I, ASSASSIN

Chapter Six

** Authors note: This chapter deals with the murder of an animal. Read with caution. **

Remy couldn't remember ever feeling quite so drained of all his gusto before; up until he saw the German Shepherd leashed to the tree at the back of the Boudreaux mansion, he had been almost enthusiastic. It had almost been a promising day. Marius seemed impressed with him, and he was beginning to almost vaguely relax.

It had been Marius's idea to take a walk to the outside of the woods surrounding the perimeter of the Bordeaux mansion, and they had left via the back door. Marius led the way to a specific spot, and Remy had not seen this coming. Within five minutes, Remy found that Marius had led the way to the dog tied to a tree just there by the outskirts of the woods then he unsettlingly pulled out a 9mm handgun.

Breakfast had been light enough and yet it suddenly felt very heavy in Remy's stomach as he watched Marius load up the magazine for the gun from a box of bullets that had apparently been in his pocket the whole time.

The dog was laying on the ground looking lazy and half-content; it stared between them, unassuming, not even bothering to bark at either of them and as Remy looked between dog and new mentor and his eyes fell upon that pistol, he realised that something very wrong was about to occur.

"There's this lil' test I need to make you take before I can put you through any further trainin', LeBeau," said Marius as he popped the magazine into the gun, he made some adjustments, made sure the safety was on and tossed the gun towards Remy, "here."

Remy caught the gun in both hands, but held it almost as if it were a newborn that had just affectively shit its diaper and he had no way of changing it. "What the-"

"Shoot the dog."

He had known it was coming. The man wouldn't have stood there loading up the gun if he hadn't intended on Remy killing a poor defenceless animal. Remy's stomach seemed to back flip and he glanced down at the dog, feeling those large brown eyes stare up at him with a sad kind of surrender.

"But..." Remy swallowed, "the dog ain't done nothin' to deserve it."

Marius frowned, "How you expect me to trust you can be brought into my ranks if you can't even shoot a dog?" he demanded. "You're going to be expected to hold that gun against the head of a person some day, LeBeau. A dog is nothin'. If you can't kill an animal...how you gonna kill a person?"

Remy glanced at Marius uneasily; he was right, of course. It was a horribly valid point and one he couldn't argue. Somehow, he had expected something like this to eventually arise. He just hadn't expected it to be so soon. Yesterday he'd been a lazy thief sitting in a tree enjoying the summer and watching a gator in the swamp. Today he was about to snuff out the life of an innocent unsuspecting animal.

He took off the safety and steadied himself; he pointed the gun towards the poor German Shepherd, his finger curled around the trigger, yet he couldn't bring himself to pull it.

"Shoot it!"

He aimed, lining up the sight with the centre of the dog's head. God the heat out here was excruciating. He felt a trickle of sweat dancing its way down the side of his head, tracing down his cheek and to his jaw in one slow slither as he adjusted his aim slightly.

"Shoot!"

His hand was shaking, he couldn't find the strength to pull the trigger and kill the canine. With a shaking breath, he lowered the gun a little, "No," Remy refused.

"Why the fuck not?!" Marius demanded angrily.

Remy lowered his eyes defiantly away from the man, he took his finger away from the trigger, but held onto the gun all the same.

"What the fuck use are you to the Assassins if you can't even kill a fuckin' dog?!"

"I didn' say I can't," Remy lowered the gun completely, "I just won't," he dared to say.

"It's an order!"

"I won't kill it for no reason."

"The reason is it is an order," Marius sneered, "the point, LeBeau, as you well know is that when you are contracted to kill someone, or somethin', you kill it. No questions asked. You don' need any other valid reason!"

Remy winced at the yelling of the man. His rage was even worse than Jean-Luc's. He felt that same sensation of being small and insignificant, the way he always did when he was told he was messing up, or he was a disappointment. It made him feel like a little boy all over again.

"Now...shoot."

