Chapter Three
Paranoia, or Foreshadowing?
18 Jan 2026
1:29 p.m.
Marked Brotherhood Headquarters
Unknown Location
Their celebration was quickly cut off, as an alarm suddenly sounded. John, as well as many of the Brotherhood, was startled. Some Assassins panicked. Marcus ran to the furthest wall, stood in front of it, waved his hand at it, and a computer instantly appeared. It seemed to appear out of thin air, from the wall. The computer was flashing a bright red color, with a large black "ALERT!" blinking, and the Marked symbol below the word.
Marcus was worried. "What's going on? Computer, state emergency."
A bland, emotionless robotic voice replied, "State of Emergency. State of Emergency. Threat to Brotherhood. Threat to Brotherhood."
Marcus' eyes widened immensely, as a cartoon, when it saw a piano about to collapse upon him. "Location" was all he said.
The computer's message switched to a green holographic globe. A tiny red dot blinked in the North America region, then the image zoomed in on that continent. The red dot blinked again, larger because it was closer. The image zoomed in, again, to the United States. The state lines were visible. The same red dot, larger still (yet not bigger than an eraser on a pencil), blinked again. It was in New York, and the image zoomed in further.
New York was that the image showed. The cities and landscapes were visible. The red dot blinked once more, in the city of Albany. The image zoomed in on Albany, New York. It showed an overview image of the city. No exact details, because everthing was nothing but green lines. The red dot blinked one last time, in the streets. The image zoomed in for the last time, filling in the details. It showed people walking in all directions. It was, after all, a somewhat busy town. A black line outlined two figures. These two were brought forth, and the rest of the image was gone. The two people first appeared fuzzy, then were cleared to a perfect detail.
One looked too familiar to Marcus. Nevertheless, he had to be sure. "Computer, identify subjects."
The computer pulled the two figures forward, facing them towards Marcus, and showing only down to their shoulders. Many letters and numbers raced along the computer, although organised in the following categories, beside each subject:
Name:
Age:
Height:
Weight:
Race:
Group:
Reason of Threat:
Marcus waited for the results, until the racing stopped. Each line was filled with the correct information.
On the left, it read: On the right, it read:
Name: JAMES PIERSON Name: ZACHARY FIELDS
Age: 25 Age: 42
Height: 6' 0" Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 183.57 LBS. Weight: 203.15 LBS.
Race: CAUCASIAN Race: ASIAN AMERICAN
Group: HOMO-SAPIEN Group: ASSASSIN
Reason of Threat: LISTENING TO ASSASSIN Reason of Threat: TELLING ASSASSIN
HISTORY HISTORY
What shocked Marcus the most was the Reason of Threat. He couldn't believe this was possible. He never imagined an Assassin to tell a human the story. Much less his own brother. He knew what had to be done, but he couldn't say it. When he hesitated, falling to his knees in agony, his left-hand man, Futari Miyasaki, spoke up. His Japanese accent was difficult to understand, but the Brotherhood learned to deal with it. Many had one, so it was easy to get past that. So, they all knew what he was saying: "Bot o' dem need too bee eeleemeenatid. Who take dees?"
John got what he was saying, though he couldn't understand that well. He stepped forward, and said, "Let me, sir. If anyone should, with the exception of our leader, it should me. This shall be my true test of loyalty."
Another stepped forward. He told John, "You are new, but you still know the rules. You must not be seen. You must not be heard. You must have no witnesses. Understand?"
John nodded, and walked to the door the Assassins pointed to. Time to show them what I'm made of, he thought to himself. And, just like that, he was gone through the door. Gone to his first mission as an Assassin.
18 Jan 2026
Street Ghettos
Albany, New York
He couldn't believe his ears. He thought the man was insane, a lunatic, a man in dire need of a psychiatric hospital and a straight-jacket. James Pierson was not believeing a word the man said. "You really need help, Mr.--?"
"Fields," the man replied. "Zachary Fields. And, I know this sounds completely crazy. But, I just can't take this secrecy and merciless killing anymore. Look, I'll even prove this to you!"
With that, he blended into the ground below them, leaving James wide-eyed, and terrified. He looked around frantically, hoping this was just a trick. Suddenly, though, arms wrapped themselves around him, from behind. Zachary's voice whispered in his ears, "I shouldn't be telling you any of this, but America (or, at least, someone) ought to know we exist. They're probably coming for me, right now."
James was just about to scream, a move Zachary anticipated. He covered James' mouth, as much as he struggled. "Quiet. I'm as good as dead, but you have to stay in public's eyes. We cannot have witnesses, so until you are alone, an Assassin shall never strike you. Stay within eyesight of any crowd. And, whatever you do, if somehow they mess up (a feat that is hard for us to do), and you see this mark..."--He showed him the mark on his arm, right on the inside of the joint (where the elbow is, on the opposite side)--"...run for your life. Run for public, and someone will always see you. Please believe me on this, because it is all true. Some day, an Assassin will come for you. You have to stay alive. Farewell."
And that was the last James Pierson ever heard of the man named Zachary Fields. Fields blended back into the ground, bolting as far away from James as possible, and reappeared in a park. He wandered around, waiting for his demise. He knew it was to come, and wondered if his brother took it upon himself to kill him.
He was disappointed, as a young kid suddenly slowly rose from the grass. Zachary frowned. "Where is my brother? Where is Marcus Fields?"
John knew that had to be the leader. "I was sent, to prove my loyalty to the clan. You have betrayed us, Zachary Fields, and now you shall pay for it."
"I had hoped to die by my brother's hands, but--"
It was at that exact second that a voice poke from behind him. A voice he knew all-too-well. "Then your wish is my command...Brother."
