From Nescience - 1. Six: Executioner

Giving yourself religiously to something is one thing. But to know the value of why you're doing this in the first place is another. It dawned on me that whatever I did then was innate programming from my childhood. A sharp nudge at the back of my head appeared as I pushed back the memories that other people would have considered as traumatic.

Not for me. Those memories had built me. And that's a story for another day.

My fingers played with the blade that was meant for my target. For years, it had become some ritual. It was some sort of personal touch. Of course, I made sure to have my gloves on. It would be too careless of me to leave any of my prints on the weapon. And carelessness can cost my life.

In this line of work, we were not allowed to make mistakes. Not a single one.

Before I tell more about myself, I must describe where I am. It would be a quick ride in the streets of Chicago since another… agent of death might spot me. Then that would have been a complicated assignment. And that was the last thing I wanted. I had a reputation for being highly efficient and entirely untraceable.

As an assassin for hire, my greatest weapon was the ability to be concealed. I was nobody. I have no name. I have no past nor no future. I have no affection for anything. I am but a tool sharpened to the utmost efficiency. There is only the task given at hand. Nothing else.

The streets of the several tall buildings loomed on me since it was the very center of the city. An occasional homeless person was on some of the roads, which had given me great cover in such areas. One time, I pretended to be lost, wandering around and silently shooting my target who passed by. Before they knew what was happening, I was gone.

This time, I was stalking someone in the streets. The guy was a few yards away from me, but I was a trained tracker. Before that, I have done extensive research on his behavior and habits. It was always like this. That's why I refuse to take on assignments with little preparation time. Little did he know I had set a trap after the next few stops. That means I have to speed up my pace.

The point was for him to notice me at a very particular distance. My target was quite paranoid and vigilant. His eyes would dart from left to right. He was also brilliant. But like other intelligent people, he is also a creature of habit. A week prior, I had stalked him twice without giving away what I looked like, and he would always turn right after a couple of alleys. Then I would meld back into the crowd.

This time, it was no longer a test. I was out to get him. And he will not be able to escape me because a trap was laid for him at the alley where I wanted him to turn. And just in case he made a wrong turn, another surprise was prepared.

The man was a wealthy businessman. He was an investor for a particular company and a board member for another. But he also likes to remain anonymous. Little did the people around him know that he was making millions of dollars illegally transferred from different shell companies. His main account was in a Swiss bank in Zurich.

He was in his early 50s. Stern-looking and solid. Always freshly shaven face and clean in every angle. He graduated from Princeton and finished with one of the highest GPAs in his batch. Very uptight and highly conscientious. A family man but also has a mistress. Every movement was calculated for him, which made him so predictable. But sadly, someone wanted him dead.

As soon as I stepped within his range, his pace picked up. He had noticed me. His hand took his phone from his breast pocket but pretended to be someone on a call. It was always like that for the past two times. A habit born out of anxiety. And it was a deadly habit that was going to get him killed.

One. Two. And there he went, right to the second alley. It was all too easy and predictable for me. I snapped my finger, and the magic seal I have learned through the years I have studied in Qah'livan erupted invisibly. It worked like a short-range EMP blast meant to stun the person for a few seconds. I knew it was going to wreck his thought process. That story of how I was a victim of that trap was a funny one.

The man immediately stopped in his tracks. His vision must have been a sharp blur. I could only presume that there was a considerable panic inside his head. He may have wanted to take a deep breath, but that trap-spell's effect would prevent that. I saw him sway and tried to reach for the wall.

"This is all business, Mr. Zimmerman. Nothing personal." I quipped dryly. He turned around to see me, and since he was taller, he was not expecting that he would look down. But my hand already flew out of my pocket, and with one clean swipe, his neck was sliced open cleanly. The blade was from a mercenary I worked with from the Shahir Dessert, an area in Qah'livan. It was a short curved blade with properties that could stop the bleeding for a few seconds. And those seconds can be used for me to run away before blood bursts everywhere. "Let's see if the doctors can still save you."

I stepped back and let out a scream. "Help! This guy is bleeding! Someone call an ambulance. Help him!"

