Wrong Side of Heaven, Righteous Side of Hell

Garrett saw red as he was flung over the much larger male’s shoulder. As his back made impact with the floor, he forced himself to twist his body into a roll even though his lungs and muscles screamed in protest. He had enough momentum to roll maybe three times, he came up short, those godforsaken loud boots catching at the toes on a rogue gap in the planks. As his world started to go dark one of his ankles twisted in an awkward direction, the jolt of pain kept him from passing out. He flipped onto his hands and knees and unhooked his foot from the tear in the floor, the pain rocketed up to his hip but he forced himself to ignore it.

He was not going to lose to this meatheaded bastard.

A deep chuckle resinated from the assassin’s chest as Garrett repeatedly tried to push himself up onto his feet and failed. He fell in a useless heap for the third time, his muscles protesting with every breath he took.

A boot barrolled into his side, knocking the wind out of him again and sending him sailing across the room.

“What’s ta matter, boy?” The assassin mocked, “thought you were ‘apposed ta be good or something. Not some tit-sucking pussy.”

Garrett shut his eyes and focused on getting his breath back, breathe, just breathe. His side spasmed with every gulp of air so he was sure a rib was broken, but it was when he coughed up blood that he really began to worry. He needed to end this soon and brute force was not going to win this for him.

“Stay down, boy. You’ll live long-a.”

Garrett channelled the only thing he had in spades. His anger. He banished the throbbing in his limbs and the pressing need to pant to catch the breath he’d lost. He sunk into the floor and relaxed his whole body. Playing the ‘too weak to fight back’ card. Sure, it was fighting dirty, but when it came down to life and death, he was willing to do what it took to survive.

A disappointed hum came from Daud and Garrett could only imagine the look of disapproval he had planted on his mug. “I really thought he’d be an asset. Oh well. Finish him.”

Oh gods, that tone of his was so bored. As though Garrett’s death was nothing more than a nuisance. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, push him to his feet, and propel him across the room.

If he did that, though, he was pretty certain he’d still be killed as that was still a surrender of sorts.

He waited while the bigger male hollered his approval and thundered over to where Garrett laid. The back of Garrett’s hand began to warm as Garrett channelled a command to it. The boots stopped short at Garrett’s head and that’s when Garrett let the mark do its thing. He vanished from the floor just as the bigger assassin’s heal crushed into the ground where Garrett’s head had been.

He reappeared over the goliath and landed knees first into his shoulders. With a shout from his opponent, they both toppled to the ground. This time, however, Garrett felt no pain. He rolled to the balls of his feet and lept for the giant’s back, knowing he wouldn’t have long before the other male was back in the game. He was able to grapple one arm into half of a submission hold, when a beefy hand fisted the shirt at his back and flipped Garrett off his feet. Had his hands not been slick with sweat and blood he may have been able to keep ahold of the bastard, but no dice. His back didn’t hit the ground this time though, he managed to land on one foot and one knee, and somehow retained his balance.

His instincts the driving factor, he twisted hard enough to tear the shirt in half, freeing him from the male’s hold as the bigger male made another grab for him.

A new wave of anger hit him as the cold bit into his flesh. He was soooo done playing.

He tucked his shoulder forward, tumbling into a crouch beside the guy, and unsheathing a small dagger he had concealed on his person as he rolled. He slashed into the giant’s side, the skin giving way easily due to his speed. The cut was a shallow one and far from fatal but it had the desired effect, the male gasped and clenched his side with both hands, the exhilaration making the cut bleed like a faucet. And by extension making the wound appear more serious than it was.

Garrett didn’t waste any time, he wrapped around the other male’s shoulders and pressed the blade, sharp side out, to the male’s neck. “Yield or you die!” He hissed in the male’s ear.

His big hand clapped the floor three times in surrender and he horsley choked out, “Y-yield…”

Garrett released the assassin and stumbled back on wobbly legs.

Thank the gods… he didn’t think he could fight anymore.

Daud barked a laugh and clapped his hands together a couple of times, “What a show, boy!”

Garrett held himself upright, even though it took every ounce of his energy. Weakness was not accepted here.

“That’s what I like to see!”

