Ashashen's Creed Origins
I
"Get up!"
A moment passed, occupied by naught more than labored breathing.
"Get up!" Ash shouted again, somehow mustering even more vocal volume than before.
"If a few paintballs are going to stop you then you sure as fuck aren't making it through training. Now get up!"
The seemingly incapacitated soldier lay against a makeshift wall, pressing his hands against his left lung. Ash stared at him through her sunglasses; and he seemed unmoved. The training exercise had screeched silently to a halt, the silence broken only by the sound of labored breathing.
"Ma'am, he looks hurt." One of the soldiers said quietly from the back of the accumulated crowd.
"Does he now?" Ash asked with angry sarcasm, "maybe we should call Doc then?"
Ash turned her head to the observation deck, "Doc! We have a new patient for Weenie Hut General!"
"Oui?" A voice called out from the elevated observation room.
A clamoring of footsteps echoed throughout the silent training room as Doc rapidly descended the stairs. As he approached the incapacitated soldier, he subtly slipped a half-eaten baguette into his pocket.
"I was not aware that Weenie Hut had a military," he remarked through the thickest of French accents.
Crouching next to the downed soldier he took a long look at him. Without a word, he pressed a hand onto the man's chest where he had been keeping his hands.
The man gasped in pain, followed by more rapid breathing. Doc pulled a pair of scissors out of his boot and cut through his uniform's shirt. Upon removal of the shirt, a seeming leopard-man was revealed, as the officer was covered in bruises and welts.
A gasp of shock rose from the crowd. Upon closer inspection, there was a large cluster of bruises where he had been holding his hands.
"Ah," Doc remarked, "mon ami here has a broken rib and most likely a punctured lung. We must inform le Weenie Hut that their general will be in the hospital."
Ash paused for a moment, and was brought back to reality by Doc.
"Hehe, he reminds me of a fish I caught once." The man gasped and wheezed in response.
"Alright, this concludes the training exercise," the crowd began to disperse in the direction of the armory, "when you turn in your guns, tell the armory to check their CO2 pressure."
After the crowd had dispersed, an ambulance arrived and carried the man away. Ash saw tears well up in his eyes as they lifted him onto the stretcher. Both her and Doc remained silent until the ambulance had driven off.
"I do not remember training being so dangerous." Doc said, pulling out his baguette and taking a bite.
"It's not normally. I saw him step out between the buildings and get lit up. I just didn't think you could puncture a lung in training."
"Ah, it is my favorite part of the medical profession," Doc paused to drink some wine from his canteen, "you will always see new things."
Ash wasn't sure how to respond, "yeah, I guess."
"Well, since training is over today, want to come get some wine with me at le Bistro?"
"Doc, it's eleven in the morning." Ash replied flatly.
"Oui, but it is always after five if you think about it."
"Perhaps, but no, I have too much to do today." Ash replied as she began to walk towards the exit.
II
Closing her front door behind her, Ash fell into her couch. Not bothering to change out of her uniform, she poured herself some wine and looked at her watch.
"12:00" She read.
Sipping wine as she pondered the irony of shutting Doc down, she eventually concluded, "It's always after five if you think about it."
She sat in silence for several minutes, sipping wine occasionally. A memory from the day stood out to her; and she couldn't think of anything else. The man's tear-filled eyes as he was carried away.
"Were they tears of sorrow? I know we tell them that failures in training will not be tolerated, but this was more of an accident. He probably knows. Tears of happiness? Did they already give him pain meds before they took him to the ambulance? No, I would have seen that. That and I don't think they do that anyway. Tears of pain? Probably, puncturing a lung hurts."
Ash ran her fingers over a small scar on her ribs.
"Hmm." She hummed conclusively.
Despite concluding, she could not get the memory out of her mind.
"I've seen my fair share of tears. Plenty."
Upon thinking this, Ash was immediately accosted by memories. They hit her like a rogue wave; unfaded despite their age. In an instant, she was taken back in time, to when she learned of true tears.
III
It was many years ago. Ash was certain that she was probably thirteen at the time. She was still in Israel and had just gotten home from school. Something was different today, though. There was no smell of dinner in the air, no music playing from the kitchen, no welcoming Castle.
Figuring that this meant they were going to a restaurant for dinner, Ash excitedly dropped her backpack in her room and rushed to her Dad's room. Another difference, the door was closed.
She approached and heard the sounds of sobbing and sadness.
The words were still clear, even after all this time, "What do you mean… No! No, no, no…"
Ash listened closer, "he must be on the phone" she thought.
"Don't leave me! No, wait, don't hang up, I can change!"
There was a pause followed by a crash against the door. Ashe yelped quietly and jumped back instinctively. The shadows of broken phone pieces stretched out through the light under the door.
"Dammit, why would Tachanka leave me?"
AsH listened but heard no words, just more sobbing. Walking quietly, she made her way to the kitchen, grabbed some chips, and sealed herself in her room.
Waking the next day, Ash stepped out of her room and saw that the house had not changed. All of the lights were still off; the darkness and silence unbroken. Something was off, it was time to check on her adopted father.
Approaching quietly, she knocked on his door.
"Dad… Castle?"
There was no response, she knocked again, "Are you ok?"
Hearing no response, she cracked the door open, "Castle?"
Nothing. She opened the door further. What awaited her was a sight of horror to last her whole life.
Castle lay in an overturned chair, his already dark skin turned purple in his face. He lay sprawled, in one hand a picture of Tachanka while the other grasped the end of a belt looped around his neck. His pants hung about his ankles, his micropenis exposed. His asphyxiated face, bulging tongue and nipple sized penis were too much for Ash to see.
With a scream of horror that would echo in her mind for the rest of her life, she turned and ran.
Suddenly, the memory was over. Ash was left on her couch, a glass of wine in hand with anger surging through her body.
"Damn you, Tachanka." She muttered to herself as she snapped the neck on her wine glass.
"You'll suffer for what you did to him."