AN: This chapter is done! I was very much debating whether to fully detail Tony's first few assignments and finally settled on this format instead. Oh, I've gotten a few reviews, so I'm going to clear these two points up first. This is a slash story, with TonyxMaleOC, ClintxCoulson and NatashaxPepper. Also, Anatassia is not Natasha. The Anatassia character serves to give Tony another person in his corner, besides Pepper, but more on that soon. I suppose I should have made that a wee bit more clear. XD Hope you enjoy this next chapter!
It's a week after Tony's fifteenth birthday that he received his first assignment. He was working in the forge as a striker while he and Alistair carefully crafted a decorative strut for a building. Tony was just about to bring the hammer down again when there was a knock on the door. Alistair returned the metal bar to the heat and Tony set the large sledgehammer on the ground, leaning on the handle as he turned to face the door.
Standing there, in full uniform with his tiger mask at his hip, was Alexander and Tony felt as if ice had begun to course through his veins. Mentor and student shared a quick look before Tony straightened up and left the sledgehammer resting against the wall. "It's time." Was all Alexander said before he turned on his heels.
Tony quickly stripped off his apron and left the forge, swiftly re-entering the den and making for his room. The room was quiet and empty, the coals in the fireplace flickering weakly. On his bunk was the full uniform and the armor the assassins wore under their uniforms. Tony hadn't smithed his own scalemail overlay for his pants or a chainmail shirt yet, but the armor had been a gift from the other apprentices who worked in the forge for his birthday.
Tony slipped out of his novice uniform and pulled a tight t-shirt and pants from his footlocker, pulling those on. Once that was done, he pulled on the scalemail overlay and fastened the traces in the back and slipped the chainmail shirt on, tightening those as well. He slipped into the form-fitting black tunic and pants and then his boots. He looked down at himself, smiling slightly despite the mass of nerves that settled in his gut. He looked pretty good in full uniform.
Next he grabbed his sash and Ninjato from its spot on the weapons rack and fastened it around his waist tightly. The strap holster for his collapsable Bo staff went on his left thigh and he secured the weapon inside it and then he secured the small haversack to his hip, which held emergency survival supplies and first aid equipment. He grabbed his longbow and quiver from the last spot and smiled.
The quiver had been carved by Brad, as a gift for his fifteenth birthday. It was rectangular and had intricate patterns carved all over, painted crimson so they stood out against the ebony color of the quiver. Tony had smithed the arrow heads and shaped the shafts of the arrows himself, working every night on the latter in the comfort of the dorms, using his pocket knife and the flame from a candle to strengthen and shape the shafts.
The bow, his newest bow, finished only two weeks ago. He'd spent months carefully smoothing and shaping the bow, using flame and boiling water until it was shaped perfectly. It was almost as tall as he was, only ten inches or so shorter, covered in a protective layer of horn. The grip had calf leather wrapped around it and a small, carved amulet in the shape of an Antelope, a gift from Alexander, hung from the bottom of the grip, as a representation of Satet, the Egyptian goddess of War, Archery and Hunting.
He set those aside, donned his hooded, sleeveless tabard and then put the quiver in place, followed shortly by the bow. Fully kitted out, he left his room and then the den as a whole, On the ground floor of the hunting lodge, tucked behind main room and down a warmly lit hall was an office. It wasn't very big, but it was decorated nicely, with dark blue walls and carpet and weathered gray moulding. Behind a an oaken desk, buried under papers and files but seemingly always smiling was a woman of maybe thirty-five.
She had blonde hair and wicked hazel eyes, but a warm smile and voice. This was Marcie Blackmill, referred to almost exclusively during working hours as the Aak, the Guide and Leader of the Order. Assassins came to her for assignments, she assigned new assassins their masks and she dealt most directly with the forces in the government that funded and protected the members of the Raan Do Sivaas.
After working hours, when she wandered around the halls of the den with the rest of the assassins, when she sat down to dinner with everyone, she was just Marcie, as approachable to novices and assassins alike as any other. But now, as Tony met Alexander outside of the office door before going in, it was easy to see she was all business. She was holding a manilla folder in her hands and staring at them intently.
"You called, Aak?" Alexander asked and Marcie nodded her head. She slid the file over to Tony, who grabbed it and opened it. Facing him were two pictures, one of a man in his mid-thirties and another of a slightly younger woman. Tony flipped through the pages, and then made a sound of disgust once he reached the highlighted page with the reason for termination.