Distaste washed through Garrett’s body, pushing his anger aside and making standing more difficult. Damn! His side suddenly began twitching in earnest and his breathing became more shallow in an attempt to alleviate the pain. His ankle tried to buckle against his will but he shifted his weight to his other side, and his entire body was trembling with exhaustion. All consuming pain had his brain fogging up and his muscles flagging. But he forced himself to remain where he stood.

Perhaps his stubbornness could be counted as his blessing.

“You certainly have some brass!” Daud encouraged, “Bluffing your way to victory like that.”

Garrett suppressed his urge to curse, “I would have slit his throat.” he lied.

Daud shook his head, a grin setting into the hard lines of his face and a knowing gleam to his eyes. “Boy. I saw your knife. If you’d had any intention of slashing through flesh, the blade would have been flipped.” Daud’s smile faded and his eyes hardened, “Finish him.”

Garrett bristled at the command. He couldn’t help himself, he was using too much energy to stay conscience. “What for?” He challenged, the strength in his voice surprising him. “He’s down.”

“Not the point.” Daud calmly strode up to the assassin, planted his boot on the downed man’s shoulder and pushed him over to his side. “The parameters of this fight were set in the beginning. This is your job. You will kill him.”

Garrett scoffed, “I suggest you hold your breath, ‘cause that’s not going to happen, but at least passing out will keep you preoccupied.”

Before he finished speaking Daud dissolved from sight and the cold steel of a blade settled on his neck. Not cutting, but the pressure was a threat in and of itself. “Do you have any idea what I do to smartass kids who don't learn their place?”

Garrett maintained an indifferent expression, “Enlighten me.”

Daud let out a noise that may have been a chuckle had he not sounded so irritated. His hand clamped on Garrett’s jaw and cranked his head to the side, so he could look the other man in the eyes as he threatened him, no doubt. Daud rested the blade on Garrett’s lips, the warning clear.

Garrett cocked a brow at him, “you’ll cut out my tongue? How original. While you’re at it, how’s about you chop off my head and put it on a pike?” He was bluffing. Hard. But Daud didn’t need to know that his heart was galloping in his chest and a chill of fear shot up his spine. He didn’t want to die. And with his luck lately, he’d be killed because he was fluent in sarcasm and little else.

“You sound so disappointed.” Daud said offhandedly.

Yeeeeeeah… this is how and why I die. “I am. I expected you of all people to be more original than that.”

Something gleamed behind Daud’s eyes, something that had the hair at the back of Garrett’s neck raise in alarm, “original?” he waited a moment as if he was entertaining a thought then he smiled slowly and gave a brief nod.

Garrett’s challenge had been accepted.

Daud released Garrett and strode back over to the other assassin, who was attempting to stand while still maintaining pressure on the cut. His eyes were wild, like he was scared one wrong move and his guts would come spilling out. Daud came up short beside the male and shook his head at him.

Then, with speed that rivaled lightening, Daud slashed his dagger out to his side, and then sheathed it just as smoothly. The man looked shocked at first then the light died from his eyes as a red slit bloomed over his jugular. The color drained from his face and wept from the wound for a moment before he dropped.

Garrett lept back with a curse, his body reacting before his conscience mind told it to. His knee buckled and he dropped to the ground with a hiss of pain.

“Your morals didn't save this man. And it won't save anyone else you choose not to kill. But since you insist on defying me it seems I will have to make a lesson of you.” Daud turned enough to grin over his shoulder, “Not to worry, it’ll be ‘original.’”

XXX

Billie sighed at the display beneath her. Daud had wanted rid of that galumphing nuisance for a while now, based on how much he’d bitched about the man’s poor performance. Mostly they assumed it was due to his large stature, there was very little steath to be had from the man. However what he had lacked in subtlety he had more than made up for in zeal. He was by far one of Daud’s most mercilus assassins, killing targets and anyone else who managed to get in his way.

Looked like he finally outlived his usefulness.

Billie had assumed that to be the case when he had forced the new kid to spar with him. Setting the match up as ‘to death’ meant he either knew the new kid would win or he didn’t care if either of them kicked it. As it was, he seemed surprisingly pleased with the outcome. Daud often picked favorites but he was fickle. Typically he used and abused his new ones, at least until they were competent enough to work with someone of lower rank, if not on their own.

