I am not an ordinary person. And if you are reading this, neither are you. I am a child born of a disastrous marriage and raised by a stranger in one of the emergency services after my parents have been killed. I was trained in all form of self defence and have now killed someone. I am an abomination. Master of all yet still master of none. I am an assassin in training. And so are you.
Spoiler! :
Rules! You can kill NPCs but not other peoples characters. Each person can specialise in at many fields as they would like but can only fully master one. E.g. Stealth, Long Range, Hacking, Seduction, etc. If you see an opportunity to create an original field that others can learn than feel free to do so. You cannot godmod. I will boot you if you do. Make your character blend in as much as possible or stand out to the point that police will refuse to suspect you due to it being too obvious. E.g. Caroline May is dark by nature and stands out with her pixie like appearance however she stands out too much and being the adoptive daughter of a police officer keeps her out of the spotlight Have fun and write at least a paragraph for each post!
Location Pick a major city that everyone has heard of and create events that gets everyone to Sydney, Australia. Everyone will meet there.
Emergency Service Foster Parent You can only have one parent. Each of these foster parents are using their job as a scapegoat for their murders. Ambulance has a target, puts them in danger, picks them up after being called in and kills them on the way to the hospital using whatever method. Police cover their own tracks, same with detectives and firefighters and federal agents. They are NPCs and can and will die.
Looking back on the past few weeks, I feel comforted by the knowledge that I could start a new life after years of lies. Lies to everyone including myself. My father, John Butler has been training me in secret to become an assassin without my knowledge. All the weapon and martial arts. Well that doesn't matter so much right now. How I got in this situation does. The day started out normal enough. I got up and started with feeding my cat, Éclair, as my adoptive father fed his dog, Rex, before we both got ready for work while keeping up idle chat. Soon after we began lock up and headed towards his patrol car. "Careful out there John." I gave him a peck on the cheek before moving towards my old Harley Davidson.
"Don't you speed again to work. If I have to delete another ticket with your name on it from the system I'm going to be fucking pissed."
I snorted in amusement knowing full well that wasn't the actual problem, watching as he closed his door and left our underground parking lot before putting on my helmet and speeding out towards Manhatten business district. I worked in an office on the fourth floor of an unimportant, unimpressive building where I spent my days running between office cubicles, the printer and the coffee machine. The simple life of a trainee. At the end of each day, I would exchange pleasantries with the security guard. And just like any other this day went no different.
Until I returned home that afternoon to someone rustling as they rummaged through John's room. She was to be my first kill. I walked into the living room and heard the noise. Believing it was the cat I walked in as she ran out right into me. I immediately jumped into action kneeing her in the gut, considering she looked a bit pudgy I didn't think it would do much. And I was right. She countered with a poorly aimed punch to my face. I dodged right before she tackled me, dropping her bag of stolen belongings. The next few moments were a blur as I flipped us over and grabbed the nearest potential weapon. I screwdriver John must have forgotten to pick up when he dropped his toolbox. I went to aim for her head with the handle but she bucked and as it flipped out of my hand I grabbed it swung down and the tool went straight into her neck. I held it there, thinking if I was gonna murder by accident then I might as well see it through. She began choking on her own blood as is pooled out her mouth and in her lungs. Within a minute she was dead on my floor and I began to panic.
"Well done. Now what do you do with the body Caroline?"
I jumped up at the sound of John's voice. "I can explain everything dad. Please don't-"
He laughed a big belly laugh that he has when someone tells a great joke. "My little pixie. I won't arrest you. What did you honestly think all those lessons were for? Not the police academy."
"What is going on then?!"
I snap out of my memory as the door opens and John walks in. "Two tickets for Sydney via Brisbane. You and I are meeting other handlers and assassins in training."
May The Blood of my Enemies Flow Like Rivers to the Sea
The words echoed once more through the room, vastly ignored by the collection of laughing voices all around the chair from which the man had, once again, pleaded for his life to be spared. The party went on, and the man was still tightly attached to his chair at the center. Cherry couldn’t help but move her head up to glance at the other ma, holding her body close: Kazuya Takaki, whom she nicknamed Okazu, a thirty-something gentleman, leader of the humble Yakuza gang simply known as Sakura no Kishidan, or Knights of the Cherry Blossom. Cherry hoped that, as nice as Okazu was being to her, he didn’t rename his gang just for her sake. She wouldn’t know how to feel if that were to be the case.