Remy raised the gun towards the dog again, the big brown eyes seemed to meet with his own mutant eyes and ask 'why? I'm just a dog!'. Remy frowned and tried to steady himself. He thought of his brother and what he'd be doing at this moment. He was probably talking Julien Boudreaux through some complicated lock picking techniques the boy would no doubt never learn properly. He thought of Jean-Luc, probably scheming how he would use Remy's association with the Assassins to some new advantage somehow. What would happen to them if he didn't shoot this damn dog?

"Shoot it!"

"No!" Remy lowered the gun again, his nerves shot.

Marius grabbed Remy's wrist and held it at the right angle, pointing directly at the poor dog's head. "Now...pull the goddamn trigger," he commanded, never taking his eyes off of Remy's face.

The bang was deafening, his ears rang and the birds up in trees took off in a panicked flight. Remy snapped his head away before he could witness the carnage of his reluctant actions, his eyes met a crow that had been minding it's own business in the woods, the thing flapped almost frantically as it made a getaway.

"There," said Marius, apparently satisfied. "Ain't pretty, but it had to be done."

Remy dropped the gun on the ground; he felt cold all over, as if his blood had turned to ice despite this insane heat. Had he really just shot an innocent animal? He was sure he was going to throw up. Marius spent a moment looking almost perplexed, as if something wasn't sitting quite right with him. What Remy noted the man did not look was remorseful one bit. How could he be so hard and cold when an innocent animal now lay dead on the bed of dry grass, dead leaves and twigs?

"Death is an ugly business LeBeau. Learn to harden yourself to it," Marius finally said, he gestured to the gun upon the ground. "That gun is now yours."

Remy wasn't sure how to respond to this, so simply uttered a quiet, "thank you." He supposed he was supposed to be grateful, that was the kind of respect a man like Marius Bordreaux expected.

"Bury the dog," said Marius, sighing deeply as he stared down at his dead animal. He sounded strangely sympathetic almost right then as he raised his eyes back to Remy, and almost seemed to be able to read the anxiety right there. "Take the rest of the day to gather your nerves, this only the beginnin'."

When Marius had left the area, Remy immediately moved to the nearest bush and parted with his oatmeal. He noticed a splatter of the poor canine's blood on his knuckle as he went to wipe his mouth and a second wave of breakfast arose. After pulling himself together after a third wave of vomit came up, he went to retrieve the gun. The gun lay where he'd dropped it upon the dead grass, a shining silver reminder of what he'd done. He took some time to pluck up the nerve to pick the thing up, which he found strangely unlike himself as he'd never been afraid of guns before. The gun was oddly cold despite having just been fired only moments before. Even the barrel was stone cold despite the intense summer heat. It didn't even smell of gunpowder.

What the fuck? He thought, feeling utterly bewildered.

"I'm sorry."

Remy turned to see Bella Donna standing there in her jeans and hot pink halter-top. Her hair was loose and wild, stirring the hot summer breeze that threatened to make this a very uncomfortable afternoon.

Remy saw the 9mm Pistol that matched the one he was holding; it was tucked into the waistband of her jeans. "You...it was you that shot the dog..." he stammered. Now he realised why his gun was so cold. It had never been fired. Bella Donna had fired from nearby. No wonder Marius had looked so perplexed, surely he'd noticed the sound difference? Had he noticed there was no smoke?

Jesus, Marius must have realised something is up, this could get us into some serious deep shit, this is reason enough to have me killed, Remy realised in utter horror.

Her eyes dropped to the unfortunate animal, now laying dead in the grass by the tree. "He was old, he was going to die slowly and painfully..." she admitted. "He had cancer...that's why daddy brought him here. To put him out his misery."

"But t' kill the poor thing..." Remy swallowed.

"You got to understand," Bella Donna said, sounding far more sure of herself than she had at breakfast, "You can't let them see you weak. Otherwise you'd let them see what can hurt you," she explained. "If they say shoot...you better goddamn shoot. You think about why later...you cry about it when you're alone if you have to...but you never ask why, and you never refuse..." she advised. "You saw that he kept his eyes on you the whole time...he never even looked at the gun...he wanted to see your reaction...that's what this was about..." Bella Donna pointed out.

