I, ASSASSIN

Chapter Fifteen

*** Note: There is some gore/death in this chapter (human) and I suppose it'd be fair to give a warning if you're squeamish and weak stomached. For those of us who have been desensitised through a couple of decades (or three in my case) worth of being desensitised through over-exposure to horror films and programmes like CSI, etc, you probably won't bat an eyelid.***

Remy felt the covers being yanked from him, a sudden grab that left him sitting up right, disorientated from the dream he'd been having about being in Bayville, a dream about blowing things up left right and centre during a fight with the X-Men and not giving a damn who lived or died.

He wasn't sure whether to feel the dream was a nightmare or a particularly positive dream, and he realised as he raised his eyes to an ageing figure hovering over his bed, that he didn't have the luxury of time to consider it either.

Bella Donna's grandfather was the oldest living member of the Boudreaux family, and Remy felt he looked even older than he was rumoured to be, which was somewhere around the age of seventy-two. His face sagged, deeply tanned with thin pale lines exaggerating his age by perhaps another decade. He stood with his thin gnarled arthritic hand clutching the top of an ornate cane, a silver serpent was winding it's way up the shining black ebony body of the cane reaching towards a blood red glass bulb.

Something about that cane gave Remy the chills.

"Get up," said the old man, who despite the appearance of his weak body, rose his cane and jabbed at Remy's stomach, "now."

Remy rubbed at his tired face, "what's goin' on."

"What's goin' on Grand Master," corrected the old man.

Remy, still sore and tired from the day before groaned. Was he supposed to be respectful to this old geezer who had come rudely into his room and jabbed him with that cane so unnecessarily? "Sorry," he muttered, "Grand Master," Remy stated, trying not to sound too loathing about it but it escaping all the same.

"Mind your manners," the old man warned, the hint of a French accent hidden beneath an even thicker southern one. "Get dressed, be downstairs in five."

"Marius said I could have the day off..." Remy mumbled tiredly.

"I won't tell you twice."

Remy watched the old man go, and he pulled himself up, grumbling tiredly as he pulled on clean clothes and ran a comb through his sleep mussed hair. His spare boots (the others issued by Marius were still out on the porch) were still untied as he made his way down the stairs. He slowed a little, seeing the old man standing there in his black damask coat, a rather conspicuous top hat with a thin decorative blade pushed into the darkest red ribbon. The old man looked as if he had just stepped out of vampire movie, and for one moment, he found himself thinking his old friend Rogue might be awfully amused or envious of such a fine get up.

"Tie them laces, we ain't got all day, boy," the old man commanded sharply.

Remy sat on the bottom two steps of the staircase and bent over to tie the laces of his boots, watching the old man. He didn't even know his name. He'd heard him called many things. Grand Master, Le Coeur Noir (the Black Heart), and of course, Grandpere, was Bella Donna called him whenever she were in respectable company (calling him 'grandpa' had always been deemed a punishable offence, considered disrespectful, and rude). Remy wasn't sure what to call the man right now so he supposed Grand Master would have to suffice.

The Grand Master gestured towards the door with his cane, "You and I are goin' on a journey," he announced, then he waited, standing with his cane in both hands, it pressed firmly to the ground. Remy realised he was supposed to open the door for the old man, he'd been expected to, as if he were a servant, or some kind of slave.

Remy glanced around briefly wondering where Marius, or perhaps Bella Donna might be, hoping they could shed some light on what was occurring here. He wondered if this was some kind of prank, he was waiting for the punch line or for something to be explained but neither of them seemed to be in sight. He could smell breakfast from the kitchen, but apparently that was another luxury he wasn't going to be afforded today either.

With an inward sigh, Remy opened the door for the old man, and waited for him to go out first, feigning an heir of respect just to avoid argument or reprimand. As he followed the old man out to the porch, he spied the old car parked out in front, the thing looked more ancient than the old man did; Remy couldn't quite grasp that the old man seemed intent on driving this old thing on these types of terrains in this day and age. There were so many back roads and dirt roads here that Remy could only imagine the thing would end up getting stuck somewhere.

As Remy trailed behind the old man down the steps – which he seemed to have slight trouble with – he eyed the car and admitted, "Reminds me of the car that Bonnie Parker and Clyde Darrow died in."

It hadn't been a joke of course, it had been perfectly serious. Other than the fact the car had a pristine black paint job (albeit it, the thing was slightly dusty from the drive it had taken to get there) the car did indeed look the old Ford V8 that the famous couple had met their dramatic deaths in.

"You think you're funny, boy?" snapped Grand Master Boudreaux, his dirty brown faded eyes glaring at Remy, "you compare a Rolls Royce to that?"

"I didn't mean-"

"I know what you meant. Get in," the old man snarled.

