A/N: I had this written down about a year or so ago and I decided to post it. I do not remember why I decided to write it but I really rather like it. So after much revising and editing, here it is.

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As The Dawn Rises

He was given another mission. The same mission. It was simple. Infiltrate the village in the dead of night, sneak into the homes and slit their throats in their peaceful sleep. All of them: men, women, children, the elderly and even the infants. And then he would leave. But not before setting the entire village on fire. That black fire would burn everything to ash. It was genocide.

He did it quickly, mechanically. He had been performing these tasks for years. He did not question the reasons behind these massacres, he never did. There was rarely ever a flaw in his performance. Should an error occur he kept a fairly level-head and cleaned up his mess nicely.

Once, he had entered a home. It was forty past ten. He should have checked for any signs of mobility. He just finished in disposing of a husband and wife. He ran into the five-year old girl there, in the dark hall. She looked up at his black form through bleary eyes, but he could see her clearly.

He debated with himself whether he should kill her right then. Even if she did open her mouth it would not be long enough to rip through the dead silence. And that was odd in itself. He never… hesitated. Even the word seemed foreign to him. But the little child was reminiscent of a girl he knew once, ages ago.

He held out his gloved hand. She took it. He led her to the kitchen, got her a glass of milk, led her back to her room and tucked her back into bed. She smiled weakly. He patted her head. He left. He made sure to check for mobility in the rest of the other houses and in the streets and alleys where the scum roamed. It was fifteen to midnight when he returned to the girl.

She was asleep, deeply so. By the slight twitches under her lids, he could tell she was dreaming. Judging by the faintest upturn in the corner of her tiny lips, they were good dreams, happy dreams of fields of flowers and lots of sunshine and unnatural perfectly blue sky. They would be the last good dreams she would ever have again.

It was midnight. He watched as the black flames fed on the wood of the houses and grew rapidly, higher and higher until they blocked the beautiful full moon. He turned around and walked away. Through the loud cracks of thunder and the silent roaring flames he thought he could hear a girl's high-pitched screaming.

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It took two and a half years for the reality of that night to settle into his mind. But it did not hit him all in one go. No. It was planted into the farthest recesses of his blank mind. He did not know what finally triggered the spark, but everyday for months it had been waiting to happen.

He had just finished another assassination mission. He had immediately written and sent his detailed report when he returned to his own barren village. He was sitting quietly in a corner of his cold, empty room when he felt it. His eyes opened gently. He couldn't pinpoint what exactly had distracted him from his deep meditation until weeks later. It only grew from there, slowly, but surely. Just like the black flames that consumed the numerous villages he destroyed.

He knew, one day, it would explode and destroy everything in its wake. Just like a bomb. As usual, he pushed it way into the deepest pit of his mind. If he could keep it at bay until his dying day, then there was no need to worry over it. He knew he could do it.

He would fail.

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A/N: Yes, I know it's rather short and I know it's dark. Like I stated above, I do not remember how I came to write this or how I was inspired. However, I hope you enjoyed it and I will only ask that you review, please.

Please.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, the girl that the little girl reminds him of is a certain female teammate of his. I leave the rest to your interpretation.

Again, please review.