If he was lookin' at me he might have not noticed the gun didn't fire, Remy tried to calm himself.

"Next time, don't turn your head. He saw your weakness, and he'll look for it again. Don't show it or you ain't gonna survive here."

"But...that dog..." Remy shook his head in disgrace.

"Just 'cause we're killers...it doesn't mean the reasons aren't sometimes honourable..." Bella Donna assured. "Sometimes...the reasons are right."

Remy didn't agree. There was never anything honourable in taking money for murder. There'd surely been a more humane way to put the dog down. Remy was positive he'd never be able to watch 'Old Yeller' ever again now.

He tried to convince himself that Bella Donna was right, because it was much better to try and accept this than the real reality of it. His eyes caught a splatter of blood on the leg of his jeans and a fourth wave of nausea hit.

Perhaps Henri had been right. Perhaps he wasn't man enough to do this.

Bella Donna reached to the nearby tree where a shovel had been propped against it, and she took it and reached it out to him. "He's no longer in pain," she said softly, "and he was in a lot of it. You've eased his sufferin'."

Remy accepted the shovel uneasily, "and what about the people I'll be asked to kill, Belle. They gonna all be sufferin' too?" he asked almost insolently.

Bella Donna bit her lip momentarily, she stared up at him, her expression confident, so unlike the tease she'd been at breakfast, "from the minute we're born, we're dyin', Remy. Life is an illness," she explained. Remy had the distinct feeling these words were not her own. These were words that had been drilled into her by someone else.

"Who are we to say who lives and who dies?" Remy asked coldly.

Bella Donna laughed lightly, "we don't ask, and we don't say. We just do. That's what my grandfather taught me, that's what daddy taught me, and that's what I'm gonna teach you now. You're not here to decide, you're here to do. Bury the dog, Remy and try to remember that he's out of his misery."

Who gonna put me out of mine? Remy wondered unhappily as he sunk the shovel into the earth by the left of the tree. It seemed to him that he was going to be in a lot of misery from now on, and perhaps for the rest of his life. He watched Bella Donna walking away from him, wondering if he'd ever quite be able to look at her the same after this. Suddenly his lust for her didn't feel quite so immediate as it once had. In fact, it had subsided faster than it would have if he'd been doused in ice water.

Despite the agony of his aching joints from the over-zealous morning free running session, he worked hard to dig the grave for the dog. He dug it deep, hoping that the deeper the better and that some other animal wouldn't end up digging the poor creature back up. Remy had to look away again as he pushed the carcass into the hole, and he would not allow himself to loo k at the grave again properly until the dead animal was consumed in earth. Although it hadn't been requested, Remy used some rope and a couple of old planks he found lying around to make a makeshift grave marker as to where the dog was buried. It wasn't as good as an engraved tombstone, but he supposed it would have to do. The dog at least deserved that, didn't he?

What was the dog's name? he wondered. No, on second thought, don't even want to know if it had a name.

It was wise if he tried to ignore the thought of the dog being named, that it might have had a personality, that it may have once run free chasing rabbits and squirrels, and protected this family from intruders.

Stop thinkin' about it, Remy told himself sternly as he pushed the wooden grave marker into the loose soil mound on the top of the grave. Just try to pretend like this never happened.

Before he left the grave, he put his hand upon the hand-made grave marker and sighed miserably. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and with that he left the area. He hoped he would never have to return to that exact spot again.

End of Chapter Six

I know, I know it was a horrible thing to write about. Hopefully I won't be flamed for this. It felt like the kind of thing an Assassin would use as a prime example of a first hand kill, as an introduction into having to take another life without question.

In case anyone doubts Bella Donna's excuse that the dog was sick, it was.

Thanks for the last few reviews, it's always nice to hear from people who read my stories. :)