Talon walked into the General's office again. Now, Talon is about to the general's nose, with broader shoulders, longer limbs, and a lot more muscle. He was still skinny for a male constantly in combat, but he could almost be considered a man. His dark hair and eyes were the only things that never changed.
Years have passed since his first mission. He could almost pass a a grown man now. The general had once commented that if Talon put on a few more pounds, he could be in the actual army already. Talon did not remember his exact age, but he felt like he was strong and still growing stronger.
"Good day to you," The general smiled at Talon. "Sit and have some tea with me!"
"My pleasure," Talon smiled back. Over the years, he'd even developed the ability to converse like a normal person.
"So," The general crossed his fingers and leaned forward. "ready for another task?"
"Definitely!" Talon cracked his knuckles. "The last one kept me in bed for way so long I thought my body was molding."
"Well this one is a bit different," The general was fidgeting. But the general didn't fidget-he was always calm with a hint of warmth.
"Is something bothering you?" Talon frowned.
"You know about Kat's first mission, right?" The general said.
"On that Demacian? What about it?"
Talon couldn't help but widen his smile at the fond memory of Katarina. She too was different-age didn't work its magic on Talon only. Years turned her into a beautiful young lady with stunning red hair and shiny green eyes. While she still wore black, there was a lot more to fill up certain areas to further suggest femininity. It would always make Talon laugh to see such a fair girl throw knives, curse, and even wrestle in close combat.
"I fear for her safety." The general admitted after a pause. "Her skills are unmatched in this generation-besides you, of course-but her emotions, they get in her way-"
The General coughed awkwardly when he realized how much he was ranting. Talon looked at general Du Couteau, amused.
"She will be fine, sir."
The General rubbed his eyes, and Talon noticed for the first time the white in the General's hair.
"She's my daughter," He said, "wait until you have your own kids, then you'll worry too. But, the point is, I need you to watch over her, just this once."
Talon heard the pleading in the general's voice. He sighed.
"Anything for you, sir." He answered, "But why can't you do it yourself? Aren't you more suited?"
"I am," The general said gloomily. "but the other Generals would be pointing fingers at her if her daddy followed her into battle. I can stalk her just fine, but the other general's-I cannot evade their senses."
"And it helps when I do it, because?"
"You are the protective older brother who can't help himself and slipped out of the house." The general laughed, "They'll understand."
"And I'll look like the only weakling." Talon scowled.
"Oh, Talon." The general shook his head. "One day, you will learn that caring is not the equivalent to weakness. Family-it's one thing everyone values more than the war."
A week later, Katarina was packed. Although she tried her best to sneak away, her father and little sister still caught her before her departure and smothered her in hugs and "be careful"s. She attempted to look vexed, but Talon knew she wasn't by the way she hugged back. Talon still refrained from physical contact, but he did say goodbye. The redhead was off after seemingly hours of family love.
Less than half an hour later, Talon too departed. He couldn't just follow Katarina, of course, she had anti-stalking trainings before. Instead, he followed the map General gave him. It had all the instructions Katarina received, and Talon figured it was like sending two on the mission without one of them knowing. He dressed like a commoner and packed light just like Katarina, with the arm-blade that he had grown to love.
The first day of his life as a stalker went well. Katarina had no clue that she was being followed. Talon couldn't help but smile at how much her red hair stood out in the crowd, making her such an easy target. Talon checked into the room right next to her and she didn't even have a clue.
The second and third day past just like that, with Talon blending into the society like a chameleon. Katarina did not even show any signs of suspicion-Talon changed his outfits every day, and even purposely slouched to vary his height. It was by far the most amusing assignment yet-watching Katarina carry on her own mission without the slightest idea that he right under her nose. He would rub it in her face for eternity.
The forth day, Talon woke up and snuck over to check on Katarina in the other room. She was not there. In fact, the entire room was empty of all personal belongings. Talon creased his brows and went downstairs to inquire the Innkeeper.
"The bloody hair girl?" The innkeeper said, "oh, she left at the crack of dawn! In such a hurry too, didn't even take the change..."