Perhaps it was a smart system. Learn from the man in charge and you can never claim ‘I didn’t know!’Since incompetence isn’t tolerated Billie guessed it was a kindness, though not everyone may see it that way.

She chuckled as the boy gathered up the remains of his shirt. He balled the taters and tossed them into the fire across the room. He’d already began to bruise pretty severely but that wasn’t what caught her attention. No, as a matter of fact it was the scars marring his young back that held her gaze. The kid had been tortured. That or he had made some very big mistakes while playing with fire, literally as well as figuratively.

Though, it would take some fairly awkward contortions to get burns from a hot poker multiple times in the side. And whip marks on his back, as well as old stab and slash wounds.

He stiffened and glanced around the room, his shrewd eyes catching her easily. His face hardened and he crossed his arms over his chest as though he was uncomfortable. He hobbled out, almost inaudible whimpers escaping his lips.

Tough kid.

She couldn’t help but feel a pang of respect. She’d seen grown men take less punishment and their bellyaching was, more often than not, a melodramatic display to say the least.

Billie dropped from the rafter, doing a quick tumble to soften her landing, and strode across the room. After all, it was better not to keep Daud waiting. Her mission and Thomas’ was clear. Watch the kid fight from different angles, report your findings. Mysteries didn’t remain that way for long with Daud.

When she pushed through the creaky office door Daud and Thomas both glanced her way but kept their conversation up. Thomas was high ranking, and not because he was a suck up. He was good at finding weaknesses and he spared no detail as he picked the boy apart.

“...He’s not self-taught, but whoever his instructor was wasn’t a strong person either. He is very good at using his opponent’s strength against them. He’s quick, both in body and a quick study. You could tell all he wanted to do was run though and… Daud, if he won't kill what good is he?”

“You let me worry about that.” Daud’s eyes slid over to Billie.

Billie smiled and crossed her arms as she leaned on the wall beside Daud. “He’s like a dart. Fast, direct, and always seems to hit the target. But he’s just as useless.”

“You’re implying a dart is only useful if it’s poisoned?” Daud challenged.

“Obviously.”

Daud nodded, “I disagree. What else.”

“You’re only interested because he ruffles your feathers. Dispose of him before he does something stupid.”

A smiled played at the edges of his lips. “You don’t like him.”

Billie rolled her eyes and stared at the wall over Daud’s shoulder to keep from saying anything else.

“In any case, he won't kill me. Why should I be worried.”

Point. Taken.

Billie growled, “Fine then. He’s stubborn as a mule and stronger than Thomas has given him credit for. The kid is still standing.”

“After a fight with Brutus? You can’t be serious?” Thomas protested.

“Saw him limp out of here with my own eyes.” she glared over at him, “He hesitates before striking. I think he’s holding back, making sure the wound will harm or daze but he never allows the line to be crossed. It’s like he’s afraid to kill. As a matter of fact, most of his attacks seem to be in an effort to make his opponent back off. He plays the scare card, like what he did with his little dagger there.”

Daud settled into a seat as she spoke and laced his fingers together over his lap. He had watched the same fight. He had all this information. What he needed was confirmation of what he’d gleaned from the boy.

“Is that everything?” only now did he bother posing it as a question as opposed to a demand.

“He was abused.” Billie tacked on, knowing he wanted more than just information on the fight but also on the scars. “Or tortured. It’s difficult to tell from that distance. He had whip marks and burns, deliberate burns. He’s malnourished but I can't tell if that is by design or preference or circumstance.”

“He is a very good thief, Billie. He could steal the means.”

“If he has the coin, then he may not have a choice.”

Daud was quiet for a moment, “A kid like that doesn’t let anyone tell him what to do. He could, however, have been conditioned to think eating too much is… gluttonous.”

Billie snorted, “You think the kid is religious?”

“Orphanages are almost exclusively run out of churches. And by extension their practices are forced down their young throats.”

Billie shrugged. “What makes you think he's an orphan?”

A dark, knowing look crossed Daud’s features, “he is.”

“‘Thou shalt not kill.’” Thomas said softly, turning both their attention his way, “so he rebelled but some things were so deeply engraved, he can't get past it?”

“Even to save his own life?” Billie argued.