Marcus seethed the last word from his teeth. It sent a chill down Zachary's spine. Marcus asked him, "Why did you do it? Why did you betray us?"
"I'm sorry, Brother," Zachary said, backing away from both of the Assassins. "I couldn't stand the secrecy much longer. Someone had to know. Plus, when I looked into that woman's eyes...I just couldn't stand it. Please, Brother, if you will kill me, at least allow me the chance to fight."
Marcus looked down, breathing heavily, jaw clenched. He looked back up at his brother, and said, "Very well. John, you find Pierson. I'll deal with this one."
Zachary did not smile. He did not raise his fist to the sky, in triumph. He did not celebrate. He simply nodded, sighing. As much as he wanted this, he was a respectful one. Despite having betrayed his brethren. He drew his daggers, as Marcus drew his own.
They charged at each other, silently dashing through the grass, and clashing blades as they drew close. They rolled on the grass, bouncing back up, turning around, and charging yet again. They slashed and stabbed, all the time hitting air. When one was close to striking the other, he simply descended into the ground, and then rose a distance from the attacker. It was a battle of epic proportions, for it was the first time any number of Assassins were fighting each other. These two were complete equals.
However, the fight had to end sometime. Zachary slashed at Marcus, who faded into the grass. Zachary quickly watched his surroundings. An Assassin could easily tell when a fellow Assassin was about to rise. Still, he saw nothing.
That is, until it was too late. Marcus quickly rose from the ground, and before his brother could react, he plunged his daggers into Zachary's heart. A gasp of air fled his lips, as he choked up blood. He was dead within a few seconds, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Marcus released the daggers, and watched his dead brother fall. Tears streaked down his face, knowing full well what he had done. Though he knew it had to be done, he never wanted to. He still watched, as his brother's body slowly became the grass itself. An Assassin's death. There was never need for a burial, because they became part of Nature itself. He walked back to the doorway, still crying tears of agony.
26 Jan 2026
4:31 p.m.
Starbucks Coffee Shop
Albany, New York
James felt he was losing his mind. He felt like everyone was his enemy. He felt like no one was his friend. He couldn't trust a soul. However, he listened well to the advice he was given, and stayed within, at the very least, one person's eyes at all times. Sometimes, he even tried to make himself the center of attention, by yelling at some random person, or jumping off high stands and tables, or simply racing into the center of a circle of people, and telling them ridiculous stories.
Whatever the case, he made sure someone was always looking. This time was no exception. It was becoming more and more difficult now to stay within eyesight. People just thought him crazy, and moved on in their conversations. Some didn't even glance at him.
So, he dragged his best friend into a Starbucks coffee shop, "just to talk," he said. Patrick Lindquist was no fool, though. He knew there was a reason for all this paranoia. He had seen James on drugs before, but this was more than unlike him.
"All right, man," he said, straight-out. "What's buggin' you? What's wrong?"
James seemed to be offended by this. "Wrong?" he asked, speaking fast. "What would g-g-give you that im-impression?"
"I know you, James. What's up? Why are you getting all jittery?"
James tried to take deep breaths, but every time he tried, he shook like he had ice shoved down his back. Finally, he told Patrick the entire story. He told him everything Zachary had told him, detail for detail. He even attempted to draw the symbol that was on Zachary's arm. James was a good artist, but because he was petrified with fear, he couldn't control the shaking of his hand. Still, he ended up with a half-decent drawing of the image.
While he spoke, Patrick simply nodded his head, his lower lip pressed into his upper lip. He closed his eyes, and tried to listen to his friend. When James had finished, Patrick continued to nod for a few seconds. James became more agitated, and asked, "Well?"
After a long sigh, Patrick replied, "All I can say is...Have you lost your mind?!"
James laughed very nervously, which turned a few heads towards them. He said, "That's, haha, the same reaction...hih hih hih hih hih...that I had when I first heard the story. But you gotta believe me. I didn't, until he showed me. He just..."--James made a whooshing sound, as he threw his hands down to the floor.--"...right into the ground. Then, just like that, he was behind me, and whisperin' in my ear. I was, I-I...I was, like...TERRIFIED!!"
His last word was shouted so loudly, it brought everyone's eyes to his table. They then returned to their prior business. Patrick was getting tired of this. "Dude, we've been through a lot, but you have finally hit the roof, man. I mean, are you even listening to yourself? Who talks like this? You're spouting nonsense, man. I just...I just think you need help, that's all."
"Look," James said, finally starting to calm down. Keyword: starting. "You know I've never been this scared of anything in my life. They're comin' to get me. That's why I need to be within eyesight at all times. That guy--Zack, or whatever his name is--told me Assassins never kill with witnesses. So, if I'm around people, there will be one too many witnesses. Please, just help me man. I've never been this scared before."
"Dude, you were frightened of the time my mom introduced the dog to you."
"I'm telling you: that dog looked like he wanted to kill me."
"He never even growled at anybody, not even you."
"Look, just please, man. Please stay with me, help me."
Patrick was shaking his head again, and said, "No. This is too ridiculous. I've followed you our whole lives, but this? ...No way, man. No. If you're wanted by them, then I guess they should take you."
And with that, Patrick turned his back to leave. James was about to call to him, when suddenly, something stabbed through his heart. He tried to look back, but his neck seemed to not be working. He never saw the Assassin. No one did. All he could do was groan. And then, everything was white.
That caught Patrick's attention. He turned back to his friend, to see him dead. His head was bent backwards, his eyes seemed to be staring at the ceiling, his mouth was wide-open. Patrick was horrified. However, was scared him most was that no one was near them. Nothing was left behind. Not a single clue.