"Thank you," Talon replied absentmindedly. He paid and walked out onto the streets.
The crowd was buzzing with nervous anticipation. Talon could just sense that something was terribly wrong by the way people whispered and then looked around. His frown deepened. He overheard an older man next to him.
"...terribly bloody murder, all those wounds..."
Talon stopped in his track. Murder could very possibly mean Katarina-except she was not supposed to kill here. Her target was still miles away according to the General. He grabbed the man's shoulder. The man jumped in surprise and turned to Talon.
"Whaddya want?" The man grumbled.
"What is this 'murder' you speak of?" Talon went straight to the point.
"Keep it down, kid!" The older man hushed. He looked around to make sure no attention was drawn to him.
"What is this murder you speak of?" Talon asked again. This time, he slipped a small blade into his hand and pressed it against the older man's throat. He stepped close to block the view.
"Wah-hey, what-" The older man swallowed. He tried to back up, but Talon followed like a shadow.
"Last chance," Talon said. "Tell me about the murder."
The man paled considerably as he tried to for words. He uttered a few phrases of pure gibberish, and then regained enough composure to speak.
"This morning, in, in the woods, a Demacian General-" He swallowed again. "died in the woods, it was really messy from what I've heard-"
"Knife wounds?" Talon pressed.
"Y-yes, yes, knife wounds! A lot of them!" The man immediately said.
Talon removed the blade. Then he was gone, like a gust of wind. The trembling man took another step back just out of fear, and his legs nearly gave way under him.
Meanwhile, Talon was sprinting toward the forest in hopes of finding traces of Katarina. The clumsy girl-she should never have attacked random generals from Demacia. What if it was a trap? What if she was hurt? What if she was captured by the rest of the forces? Talon gritted his teeth as he ran toward the woods. He must find Katarina, and quick.
The forest floor was splattered with blood. Dark stains painted to ground under the mutilated corpse. There was no blade left, but Talon knew the cut's patterns and depths. He'd been receiving enough of those to recognize a Death Lotus victim when he saw one. This was definitely Katarina's doing. Now, he just needed some sign, any sign, of where Katarina went after this.
There were none.
Talon's expression gradually darkened as his observant eyes was not rewarded with clues. Katarina had a clean kill-she did not leave any evidence behind other than the body itself. For the first time, Talon hated Katarina for being so good. With nothing to guide him, Talon retreated from the mobs peering at the body. Think, he told himself, what would I do if I was Kat?
Absorbed in his thoughts, Talon temporarily lost his vigilance, and accidentally bumped into someone as he walked.
"Hey, watch it!" A girl cried.
Kat?
Talon looked up. Sure enough, it was the clumsy redhead. Her murderous glare melted into pure shock when she recognized Talon.
"TALON?" She yelled, even louder, "What are you doing here?"
Talon inwardly groaned. How should he explain this?
"I, ah-" Talon rubbed his chin, avoiding eye contact with Katarina. "I'm on a mission of my own."
It wasn't a lie, but not the entire truth either. It sounded good enough to Talon, but Katarina didn't buy it. She crossed her arms across her chest, and eyed Talon suspiciously.
"Uh huh," She said, an eyebrow raised. Then, he mood changed completely, and she took a step forward to grab Talon. Before Talon could object, she began shaking him and laughing like a little girl.
"I killed a Demacian General!" She declared. "Not the target! Just some random Demacian scum, and bam, took him out!"
"I've noticed-"
"Dad's gonna be so happy!" Katarina punched Talon in joy. "This is going to be so good for my name!"
"Um, Kat-"
"Wait, let's get back to dad and tell him about it!"
"Actually-"
"Or should be continue?" Katarina said thoughtfully. "Maybe keep this a secret, and surprise dad?"
"Kat!" Talon finally snapped. Katarina looked at him, as though remembering his presence for the first time. She blushed, realizing that just how immature she was a second ago.
"Yes?"
"You need to continue your mission." Talon informed solemnly. "There are reasons to why these Generals need to be taken out before the actual fighting-"
"Nonsense!" Katarina rolled her shiny green eyes. "They're all Demacians, they're the same!"
