Book III: Stolen Valor
Chapter XIX
He stood on top of the building, looking down at the roadways, covered in vesses, and wondering to himself if what hewas doing was really the right thing to do.
"I mean, sure, by a moral standpoint it seemed correct, but I sometimes wondered if assassination was the only option," he wondered aloud.
"Hey Canaan, you gonna keep standing up there looking pretty or are you actually going to earn us a paycheck this week?" a voice said over the intercom he had imbedded in his ear.
"Yeah, yeah, Zane. Don't worry about me," Caanan replied, beginning to fit the parts of my high-caliber sniper rifle in place. "I'll get it done."
"Cool, you mind if I play some music?" Zane asked.
"Only if your promise not to play anymore of your modern hot garbage," Canaan snapped.
"It's pop, and it's not garbage," he argued.
Canaan sighed, Zane was his brother, but his taste of music wasn't what Canaan saw as tasteful.
"...And play!" Zane said excitedly, much to his brother's discontent.
https/youtu.be/f3RVootcD4w
Canaan stopped for a second.
"You so realize I will be killing people to this song, right?"
"Yeah, get on it."
Canaan rolled his eyes as he dropped from the ten-story building and held his gun.
He fired one shot through a window and then used an ether-powered wing suit to make the landing.
"And confirmed dead, nice shot. That dude had some enemies. The next target's eating at a fancy-schmancy restaurant downtown," Zane informed. "Sending you the pic."
Canaan looked at the small button on his forearm, he hit it, and a hologram gave him a full-color representation of his next target. The target was wanted for human trafficking and at least forty accounts of rape. However he had too much money to be caught legally, however the pretty lady with a small fortune worked some quick persuasion. Now, he was as good as dead.
"Got it," Zane said as he hit a button on his one-piece black leather suit.
The suit changed in appearance to a tuxedo and he pulled out a disc that turned into a form of hoverboard and flew toward the restaurant.
When he got to the restaurant, he saw a busboy, young and obviously new, carrying food to the man.
"Jackpot," Canaan whispered to himself as he approached the young man.
"Excuse m—" the young man started before Canaan grabbed his arm.
"Boy how long have you worked here?"
"It's my first week," he said nervously.
"I can tell, you're really about to serve that man his food and such condition?"
"I— what's wrong with it?"
Canaan laughed. "You can't smell it? Not enough seasoning, allow me!"
Canaan pulled out a normal salt shaker and sprinkled it all over his food.
"There you go, boy! Now, go impress our guest!" Canaan encouraged.
"R-Right!" The boy said, more confidently as he strutted over to the man.
Canaan walked away as the man began eating, chuckling to himself.
"Sorry kid," Canaan said to himself as the target fell face down on the table, much to the boy's horror.
"What the hell did you use?" Zane interrogated.
"You remember that highly experimental poison you were making that was supposed to taste like salt?"
"Yeah. You mean the one I said specifically not to use under any circumstance because I wasn't sure if it'd work or not?" Zane answered.
Canaan laughed. "Well... it works."
Zane sighed heavily. "Please stop doing that, next target is about to leave a hotel across the street, the entryway is completely clear."
Canaan simply walked across and waited for the man to appear.
"Two lackeys! Move!" Zane yelled as Canaan ducked under some bullets that grazed his head.
Canaan threw down a devise that pulled up a one-way ether shield. He could fire through it, but the bullets they fired would bounce back at the attacker.
He flipped on some thermal goggles and aimed his rifle carefully before taking two shots. Killing both of the bodyguards.
"Where's the target, Z?" Canaan asked.
He heard the whoosh of a vess engine and looked outside to see the man speeding away.
"He got away," Zane responded.
Canaan laughed. "No he didn't."
As the man drove away, he laughed and turned on the radio, but he then heard a loud beeping before his vess was covered in flames.
"Remote bomb... nice touch," Zane complimented.
"Always stay one step ahead," Canaan grinned as we walked outside. He felt a tug on his pant leg.
He turned around to see a little girl, maybe eight, staring at him. She looked extremely nervous, a face Canaan had seen on adults who didn't have the stomach for his kind of work.
"E-E-Excuse m-me," she stammered out.
Canaan got down on one knee and looked her in the eye. She grabbed his wrist and place about twenty gold coins in his hand. The money was nothing more than pocket change.
"Help," she pleaded as tears flew down her face. "He's going to kill my mom."
Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he realized the gravity of the situation.
"Canaan? You alright?" Zane questioned.
"Yeah, gotta go," he responded before turning off the intercom.
"Take me to him, you need to come along."
Canaan walked into a old, wooden bar and looked around cautiously.
That last job had taken the wind out of him, he despised people like that. He decided he needed a drink, and this bar was the homiest place he knew in New Torna.
"The Shining City," it was so often called. "A new hope for all of humanity." Canaan scoffed at the notion. New Torna was nothing but a pile of shit with a nice coat of paint. People lived every day in complete blissful ignorance as wicked people are up the weak and poor. Then, the leader's would hide it in programs made to assist these same people they robbed by then robbing the people who worked. It was as if the government just wanted to starve the people, but what was there to gain.
Canaan saw a man watching him out of the corner of his eye.
Canaan drew his sword as a yellow ether crystal electrified his sword, and he pointed it at the man's neck.
The man smiled. "Canaan, you're as sharp as ever. How's Zane?"
"How do you know our names?"
"Simple, my name is General Adonis. I have a job for you," he replied.
"I know who you are you manipulative fuck, I asked you how you know my name," I glared.
"I don't intend to entertain you, boy. Now put the sword away before I make you."
I knew better than to mess with him. Although nobody in the bar cared whether I actually killed him or not. I put my sword away.
He slid my a beer, and I took a drink, not looking away. He sat there, silent.
"I don't do political favors Adonis," I stated.
"Of course not, no amount of money could ever persuade you to take on the task of killing a king!" he laughed.
"And you think you have something I want?"
"I know I do," he grinned.
He held up a core crystal, a name taped to it. As I read the name, my eyes widened as I realized he did have leverage.
I read the name again.
"Finch".
Word Count: 1,464
Character Count: 8,385