Agent 097: Steele

4) A-Ranked Mission

        We were lurking up in the trees, watching our prey from above. The atmosphere was quiet and still except for the flames crackling under our vision. We barely made any noise; even the rustle of the leaves in the wind was louder than our movements.

This was the main objective of ever being an Assassin, knowing how to stay as quiet and as still as a mere object, so we were all pretty good at it.

The Dynasty men were all sitting together around a bonfire, chit chatting about some stupid welcoming party they'll be arranging for one of their acquaintances who was injured several months ago.

What a bunch of idiots.

I looked at my colleagues and my trainees behind me, motioning for them to pull up their hoods, so we would be ready to pounce.

In one swift motion, all twelve of us landed with a thud on the muddy ground below us, trapping the startled men in the middle. They looked around and suddenly realizing what was happening, stood up abruptly, spilling soup, food and plates from their laps to the ground. Altogether, they pulled out their swords and took a wide stance, ready for attack.

Mediocre. We could take them easily.

I quickly scanned all the sixteen men standing across of us, and I froze at the sight of one I was never expecting to encounter.

Could it be-

"Bloody Assassins. Go back to fucking yourselves." One of them spat.

And as if on cue, leaders and trainees alike charged with full force yelling the title, 'THE CRESCENT', on the top of their lungs.

Snapping awake, I charged alongside them.

I had eyes for one and only one man; Duncan Eldridge.

He is mine.

I ran straight to him, my gaze focused on his broad figure. He was however, awaiting me, while swinging his great sword in a skilled manner between his hands.

My anger, my frustration, and my hatred all flared up at the pit of my stomach.

"Assassin scum. Hiding your faces under hoods like bloody women."

He swayed his sword directly at my neck, but I dodged it skillfully, going under it. I straightened up quickly, knowing he'd be launching for another attack. He swung the sword again, this time going for my torso. I dodged again, skipping to the left side right on time.

I took my chance and punched him squarely on the left side of his jaw, with full force. I felt my knuckles flare at the impact and I heard the crack of bones under my fist. Staggering forwards, I regained my balance almost instantly and looked at him, now rubbing his face.

"That's one hit you'll be getting boy, and no other." he said, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

I jolted at him again. This time, I instantly dodged his attack multiple times. I was moving left, right, downwards and swiftly jumped backwards when he attempted a sucker punch straight to my face. I was out of breath and I still didn't land another hit.

Slash.

Suddenly, a sticky liquid was trickling slowly down my left arm.

Shit--Blood.

I took a quick glance at my shoulder, now gushing out crimson plasma.

I was hit.

He took advantage of the second I let my guard down. Blood was seeping all down my arm, making me realize what just happened. Pain shot through my shoulder like it was being burned to a crisp. I cried out and I tried pressing the wound with my right hand to stop the flow of blood, but it was useless.

I heard him sniggering as he whispered, "Gotcha."

I could see him marching towards my direction, but somehow the pain from my shoulder fixated my legs to the ground.

He was a couple of feet away from me when he pulled back his right fist and punched me in the ribs as hard as one can punch, making me screech in agony again.

Just when I managed to open my eyes, I saw his fist coming straight to my face this time, and before I knew it, sheer pain shot through the side of my face.

I could taste blood in my mouth-- my blood. Agonizing pain engulfed my whole body. I was sure at least two of my ribs were broken. I could hear the bones rubbing together as I attempted to move. I tried moving my jaw from left to right making sure it wasn't dislocated from the solid blow.

I somehow managed to lift my head up. Duncan looked so blurry looking down on me. He kicked me in the ribs hard. And again. And again.

I was coughing up so much blood, and my shoulder was spouting with puss and blood alike. I was losing my hearing, my sight, and my consciousness.

A sound of fabric ripping called me back. Duncan was holding me up on my knees by my cloak's collar. I could hear the clatter of steal around me, the screams of men, and I saw several dead bodies surrounding us.

I tried to grasp on to reality.

I can't lose. Not after all this time. I can't.

I was looking up at him, at the satisfied expression plastered on his face. He grabbed my hood forcefully and pulled it down from my face.

"Real men show their faces. Real men-"

He stopped abruptly. I could see the look of sheer terror that found its way to his arrogant face. He let go of my collar and took a couple of steps back. Pointing at me with his shaky finger, he stuttered helplessly "E...Enzo?"

I knew that he recognized me by my scar. The scar he inflicted on my face many years ago.

Ignoring his surprised remarks, I launched on him, trying to phase out the jolting pain in my face, shoulder, and chest. "I am not Enzo!" I said, screaming loudly, not necessarily at him.

This time, I took advantage of his lowered guard and kicked him with all the strength I had left on his knee, wanting to disable his movements.

He shrieked and fell backwards, hissing in pain.

This is a mission. No emotions. No nothing.

I stabbed my silver dagger into his thigh, hearing his horrible screeches fill my ears as I stood back up. He cowered on the ground clenching his thigh.

I didn't mind that scene. Actually, it gave me pure satisfaction. 

The battle was over, I realized as I looked around.

Several of The Dynasty men were dead while others surrendered, burying their faces in the ground. Some of our white cloaked men were down too, but I didn't have the time to recognize them just yet, I still had something to do.

My chest was heaving and my clothes were drenched with blood and sweat. After scanning the surroundings and realizing our victory, I turned to face Duncan, now sitting upright on the floor, holding a hand over his injured thigh, and clenching his teeth from the pain.

I unsheathed my wrist blade and walked slowly towards him, not taking my eyes off of his broken, helpless face.

He watched me approaching and his eyes widened with horror, realizing what was coming.

I stopped a couple of inches away from him and gazed down on the pathetic old man.

Oh, how the roles have changed.

I roughly grabbed him by his dark curled hair and pulled his head backwards crudely, revealing his pale, unshielded throat. He let out a grunting noise from the harsh pull, and his perplexed eyes rolled back, fixed on me standing above. His mouth hung open as he helplessly tried to croak something out.

This right here is for the thirteen year old, sad little boy called Enzo.

Slowly and in a brutal motion, I drove my blade from under his left ear, tearing the flesh away, watching how blood oozed out hastily, all the way to the right end, slowly whispering the words,

"See you in hell, father."