"Listen to me!" Talon glared at Katarina. "You have to continue! Your target in particular, he is said to be leading a devastating assault for our troops! If you don't stop him, Noxian blood will be spilled!"
Katarina paled. She looked at Talon with disbelief.
"Really?" She asked timidly.
"YES!" Talon facepalmed. "You have to get to him fast too, since you killed one, the rest would all be on their guards!"
Katarina paled even more. Her hand shot to her mouth, and her gaze lost focus.
"It's that bad?" Katarina murmured.
Talon sighed. He couldn't stand seeing Katarina like this anymore than he could stand Demacians. He shook Katarina to get her attention again.
"I'll go with you," He told her, "We do this together. We can still fix this!"
Katarina was at a loss for words, still devastated over the possible outcomes of her rash action. She nodded, distracted, and Talon led her away to continue on their mission. The duo slipped out of the town and hired the first carriage they saw.
They paid double to go as fast as they could, and arrived at Katarina's original destination three days later. However, when they got out of the carriage, the city greeting them was broken and wounded. A majority of the soldiers were injured, some too severely to ever join the battle. Heaps of bodies hinted at the terrible casualties; The moans of the wounded permeated the entire setting. Every family mourned for a lost member in the military. The more they saw, the sicker Katarina looked. In the end, she was a unhealthy shade of marble white, her eyes filled with tears.
"I, I caused all this!" She finally cried when they were away from all the citizens. "It's all my fault-"
"You didn't kill any of them!" Talon shouted. He stared Katarina dead in the eyes. "Yes, you failed to protect these people, but we can still avenge them!"
Katarina looked back at him, momentarily abandoning her grief.
"How?" Katarina asked, her voice lost and sad.
"We take out your target," Talon said, "his march stops here."
"Yes," Katarina spoke, slowly and angrily. "Yes it does."
Talon woke with a start, forehead beaded with sweat.. He could feel that something was definitely not right-he could sense it, a stingling, evasive anxiousness in the pit of his gut. It was the not-quite-human part of his heritage warning him of incoming trouble, a supernatural gut feeling that told him the sky was crumbling from the impending disaster. It was moments like this that Talon realized how much he was like Evelynn.
But Talon didn't have time to brood over the fact that he wasn't fully human. He knew that instincts like these only worked when huge troubles were on the horizon. He learned this particular lesson the hard way, after not giving a second though to these gut feelings and then almost dying on more than one occasion. He stood and dressed,; no time to waste here. He needed to get Katarina up and ready as well and face this trouble together. He dressed and almost sprinted to knock on the door next to his. When he was certain that Katarina was too asleep to answer, he kicked open the door and went inside.
Katarina wasn't there.
Panic rose in Talon's throat, like he was regurgitating a slow poison.
"Kat?" No reply. Talon gritted his teeth and walked into the room. It was bearable, but still on the messy side compared to Talon's own room. It was still full of Kataraina's belongings with no sign of violence.; she planned on returning. It was just a bit strange that she took all her weapons-wait, she took all her weapons...
Talon bristled. He growled in outrage to himself as he flew out of the room, running at full speed out of the Inn. For the second time, Katarina managed to leave without alerting him, and this time, she might be on suicidal confrontation with an entire legion of Demacians. The night concealed him as he ran on to the campsite they spotted during the day.
When he arrived, he knew he was too late. He could hear the sound of battle, even though he was on a branch almost a hundred yards away. He growled in frustration again, and dove off the branch, running as fast as his legs would carry him toward the campsite. As got even closer, the distinct red of Katarina's hair-she was being a hotheaded child after all. However, for some strange reason, Talon's sense of unease and anxiousness skyrocketed when he moved closer and closer to the battlefield. He didn't-
Then he saw a tall, handsome man, perhaps Katarina's target, with an ornate rapier moving toward Katarina. He approached Katarina with caution and stealth, slowly positioning his rapier for a deadly blow. Talon let out a guttural scream as he tried to run even faster.