Thomas shrugged, “Perhaps it’s in an effort to keep his soul from eternal torment.”

She scoffed, “What a load of shit.”

“Perhaps. He has had a gentle hand in his life though.” Daud stood and pivoted to his fireplace. Where he had destroyed the remnants of the boy’s bow.

“His instructor?” Thomas tracked the movement and removed his mask and settled into a seat near him.

“I believe so.” he waved by way of dismissal to the two of them, “I have what I wanted.”

Thomas obeyed without hesitation, a smile lightening his eyes. He shook off his hood and finger combed his hair back, then straightened his clothes on his way out. Only to stop short, shake his head, and slip his mask back on.

Billie rolled her eyes, falling in lust was a foolish thing to do. Hopefully he’d figure that out sooner rather than later.

Billie remained where she was as Daud ghosted over to the fire and stared into the flames. “What if he is a danger to you?”

“He isn’t.”

Fire ignited in Billie’s veins at his stubborn streak. “But what if he is.” Surely, he wouldn’t ignore a threat.

His next words sent a chill down her spine and with it carried a rush of relief. He was still her terrifying leader. It would still be a long time before she needed to step in. To take her rightful place in his shoes.

“Then I’ll take care of it.”

XXX

Garrett truly tried to hide his limp. To make it look like his injuries accrued at the behest of the behemoth’s brutal skills were merely trifling.

When in actuality he was in agony.

His willpower and anger the only things surging him forward on uneasy feet toward the room assigned as his. He didn’t know where Daud may have hidden a healer, or a doctor, and he wasn’t about to find out. And while he’d love to say that was due to pride, he’d be lying. As it stood he was unsure he’d actually make it to his bed with all the different aches vying for his attention. That coupled with the fact that his vision was still red, made his task that much more arduous.

He stumbled a few times as his ankle gave out under his weight. He was unsurpised when no one helped him up or even looked up in his direction. Assassins were expendable. And if you weren’t cut from the fold and sewn in just right you were just as disposable as a dirty cloth. He was on his own as far as everyone here was concerned and they rose in rank due to merit, not due to compassion. Less competition and all that.

Besides, what person learns if they never fail?

Garrett gasped and froze where he was as his ankle tensed again. He was in trouble. His ribs were broken, his hip had popped from its socket and been sloppily forced back in place during the fight. His head had been cracked a couple of times, and he strongly suspected he had sprained his ankle. The fact that he was on it at all was a miracle in and of itself.

He clenched his jaw and forced himself forward in spite of the fact that he knew he wasn’t ready. He regretted it as his knees hit the ground, josling his body. He fought the grunt of pain and stayed put this time, his eyes clamping shut and his muscles shaking from the effort.

He should have killed the giant like Daud wanted. He should have ended the fight at that very first opening. A misstep on the other assassin’s part had shown Garrett his weakness. A bum hip and very little training. Garrett could have slit the other male’s throat, or broken his neck a number of times. But he didn’t. And he’d been beaten for his decision.

Sure, he was the one still breathing. But the giant was really the one who won in the long run.

He’d be licking his wounds for weeks.

“You assholes!” a soft voice barked. “Help him to his room right now or Daud’ll have your hides!”

A few mutters and irritated noises greeted her challenge but the sound of boots followed. A rough hand clamped on Garrett’s upper arms and swiftly lifted him to his feet. He moaned as his body protested to the mistreatment. They couldn’t have given him a few minutes?

“You’re hurting him!” the soft voiced girl protested.

“So what?”

The woman was wasting her breath, trouble was Garrett couldn’t stay conscience long enough to enlighten her. Next thing he knew a cold, damp cloth was being run over any laceration he’d had the misfortune of having. He hissed at the one over his broken ribs and the prodding cloth stopped abruptly.

“I’m sorry, but they are deep. And filthy. You’ll get sick if I don’t clean them.”

He grunted and forced his eyes to crack at the very least. He wanted to see this torturer.

His sarcastic comment dried up in his throat as his vision cleared enough to see her face. The left side was twisted into a permanent expression of torment, a burn that seemed to cover most of her face, neck, and arm. The skin looking like it hadn’t set on her bones correctly and the affected eye was milky as though it no longer functioned. Her eyes were kind, however. This wasn’t a woman who enjoyed pain or suffering for anyone. And it was all too apparent her beauty had been robbed of her.

