Till Deceived Do We Part

“What’s the code?” I asked, my tone breathless. And not from our struggle. His eyes met mine now, confusion mingling in them. “Don’t bullshit with me!” I screamed, my voice echoing. I circled him now, all the time, my mind repeating, calm down. Keep cool, don’t let him win. He can’t win. He can never win. “Originally, I wanted the location, but now? Now I know where. So tell me, what’s the code?”

“What code?” He spat out, slowly pushing to his feet, his back slightly bent in a hunched position.

“The one to get past the fences, Lincoln. So one last chance. What’s the damn code?!” And with my last word, I had my gun out, pointed at his head. Neither of us doubted my capability of shooting him. He eyed it, warily, before letting out a maniacal chuckle.

“Shouldn’t have taken chances. Must have been a gene thing, you know? Rare, though. Very rare, but oh so precious.” I glared harder, not getting a word he said, but storing it in memory nonetheless.

“Hurry up, Lincoln. My finger’s cramping up, don’t know what’ll happen when it does. Maybe I’ll hit you in the head? Or maybe I’ll just puncture a lung, allowing you to drown in your own blood. Maybe I’ll hit a leg? Or maybe I’ll hit your groin. Can go any way but good. So talk.” He laughed again, doubling over momentarily, shooting a glare at me.

“Broke a rib or two, sweety. Lucky shots.” He cut me off, when I opened my mouth impatiently. “Does it really matter? You plan on killing me either way, I’m no fool. I murdered your parents, no remorse in your own eyes.” Parents? I didn’t miss his wording, and when he saw it in my eyes, he smiled. Why hadn’t he said family? “Perceptive too.”

He was taunting me, playing me. I had no doubt about that, for I’ve done it myself countless times to hits. He was laying out the bait, waiting for my curiosity to take the bite, so he can reel me in. It had been his game this whole time, and while it may have worked before I figured it out, it wouldn’t work now. For this was my turf. I held his life in my hands, and I was damn well going to crush it. But first, I wanted revenge.

I circled him, my eyes never wavering, nor my gun. He stood still, almost to a causal point. And that annoyed me more than it should. He should be quavering. Why wasn’t he? I paused. Why had he come? Alone? Knowing I would want him dead? Why hadn’t he armed himself yet? For I was sure there was a gun on him. I tried a new tactic, because for some reason, my body had frozen inside.

I wanted him dead, needed him dead, but my finger was frozen on the trigger. For this kill actually mattered, actually accounted for something, and part of my mind was screaming that I’d screw it up. That there was a mistake, that I shouldn’t be here. It didn’t help that I had Jake’s words repeating through my head, also. Never get it personal. Never make a cause for anger other then emotions for the act they caused. Never take a hit that clouds your judgment, for that hit, will haunt you for the rest of you life. Walk away. Ever in that situation, walk away. It repeated over and over until I thought I would throw the words up. But that’s how Jake was, when we were little, he engraved certain rules into our head. And when a situation arose that we needed those words of advice, the rules would surface, reminding ourselves of what we should do. But I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t walk away from Lincoln, and I’m sure that was going to be my downfall.

“If you knew the truth, Jake wouldn’t be your mentor. You’d ha-“ I slammed the barrel of the gun into Lincoln’s face, sending him sprawling to the ground, in a mass of swear words. I ignored them and stepped back, pleased with my work. I didn’t quite break his nose, but it was leaking blood. Good enough.

“What’s this all about, Lincoln? Why the sudden attack?” I growled out, circling him again. He laughed; a bitter, nauseating laugh.

“Sudden? This has been planned since your fucking mentor took him.” He let out another bitter laugh. “The irony of it all? Jake didn’t suspect a damn thing! Fool.” I continued to circle him, my brain reeling. He’s baiting you. Don’t bite. Play it in your hand. Keep him wanting your attention. He can never get the upper hand. Never.

“You know, Lincoln? You’re squealing like a pig.” That got me a bitter look as he spat blood out of his mouth.

“And you’re grasping straws, sweetheart. You don’t know a damn thing that’s happening, and everything you think you know, is bullshit. Fed to you by Jake, because he’s the only one who knows.” I slammed the sole of my foot into his stomach, my eyes closing momentarily, listening to the sound of his pain; drinking it in. I opened my eyes again to see him pushing to his knees, his eyes locked onto my still frame.

“Trying to turn me against Jake? That’s low, even for you.” He smiled, and the white teeth that I had first seen, were now coated in blood.

“Tell me, do you believe in coincidences?” I remained still, my eyes narrowed at me. Shut him up. End it now. But I was frozen. I had my family’s murderer at my hand, but I couldn’t bring myself to kill him. Yet. He had come here for a reason, and I was assuming this was it. To tell me whatever bullshit was on his mind. And though I knew I shouldn’t listen to it, I couldn’t bring myself to stop. For what did I really know about my past? Little, and what I did know, Jake had told me.

“No, Lincoln, I don’t. I’m sure you know all assassins don’t.” He smiled.

“Yet it stands, that you believed that Jake had conveniently been in the area, to save you. That Jake, the leader of an assassin base, risked his life to go through a burning building to save a kid he didn’t know? Come on, you bought that?” I didn’t say anything, but my throat felt dry and my gun felt heavy. Jake was my mentor, my father, my boss. He would have told me. Why wouldn’t he? But as much as I loathed to admit it, Lincoln had good points.