People suddenly looked at the commotion, and, as predicted, blood had burst forth from the neck like a dam that exploded. Crimson red. Sprayed all over the pavement. People shrieked in horror, and those few seconds of distraught were more than enough distraction for me to meld in the crowd that gathered to see the view.

No one even noticed me. Discreetly. Swiftly. And deadly. After a hundred yards, I took out the burner phone and dialed the number of the man who gave me the task. It was a crucial part of our skillsets to have an almost photographic memory. Every detail must be combed out so that we can efficiently do our deeds.

After a couple of rings, someone picked up. A coarse breath was on the other line. I never met the one who hired me. It was for their protection anyway. All tasks needed to be done were delivered through anonymous couriers provided by The Tribunal to keep everyone away from prying eyes. "The task is finished. Public execution as you have preferred. Proof of it should be on the news tomorrow."

"Thank you, Six." The man replied. "Efficient as always."

"You know where to reach me if you have any tasks. The rate is the same." I replied and then ended the call. Then I broke the phone in half and threw it in a nearby trash can.

An empty car was waiting for me at the end of the street. The plate was fake, and the person who bought it did not exist. All of its papers were fake. It was my exit package once my task was finished. But I noticed a black man sitting by one of the benches before I could make it.

He was most likely a veteran soldier based on his body build. His sitting position could have been more relaxed but not also tense. He had an agenda. I saw his jaw tighten as I approached him. He was African American. The look on his face was almost condescending. Almost provocative. He didn't look at me, but I was in his peripheral vision. I knew he was observing me. Even worse, the man had an active avroi around him.

In my pocket was a trap I could drop, just in case. I still had something up my sleeve. A first line of defense.

As soon as I passed in front of him, he suddenly spoke. "That was a spotless kill, Six. No wonder why my benefactor had sought for you. Please, do take this."

I almost dropped my bomb.

He took out a white envelope and handed it over. But as I took it, he suddenly stood up and walked away. It was immaculate and professional. He knew about our business. But I was not expecting that he was observing my task. That was very troublesome because the assignment took at least two weeks. And he was one step ahead.

Once I took out the letter and saw what was written on it, I almost lost my composure. Outside, I look calm. But my face was drained of blood. I had never felt that much anxiety for many years. When I looked for the man, he was immediately gone. It meant he may have also been like me.

I reread the paper to make sure I was seeing it clearly.

Greetings, Tenzo Sojiro. I am a fan of your work. We need to talk. Please call me. Below it was a number I needed to dial. Once it was imprinted on my memory, I chanted a simple spell that burned the paper away, and I walked towards the car. But before entering, I noticed a payphone and knew I had to make the call. So, I quickly got to it and dialed a number I had used for many years.

"Nico's Pizza, what's your order?" A female voice. But I knew it was not a woman. It was a guy with a voice changer. The number was a direct hotline to the Tribunal.

"All meat. Thick crust. Large size. Well burnt. Deliver it to 4502 Limbo Drive. Apartment 6. Be there in 15 minutes." I said in a friendly voice.

"Got this, mate!" The voice replied. "We'll be there in 15 minutes. Have a Nicolicious day!"

In frustration, I almost slammed the phone but managed to restrain myself at the last second. The name on the paper was my true identity. And the only people who knew that could be counted on just one hand. This means that the person trying to contact me was desperate to get my attention.

After that, I took a deep breath and walked to the car. Quickly, I left the place and went for one of the safehouses in the suburbs outside the city proper. It was meant for a quick stop, but I may need an urgent detour. Many things went through my head, but I went in circles.

There was no way that the Tribunal would sell me out. I was one of their top contractors. My identity has been wiped a lot more than my current age. There were no records of me except them. And even then, my real name has become nothing more than a myth. That was the point of it all. To be nothing but a tool.

The drive was smooth, and everyone was so busy that no one noticed me. But if they did, they might have stopped my car. I might have to use one of my fake identities to get out of that, if ever. Regardless, I would always have the means to get away in every situation.

