Chapter 1: Ballroom of the Dogs
Perspective: Cygnus
I feel heavy.
I looked down onto the great hall and saw many guests. The men stood tall with their polished shoes and crisp, dark tuxedoes as the women sipped at their champagne glasses, subtly wiping at their mouths with the back of their gloved hands. Flowers permeated in both scent and color across the expanse of the room and its walls. And the crystal chandeliers that hung low from the ceiling shone with a golden light against the honeyed marble floors.
I watched over all of this as the string quartet near the entrance of the foyer played the classics that I so loved and held dear to my heart. I raised my glass to my lips as my other hand rested on the stone of the balustrade. Tonight was perfect. I could be anywhere in the world right now, should I choose to believe. I could have received my invitation to the one of the most anticipated corporate events of the year and had arrived on the arm of a gentleman. I could be swaying to the strings and have my mind wanting for nothing. Sure, Bells, I mused.I closed my eyes as the idea shadowed the liquid slowly decanting down my throat, because, in all honesty I was not here for any of those things. Tonight, I was here to kill a man. A man charged guilty for overzealous offshore investments and extensive capital gain at the unjustified expense of people's lives. A corporate tycoon with political influences whose greed outweighed his potential to do good in this world. Monster. I saw him now, standing by his woman and colleagues, their own respective partners as well as his hired dogs. I smiled at the sight, despite myself. Look at them. Mercenaries. Their nothing but hired guns, those filthy dogs, I thought. There were four of them, all pristine and expensive to the eye and yet they wore those same rugged expressions, reckoning but absent. I knew those looks. They were experienced killers. So be it. I figured he had more guards in the crowd anyway, that were out-of-uniform and watching for any signs of a threat. The possibility was more than likely. I fingered at the silver locket around my neck and feigned interest in the floral arrangements lined across the stairwell to my left. A few seconds passed before the faint noise of static sounded in my right ear.
"What is it, B'?" A voice asked.
Alice is our intelligence and data capturer, making up one-third of our team. She gathers Intel on all our targets and devises most of our strategies to enact a clean assassination. Her background was beyond impressive for her age. And by most in our industry she was considered to be a child prodigy in her line of work. At nineteen she had stolen millions of dollars worth of assets from various stock markets and had helped rewrite legislations of entire governments. By twenty-one she had worked as Eyes for some of the highest ranked assassin crews across the globe, leading in logistics and redefining surveillance tactics as the business knew it on black-listed, undisclosed projects. Her skill was undeniable. Nothing escaped her sight. And through recognition of her talents and flawless ability to go unnoticed she was reverently entitled: little sparrow.
"Alice," I breathed, running my fingertips across the stone railing, "ready delivery."
I took one last sip of my Krug, 1990 and then placed my glass down on the aforementioned balustrade. I glanced around the room once more and noticed several pairs of eyes on me. I continued on unfazed and settled my eyes on the main guard stationed around the Target, noting that one affiliate was far younger than the rest. The static in my right ear spiked slightly.
"In position, Dispatch at your command." She said.
My gaze was still locked onto the youngest of the dogs and as if by sensing he were being watched he then looked up at me. His faced hardened and his eyes passed over me like I didn't exist. I smirked at that. To be of that age, protecting a man of importance such as Alistair, he'd possess great skill. It was a shame he'd have to die. He was handsome; that much was undeniable. He had strong, sharp features to his face and at an angle I saw the future he could have had. I envisioned a loving smile on his lips instead of the grimace he maintained. I imagined a son in his arms to which he clung to fiercely, protectively. And I pictured a life away from violence and security from the haunting, inevitable regret his current path – a path not so unlike mine - would bring. But he would have none of those things. He would die tonight. He was dead the second he walked through the double-leaved doors at the entrance of the foyer. They all were. I looked away as a commotion arose at the far end of the hall and I watched a man climb the gold, shimmering stage as the appointed Master of Ceremonies for tonight's proceedings. The Target and his guard slowly advanced towards the platform along with the rest of the invited guests until they stood at the center of the crowd. The MC taps the microphone with a soft cough at the back of his throat.
"Ladies, Gentlemen, Madame's and Monsieur's, my name is Christopher Henrí and I welcome you to this night's celebrations in accordance to the hard-work you have dedicated to this Company this past year." He professed, waving his hands in the air as he spoke.
The gathered applauded until a soft, growing hush enveloped the people as he held his hand up to silence them.
"Yes, thank you, your commitment is most appreciated and will not go unrewarded." He stated, "And I would now like all of us to put our hands together to commemorate Mr. Alistair Frederic Lefebvre in his 4th term as Chief Executive Officer." He said, pointing to the middle of the on-looking guests.
