The air is cold tonight, there's gun powder in my eyes
This is the eve of battle, yes
I left my other life behind, all I can see is the front line
This is the eve of battle
Is this real, this cause I'm fighting for
Am I real, I don't know anymore
What do I stand for?

-Coat Of Arms by Jonathan Thulin

As the sound of my feet smack the pavement I can't help but think about when people told me not to take life for granted; I should have listened to them. I hated always having to look over my shoulder, wondering if somebody from my sister's and my past is going to coming after us or where our next meal is going to come from.

Sometimes I couldn't help but hate my mother for letting my father train us to become assassins. But then that same training had taught us to survive; it had taught us how to be strong and to not quit no matter what, and to rely on nobody but each other. And most importantly; to trust no one.

That defiantly applied to us now; our mother was dead; murdered, and our father had abandoned us. Now we worked for a company of assassins and kidnappers, and, on rare occasion, bodyguards.

Despite our young age, a mere 18 years old, we are the best at what we do and are constantly in high demand. Only in the right circles.

Our latest job was to track a group called Big Bang and if the order is given, to neutralize them.