I parked in an alleyway a mile away from the rendezvous point. It was a quick walk at my relaxed pace. I ensured I was not tracked by going in the opposite direction before I backtracked. My detours were confusing to make sure the safe house was secured. The spot was an abandoned arcade. That was the outside, of course. There were multiple detectors from various points to alert The Tribunal is someone was inside.

Once I saw that the marker was clear, I went in. It was a reflector that changed from orange to green if it was all clear for a meet-up. My Handler was inside, standing by the window with her face away from me.

"Ms. Lisichka. Wasn't expecting you here in the flesh." I greeted. But her real name was Stefaniya Vasilyev. A former KGB that defected to The Tribunal. She didn't know that I did my research as well on her background in secret. That was against the organization's policies, yet I insisted on being careful. I learned to make sure that every exit was covered. Lisichka was my direct Handler, but I usually received my tasks via couriers. "We have a situation."

"What is it, Six?" Her question was cold. But I knew she cared beneath the ice-queen personality. She had seen me grow into a successful killer, after all. Stefaniya had been my Handler for the past five years. "This is not like you."

"It's not. But this is urgent." I admitted sharply. Then I looked through the dusty window as if someone was watching outside. Of course, I made sure that I was not followed. That's why I backtracked a few times. "Something unexpected."

"Looks like it. I know well that this was your second time doing this." She replied. Almost in a tone that she was impressed of my tracker. I was trying not to be evident that I was a bit rattled by my sudden state. "What happened?"

"My cover has been blown." I shuddered. I was a very careful assassin. And to be exposed meant I made a blunder. That was not allowed. "The person wants to meet."

"That's it?" She raised her thin brow. Perhaps she was annoyed that I had to pull her out in the open. For Handlers like her, that was the last option. That's why I used the code on the phone for high-priority emergencies. "You have a lot of identities we had set up for you. Take a new one."

"No. That's not it. Someone knows me. My real name." I emphasized to make sure she got the hint. To make sure it was an actual emergency. "I'm being hunted."

There was a long pause. And it was tense.

"That is indeed intriguing." She sounded impressed again. A bit more playful than I anticipated. As if she was beaten in a chess game. I knew she wanted to play a game with my hunter with me as the bait. That was obvious. "What do they want?"

"I have yet to meet them." I replied. "It looks like they have warranted our attention."

"I will prepare you for a deep sleep. That's the only potential solution if you want to keep this clean." She suggested. I was not too fond of it. It means inactivity from the organization for at least one year. Then I will be sent somewhere remote. Most likely in a third-world country where I will be harder to track. "I will send details tonight. Usual channel."

"Not yet." I retorted. As usual, she posited it that was and desired for me to want that game she wanted to play. Besides, deep sleep is also something that couldn't be a more logical next step. "We don't know what these people are capable of. If they found me, that would be a waste of time."

"We have numerous safeguards in place. I will personally make sure your digital footprints will vanish while in that status." Ms. Lisichka reasoned out. She even sounded more dismissive this time. Much to my annoyance. "It has been tested and proven to protect compromised contractors."

"I know. But this one is a mage." I added. But this time, her face was replaced with a murderous grimace. It was a big mouse for her. Sometimes, I think The Tribunal is just too efficient for the likes of her. And she wanted a challenger. "They may have found me through the means of magic. High-level magic. Because any long-range spell that attempts to spy on me will also trigger the safety measures, I had in place."

Another pause. Her icy blue eyes scanned me. She was one of the few people who had taught me cold reading. And I benefited a lot from her.

"Very well." The woman quipped. "Keep me with an updated report and your next plan of action. We need to eradicate any forces that have the capability to do something like this. The identities of all the people we handle will be compromised if nothing is done."

"A special assignment then." I commented.

"Correct." Ms. Lisichka agreed. "Use the Anubis Line to give me reports on this."

"Copy." And when I looked back, my Handler was gone. I could sense her leaving the place through a hidden door. It's easy to follow her, of course, but there was no point. She also had her protective detail. I will not do unnecessary bloodshed.

After that, I left the place and got inside the car. It had a screen with an uploaded map of the city. A few taps helped me add a pathway I can follow on auto-pilot. I drove faithfully to what the map directed me to as I called the number written on the paper. It took a few rings before someone answered.

