apartment. Dust plumed up from the worn carpet, and the Dark Man chuckled coldly.
“I’m sorry, your majesty,” said the assassin sarcastically, “the maid has taken the year off. I hope my meager accommodation is acceptable.”
Sebastian ignored the comment, gazing around the room. The Dark Man released the hidden panel, proceeding to return his weapons methodically to their allocated positions. The young boy observed him in amazement. In stark contrast to the room, the weapons cabinet appeared immaculate. Not a touch of dust or grime marred its surfaces, and the weapons themselves gleamed, freshly oiled and polished. The boy required no great knowledge of the man to see where his priorities lay in life–or death as it were.
“Why do you live here Dark Man?” Sebastian asked innocently.
“I have to live somewhere,” answered Vain simply, sliding the panel back into place.
“That’s not what I meant. I get the feeling you are very good at... the things that you do. Surely you must get paid well. Why do you choose to live in such squalor when you could live somewhere... nicer?”
Vain stood silently with his back to Sebastian. “This place is where I live. That is all.” He spoke quietly, facing the wall. “Other places aren’t designed for people like me.”
“What do you mean, ‘people like you’?”
“I’m an assassin !” snapped Vain, spinning around to face the shocked boy. “Don’t think for a second that I’m some storybook hero you can rely on to save you from these people every time. I don’t ride a white horse and I don’t wear silver armor. I hunt people down, torture and slaughter them, for money I’ll never use.”
Sebastian grew silent, knowing he should say no more, yet the weight of his thoughts became too much and he finally gave in to the temptation. “But you saved me. That ought to mean something.”
“Bah! I saved you on a whim!” spat Vain, waving his hand dismissively. “Tomorrow I might kill you on a whim!”
“I don’t think you will.” Sebastian’s voice seemed small, but confident.
Vain looked around the room for something to absorb his rage. His first instinct was to kill the object of his frustration, but every time he gazed at the boy he remembered Angelique. Calming himself, he turned back to where Sebastian sat on the corner of his mattress.
“Don’t try to save me boy,” he said sadly. “It’s too late for that.”
“Maybe,” Sebastian mused oddly. Without explanation he rolled over on the mattress and went to sleep.
Vain gazed intently at the boy and shook his head slowly before lying down on the ground. He removed his pistols and placed them on the floor beside him. He hoped the dreams might stay away for just one night, but knew they would be waiting.
* * * *
Vain sat bolt upright, the twin silenced Glocks seemingly sliding into his hands of their own volition. A noise he’d never heard before had awoken him: the sound of knocking on his front door.
Silent as a spirit, Vain moved to the door and waited. The knocking came again and he peered through the peephole to see who stood on the other side.
An extremely ragged Priest leaned against the opposite wall. His face was cut, and his clothing torn and soiled. Vain backed away from the door and into the bathroom, praying the knocking wouldn’t awaken the still-sleeping boy.
Climbing through the tiny bathroom window he edged his way along a thin ridge of brickwork that led around to an external stairwell. Leaping silently onto the stairs, he moved along to the corner and quickly glanced to where his front door lay.
Priest stood alone and exhausted outside the apartment. After a quick check to make sure nobody else hid nearby, Vain approached the black man with his pistols drawn.
“What are you doing here?” asked the Dark Man, making Priest jump in surprise before wincing in pain.
“Dark... Man!” he gasped. “We must... talk, inside... quickly.”
“I don’t
“I’m sorry, your majesty,” said the assassin sarcastically, “the maid has taken the year off. I hope my meager accommodation is acceptable.”
Sebastian ignored the comment, gazing around the room. The Dark Man released the hidden panel, proceeding to return his weapons methodically to their allocated positions. The young boy observed him in amazement. In stark contrast to the room, the weapons cabinet appeared immaculate. Not a touch of dust or grime marred its surfaces, and the weapons themselves gleamed, freshly oiled and polished. The boy required no great knowledge of the man to see where his priorities lay in life–or death as it were.
“Why do you live here Dark Man?” Sebastian asked innocently.
“I have to live somewhere,” answered Vain simply, sliding the panel back into place.
“That’s not what I meant. I get the feeling you are very good at... the things that you do. Surely you must get paid well. Why do you choose to live in such squalor when you could live somewhere... nicer?”
Vain stood silently with his back to Sebastian. “This place is where I live. That is all.” He spoke quietly, facing the wall. “Other places aren’t designed for people like me.”
“What do you mean, ‘people like you’?”
“I’m an assassin !” snapped Vain, spinning around to face the shocked boy. “Don’t think for a second that I’m some storybook hero you can rely on to save you from these people every time. I don’t ride a white horse and I don’t wear silver armor. I hunt people down, torture and slaughter them, for money I’ll never use.”
Sebastian grew silent, knowing he should say no more, yet the weight of his thoughts became too much and he finally gave in to the temptation. “But you saved me. That ought to mean something.”
“Bah! I saved you on a whim!” spat Vain, waving his hand dismissively. “Tomorrow I might kill you on a whim!”
“I don’t think you will.” Sebastian’s voice seemed small, but confident.
Vain looked around the room for something to absorb his rage. His first instinct was to kill the object of his frustration, but every time he gazed at the boy he remembered Angelique. Calming himself, he turned back to where Sebastian sat on the corner of his mattress.
“Don’t try to save me boy,” he said sadly. “It’s too late for that.”
“Maybe,” Sebastian mused oddly. Without explanation he rolled over on the mattress and went to sleep.
Vain gazed intently at the boy and shook his head slowly before lying down on the ground. He removed his pistols and placed them on the floor beside him. He hoped the dreams might stay away for just one night, but knew they would be waiting.
* * * *
Vain sat bolt upright, the twin silenced Glocks seemingly sliding into his hands of their own volition. A noise he’d never heard before had awoken him: the sound of knocking on his front door.
Silent as a spirit, Vain moved to the door and waited. The knocking came again and he peered through the peephole to see who stood on the other side.
An extremely ragged Priest leaned against the opposite wall. His face was cut, and his clothing torn and soiled. Vain backed away from the door and into the bathroom, praying the knocking wouldn’t awaken the still-sleeping boy.
Climbing through the tiny bathroom window he edged his way along a thin ridge of brickwork that led around to an external stairwell. Leaping silently onto the stairs, he moved along to the corner and quickly glanced to where his front door lay.
Priest stood alone and exhausted outside the apartment. After a quick check to make sure nobody else hid nearby, Vain approached the black man with his pistols drawn.
“What are you doing here?” asked the Dark Man, making Priest jump in surprise before wincing in pain.
“Dark... Man!” he gasped. “We must... talk, inside... quickly.”
“I don’t
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