Sequel: Acrasia
Status: Da-da-da-da Da-da Done.



Chris pursed his lips, his finger curling around the cold steel trigger as he waited for the figure to come out into the open. He was perched up on the balcony, holding tight onto a sleek, silenced rifle. Once the shadowy figure came out into the clear, he fired one shot, knocking it over. He sat up and huffed, waiting for the two men in sharp business suits below him to come to a conclusion.

A beautiful blonde stood behind him, a manicured hand resting on her hip. She scowled softly, shaking her head. Chris shrugged, not caring what his sister had to think.

"You almost missed," she snapped at Chris. He ignored her, waiting for the lecture he was about to receive from someone who mattered.

The two men in suits appeared behind him minutes later, having a quiet discussion.

"He's too young," the older one said, holding his hands behind his back as he eyed Chris.

"He's ready," the other, his father, reasoned with the man, "He's started his training at a younger age."

"He didn't pass all of the tests," the man had a hint of warning in his voice.

"I missed one target!" Chris protested, stepping out of a line he had trouble staying behind, "One! Out of nearly a thousand!"

"That one target could have been the end of everything!" the old man raised his voice over Chris, "That one target could have seen you. They could have told someone. You would be in danger, your entire family would be in danger. One person out of a million could end over a hundred years of accident-free business. That will not change today."

The old man started to turn and leave, but the blonde put a light hand on his shoulder. She gave him a dazzling smile that could warm up any heart.

"Marissa?" the old man smiled back at her.

"What my brother means to say," she started, gesturing to Chris, "Is that he did pass almost all of your tests with a strong heart, and that he will be far more careful in a real situation. He takes much after our father, you know."

His father smiled at Marissa, nodding to the old man, "He does."

"Very well," the old man sighed, squeezing Marissa's hand, "I will let him in."

"Thank you very much," their father started, shaking the man's hand, "He will not disappoint."

"One mistake, Jim. One mistake, and heads will roll," the old man warned, handing Chris a card with all the information he needed.

Chris nodded, stepping back slightly with a sheepish "thank you". The three of them watched until the old man disappeared, each breathing a soft sigh of relief. Jim Huntington drew his hand back and have a hard whack to the back of his son's head, making him cringe.

"What did I say about back talk?" he growled.

"I was standing my ground, like you always tell me to," Chris glared at him, rubbing the back of his head, "We can't all have as much sex appeal as my whore sister."

Marissa scowled, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and pulling down the short dress she wore in an attempt to cover herself up. Jim drew his hand back to hit Chris again, but balled his hand into a fist and held it at his side. Wordlessly, he frowned and walked away.

"Will you ever learn to shut your fat mouth?" Marissa whispered sharply, crossing her arms, “Don’t you think you’ve disappointed him enough?”

Chris ignored her, pulling himself over the balcony railing and balancing on the edge. Marissa tried not to show how nervous she got when he got down to the ground that way, since it was a pretty long fall. He knew that, and made sure to pretend to slip a couple times as he climbed down the rain pipe, making the poor girl squeal. She bent over the railing to yell after him.

“Christopher Huntington, do not walk away from me!” she yelled, lightly stomping her foot, “Grow up!”

He rolled his eyes, bending down to pick up the target he had hit. It wasn’t a real person, of course. It was one of the crash test dummies he had used for target practice his entire life. That’s all he had been taught since he was first informed that he would be continuing his family tradition of joining the Assassins. He replayed his father’s speech in his head hundreds of times, since the first time he gave it on Chris’s twelfth birthday.

“The firstborn of every generation of our family joined the organization,” he spoke with pride and confidence, “As will you when you are ready. I was an assassin, my mother, and my grandfather… And someday, your child.”

“Someday,” he mused as he looked the dummy over, running his thumb over the bullet hole that had pierced straight through its forehead, “Someday, someday, someday.”

He went around the back of his father’s massive estate, tossing the dummy in the dumpster where he knew the maid would get rid of it properly. It was a regular routine for everyone around the house. He slipped through the backdoor into the kitchen, picking up his car keys off the counter, and tried his best to leave unseen. Much to his annoyance, his father’s voice sounded from behind him.

“Where are you going so fast?” Jim furrowed his brow, “You just passed the biggest test of your life, your life’s work.”

“And I’m going home to celebrate for the next hour before I have to go to work,” Chris cut him off, “I don’t live here anymore, Dad. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Work? You still work at that filthy bar?” Jim scowled, rubbing his temples.

“Where does the money come from, Dad? When somebody asks me what I do for a living, do I tell them that I kill people? I can’t tell them that you send me money, that’s just embarrassing. I need that cover story.”

“A bartender doesn’t drive a car like that,” Jim jerked his chin towards the sleek black sports car parked outside, “And they don’t live in a luxury apartment like you do. What do you say then?”

“I never take anyone home,” Chris sighed, leaning against the doorframe. He had been over this with his father many times before, “But if anyone found out, I’d tell them that it was a gift from ‘my loving father’. Can I go, now?”

Jim showed no sign of hurt from his son’s comment. He never seemed to be proud or happy, but he had no problem showing anger and disgust. Jim waved his hand, turning and leaving. Chris held back another sarcastic comment and got into the black car, slamming the door behind him. He was overwhelmed with the fact that his life’s training had finally paid off, and that he was finally a part of the group he had been destined to work for, but it was difficult to feel proud of himself when his father was obviously not. He pulled out the small card the older man had given him, with the location of the organization and the time and date he should be there in shiny silver text. Chris sighed, loosening his tense shoulders for the first time all day, and shoved the card into his pocket.

The drive back out to the city was a long one, since his father’s estate was way out in the countryside. His family had owned the same acres of land ever since they arrived in the country, and it was passed down from generation to generation. Marissa would be receiving the house and the riches after their father would pass, since Chris couldn’t stand the idea of living his entire life in the house that held such horrible memories for him.

He arrived at his apartment building, and tightened his jacket around him to fight off the wind. The doorman opened the glass doors for him, but Chris didn’t even spare the man a glance. He hated having to make any kind of contact with anyone he didn’t know.

The building was luxurious, like his father had pointed out to him. It was modern and new, and the glass wall in his home on the top floor had an incredible view of the entire city. The view made him feel much more at ease than he at home, since he liked watching the people below. He knew that he was in a place where no one would know him and he would blend into the crowd.

He quickly went into his room and pulled off the sweat-stained black clothing he had worn for the tests, trading them for the white button up he wore as a work uniform. An old grey cat hopped up on the nightstand next to him, mewing softly. He reached out and scratched the cat behind its ear, where it had a little bald spot. It was a crooked-looking cat with a bad attitude, but Chris couldn’t help but let it in when he saw it on the side of the street. The cat hopped away, not amused.

“Yeah, it’s been a long day,” Chris muttered, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, “But it’s not over yet.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Welcome to Life by Go Radio
In the Evening by Led Zeppelin
Trojans by Atlas Genius

story title comes from here!