Birth of an Assassin Chapter 2

"Aw, fuck!"

Again, he checked every pocket, twice. No keys. Shit. Maybe they'd fallen off at work, or at the café when he'd taken his phone out. He hadn't heard anything, but he'd been preoccupied.

Just his luck.

He easily reached above the door frame. There was a small crack there he'd concealed a spare key in. Truth be told, he owned little of value that he didn't carry on him, and sometimes didn't even bother to lock the door if he was stepping out for an hour or two only. Not like his building was the kind of place you expected to find valuables in, anyway. So getting back inside his apartment was no trouble, but Amy wouldn't be thrilled that he'd lost her key. Hers was a little more upscale, a newer thing too.

So much for tomorrow morning's plan.

Locking the door behind him, he went straight for the kitchen. Coffee alone sustained you for only so long. He opened the bare cupboards, hunting for a quick meal, anything edible, really. There, cereals would do, though it might be wiser to avoid the milk. He sniffed it, just in case, and wrinkled his nose. Yeah, he was really due for groceries.

He automatically picked up the phone on the first ring.

His great-aunt had always been a bit strange. Bright, humorous and imaginative, but strange. Her gaze had an intensity he'd found disconcerting, even as a child. She always looked as though she could see through you, right down to your core. His mom and dad had obviously adored her, and she them, and he himself hadn't minded visiting her, except when she'd stared at him. She'd look thoughtful, removed, almost calculating, and it had made him just a little uncomfortable, but it would never last, and sometimes Josh wasn't even sure he hadn't imagined the whole thing. She'd usually made things interesting for him. She'd told stories, too. She always had a new one to entertain him with. Cool stories, but completely out of this world. All a bit old-fashioned, too. They'd been about mercenaries, or something like that. A bit on the violent side, but it was always for a good cause. He'd liked them, even though his dad sometimes disapproved of them, or perhaps even more so because of it.

When his parents had passed, he'd been crushed. He'd had a great relationship with them, as their only child. They had still been young enough and full of life, and Josh had had a hard time dealing with their sudden, violent departure, but Aunt Vi, she'd just... Hell, it had been like she'd gone nuts, for a while, ranting about murder, and conspiracies and all sorts of ridiculous hypotheses he'd only half listened too. He'd been tired and confused himself. Eventually, though, the fog had lifted, and he'd felt it was his duty to look after her.

She'd calmed down considerably since then, but the phone call he'd received earlier from the police wasn't going to help. From what they'd told him, there had been a break-in. Some men had busted through the door, most likely a robbery, but Violet had been there, still awake, and she'd fought back. When the cops got there, after receiving a call from a concerned neighbour, whoever had broken in was long gone, and they'd had trouble convincing his aunt to accompany the paramedics to the hospital. And so they'd called him, her emergency contact. He still couldn't believe what they told him, which wasn't much, really, as Violet had refused to answer their questions.

He stopped in the hospital room's doorway, looking at the small, still form of his aunt under the white sheet. They'd mentioned she'd been frantic, with reason, when they brought her, and that she had been reticent to let anyone near her, but now she seemed to be asleep, peaceful and terribly vulnerable.

The lights were dimmed, and the room was silent, aside from the constant, muted buzzes and beeps of the nearby emergency ward. Josh hesitated a moment, not wanting to disturb her, but finally made his way to her side, as silently as he could. He sighed, and noticed the bedside panic button was dangling off the other side of the bed. As he leaned over his aunt and made to grab it, cold hands reached up and clamped themselves on his throat. Two thumbs push down hard on his trachea, choking him. His own hands went up to join those of his attacker, working to pry them off as he fought a rising panic. A second later, the hands were gone, replaced by his aunt's dark, angry glare.

"Jesus, Josh! What is wrong with you, scaring an old lady like that? I could have killed you!" She whispered as he painfully gulped in air and coughed, massaging his throat. "And your reaction time is terrible. That won't do," she declared as an afterthought, trying to find a comfortable sitting position.

"Holy f…" He stopped himself, his voice hoarse from the bad treatment. He cleared his throat, looking warily at his aunt. How could she possibly have done this? Granted, she wasn't your typically frail, old lady, she ran, exercised and kept herself generally fit, even looked younger than her years, but he'd never have expected… "What the hell just happened?"

"I thought you were someone else." She looked sheepish, but left it at that. It was going to be all the answer he'd get on that subject. As much as she'd enjoyed telling him stories when he was a kid, she would completely clamp up when it came to other things, and he knew trying to pry it out of her didn't work.

Violet fidgeted with the white sheets, but then seemed to make a decision. "What did they tell you about what happened tonight?" Worry deepened the creases between her brows.

"They said something about an attempted robbery, and that you managed to fight the thieves off. Now I'm starting to believe it." He dropped his hand, his neck would be sore for a while. "What just happened," he asked again, "who did you think I'd be? Who could I have been that you had to choke? You're in the hospital, now. You're safe. There are doctors and nurses everywhere."

"Listen, Josh, those men were most definitely not thieves. These people, the doctors and nurses, you can't trust them. Not even the cops, Josh. Especially not the cops. There's…" Violet sighed, suddenly looking older and defeated. "I was trying to keep you away from all of this. All this time I've been trying to…" She paused, as if unsure what she'd been trying to accomplish, and Josh felt sorry for her, pained to see her so confused. "…but there are things that I suppose I must tell you, now." She gathered her thoughts for a few seconds, trying to decide where to start. "You understand that there's a lot happening in this world that most people are blind to, right? A constant, hidden struggle for power, influence…"

"You mean, secret organizations, like the CIA?" He wasn't quite sure where she was going with that.