They erupted in applause, of course; and I followed suit, the same to remain unnoticed. And as I feigned interest, watching his executives clamor around him, itching for their bonuses I fought my own temptation to end it all then and there.
"Alice, send in the rose." I muttered under my breath.
Alistair raised his glass and smiled that arrogant smile of his while Christopher beckoned to the crowd for attention.
"I'm sure I speak for everyone, Alistair when I say your time spent at this Company has pulled us to new heights and allowed –" I tuned him out.
This man was so unbelievably fucking boring. I ignored him as he droned on about his opinions and personal significance. Alice had already responded to reconfirm dispatch. The rose would arrive on time as tonight's primary source of entertainment.
Rosalie Hale filled the last position in our main team of operations. Originally, she had begun her work in Venice, Italy as an infiltrator. It was a delicate role to specialize in; I'll give her that. One mistaken move or miscalculation and you end up with a bullet in the middle of your forehead. Or much worse, the Organization realizes your cover has been corrupted and issues and order on your life. There's no use in an Infiltrator whose face has been posted onto every agencies' bulletin board. But Rosalie was quite remarkable. When she had joined the team I had then had the opportunity to look over her file. I'll only say that when she had worked undercover as an agent for the CIA it wasn't to take down the mafia. That was just for fun. She eliminated any trace of our kind and racketeered information on the disadvantages of the mobs and played a key hand in having them tear each other apart. She was definitely a contr-
"And with that said, Ladies and Gentleman, Madame's and Monsieur's I will leave the stage to tonight's entertainment and wish you all a most pleasant evening."
I watched Monsieur Henrí dismount the platform. The strings returned in earnest as the crowd diffused into bustling segments. Laughter arose whilst the heady scent of expectation made the less reserved act in impassionate and fervent ways. I made my way down the honeyed marble stairs and left my glass behind. And I walked slowly but surely, step by step, towards the ballroom dogs.
Perspective: Blood Canary
Summertime, and the livin' is easy
fish are jumpin', and the cotton is high
They always ask me why before it happens, be it verbally or through their eyes. But it's impossible to give an answer that they can justify in their own minds. It has always been that way, because bad people don't want to die. Nobody does. And yet here we are again, about to snuff out another life that could not for one second contemplate the reason. No matter, I have already received gratification knowing how it will end. I only wish I could be there to see that thought in his eyes, glowing and stirring brighter from the back of his mind and slowly scratching its way to the front until the demand of it is undeniable. Until he realizes that he is going to die.
You could say singing was in my blood. I softly caressed a saddened note as Bella joined Alistair and his entourage. The night was still young and I felt six hundred eyes on me as I clasped at the air and turned my head to mimic the greats of ages passed. I take a swift glance at the ornate timepiece mounted on the western wall to reconfirm that we are on time. And I hear her laugh as she playfully slaps at his arm in attempt to rouse him. As expected, he does respond. And I smile beautifully as I imagine him dead, lifeless on the floor.
One of these morning's, you're gonna rise up singing,
you'll spread your wings, and you'll take to the sky
The beat kicks in, dark and stirring, and my fingers glide over both the microphone and the fabric of my dress. I see it all from here on the stage. Daniella's glass slips from her hand and shatters on impact just before my voice soars and covers it's sounding, and then Alistair being who he was looks at her with clear disdain as he notices the damage made to her gown. I see fear in her eyes and I know that he beats her. He flicks his fingers condescendingly and she walks off with two of his guards, leaving him to give all his attention to Bella.
But 'til that morning, there's nothin' can harm you
with Daddy and Mammy, Mammy standin' by
I lied of course.
The sinfonietta continues on in an instrumental piece as I step back and take the glass of water set down for me. I turn from the crowd and look through the wall-length casements, seeing the moon over the trees, shining, maybe for me. Huh, you sound like her, now. In the beginning I never thought I would have moved on to a crew. I had enjoyed my life in Italy and I loved the freedom given to me. I could buy whatever it was that I wanted and depart the country with just a carry-on. My line of work was an easy price to pay. The world was mine and I pitied those who lived by need and use-by dates. But sooner or later I had realized that my carefully constructed life was unfulfilling, and that I was without meaning. And when I had joined the Aerie I knew that I was no longer just a hired assassin, no better than the men I helped kill. I was given a purpose.
I almost fall victim to my musings but catch myself at the last minute. This isn't the time. The strings return in sync with the grand piano, imitating the sound of falling rain, and then the drum roll sounds and I'm back to the microphone, my hands formed to fists beside me. It will start soon.