“Your new gadgets are ready, Cherry-san,” Okazu whispered to her ear.
Cherry giggled as her Okazu tickled her belly with his powerful hand. “That isn’t a clear order, Okazu-sama.” she replied, eyes glittering with a childish joy as she looked at him once more, letting her fingers toy with his mid-long black hair while she contemplated his slightly pale skin. “I know what I have to do, but I do enjoy hearing it from you.”
“Then, allow me to formally order you to test your newest gadgets on a traitor who attempted to leave our clan without even saying goodbye. Can you do this for me?”
A little bubble of excitement grew within Cherry’s stomach. “Your orders are my desires, Okazu-sama.” She reluctantly rose from the seat she shared with her Okazu and stretched her arms: immediately, two men came by and took their time to attach two bulky combat gloves to her hands. They were reinforced with tiny steel plates, and razor-sharp claws rested at the end of each finger. An elaborate, visible system allowed each claw to heat up, which was used for cutting holes through steel-surfaces. Cherry closed her hands into fists after they were attached – it was one of her favorite self-made gifts. “Pl-Please, Oyabun!” the man on the chair kept on repeating. “I am sorry, so very sorry…!”
Cherry walked in front of him, waiting until the two previous men left and came back, this time bringing a big enough platform for her to stand on. Using one of her gloved hands, she activated the heating system inside her gloves and slowly, very slowly, she let one of her claws come in contact with the poor man’s chest.
“Is it good, Okazu-sama?” Cherry shouted over the man’s screams, turning her head towards her Okazu. The latter merely nodded, but it was all she needed to feel better. Turning back towards the man on the chair, she pulled the claw deeper, then lifted her other hand and lacerated the man’s skin. Shreds of his shirt and torso’s bloodied skin fell on the floor as the party continued, with everyone cheering for Cherry. Eager to please her surroundings, she continued her work, moving towards the man’s stomach, scratching his ears, and leaving deep marks on his neck.
“What shall I do next, Okazu-sama?” Cherry asked. “Poke out an eye? Rip off the tongue?”
“Not this time, Cherry-san, not this time.” Okazu said with a hint of regret. “We have a schedule to keep. Get your katana and behead him, will you?”
At this point, the man was too mad with pain to have heard the order, and could only pant loudly as Cherry deactivated the heating system, removed her right glove and held out her hand. Soon enough, a short katana with a bright red handle was given to her. She ordered one of the servants to hold the man on the chair by the hair, and it was only at that moment that he understood what was happening. As she looked at him to smile one last time, Cherry aimed for his neck and swung her blade, slashing through it with ease. The servant fell off the platform with the head still in his hand, and the crowd around him roared with laughter as a stream of blood came out of the exposed neck. Cherry lowered her blade and turned towards her beloved Okazu, smiling at him as the blood began to fall on her clothes, her hair, her face. He contemplated her from his seat, and through his satisfaction, she could easily see what he saw. A little girl proud to have made her people happy. A little angel radiating with glee. A little demon with a bloodied sword and a hideous claw-for-hand, waiting for her master’s next order. A desirous little doll, eager to let her lord enjoy himself with her existence. A perfect little assassin, happy to do her job, happy to be where she was. Okazu rose from his seat and slowly walked towards Cherry before kneeling in front of her platform, staring at her with his commanding eyes. The bubble of excitement within Cherry’s stomach grew and grew, menacing to explode. So, obeying its silent order, Cherry walked towards her Okazu, placed her clawed hand on his cheek and squashed her lips against his, letting her heart soar as the crowd around them cheered anew. It didn’t take long for Okazu’s arm to surround Cherry’s shoulders and pull her closer into the embrace, to her utmost glee.
But unfortunately, all good things had to have an end – as expressed by the sudden vibration in Cherry’s pocket, a simple yet annoying reminder that although Cherry’s caretakers were the ones who had offered her (or cursed her with, depending on interpretation) with the life she lived, they could just as easily interrupt its course.
“Ah, Okazu-sama.” Cherry said, interrupting the moment. “I’m very sorry, but I must take this call.”
“From the Brothers, I assume?” Okazu inquired, referring to Arata and Basho Tori, Cherry’s caretakers.
“Indeed! They will need me very soon. I will have to get ready and meet them.”
“I understand. Here’s to hope you’ll be back soon, Cherry-san.”
A bright smile illuminated Cherry’s face. “I hope so too, Okazu-sama. I hope so too. But before going, I’ll need to clean myself up. So... shall we take a shower?”