Child molesters and traffickers.
Attached to the packet of information on his targets were dozens of pages, each containing the information of a child that had been a victim of the pair. Testimonies that linked the children who'd been sold off to the couple. All of this solid evidence, and they'd been set free because of a technicality. With Double Jeopardy in play, the courts couldn't touch them.
But the Order could.
Tony flipped the rest of the way through and gathered the rest of the necessary information for the assignment. Located in a cabin in central Wisconsin, unguarded by anything like a security system and anyone but themselves, it was as simple as breaking into the cabin and finishing them off in their sleep.
Tony looked up and locked eyes with Marcie, who was holding out two white hawk feathers. As Tony didn't have a mask, and therefore didn't have a totem to accredit the kills to his name, a simple hawk feather would be left instead. Tony took the two feathers carefully and tucked them into his haversack.
"Do you understand your assignment and what you're being asked to do?" She asked And Tony nodded sharply.
"Yes, Aak." He said.
"Good. Peace and Focus go with you, novice, Tiger." She said and both Tony and Alexander turned on their heels and left the room, heading straight outside. Both of their horses were standing there, Alexander's being held by his girlfriend and Achilles being held by Anatassia, Robert and Brad close by. Tony and Alexander split off to talk to their respective farewell groups. Tony was immediately scooped up in a hug by Anatassia and then thumped on the back by the other two.
"You be careful, alright, Tony? Don't be stupid and use that giant brain of yours in your head." Brad told him and Tony nodded. He shook hands with them all again, got another hug from Anatassia and an ear tweak from Brad before he hauled himself into the saddle. Once Alexander was in his as well, Tony gently tapped Achilles' sides and started a steady course down the mountain trail, Alexander not far behind.
On the plane to Madison, Alexander handed Tony a mask. It was blank, expressionless, like someone had taken a mask right off a mould and painted it the colors of the Order, ebony with crimson outlines. "You won't get your mask until after your fifth assignment, but we wouldn't send you on an assignment without some way to maintain your anonymity." Tony nodded and let Alexander explain how the mask went on and stayed on and it was comfortable, done to measurements done of his face a week ago.
When the plane landed, Alexander hopped into the SUV provided to them by a man in a suit, and Tony climbed into the passenger seat. It was nearing dusk as they pulled out of the city proper and full dark had settled by the time Alexander pulled the SUV to a halt at the top of a dirt road, shut off the car and turned to look at Tony. "You're target is half a mile down this road. Make your way inside, kill the targets and leave. I will be waiting for you half way between this vehicle and the target building. If you need help, I will know and I will be there."
Tony nodded mutely and then slid from the car, Alexander not far behind him. Tony slipped into the foliage on the left side of the road and made his way down the not-so-steep hill. His boots, made of soft calf leather and lined with moisture wicking fabric, were unlike all other boot. Boots worn by the assassins of the Order were no more than leather that slipped over the feet. They had no rigid shape and were meant to move with the assassin's feet.
Right outside the treeline, he stopped, hidden behind a tall bush, and looked. Sitting on the dark porch and fumbling with a lighter was the woman from the folder, one of his targets. Once she got her cigarette lit, she settled, facing away to her left. Tony took a deep breath and unhooked his bow from his back, grabbed an arrow from the quiver and nocked it.
The night was almost completely still, only the slightest breeze coming from the east. Tony adjusted for it and breathed in, then out, and then in again.
But he couldn't let go of the arrow.
He was about to commit murder. The minute that arrow left the bowstring and found its target, he was a murderer. Tony was about to unnock the arrow when he remembered the file. The pictures of those little kids, once so vibrant and happy, beaten and broken because the person in front of him and in the one in the house got their kicks from abusing kids.
Tony felt white-hot rage flash through him as he pulled the bowstring back the rest of the way, breathed in once more and, on his exhalation, let the arrow fly. It made a whistling noise as it cut through the air and a wet sounding thunk when it embedded in the neck of the woman. Tony watched with morbid fascination as the woman fell to the porch, bleeding in rivers from both sides of her neck and unable to scream for the arrow that was now embedded where her voicebox had once been.
Tony took a quick moment to breathe past the nausea that swelled in his gut at the sight, but he knew he didn't have a moment to lose. After waiting thirty seconds to make sure no one was coming, he crept out of the bushes and over onto the porch. He reached into his haversack, pulled one of the feathers out and swiped it through the pool of blood before putting it in the woman's hand and closing her fingers gently around it.