Perspective: Cygnus
As Rose starts the second song with her deep, raspy contralto vocals Alistair rests his weathered hand on the small of my back. To appear flustered I turn my head the other way, exposing the arch of my neck and gently push out my chest to further his lust. Four seconds pass and his hand drops lower and he leans in closer as if to whisper something in my ear. His entourage is gone, mingling with the crowd and it is only his two guards standing not ten feet away that have me under their watch.
"Little bird, this celebration bores me. Will you accompany me elsewhere for a while?" He asks, eyes roaming my body.
"Mr. Levebvre, I don't believe I've had enough to drink yet. Perhaps, one more will quench this thirst of mine." I reply.
These aristocrats and their language. His breath sickens me, reeking of champagne and decaying rose petals. The music is my ally and I walk to the nearest waiter, smirking over my shoulder as I catch him staring at my ass. When I reach the server I take two glasses from the tray when a rough hand firmly grabs my wrist. The beautiful pup stands tall as he glowers down at me, and I mask my face with shock.
"Is there a problem, Sir?"
He doesn't answer me, but his hand gradually loosens until he lets go and takes the glasses from me with both hands by their stems as his other walks along. Wordlessly, one is given to his partner and his eyes lock onto mine as he drinks from a glass, finishing it in one slow mouthful. A few seconds pass and I watch him swipe his tongue across his bottom lip.
"Forgive me, miss. I'm just doing my job." He says, with dark eyes and a small smile.
And momentarily, a sort of sadness hits me; because I look up at his face and see the future I've just taken from him. They place their empty glasses back on the tray and I look at both of them as they walk away from me. You're dead, both of you. I'm sorry A small cough brings me back to the ballroom and I glance at the young man standing patiently to my right. I gaze deeply into his eyes and give a slight nod as I take the last two.
"Thank you for your contribution. You will be rewarded." I whisper, observing his build and other relevant features.
"It is an honor to work with you."
He slightly bows his head as he speaks with barely moving lips, and I leave him behind on my way to rejoin Alistair.
"Sir," I smile, offering him his drink.
"Were my men troubling you, young beauty?" He smirks, returning his weathered hand to caress my back.
"Oh no, Mr. Levebvre, they were only doing what they're paid to do." I laugh, leaning into him as far as I could stomach.
"Please, darling, call me Alistair; oh, and they best be doing what I pay them for. Men like that do not come cheap."
His accent became very pronounced when he said his name. And his response on the price of his dogs was almost too classic for a man of his wealth I nearly rolled my eyes.
"Well, Alistair, perhaps it is time to go elsewhere, then? Do you want to say goodbye to anyone?" I say innocently, raking a finger down his chest.
He chuckles, "If there were anyone worth while, little bird. But there is no need; we will return."
No we will not. He guides me with his hand towards the double-leaved doors after we set our drinks down on a vacant table. I trace my fingers through the stray locks of hair fallen from my up-do, held in place by an embellished sapphire pin and chance a quick glance towards Rose and see her flick her wrist with a devious smile as she looks at me. And I know that she's singing this song for Alistair.
The doors close with a dull thud that I can feel in my spine. What must it be like to walk towards your own execution? We meander along the dim amber-lit hallway, seeing various works of art on either wall. He pulls me to him and I make some sort of strangled moan to play my part whilst I keep the light shadows of his dogs inside my peripheral. They are quiet, soundless almost, if not for the feint sound of their footsteps and shallow breaths. Hurry the fuck up. The slowness of the night was becoming more and more agitating. And the stench of this man was beginning to make my skin crawl. We reach the entrance of the estate and when the doors open a cold breeze blows past us and into the hallway, somehow breathing life into the midst of death. We walk along the stony footpath towards –what I'm sure, is one of his many costly limousines. The gravity of what will happen is still absent. But I am too consumed by my thoughts I almost don't hear him when he speaks to me.
"It is cold out, love." He says. "Come, I'll keep you warm in my car."
My heart breaks rhythm when he says that. The bile threatens to rise up from my throat but I swallow it silently and place my hand into his. The whistling of the trees drown out the sound of grinding teeth and I stand behind him with the runt of the litter behind me as the other opens the car door and bows his head for Alistair. I glance back at the beautiful one and ask him his name. He waits a while then tells me with curious eyes, before a series coughs hit him suddenly. My wrist is back in the grasp of Alistair, and before I get dragged into the car I speak to him.
"Have a nice night, Dimitri. Really, I hope it goes easy for you." I say, hoping the hidden meaning gets through, if even on a sub-conscious level.
