky begins pacing around the room, his combat boots thumping heavily on the floor with every step he takes. He pulls his jean jacket tighter around his body.

“How are you not freezing?” he remarks, “I thought you were frail?”

I pour the tear gas into the canister and screw on the lid, sliding the pin into place.

“I wear lots of warm layers,” I answer blankly.

“Cassie, you could always move in with me, I have an empty bedroom,” Tricky states, a concerned look plastered on his face, “I could set your stuff up in the living room.”

I contemplate the offer, he has offered this before and I turned him down before. With winter coming, I almost didn’t survive the last one.

“Thanks Tricky,” I pause braiding and unbraiding my hair, “I might take you up on that offer.”

Tricky’s face brightens and he is just about to say something when there is a pounding on the door.

Before I even say anything Tricky bounds you the stairs and opens the door. There is a muffled exchange and a moment Tricky is leading a short man down the stairs.

“Are you Cassandra Wrenwarn?” he asks in a gravelly voice.

“Yes, and you must be Evans Morver, the Family in War representative,” I say gesturing an awestruck Tricky over to my side.

“That would be me,” he nods, “do you have what I asked for?”

I point at a box under the table and Tricky heaves it onto the table.

I pick up one and examine it, “70 untraceable canisters of tear gas,” I state dropping the canister I was holding back into the box.

A look of surprise briefly flashes on Mr. Morver’s face before he schools it back into neutrality. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black leather check book.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks.

“$3000 for all 70 canisters,” I say smiling.

He writes on a check and rips it out. I grab it feeling the soft paper between my fingers, and look down. He had written $5000. I’m just about to make a remark when there is a loud bang of the door being bust open.

Tricky jumps up from his perch on a counter along the back wall and stands in front of me like a shield. I grip the back of his jacket and peek out from behind him.

I couldn’t believe my eyes, down the stairs streamed men and women all dressed in matching navy blue suits.

I watch as they begin lining up around the room facing us. I look over to Mr. Morver to see him standing at the base of the stairs, an apologetic look on his face.

There is a soft clicking noise and I look from Mr. Morver to the stairs where I see a small gorgeous woman walking down the stairs.

Her shining sliver hair, was a waterfall of quicksilver that cascaded halfway down her back, her blue deep set eyes scanning the room.

“Cassandra Wrenwarn, my name is Ayanna LaRose-Stelcarve” her commanding voice echoed through the basement, “you have to choices, either come with us to start a better life, or go to prison for your crimes against Section Zero.”

Tricky and I stood there dumbfounded. It was Trick who spoke first.

“Where would you be taking her?” he asked cautiously, “Ayanna LaRose-Stelcarve.”

“Victory Highschool, you would both be enrolled in the Victory School Military Academy,” she said pridefully.

I had only heard rumours of that program, I dismissed it for a fairy tale. I hug around Tricky’s waist.

“I’m not going anywhere without Tricky,” I say calmly, “if he can’t go then I won’t either.”

I feel his arm wrap reassuringly around my shoulders, hugging me tightly to his side.

Ayanna’s ocean eyes move from me to Tricky.

“We have had our eyes on you as well Trevor Carlin,” she gives a sideways smirk, “very well you can bring him too, if he agrees.”

I look up at Tricky and he looks back down at me and his eyebrows furrow together and something like realization sinks in.

“Wait!” he exclaims, “Cassie can’t fight! She has a condition-”

“Yes, we are well aware of Miss Wrenwarn’s condition,” she sighs, “we want to recruit her for her science expertise.”

Tricky and I look at eachother, we exchange looks and I nod in confirmation.

“So what will it be?” Ayanna asks clearly impatient, “Prison or school?”

Next thing I know my science stuff is being packed up and Tricky and I are in a car on our way to Victory High.

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