"KAT! BEHIND YOU!" he yelled above the clash of steel.
He was a bit too late.
Katarina heard him and spun around, her daggers raised, but the Demacian already started his strike. Katarina's daggers only managed to guide the blade slightly away from her head, but it still slipped over her left eye. She cried out in pain and stumbled. Blood flew, spreading the red of her hair in a disturbing radius. She took a few shakey steps back, dropping a dagger and clutching the left side of her face. Talon watched in dazed horror as the General grinned with evil glee and move in to finish Katarina off. Blinded and in pain, Katarina lost her balance with one more step. She fell to the ground, and was out cold.
Talon's eye went bloodshot. Uttering an inhuman roar of absolute hatred and fury, he brought himself directly behind the Demacian General. The older man had no time to react before Talon sank his armblade into the unprotected back of the disgusting Demacian. Then, Talon twisted his armblade in the Demacian's body, drawing a sharp gasp of pain from the already paralyzed general. With strengths he never knew he possessed, he forcefully led his blade sideways, almost cutting the Demacian general in half. Another shriek of pain. Talon enjoyed it, but the rest of the small army seemed to realize that their leader was being tortured to death in front of their very eyes. They shouted insults and commanded Talon to surrender as they moved in, spears ready. Talon found their efforts pathetic-he suddenly felt so above all these men; they were but swines and maggots compared to him.
As the murderous points closed in on him, he laughed mockingly, and a rippling shockwave blasted through the air as Talon disappeared from view. But the shockwave was not the main actor of the show-it was those blades, hidden in the fold of Talon's clothes and under his light armor, now being sent flying in every direction by the force of the blast. A total of eight blades found their marks. Three plunged into the Demacian general, ending his misery. Five others slit the throat or pierced the stomach of Demacians all around Talon.
The worst came when Talon reappeared. The force that sent out the blades sucked on the blades with impossible power, tugging the blades back so six springs of blood squirted out like fountains. Nasty red tainted Talon's armor, but he let them wash over him-this was the Noxian medal, the best award for a brave soldier.
The first kills were like a spark on dry wood, igniting Talon's fury, bringing his desire to kill everything in sight to new heights. His eyes, which were already bloodshot when Katarina wen down, now burned with an unhealthy shade of red.
Beofre the rest of the Demacian army could register the sudden strike, he was moving again. Another victim fell to his ruthless blade. He was cutting them down one by one, not giving them to pinpoint his location. The night veiled him as he killed, and for the first time, General Du Couteau's orders did not matter anymore. To hell with not killing to many; to hell with avoiding war. The only thing he knew was that the dear redhead was motionless and bleeding on the ground. As far as he was concerned, he could kill the entire nation of Demacia in his anger.
Sometime during the massacre, Talon began to throw blades in addition to his lethal close-combat stabbings. His chucked his own daggers, speartips of fallen enemies-anything that could kill, he scored kills with. He was a nuclear bomb in the crowd, reaping yet another Demacian with every other breath. If Katarina was to die from the General's lowly attack, this entire legion would die alongside her.
The soldiers became terrified of Talon. Although they outnumbered the young lad five hundred to one, his stealth and power made it impossible to fight back. Spearing him from every direction had the risk of killing allies, and they needed every last man to fight Talon. Finally, at the crack of dawn, the soldiers realized that they have but a fraction of their original force, and started their retreat. Talon gave chase for a short while, his eyes red as a rose, his blade already a shade deeper from all the blood it drank.
That day, the Demacians lost over five hundred men and a high-ranking General to two people still in their late teens. However, Talon could not smile. He walked over to where Katarina had fallen and picked her up. She was limp and broken in his arms, blood caked on the side of her face. Her usually beautiful red hair was a mess from the fighting, and slight cuts and bruises was all over her body. Her horrible condition tugged at Talon's heart-he thought he'd lost the ability to mourn the day he killed Kayvn, but obviously, he was wrong.
Talon returned to the Du Couteau household, a cloud of sadness hanging over his head. Katarina breathed, but never woke up on the trip back.
