Kit - This started as a b-day present for Kas many months ago. Then we worked on it together when we were bored. Now it's here in time for Phanniemay for the prompt 'Origins'!

Kas - Really? This is news to me.

It was the first thing he remembered in his life.

Warm, soft light. Not harsh yellows, or bright whites, or even searing reds. No. It was a gentle, warm, soft light that washed over him, and seemed to soothe and ease him from his troubles - few as he had, back then. After that, it was the sound of humming. A light, airy tune that traveled around the room, making him laugh and giggle along, high pitched voice joining in as best he could.

He remembered a warm, steaming cup of brown liquid that tasted like happiness, a bright smile that seemed brighter than even the sun, and the swish of a dress that would always be flowing with dancing and singing and laughter. It was warm, and safe, and happy, and he felt so very, very loved.

It was the last time he felt that feeling for a very, very long time.

"Ssh, keep quiet! If we wake them up, we'll face more than just a few angry parents." Randall Nicholas Beaumont had opened his eyes not at the familiar words of French, but at the unfamiliar harsh tones they were spoken with. Pulling himself into a sitting position, blankets wrapped around him, nervous blue eyes looked to the window where a thunderstorm had been raging for the better part of the night.

"Is that him? Tiny for a four year old, isn't he?" A harsh chuckle had Randy curling up a bit, as much as his child sized body could at any rate, eyes confused and worried. "Bit slow, isn't it? Hasn't even called out for help."

"Fool, that just makes this easier. Crying out causes too many problems." Three figures cloaked in black were in his bedroom, one by the open window - which allowed rain to drench near everything - one peeking out the half open door, and another by his bed, only a few feet away. "Alright, little one...it seems you'll be coming with us, for the time being."

"Wha- Who are you?" Voice nowhere near as loud as he had wanted it, Randy gave a terrified squeak at the cold metal that was pressed under his neck, a click heard from the gun that was against his throat. He had never seen one in his life but...he knew what it was.

"You can't be completely stupid, little one. You know what this is, yes?" A small nod, metal pressing against his neck even more. "Then you know one hit of this and you won't be asking anymore questions… Now please do keep quiet. We have a time schedule to follow. Is it clear?" The question this time was shot to the two at the door and window, each nodding. "Good. Let's get out of here."

Just like that, Randy Beaumont was picked up by the back of his shirt as if he weighed no more than a stuffed animal, the gun that had been pressed against him moving away as he was tossed into the air and then caught under the arm, the child still too terrified to say anything. Just...what was happening? Who were these people?! Why were they taking him from his soft, warm, loving home?!

Letting out a gasp of surprise as he was tossed out the window to someone waiting below, there was a terrified shriek that ended as soon as he finished falling, a hand slapping over his mouth as rainwater began drenching him and soaking him through his thin cloth pajamas. Struggling against the grip, he gave a muffled sob at the hit perfectly made to take his breath away and keep him quiet.

Handed back off to the one who had first picked him up, he felt his attention scatter for a bit, terror almost overwhelming him before he saw his house start to fade around the corner. His house which had those smiles and swishes and warmth and no, no, no, he didn't want to leave. Without even processing what he was doing, he bit the arm that was holding him as sharply as he could, hearing a muttered swear as he was dropped to the ground, the child wasting no time as he scrambled away from the four people.

"That little- Get him! If we let him get away- Snatch him, you fools! Get him!" Randy was already up and racing around the corner of an alleyway, sharp, wet stone digging into his feet and cold, fierce wind digging into him. Skidding around the corner, and letting out another sob as he crashed into a wall, he scrambled behind a set of disused, falling apart boxes. "Just go that way- I'll take this path."

The set of rapid footsteps - almost drowned out by the rain - had Randy curling in on himself even more, hands clasping his shirt over his heart, trying to quiet it so he wouldn't be heard and found. What was even happening?! Did...did he do something wrong? Is that why he was being taken? Why he was being- Being kidnapped?! He couldn't remember doing anything that bad… Maybe knocking a few things over he didn't want to eat, and not wanting to go to bed, but…

Nothing to deserve this much terror...this much fear.

"Come out, little one...you're just making this worse on yourself. We have a mission to complete, and this time, our target happens to be the only son of the Beaumont family. That, little one, would be you." Randy was smart. He always knew he was smart. Smarter than he had any right to be at his age, and he was certainly smart enough to understand that these were people who he did not want to go with. Not at all.

Hearing the footsteps come to a stop, and the boxes being shoved aside, he looked up at the figure that was standing over him, twisted grin on his face. "Ah, there you are, little one." Seeing the sleek gleam of shining silver, Randy did the first thing that was to pop into his mind - which was to lunge at the man.

It was, apparently, a rather unexpected move, since the man took a step back in startled confusion. Which gave Randy just enough time to sharply bite at the wrist that was holding the gun. A sharp swear and yelp and Randy was gasping in pain as he hit a brick wall with much more force than he had ever been subjected too, small body unused to the pain that wracked through him.

"That, little one, was not a very smart move…" Looking up in terror, a glint of steel once more caught his eye, the man noticing the same thing. The gun rested evenly between them, Randy lunging for the weapon the same time he saw the man move out of the corner of his eyes. The feel of cold steel, a loud click, and a ear shattering bang and it was all over, a body dead and bleeding out on the rain soaked streets of France.

Randall Nicholas Beaumont sat in terror, gun clutched tightly in his hands, and breath coming out uneven.

"Aw, come on, don't tell us you-" Hearing the teasing words that had been cut off, Randy looked over in terror at seeing the other three he had escaped, all having stopped at seeing the body on the ground, and the small child holding the gun. From there, it was a blur of shouting and swears and a crystal clear sharpness coming from his stomach. After that, it was a stretch of blackness in which his mind was silent.

When he next woke up, it was to a sharp pain from his side, and the blurry sight of someone with long blonde hair sitting in a chair beside him. Trying to move - and whimpering at the pain - he stilled at a warm hand on his forehead.

"Easy there, my little one, you've taken a few nasty hits… You seem to be quite the fighter, for such a young age." Fighter… What did she- Darting up, and biting back a sob at the pain that wracked through him, his eyes darted around the room. It was a simple stone room, with flimsy, metal cots lining the walls, each with an off white bed, blanket, and pillow.

Warily looking to the woman, Randy scooted away as best he could, another spasm of pain stopping him. Shivering, he looked up, noticing the small smile hadn't left her face. "Who-" Wincing at the dry throat, he swallowed as best he could, determined expression on her face. "Who are you?"

"The better question, little one, is who are you." Well...that was a rather silly question - even if it didn't sound like a question. Straightening up a little, and trying to ignore the pain, he frowned at her.

"Randy Beaumont, of course."

"No...you're not. As of this moment, your name is now Randall Nicholas Riter." Another confused look, the woman giving a light laugh, which...sounded rather nice, actually. "I am Sylvia Riter, and as of this day onwards, I shall be your caretaker and trainer."

"Train...trainer? What…"

"Welcome to the Sect of the Crow, little one. It's here where you will learn to become an assassin."