18 years ago…
The eight-year-old girl with brown hair and eyes peered around the corner. She had done her part. It had been surprisingly easy to pick the man’s pocket before he met with her mother. He was supposed to be a member of Pantheon and her mother had stressed how dangerous Pantheon was. The girl tried to contain her proud smile, watching her mother greet the man. Maybe this meant she was ready for more important jobs. Maybe-
Pain spiked from the top of her skull. She stumbled forward and it was a testament to her lifestyle that she didn’t cry out. The girl whirled around, but instead of an adult she found herself staring at a little girl, about a year or two younger than her, with blonde hair and grey eyes. The blond girl stared back, as if surprised that she had not successfully knocked her out wit the butt of the gun she was holding. The top of the brown haired girl’s head was still throbbing. She narrowed her eyes at the other child.
“That hurt!” She snarled and launched herself at the blonde in a tackle, knocking the gun out of her hand. The two girls tumbled to the ground. When her mother and the man from Pantheon came to stand over their wayward operatives they were still fighting; the gun lying forgotten a few feet away.
Seven months later…
The young blonde Pantheon member pushed her to the ground and landed on top of her. Down the street the bomb detonated prematurely, rubble showered down around them and the screaming began. The brown haired girl rolled them under a vendor’s cloth covered table before they could be trampled by panicked civilians. The blondie pulled back and looked around at the canvas walls created by the tablecloth. “Not bad, freelancer.” She reluctantly admitted.
“Not bad yourself, lapdog.” The other girl replied, a smirk pulling at her mouth.
One year later…
“Get him a little more to the left.” The blonde girl’s whisper came through her headpiece. The brown haired girl smiled at the target, then turned and ran to the left.
“Hey!” He shouted, starting after her. The girl heard the shot, followed by the short cry of pain and the thud of a falling body. She glanced back before she scurried away.
“Nice shot.” She muttered. On the other side of the headpiece, a small blonde child smiled as she dissembled the gun.
Two years later….
The Filli blinked in surprise then smiled at Hecate, the Pantheon assassin who was working with the Femme Fatale. “So they gave you a codename, lapdog.” Hecate rolled her grey eyes but she couldn’t quite hide her pride. Ten years old was astonishingly young to receive a codename from the Pantheon.
“You’re doing pretty well too, freelancer.” Hecate eyed her mentor, silently impressed that the girl she’d known so long would one day become the next Femme Fatale. If she survived that long. “I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again.”
“Me neither.” The Filli admitted with a shrug. “But Femme says Pantheon hires us a lot.”
“That’s because the Femme Fatale does good work.” Hecate’s mouth twitched as she almost smiled. “I’m sure you will too.”
“Filli,” Femme called, she nodded at Hecate and jogged back to her mentor.
Three hours later…
The Filli glanced up as the Femme spoke to her, speaking in French as usual when they were alone. “You know that we will not always be working for the Pantheon.” She reminded her student. “Often we are working against them.”
“Of course.” The girl looked at her in surprise. “Why do you mention it?”
“Hecate.” The Femme answered. Understanding flashed across the Fillia’s face and her eyes hardened.
“I do not need to trust her to like her.” She replied. “I know if ordered, she would kill me. And she knows that is she’s in my way I’ll kill her.” The Femme smiled and patted her shoulder.
“I am glad you understand how friendship works.” She said.
“Obviously.” The girl’s smile would have frightened a grown man. “We are children, not fools.”
One year later…
Hecate rolled away from her sniper rifle and to her feet, narrowly avoiding the bullet that embedded itself in the concrete shed been lying on. She glanced up at the twelve year old advancing on her with a gun. “Bodyguard work? Really?” She scoffed.
“He wanted the best.” The Filli smirked.
“The best won’t save him from the Pantheon.” Hecate responded. The Filli’s jaw set and she fired. Hecate dove behind a pillar and pulled a small gun from her ankle holster. And so the gunfight began in earnest.
Two months later…
“How’s the leg?” The Filli asked as she unwrapped a lollipop, eyeing the boy her age. The Pantheon had hired her and the Femme Fatale to kidnap him.
“Alright, Persephone fixed me up pretty well. How’s the shoulder?”
“Still a little stiff.” The Filli suppressed a wince when she shrugged.
“Well, I hope you shoot as well with your other hand.” Hecate remarked as she moved to intercepted one of the boy’s bodyguards, an eleven-year-old girl looked innocent enough to slip right under his notice.
The Filli laughed. “You know I do.”