"Can I at least ask where-" Remy asked as the old man opened the door to the driver's side and started working his way in uncomfortably, the pain evident on his face although he was clearly struggling to hide it.

"No," said the Grand Master aggressively, "get in, shut up."

Remy got into the passengers side and looked for a seatbelt – there was no seatbelt. He wasn't particularly sure he felt confident being out on the road with a man in his seventies on these slightly unpredictable and narrow roads with no seatbelt...especially in a car this old. What choice was there? Get out? Walk away? Be labelled disrespectful, put up with warnings and punishments?

It was better to keep his mouth shut.

Does Marius even know about this? Remy worried, staring through the rear view window (which was rather small), watching the house disappear as the loud car moved down the drive. Does Belle?

No, he supposed if Bella Donna had known anything about this she'd have had the decency to warn him. She'd had ample opportunity to give him a heads-up yesterday. Marius on the other hand, Remy wondered if perhaps he was just cruel enough to give him a false sense of security with the promise of a day off whilst intentionally meaning to ambush him with some other tedious exercise.

But what exercise? Remy wondered, wishing he was allowed to ask. The Grand Master had told him to keep his mouth shut and the icy tone in which he spoke told him to be respectful, to not push his luck. What kind of trainin' is an old arthritic man gonna give me?

The thought was almost laughable, but Remy didn't dare even smirk in the presence of this man. Something about him left him cold in ways that nothing else in life ever had.

For a small leg of the journey, Remy tried to busy himself by watching scenery and pretending to himself he found it remotely fascinating. Anything that would keep him awake. The old man had specified he be quiet and 'shut up' but he had not permitted any slumber.

Remy took his phone out of his pocket to check the time and found they had already been on the road for two hours, Remy had lost all track of road signs back when he'd started to feel himself slipping into a trance-like state from boredom.

Where are we goin'? He wondered, feeling slightly alarmed. The alarm only began to increase when four hours had passed and he was struggling to keep himself focused on anything other than the dashboard as his eyes grew heavy and his body lulled into a strange relaxed state thanks to the consistent vibrations of the – in his opinion anyway – rather questionable vehicle. Remy didn't know a whole lot about cars, but he had the feeling the wheels were poorly balanced, or that something might be wrong with the suspension.

"Stop lookin' at that damn phone," Grand Master Boudreaux commanded harshly, never taking his eyes away from the road even for a moment. Remy felt the old man probably had eyes in both the side and the back of his head because he never seemed to at any point ever glance in the rear view mirror yet always seemed to know what was coming up behind him.

Six hours in, Remy's backside felt as if it had fallen asleep and his legs slightly tingled as he tried to move them. Pins and needles danced up his feet from being in the same position for so long. He was positive at some point he may have actually fallen asleep, because it seemed he'd blinked and suddenly it was pouring rain, a dramatic change from the beautiful sunny morning they had left.

From road to road, the car drifted, until the roads begun to look the same as the roads they had originally come from back in their parish. Thunder rolled in the distance and the rain patted heavily on the windscreen, the wipers making a shrill unnerving squeak against the glass as it swept it away. Dark clouds and looming old trees hung every which way, and they drove further and further in the dirt roads.

Remy listened to the squelching of the tires in the mud, and hoped to god they weren't going to get stuck. He dreaded it because he knew that if they did he'd be the one pushing that wretched car all the way out of whatever mess it got into.

Grand Master Boudreaux stopped the car at the end of a trail and he got out, saying nothing to Remy.

Remy assumed by now whether he was commanded or not, he was supposed to just do what was expected. Got to learn to be a goddamn telepath, Remy realised grudginglyas he climbed out. As he gazed around he couldn't help thinking this entire trip was one gigantic waste of time. There was nothing but trees and the dead end of the road, old logs stacked up to block the way for any other vehicles that might try to pass further. As Remy glanced to the muddy ground as his boots sloshed, he saw the deep grooves of a few other vehicles, quite recent he would have gathered. The tires were wide, a good tread, and although he wasn't an expert, he'd have guessed an SUV of some sort had been there not so long ago, but whether that was a day ago, or simply an hour, he couldn't say.

The old man began walking, shakily hanging onto his cane, Remy could see the old man had a bad knee, his limp became prominent the more he walked. As they walked into the woodlands, there was less mud and more stone, leaf and masses of pine needles. Although it had started out a pleasantly warm day, the air was now slightly chilly from the rain, (which left Remy wondering if they were even in Louisiana anymore) and damp hung around them. Remy was soaked barely minutes into their walk, and he had no jacket as he had not been advised he'd need one. The air around him served to only chill him further.