The last thing I hear are the two men coughing before the door shuts on them. I hear the click of the lock and Alistair slides closer to me. The interior is completely made of leather, ranging from the seats to the inside panels and the floor. I will admit the silver complimented nicely. I had a weakness for design. It made me sick to think this is what he did, though. How could a man slip out of a public event to bring a woman to his car to slake his lust? Especially, when his wife had been initially invited. I would have asked myself if this were a regular occurrence, but I knew it was. Men like Alistair wanted for nothing. Money bought him everything. I sat down beside him and put my hand on his thigh.
"Do you have any music, Sir"? I ask under long dark lashes, edging my hand slowly towards his groin.
He grins and I see the yellow of his teeth bared and hear the wheezing of his short breaths. It numbs me because I remember that I've had worse. He presses a button above us on a silver panel, which probably cost more than my diamond necklace and Brahms floods the length of the vehicle. It's too bad the car is sound proof. A hand tightly grips my breast and his mouth captures my neck in a wet, cold bite. My skin ripples in absolute disgust and my fingers claw at the seat. I push him away and suddenly his hand is wrapped around my throat, tightening.
"Wait, Mr. Lefebvre," I gasp. "I only wish to ask if you could turn the music up. I'm… a little… I mean-"
Understanding lights up his eyes and his scowl turns into a smug expression.
"There's no need to be shy, little bird." He whispers. "Tonight, we can be as loud as we want. No one will hear us."
"I count on it, Sir" I smile, letting the passion show in my eyes.
He turns a dial until the strings of the Hungarian Dance are all I hear. I look at him; truly, I look at him and know in my heart this is right. His hand is outstretched and I stare into his eyes until his demeanor shifts. A question stirs silently in his expression, and all at once, I allow my smile to turn sinister as I unfasten the needle-thin blade from my hair and drive it straight through his hand, pinning it to the seat. My hair falls in loose curls, framing my face, when his eyes widen and his forehead turns red so fast a sense of bloodlust seduces me. It runs red from the wound and his throat both contracts and swells as it readies to let out a scream, but I thrust my fist straight into his windpipe, snapping it clean. The car rocks a little and the irony is not lost to me. He tries to back away but I grab him by his throat and slam his head into the last seat he will ever be seated on. A choke sounds and he holds his himself as convulsions ripple through his body, but his wide eyes never leave mine. I feel powerful and let the adrenaline course through my veins whilst I scrunch up my dress and remove the knife strapped to my thigh. Blood starts to leave his lips and his face is taut, colored purple. I see it then. The realization ignites in his eyes that he will not be leaving this car alive. I straddle him, grazing the knife up his leg and press my face into his neck to whisper in his ear.
"Alistair Frederic Lefebvre," I breathe, "you have murdered, thieved, raped and enslaved. And have allowed countless human beings to die in your name."
He attempts to unsteady me with his weight, but the pin in his hand keeps him -for the most part unable to shift his position. I shove the hilt of the blade into his face to keep him still.
"Base, confirm sanction."
The dull static emanating from the earpiece spikes and then goes silent.
"Reconfirmed. Put the dog to sleep."
And that's it. Those six words sealed his fate and with a dejected slump the last shred of hope leave his eyes entirely.
"By order of Libra, our governing council whose wisdom and justice we uphold I, Cygnus, advocate of the Aerie and adherent of the seventh crew, sentence you to die."
There are fresh tears marking his cheek and I draw my hand back to plunge the jewel-encrusted dagger straight into his heart. He sputters and writhes until the light leaves his eyes. And then he is no more than a soulless meat-suit, running cold and glassy eyed. I sit atop of him, just inhaling and exhaling, my head tilting back and I stare at the ceiling of the vehicle whilst my thoughts accumulate and the blood-splatter dries on my face. Let sleeping dogs lie.
After I remove the blade I search the contents of the vehicle for any of my fallen belongings. I pull the pin from his hand, letting it slap down onto the seat and put my hair up again, smoothing the blood on my hands evenly into the dark textures. The deed was done. I press the switch on the above panel and let the music die out, listening carefully for any movement outside.
"Alice, how does it look?"
I slip the blade back into the strap around my thigh and adjust the earpiece I've got on until I hear the low hum of the static more clearly.
"Clear to go, Cygnus. One still breathes, but barely."
The door makes no noise when I open it or close it behind me. With bloodied heels I walk slowly, easy until the writhing figure of the beautiful pup lay breathless on the ground. He doesn't even notice me, so I speak to him.