I had never thought of my childhood that much. Why would I? I had a new life, and nothing would bring back my old life. Not that I remembered much. So why would I want to dig? Why would I want to believe it was more complicated than it seemed? I didn’t, and maybe that was why I accepted what had been told me. But I had no reason to doubt Jake, he saved me. You don’t doubt your saviours, especially when you’re a kid. It’s just not done.

“And you expect me to believe you? Why would you suddenly bring to light my past, Lincoln? What do you have to gain?”

“Nah, I don’t expect you to believe you. You’d be a piss-poor assassin if you did. But I expect you to look into it, and what have I got to gain? Nothing, but I have nothing to lose. If you believe me, Jake may be up for losing one of his tops. Doesn’t hurt me, where I’m standing.” I glared at him.

“And I suppose you know why Jake was there?”

“Of course.” He said, a grin flashing on his face. It slipped as he studied me, and I hated the way his eyes seemed to bore into me, as if he knew me. “You don’t remember a thing, do you? Not your family? Not that night? Not even the flames?” Of course I remembered! Didn’t I? “The heat licking your skin, the desperation your puny mind was feeling. The fear? The panic? You don’t remember it?” I blinked, seeing red. But not from anger.

Heat. So hot. Was that fire? Why was there fire in the house? It was so warm, so hot. My skin flared, flames licking them, preparing for the meal. Pain shot through my body, my eyes watering from the smoke. My chest constricted, sending coughs choking out of me. Smoke filled my lungs as my small body fell to the floor, pain rolling over, through me, in me. It just didn’t stop it wouldn’t st-

My eyes snapped into focus, not leaving Lincoln. My breath was coming in deep, and everything was still coated in the orange the flames had been. My body burned, and I felt like I was suffocating under my clothes. I remained still, nonetheless.

Why hadn’t I remembered that before? Maybe Lincoln’s words had pulled it out of my mind, or maybe, I just hadn’t wanted to remember. I repressed it, not wanting the memory, but now, as I was searching for it, I found it. And it had come out in full fury, burning my mind along with my skin at the same time. It had hurt, but now my body hungered for more.

“Get to the point, Lincoln.”

So he got to the point. And I was left... speechless. Thoughtless. It couldn’t be true, but logically, it made sense. And I hated him for it.

Lincoln and Dalton, back in the day, used to be collectors. In my bushiness collectors are people, usually men, who hunt down potential tops. Tops apply to many areas, but the most common top people hunt down, are assassins. Occasionally, you get the super-genius hunted down for his brilliance to make weapons, but usually you get assassins picked at a young age, that way, you can hone their ability and shape it, make it.

To get noticed, you have to either show a violent streak with a mind, or just, plainly, ingenuity in that field. Stalking, for example, is one. If you see a little five year old stalking someone, you just assume they’re playing ‘spy’. And while most cases, that would be accurate, what collectors watch for are the eyes; the looks. Kids who stalk for a purpose, and can actually get away with it, without being noticed. Kids who study their surroundings, read what’s around them, and act solely on what they know, or see. There are many other ways to notice potential tops, but it’s easier to see than explain.

Lincoln and Dalton were in a shady business, for bases like mine, also hunt potentials. However, we’re more discreet and subtle and we don’t sell the potential to the highest bidder, as collectors do. How did this relate?

I had a brother.

An older one, to be exact. Five years older. And he showed more potential than anyone had ever seen. He was fast, he was a genius, he was quick, he was stealthy, and he could shoot a bird out of the sky with a sling shot. He had many other qualities, or so Lincoln says, which made him the prime potential. Problem? Lincoln and Dalton weren’t the only ones who knew about it. Jake, apparently knew, and wanted him, along with many other assassins. Stretching all the way around the world, for no one had seen a kid with so much potential.

Lincoln and Dalton arrived second. My brother, whom according to Lincoln, changed his name later on, had already been gone. Someone beat them. And it wasn’t Jake. Only later did they find out that some over the top base in America, had gotten to him first. And now? Now he was one of the deadliest threats to the world, or so I’ve been told.

Upon reaching the house empty, Dalton and Lincoln got mad. They killed my parents, who had yet to find my brother missing, and went to kill me... but when they saw my eyes, they stopped. According to Lincoln, Dalton said he saw a spark of my brother in my eyes. So they conducted a test. If I truly had potential, couldn’t I get myself out of a burning building? They failed to realize that even the smartest potential, at the age of three, would have trouble with that. That’s when Jake arrived. Lincoln and Dalton had had a run with Jake a few years back, and barely got off with their lives. As it was, Jake had threatened to kill either if he ever saw them again. So they split. That’s when Jake went inside, hoping that by some chance, my brother was still there. He wasn’t. But I was. Passed out on the floor of the living room, my teddy bear hugged to my chest. He couldn’t bear to leave me there. So he took me to his home; the base.

He had been planning on giving me to an orphanage, but when I woke, even before I beat the little boy who was taunting me, he saw what Lincoln and Dalton saw. The spark. So he decided to test me too, only according to Lincoln, the test had never stopped. For even yet, I still hadn’t measured up to my brother. I was good, damn good, according to him, but not as good as my brother.