It had been almost a half hour walk – torture as his feet were already blistered enough. He had to keep silently restraining himself from complaint, hand in his pocket pinching at his hip hard to try and distract himself from the pain. He had no clue what they were walking towards, and he wished he had the nerve to ask. He hadn't had the nerve to speak until the smell hit him.

"Smells like a sewage pipe burst or somethin' out here," Remy blurted.

It hadn't occurred to him, as Grand Master walked further ahead of him without saying anything, that it was very unlikely there were going to be sewage pipes in the way back of the woods outside of civilisation. Remy hadn't seen any houses or businesses for at least what felt to be a hundred miles...there weren't likely to be any kind of pipes anywhere near here.

As they walked, the smell became worse, thick, overpowering so much that Remy had to pull his t-shirt over his face to try and shield his senses from it as best he could while trying to desperately breath through his mouth beneath the cotton. It was making him feel sick and he had to quickly swallow the taste of it in his mouth to avoid throwing up, he didn't want to show this weakness to the old man.

When they finally broke into a clearing, a murder of crows took to the skies, cawing furiously at the disturbance, and Remy couldn't think why so many crows would be in this part of the woods all at once.

It was then he realised why Marius's father had brought him here...why the Great Grand Master of the guild had dragged him here, to the middle of nowhere.

Suspended by two trees, directly ahead of them, was the most horrific thing Remy had ever seen in his young life. A body stripped of most of its flesh, rotting, bone exposed, the evidence of carnivorous animal activity, the birds had pecked away where eyes had once been, the teeth bared where lips no longer were. There were flies dancing across the air around it, and even from so far away, Remy could see the shifting and wriggling of the insects that had started to breed and feast upon this offering.

Remy was suddenly glad he hadn't had breakfast, because if he had, the vomit that came up would have been much more severe. He swung his head around and it seemed to project out of him, he simply couldn't help it. The sight...the smell...God...the thought of it...

"You see what traitors to the guild get?" said Grand Master Boudreaux, unaffected, his eyes on the body as a crow soared down and landed upon the raw shoulder of the body, tore a piece of it off and guzzled it hungrily as if it had just pecked a nice juicy worm out of the damp earth.

He couldn't look, it sickened him too much, it left his stomach lurching and twisting like the contents of an unbalanced washing machine.

"Look at it!" snarled the old man.

Remy couldn't, he kept his eyes averted to the ground, a blood stained rock amongst more blood splattered ground, the wet earth had a red tint to it that had not washed away despite the rain.

"You look!" the old man swung his cane up and caught Remy under the jaw with it, pushing his head upwards.

Remy had always known the severity of the situation he was in, he had always known the danger of it. But it hadn't been until that moment he had realised just how real all this truly was, and how incredibly lost he had become. His eyes unwillingly moved to the corpse, the thing seemed to grin at him with those slightly crooked perfectly white teeth.

Somehow, he stammered, "the Assassins did this?"

Marius had told him t-he Assassins had honour, that they didn't leave a soul to suffer. But this? Remy had the distinct feeling this person...whomever they were...this person had.

"Who..." Remy managed, fighting to not retch. His eyes caught the gaping wound that had once probably been male genitals, and that made it worse...to know that this decaying half-eaten thing had once been a man.

"He crossed us, and that's all you need to know," said Grand Master Boudreaux, he held his cane down in front of him, both hands upon it, staring at the mess. "There are consequences for dishonour and disobedience, LeBeau. Break our laws, share our secrets, or attempt desert us...and the penalties..." he nodded in the direction of the corpse, "are severe."

Remy turned and brought up another burst of vomit, he grabbed onto the nearest tree for support. Does he know about what Bella Donna suggested? How could he know?

His eyes caught sight of the corpse, he turned away, shaking, stomach lurching. How could anyone do that to another human?! How could anyone have taken a human life in such a cruel sadistic way?! This tortured soul had probably been alive when the Assassins had left him like this...how long had that been? Days?

Marius lied to me, Remy realised. He said they never left a person to suffer...it's one of the tenets, clean kill, no mess...no sufferin'...this goes against everythin' that he told me! They broke their own rules!

"Now you know the price," said the old man, he turned and began the walk back in the direction of the car.

Remy had to keep stopping on the walk back to the car, being sick in small increments slowed him down immensely, and by the time he had gotten back to the car, lightning was starting to split the sky, and the thunder was getting incredibly close.

In the car, he felt cold and strangely clammy at the same time as he sat there in the passengers seat of the old Rolls Royce trembling, not sure if it was from being cold or from fear. Shock left every nerve in his body pinging and jumping in all directions, he couldn't keep himself still.

As the Grand Master drove back in the direction they had come, Remy stared out of the window, forgetting his worries about the car getting stuck in the mud. He realised now there were far worse things to worry about.

End of chapter fifteen