"Compound 1080 in itself is quite poisonous and often lethal. It is odorless, tasteless and completely water-soluble, but most importantly, without antidote. Dimitri," I whisper, on my knees and leaning over his frame, "this poison is used to protect the sheep of this world from the coyotes and the hounds. The man you worked for was despicable; and I'm sorry that your life was part of the price that had to be paid. Go to sleep, Dimitri. Go to sleep."
Maybe my words fell on deaf ears, but his body stilled and a stifled breath left him motionless. I feel remorse and the weight of the world seems heavier.
So heavy. I close his eyes.
On my walk down the winding driveway I think of the night. Alistair has breathed his last breath. His dogs have been silenced. And the ballroom is no longer tainted. My hands are in front of me, clinging to the small blue clutch I had brought. When I reach the gates Rosalie is waiting for me in her canary-red Porsche 911 Turbo. I enter the vehicle silently and hear the drumming of her fingertips against the dashboard. We sit for a while, just breathing.
"You were good tonight, I slipped out unnoticed. His contractors didn't even notice me." I murmur, tired.
A light laughter rumbles in her chest, deep and throaty.
"My part was easy." She says, rolling her eyes, then smiles. "By the way, I fuckin' hate Connecticut.
And she laughs, dryly at first and then borderline hysteric. It's not even funny but I'm laughing too by the time we're roaring out of the estate. Our windows are down and the wind howls in our ears as our hair whips around the car. We're laughing over previous assignments and have Alice laughing along with us over the speakers within the Porsche.
"Guys, don't forget to bring me back something!" She yells.
"Will do, Sparrow, see you soon." I snicker.
The line goes dead.
"Fat bitch." Rosalie mutters, pearly-whites showing.
We park the car at the rear of the house, and race through the back door as quietly as possible. Alice found us a foreclosure property 13 miles from the estate. It was a little rough, but perfect in terms of remaining hidden from the outside world. The power had been cut but by use of candles we lit the household, and by generators Alice had all she needed through her computers. The residence was to be sold in less than two weeks, but we would be long gone before then. Right at this moment though, we were using it for our base of operations. The candles flutter before the closes behind us, and right away Rosalie trips over the many chords running across the floorboards.
"Ow, fuck! My ankle! God damn, Alice!" She cries.
She reaches out to me to maintain her balance as Alice bolts around the corner and almost knocks us off our feet with a scream.
"Yes, victory! The dogs are dead and it's not even midnight. Where's my Big Mac?" She finishes, hands clapping in front of her.
We hug as a group, our way of silently declaring we survived another mission as a faction. After herding into the back room and jumping onto the mattresses piled on top of each other, I remove my heels and let my hair down, remembering the blood throughout. And for a second, I consider eating with Alistair still on me. But no.
"Guys, I'm going to quickly shower. Don't wait for me. It's okay."
They nod their heads; mouths filled and wave me off.
I leave them to their meals and extract some clothes from a stray bag at the door. I'm in the shower before I know it with my eyes closed as the ice cold water washes from me the blood and stench of absolution. I stay here in the dark and think of my future, like I thought of Dimitri's. I imagined in my arms a child. I pictured a life. I wondered what it was like to live. Not for me Truthfully, I was not content with this. Being what I am. But I was born into this life. It's that simple. The perfect assassin is without feeling or remorse. But I have a lot of both. A hell of a lot. And I'm afraid. Will I only be the killer everyone sees me as, and die nameless? Do I continue on using synthetically augmented poisons and the likes to slay the numbers deemed inappropriate to continue on living? Is there anything else for me, at all? I wipe the wetness from eyes, pretending it's the just water raining down on me and grab a towel after I turn the taps. I leave the bathroom fully clothed and return to the back room where Alice shuts off her computers lined up on an old dining table.
"Bed time," She yawns, showered and redressed.
Rosalie enters just the same and we blow out all the candles in the house, and then sit back down on the mattresses. We talked for hours, that night, about work, dreams and men; simple what ifs we knew none of us would ever accomplish. And all the while I loved them for it because I remembered also that I would never have nor want anyone else I commune with as I would with them.
I stay awake long after they fall half-asleep and hold myself because no one else will. I may not be the perfect assassin, but I am a good one. Alistair has probably already been found. The authorities will become involved and questions will be asked and soon they will be looking for his killer. A killer we will ensure they find. I feel heavy, and my eyes are the first to go numb as I fall to sleep. And I dream of Dimitri.
A/N: Chapter 2 should be up within the fortnight-
Songs Utilised: Summertime, Ella Fitzgerald (Rendition)
A Song For You, Amy Winehouse (Rendition)
Hungarian Dance No. 4, Johannes Brahms