Hear the Requiem

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This short story, which takes place post-DLC of Jack the Ripper, will be cut into two parts, the second one was not required reading. The text is inspired by Mozart L'Opéra Rock's "Vivre à en crever". Happy reading / (chapter image by me)

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In a house far from the centre of London, silence and calm reigned. No one came in or out of the house despite the passages in front of it. In the past, it was different. A beautiful family kept the house alive. Children's laughter, tears, departures, returns. Only memories seemed to live in this house. But then a bell rang and a young woman, a maid whom she treated as her equal, came out of a room and up the stairs to where the little bell had come from.

"You sent for me, madam?" said the young woman.

"Call him," replied her much older employee.

"Yes, ma'am."

The maid respectfully nodded and left the room, while a cough disturbed the quiet of the room. When the unpleasant shaking ceased, the bedridden old brunette took a deep breath through her mouth, feeling a weight lifted from her chest. Old age was the worst disease for her. She hated this terrible, inescapable weakness. She looked out of the window at the bright blue sky, given by today's beautiful sun.

An hour later there was a knock at the door. The one and only maid in the house went to open it. A tall man, almost as old as the lady of the house, came to her. He wore an eye patch, hiding a terrible memory, a wound from the past. It had been inflicted by a man he had always considered and raised as his own son. But madness had taken hold of him, to the point of sequestering and abusing his mentor. The maid knew then that it was the man on the phone.

"She is waiting for you upstairs in her room. I'll take you there," she said.

Without saying a word, the man who had long since abandoned his top hat, without dropping the elegance of his attire, which had changed little despite the years

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Without saying a word, the man who had long since abandoned his top hat, without dropping the elegance of his attire, which had changed little despite the years. He looked less sloppy and dandyish than in his youth.

The maid opened the door to the room of the lady of the house, who was still contemplating the sunny weather shown through the window. It was a sad scene for the guest. The two elderly brunettes had known each other for, roughly, thirty-five years, but they still saw each other as young, especially the time when they were together, beyond the rough and tumble and the improvisations during missions. They'd been a great pair.

"Victoria," Jacob called in a soft voice.

The former Assassin turned her face, smiling. She was happy to see her former lover, her almost lifelong friend.

"Jacob," she smiled sincerely, before a cough came over her. "Leave us, please, Ellen," she asked politely.

"Yes, ma'am. If you need anything, I'm in the next room."

With that, she closed the door behind her, leaving the two Assassins alone. With a wave of her hand, she invited him to approach the bed. Without saying anything, he complied. He took a chair from the desk a few metres away and placed it next to Victoria, level with her chest, then sat down.

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