"Secret organizations, yes, but not necessarily those you're thinking of. There are entities, buried deeper than one would imagine, whose goal is to infiltrate every sphere of power. They would control everyone, and everything…"

Wow. She sure didn't beat around the bush. He'd never have pegged her for a conspiracy theorist. He was getting concerned she might have received a hit to the head. She was delusional. "Auntie Vi, I think maybe you had a bit of a shock, tonight. Maybe… maybe I should let you get some rest, now, no?" He would have offered getting a nurse, but he didn't think it would go over well after what she'd just said.

"Stop being an ass," she admonished uncharacteristically, "they barely touched me, I'm fine. And I'm perfectly lucid, thank you. Now, listen. Those men, they were from such an organization. The worst of them: they were Templars."

The word has instantly conjured the image of an old knight in white robes over chainmail, sword at his side. It was ludicrous. He might have laughed if he hadn't been so concerned for his aunt. He opened his mouth to protest, but the look she shot him shut him up. With a wave of his hand, he signaled she could continue her story.

"Yes, Josh, you heard me right. Templars. Those very men you're thinking of, except their order didn't die with the Crusades. They evolved, and they were unmatched at it." In a hushed voice, she went on to explain that, shrouded in secrecy, they'd thrived, inserting their members among the world leaders, scientists, financiers, thinkers. They'd been behind many technological leaps, behind many wars and coups. But there was so much more they'd done in the shadows, manipulating events and people to further their own advancement. Thankfully, there were those who saw through the veil of lies and worked to keep them in check. An order who truly sought to help the world towards peace, and balance. The Assassins.

That was more than he could compute in so short a time, and he held up a hand. "Assassins? Really, Aunt Vi? First, knights, and now assassins? And they're the good guys?" It was pure nonsense. Yet he could see she truly believed what she was telling him, as farfetched as it may have sounded. However strange the tale, she had no reason to cook up any lies, especially not something as intricately complicated as she was telling him now. Yes, she'd been great at telling stories in the past, and had been full of them, but never had she advertized them as the truth.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He decided to just go along. "Okay, fine. Let's pretend this all make sense and doesn't contradict… well, everything. What does this have to do with you? What would an ultra-secret organization want from you?"

"From a batty old lady, you mean?" A hint of a smile floated on her face, and he knew for sure, then, that she was all there. He didn't understand what the hell was going on, but this was no delusion. He could leave now, turn on his heels and let the personnel deal with this, or stay. He just couldn't imagine himself doing the former, though, so his decision was made.

He smiled apologetically, letting her know she had his full attention. He braced himself for the rest of that story.

"I understand that this sounds terribly unlikely, and the next bit isn't going to go down easy either, but those men were there tonight because I'm one of them. The Assassins, I mean," she quickly specified, and even though he'd expected to be shocked, Josh struggled to keep his features neutral and his mind open. "Well, at least, I was, once. A long time ago. And I was a rather good one, too, if I do say so myself," she perked up. "But I, well… I disagreed with some aspects of the order. And after a time, I… left. I got myself a new life, a good one, too!"

"You left? Why?" Josh was picturing some kind of mafia, still trying to fit his aunt in there. "Surely you can't just leave people like that, especially if you were… well, if you did…" He couldn't quite bring himself to accept that his great-aunt might actually have killed people. "Wouldn't it have been easy for people with those kinds of means to find you? Wouldn't your family be the first place they'd look for you?" He felt an uncomfortable tingling at the base of his skull, and she, too, seemed to grow uncomfortable at that. And another thought struck him. "You're not really my aunt, are you?"

She hesitated for just a heartbeat, looking infinitely sad. "No. No, I'm not. But know that I dearly loved your parents, Josh, and you too. I never meant for them to come to harm. I thought I could keep them safe. And now you're all that's left to me. And I obviously can't protect you, anymore." She reached under the hospital sheets and produced a small leather pouch. "Josh, you know I don't think your parent's death was an accident."

"The investigation concluded it was a human error, Aunt Vi. You're not to blame for the crash, the pilot was. I mean, surely your Templars couldn't ha..."

"They were sending me a message," she interrupted him, regret coating her words. "They know who I am. They want something from me. Something I shouldn't have taken from my people when I left. I doubted, and I shouldn't have. I need you to do something for me." She showed him the small bag. "This is what they're after, the Templars. No, it doesn't matter what it is or what it does," she added, knowing he'd been about to inquire. "I need you to bring it back to its rightful owners. You must get it to them. Only they can keep it safe, now."

Violet took his hand, gently dropping the pouch in it and closing his fingers over it. She gave him a name, and an address, some 400 kilometers away, making him memorize it, and urged him to get there as quickly and safely as he could. Someone would be waiting for him there, she'd make sure of it. He started to protest, but she clucked at his concern for her safety, assuring him she had managed until then, and would manage still.

A/N: Ok, I have to say I found the last two chapters harder to write as they're more an explanation and positioning. Hopefully they do a good job of explaining just enough, but not too much. The 3rd chapter has been written already and should be tweaked and posted this weekend or early next week. It practically wrote itself. Let me know what you think!