[I presume you got the message?] A rough voice answered. I knew it was a voice-changer immediately. Either way, I planned to make sure I could meet him in person. I need to see the face of the enemy.

[What do you want?] I replied harshly.

[I know you are very skeptical of what I can offer. So I want to do something different to gain your trust.] The mysterious man suggested. His tone was remarkably condescending, as if he was entirely sure I was in the palm of his hands. It was best to play along and catch him off-guard once the opportunity arose.

[Are you sure you are even able to earn it?] I stated blankly. [You've done a spectacular job blocking it.]

[Let's meet then. I am sure you want to see the face of your enemy. The very face you want to kill.] The man suggested. And I could sense the smile in his voice because he could read me with incredible accuracy. It was almost frightening. [The place of your choice. I assure you, I am not the enemy here. But once you have earned my trust, I will say who. No strings attached.]

It was almost too easy. But since it was going to be my playground, it would be easier for me to dispose of him once he let his guard down.

[Graceland Cemetery. A few yards north of the Palmer building. There is a bench there where we can meet.] I said. It was near where I had killed my previous targets. If the plan had screwed up, I could have led any potential threats to the place and detonated multiple traps I had set up there. A complicated teleporting spell was also placed to escape to Altimeraea, just in case. [I can be there in 15 minutes. I am sure you're nearby. The person that delivered this message was someone you trust, and you won't go anywhere without him.]

[You are as good as they said they are!] The man chuckled. He sounded particularly fascinated. [I will see you shortly, Mr. Sojiro!]

A hundred things crashed into my thoughts after I ended the call. The mapping of the cemetery and my traps. The exit points. The spots where I can bury the body. The weapons that I had also hidden in the place. It was much advantageous that he was willing to meet right away.

I took a deep breath and stepped on the pedal to my next target to kill.

The ride was not eventful, and no one noticed a teenager driving a car throughout the streets of Chicago. Then I parked it a couple of blocks away. I also had a change of clothes and wore something more casual. It was a black hoodie and skinny jeans with high-cut sneakers. I took out a skateboard and went to the spot on it.

But underneath my jacket were a couple of blades I could defend myself with, a handful of throwing knives imbued with magical traps. A seal was even placed underneath my board, just in case. A Glock was also hidden carefully underneath my clothes.

My hands were in my pocket while I strolled through the park. There were not much people, that's why I picked the spot. Not much could possibly intervene so I could kill my target silently. The bench also had an extra SIG Sauer complete with a suppressor underneath it.

Once I got to the bench, a folder was on it. On the upper right was written the number 6 with a marker. It must have been from the person I will be meeting. No one was around except a couple of people who were probably visiting a grave.

It was a full dossier of a man in his mid-40s. White caucasian male. Probably around 5'10. Has a natural nerd look and looks uptight. The guy probably had a Ph.D. based on how he looked. The photos of him were mostly stolen from a local grocery store. Then the other image was a pic of a boy my age. Awfully cute. I couldn’t help but notice the dimples on his smile. Their resemblance gave me the apparent idea that the boy was his son.

But a presence was suddenly felt walking towards me. The footsteps were very light and a bit timid. Almost like a young boy. So I knew it would not be much of a threat. Probably a lost kid. So I didn't bother to look back. I was too fixated on reading the file.

A few seconds later, he just stood a few meters behind me.

"What do you want?" I stated in a harsh tone. Like an angsty teenager who just wanted to be alone. "Scram."

"I'm afraid I am your contractor." A boy's voice with a thick British accent answered. My heart skipped a beat. That was the most unexpected thing, and it could be seen on my face. I couldn't help but lose my composure and jumped off my seat to turn around. "Although you have no reason to trust me, I will show you an act of good faith by saying my true name."

It was indeed a boy. Someone you will see in Elementary. And he was handsome as well in a very proud way. He looked quite elite. Blond hair combed neatly backward. He had thick nerd glasses and green eyes. And his attire was a smart casual one. Slacks. Buttoned shirt complete with a necktie and a vest over his top.

But his eyes were furiously patronizing.

"Who are you?" I almost stammered.

"You can call me Ainan Rutherford."