He crouched low so he was below the door's window and tried the knob, grunting with satisfaction when he noticed that it was unlocked. He pushed gently and then squeezed inside through the gap that opened up. His second target was asleep in his recliner and Tony sighed. He'd have to get up close for this one. He hooked his bow to his quiver and this time reached for his sword.
It was clean and polished, glinting in the low light from the television. He'd smithed it himself, finished only a month ago and, obeying the traditions set down by every wielder before him, had not named it. It would remain without a name until he'd spilt blood with it three times. He breathed and crept to stand in front the recliner, rising to his full height and resting the tip of the blade against the man's throat.
He didn't even blink this time, pushing down his disgust and anger and malaise to be dealt with later, and he didn't give the man time to awaken. With a deft flick of his wrists, a move oft practiced, he slit the man's throat. The man came awake with a sick gurgle, staring at the blank of Tony's masked face in terror as he bled out. Tony didn't even wait until he was done bleeding before he swiped the second feather through the blood and left it on the man's chest.
Striding with purpose out of the house, he flung the door open, assured that his gloves, made of thick padded leather, wouldn't leave any fingerprints. He made his way rapidly through the woods back to the top of the road, where Alexander was waiting at the SUV, arms crossed, pride radiating from his very being despite the blank of his tiger mask. They climbed into the SUV and drove off back to airport, where another private plane was waiting, guarded by the same suited man as before.
Tony almost fell out of the SUV, what he'd just done catching up to him and he'd begun to shake. Alexander came over and pried off his mask, and then Tony's, catching the hazel eyes of his student. "How was your first assignment, Lille Valpen?" He asked.
In answer, Tony lost his lunch all over Alexander's shoes.
Tony's next assignment had him away longer than a night and further away than Wisconsin. Brett accompanied him on a flight across the ocean to Japan. Camped in high-rise office building in the city of Kyoto, Tony took out a corrupt businessman, who was selling arms to a terrorist group in Shibuya.
He waited until the man entered the office, grabbed him and threw him bodily out of the window. Below there was screaming as glass rained down upon the walking pedestrians and then a horrified howl as the body shortly followed. Tony and Brett were at the airfield and ready to lift off within the hour.
His third assignment had him in France, under the supervision of Allicia, his dancing instructor, now dressed to the nines in her uniform and bearing the mask of a dolphin. She spotted for him as he sniped a French politician a quarter mile away from the woman's home.
After his third assignment, in the middle of July, his father sent him a letter, informing him that he'd been accepted to MIT. Tony had been ecstatic. Granted, he wouldn't fit in at the University, and he'd have to have an apartment all of his own because he wasn't allowed in campus living quarters at his age, but he'd long ago run out of assignments that the mentor's could teach him and, in his spare time, he was almost always designing something on paper or working in the well-lit forge on an actual project. College sounded like a blessing.
Tony's fourth assignment had him in the Bahamas, where a man used his shark tours as a means to traffic drugs. Tony was once again accompanied by Alexander, who watched his student knock out the man, tie fish heads to his legs and toss him in the water, where he was quickly eaten by Mako sharks.
Tony's fifth assignment came well after he'd settled in at MIT. On a snowy, December morning, Marcie Blackmill herself showed up at his apartment with two duffels on her shoulders and a file in one hand, cardboard carrying case of coffee in the other. Tony opened the door and allowed her in before shutting the door behind her and then drawing the blinds. Marcie dropped the duffels on the ground, handed Tony a cup of coffee and made herself comfortable on Tony's couch, watching as the apprentice made himself comfortable in a recliner.
"I have another one for you, Tony." She said and Tony nodded. Marcie slid the file across the coffee table and Tony snatched it up, flipping it open. His face was a blank mask, as he'd long ago learned to close off his emotions when he was at the beginning of an assignment until the very end. He flipped open the folder and paged through, grunting as he took in his new target.
The picture he saw this time was of an older man, dressed in a smart suit, salt and pepper hair. Tony recognized him immediately. He'd been in the news dozens of times, the leader of a crime syndicate in Italy, suspected of having his fingers in everything from arms dealing and drug trafficking to kidnapping and murder-for-hire. The Italian authorities and Interpol couldn't pin anything on him, no matter how they tried
And now it was their turn.
