• Nyx) When I woke up, I saw, heard, and felt nothing. At first, I tensed, but then relaxed when I realized where I was. I was in the isolation tank at the Assassin Suite. I floated in the water. Since isolation tanks deprive all who are in it of all senses, I had no clue what time it was. A single day outside the tank could either be a second, an hour, a week, a year inside. There is no sense of time in the tank. I used to rest in the tank. My cells move and work faster in the tank, so my healing and resting times are dramatically shortened. If I stay in the tank for a single day wounded to the point of near death, I heal as if I had been in a hospital for a month. I didn’t know how much time I had been in it so far. I touched my back where the knife wound was. My clothes were on. Irritated, I took off my clothes. I felt the wound on my back, pleased to find nothing but a faint scar. I swam to the wall and felt around to the door. Instead of reaching for the handle, I dove under the water, meeting heavy resistance due to the chemicals within it. However, I was strong, so I touched the bottom in a short amount of time. In the corner between the floor and wall, strait under the middle of the door, was a switch. I flicked it and heard the door unlock. I allowed the water to buoy me up. I opened the door and climbed out. Stretching to loosen my tensed muscles, I walked to the tank room door. Pressing on the middle hinge instead of twisting the knob, I walked out. Then, I walked over to the main bedroom. Instead of walking into the room, I ran straight into Jaymz. Startled, he looked at me. “Hey! What are you…?” Then he noticed I had no clothes on. Embarrassed, he blushed, covered his eyes, and walked into the wall instead of out the door. I laughed, turned him in the right direction, and nudged him away. “Thanks…” Still laughing, I walked into the master bathroom and took a shower to clean the chemical-filled water off of me. After that, I dried myself off and found my armour where I left it behind a false back in the closet. Easily, I put on the fitted spider silk under armour. On top of the spider silk, I put on a set of thin soft leather armour. The chest plate, leg plates, arm sleeves, and armour for my elbows, shoulders, neck, and knees were all hand-made custom-fitted. Both layers of armour are paper-thin and light as feathers. The leather is tough, more used for padding and to slow anything that hit it. The spider silk stopped any weapon dead in its tracks. At most, I would have a nasty bruise. On top of both layers of armour I put on my blade sheathes and filled them. I put 12 sets of 5 paper-thin daggers that were balanced to be able to be thrown onto my calves, thighs, and arms. 2 sets of thin-bladed dual katana that were specially formed to fit onto my back without my back looking deformed, were strapped onto me. A special set of sheathes and paper-thin daggers were put onto the back of my neck. Finally, I put 2 sets of 10 paper-thin shuriken onto a hidden belt. On top of my armour and weapons went a set of plainclothes. A simple set of baggy black-and-grey camouflage jeans, a loose black long-sleeved shirt, black combat boots, and a black dog-collar choker necklace. It fully covered my weapons and armour, was lightweight, and fashionable. Altogether, my armour, weapons, and clothes weighed only about as much as a set of winter clothing. As soon as I was finished dressing, a shrieking whistle started up, hurting my bones, grating my teeth, and locking my muscles. I screamed in pain.