***
“You’re late.”
The familiar faces of the twin brothers Arata and Basho Tori came into view as Cherry arrived in a simple room within their private apartment. Turning back, the two gazed upon what they were used to see: a little humanoid creature with a dark blue attire, a backpack that seemed full of the killing tools crafted by said creature’s own hands.
“I was entertaining Okazu-sama. He tested the tools as you asked and had me deal with the traitor.” For a split-second, a smirk’s shade attempted to break the robotic calmness that rested on Cherry’s expressionless face as she thought back of the party. She allowed the thought to say, but killed the smile before it could grow. Now was not the time.
“It’s not often you call me before the other way around.” Cherry continued. “Is there something wrong?”
“We’re going to Sidney. There’s a general meeting between assassins in training such as yourself.”
“Am I already partnered with someone?”
“Not yet. You’ll have to meet your colleagues, first, test your skills against or with them, and most importantly–”
“Represent myself, and represent you.”
Both brothers nodded in perfect sync – a sign that the were satisfied with Cherry. She nodded back. “Understood. My things are already packed.”
“Then wait outside. We’ll be gone soon.”
As Cherry left the room, she couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to finally meet other assassins as competent as she was, or even more. She closed her eyes, remembering a sentence from her favorite robot. It was, without a doubt, a thrilling perspective to think about – and hopefully, some of them would enjoy the partnership as much as she thought she would.
"Is there a limit to how much living I can live with my life? How will I know if I've gone too far? And why did I spend my life savings on sunglasses for a whale? I shall find the answers... to these questions."
Caroline May looked over her memories and photos of the past week. Seven days, seven counties, seven major cities. South, East, North, East, South, South and South. The days seemed to blur together at the time. New places, new lessons, new people. Never the same people though. Always differnt. One stayed the same though. John. Her mentor, her adoptive father. The only solid part of her life. Until the last city in Tiwan.
"Caroline, I'll meet you there. I need to go a separate way. I'll book a room at the hotel Star City. Ask for the room under the name of Dahlia. You'll be using that name in public too." John had his own plans.
"Dock warehouse 3. Then Star City. Just remember." She says looking at the conveyer belt that carried all the bags just as her own went past.
Grabbing it she turned and began to walk to the taxi bay out the front of the Sydney International Airport, running into a young asian girl on the way.
"My gosh are you okay?" she inquired.
"Oh I'm perfectly fine thank you." She gave Caroline an odd look. "I'm headed to the docks to meet my parents. They came over before me. Are you headed that way too?"
"Yes." Suddenly she recognised the girl. Cherry. John had shown her a photo of the girl he wanted to partner her with. Holding out her hand she spoke. "I'm Dahlia."
"Sakura. Could you help me find my way there? I don't quite know my way around." Cherry took her hand in a quick shake before releasing.
"Of course." Caroline strode forward, flagging down a taxi for the two of them. "I look forward to working with you Cherry. My father has told me a bit about you."
May The Blood of my Enemies Flow Like Rivers to the Sea
The sky was lightening by the time they got the fire under control but I can see it still, printed on the inside of my eyelid like one of those miniature prints you get from the polaroid cameras. The way they start black and then the colour fades in, spreading and spreading until the whole frame's on fire and you know it won't ever go away again.
Yeah, that's what it's like; to be in love with the flames.
I took a polaroid once: bucket fire but way up close so it looked like all the world was burning. Then I set my lighter to it 'cos that's the code. You can't leave evidence, you know, doesn't fit with the story of poor, orphaned fire fighter's son who just wants to make sure nobody has to lose their family, like-
-Well you get the picture. Sweet, tragic, good-natured Benjamin King.
I light up a fag on the drive home - gives me an excuse to carry the lighter and I guess I'm hooked now. Dad puts on his music: did you hear the rain. He drums fingers on the steering and we don't talk, both savouring those dying flames before the water doused them.
"Got the daughter out okay," dad says at last. "Good thinking with the laundry."
I shrug as I get out the car but actually I'm peeved that he noticed. It was meant to look like a fortunate accident. Oh, good thing Mrs Winkle left the laundry there, must have slowed the fire down. A shame about her and Mr. Winkle though.
"Got a few people flying in." Dad locks the car, lingers in front of the house.
"What people?" I can feel the frown on my face as I say it; know I look more annoyed than I feel. Still thinking of the laundry and whether it was a bad idea.
"People like you and me. We're meeting them tomorrow."
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