Her soft, knowing smile didn’t reach her eyes as her fingers touched her withered cheek. “I’m more than capable of treating your injuries. Of truth, I no longer feel any of this. It still shocks most.”

He shook his head and grimaced as a warning ach shot between his temples. “I-I didn’t mean to…”

“Notice?” she asked pointedly. “It is hardly a small blemish. It is alright, young thief. I have long since become accustomed to being regarded as such.”

He licked at his dry lips, “I shouldn’t have… stared… I’m sorry.”

“Do not be. For I am not.” this time the grin she flashed was genuine, “I would gladly undergo it again. It was my foothold into this life.”

Garrett scoffed and then groaned as his rib protested.

“Well. That is what you get for being rude.”

“Dear gods... I’m sorry….”

She chuckled quietly and gingerly stretched his arm out so that it was hanging off the bed. She didn’t prod his side, and he was thankful for that, but she did stare at the bruise for a long time. “Waiting for it to change there, Doc?”

Her eyes narrowed as she brushed her fingertips over the very fringes of the bruise. “Yes. Now shut it.”

He didn’t want to tick off the only person actually helping him so he followed her directions. Her hand drifted to the bruise creeping up his side from his hip, her brow furrowing deeply. She moved down to the foot of his bed and she slowly removed his right boot. When she went for his left he stopped her.

“Please… not yet. It--” he gasped but forced the words out, “--It feels sprained.”

Her hands hovering over the boot dropped abruptly and she nodded. She continued up the left side of the bed, checking his injuries in that meticulous way of hers. When she seemed satisfied with her assessment she walked over to the door and poked her head out. “May I please get some assistance? I shall need a second pair of hands.”

She left the door open a crack and came back over to his bedside. “This will hurt. Just know it needs to be done.” She soothed his hair from his forehead as she spoke in an incredibly calm demeanor. Similar to the way one would calm a frightened animal or child. “I promise you I will attempt to make this as painless for you as I possibly can.”

Garrett swallowed hard, “way to make a guy feel at ease there, Doc.”

“I could have just hurt you and left it at that.” She said pointedly as an assassin entered the room. “Thank you, Thomas. Your help is greatly appreciated.”

Though how she could tell who he was with that mask on puzzled Garrett. To him, they all looked the same when fully armed, which seemed to be a constant state around here.

He shrugged, “Where do you want me?”

“Here, please. I’ll need you to hold him down while I remove his boot. If his ankle is truly sprained it's also swollen. The less thrashing he does the better.”

Garrett didn't like that plan but it wasn't as though he could argue. The ankle was injured so the boot needed to be removed. Simple as that. His stomach wasn't getting on board with the plan however, as it clenched up like he was about to lose his breakfast.

Thomas closed in near the headboard and Garrett braced himself for more rough treatment. His eyes squeezed shut and his hands balled in the sheets.

Except then there was nothing. No grabbing. No holding him down. No… nothing.

“Young thief. I promised you I wouldn't harm you unnecessarily. My promise extends to Mr. Thomas as well. Under my care you are safe.”

Garrett cracked a lid at her, then glanced up at Thomas who was relaxing against the wall. “Why?” He found himself asking.

She smiled slowly, her twisted lip warping the wrong way, her other side looking perfectly genuine. “My husband is the one who burned me.”

“I--what?”

“My husband. He took a pot of boiling water and threw it at me. Immediately after promising me he would never harm me again.” Her eyes grew tired, like she'd suddenly aged by about a decade. “So I take my word very seriously. I only promise if I fully intend on going through with it. So you see, you are in good hands.”

“The best.” Thomas tacked on, pinning his gaze on her.

She fluttered her hand in the air as though shooing away the compliment. “Do you take me at my word, young thief?”

Garrett swallowed again and, not knowing what else he could possibly say, simply nodded at her.

She waved at Thomas who gripped his right shoulder and left arm. He carefully avoided the gash on his left shoulder and his grip was strong, not brutal.

“Then let us begin. And Thief?”

He didn't have it in him to respond.

“I will ask for your forgiveness before this night is over.”