"How is this going to go down?" He asked. Assassins of the Raan Do Sivaas could be called upon to perform all sorts of different assassinations from simple point and shoot to complicated, incredibly thought out ruses ending in the death of their target as a lesson to those around him. Marcie was smiling.
"We're going to a party."
The assignment went fantastically. Dressed in white-tie and tails, Tony, posing as the son of Marcie and Brett, performed his first speciality assassination. Before dinner, while the crowd was mingling, a paid-off waiter slipped Tony a small, sharpened dagger, which he slipped into his waistcoat. Dinner was surprisingly warm for a banquet funded by thugs and, during cocktails, Tony was offered a minor-friendly version of one of the drinks being served.
Slowly, the three assassins made their way to the back of the table where the target, his wife and his lieutenants were sitting and Tony yawned slightly, white-gloved hand coming up to cover his mouth. And the lights went down.
There was frightened screaming and the sounds of one of the lieutenants trying to calm down the guests when Tony made his move. He crept forward with one hand out, the other holding the dagger behind his back. Once his hand made contact with a broad shoulder and Tony dropped his voice as low as possible.
"Leo Gratilli, io sono un membro delle forze di sicurezza. Va tutto bene?" He asked, speaking as if Italian were his first language.
"Sì, sì. Lo sto bene." The older man responded. Tony grinned in triumph as he brought the dagger around and, with little difficulty, rammed it into the man's spine, right at the base of the skull. Death was instantaneous.
"Oh, bene. Poi ho avuto quello giusto la prima volta." He grinned and pulled a feather out of his waistcoat and stuck it on the body of the man in front of him, though it took a moment to wipe the feather through the blood and leave it on the space where the plates had once been. Brett led him out of the ballroom and down the hall and, eventually out of the dancehall completely.
They were already in a car and well down the street before the lights in the dancehall came back up. They weren't there to hear the screaming, though the news broadcast it the next day the world over.
Tony didn't return to the den until classes let out in June. He paid forward on his apartment and utilities, packed only a change of civilian clothes and a change of his clothes that they wore at the den. He'd visited with his parents all during the holidays, and planned on spending the better part of the summer with them, but he wanted to check in with his friends first.
And so he boarded one of his father's planes and rode in comfort to the familiar airstrip. Once there, he stopped at the small stable-outpost, where the Order housed horses to take assassins up the mountain after assignments, and changed into his white linen tunic and pants, as well as his boots.
Tony was elated to find someone had brought down Achilles and he spent a few minutes pressed forehead to forehead with his horse, murmuring happily. One of the stable hands had already tacked him out and Tony settled easily into the saddle before setting out at a canter up the hill.
Upon reaching the area where the den was located, Tony was perturbed to notice that the entire area was still and silent. The forge was cold and none of the chimneys billowed with their usual smoke. The only sound was the young foals playing in the near fields. Tony steered Achilles into the stables, brushed him down and watered him before letting him loose into the pastures, where he headed straight for the hay.
Tony slowly made for the hunting lodge and entered through the secret passage way, still perturbed by the quiet. The stone path was dimply lit and the anteroom was dark and so when the lights flooded on and everyone jumped forward, crowing "Congratulations!". He took a moment to restart his heart, sixteen was too young for a heart attack damnit, and then smiled.
The Raan Do Sivass was comprised of thirty-five assassins, twenty novices and almost fifty other support staff like medics, cooks and trainers. And all of them were gathered in a large semi-circle for him. Standing in the middle of the circle was Alexander and Marcie and directly behind them were his fellow novices. Marcie raised a hand and the room fell silent before she strode forward, her ebony and crimson tunic fluttering as she walked, bare feet silent on the floor.
"Novice Stark. You have trained with us for years, some of those years here and some of those years under the guidance of your mentor, Sunvaar Tiger, Alexander. Most recently, you've successfully completed five assignments around the world, with varying means, but with grace and focus. You are smart, wily, quick on your feet and even quicker on the draw. You have a trickster's spirit but a heart of gold."
Alexander reached forward with a polished wooden mask, very much like his own, and opened it. Nestled amongst dark crimson velvet was an ebony painted mask, the features done in the darkest crimson and Tony felt a flush of pride and exhilaration.
"And, it is for those traits that I name you Anthony of the Foxes. Let it be known that the world soon shall fear Sunvaar Fox."