Contract killing. Ishtar felt the familiar chill of anger creep up his spine, but he forced the feeling away. You're not doing this for Kersaidh anymore, he reminded himself. She hasn't bothered you since you got out of that Iced Shell, and she's probably gone. Just calm down; she can't hurt anyone you love anymore.
Because everyone I love is dead. Again, anger pierced his frosty demeanor, and he struggled to fight it down; he couldn't allow battle-rage to overwhelm him, not in a public space with innocent people.
Focus, Ishtar. He looked back at the Job Board. Laurence Silverspoon, huh? Sounded like a pompous asshole. Someone who deserved to die. Ishtar felt a strange satisfaction knowing that he would finally be killing someone whose existence was better ended than permitted to continue; he hated killing innocents. It was why Kersaidh had imprisoned him in the first place.
Focus, the white-haired man reprimanded himself. Now, where was this rich bastard? The capital? He could catch a train and be there within an hour; time to prepare himself to kill once again. Ishtar turned and rolled his shoulders, a small grin unwilling stretching across his face. Finally, something he was good at.
Ishtar stared up at the mansion with distaste. Three stories tall, adorned with golden statues and accents wherever they could fit them. A fence wrapped around the entire complex. At the illustrious front door stood two hassled-looking guards surrounded by a group of excited young girls giggling and yelling for "Silverspoon, we want Silverspoon!" Barking at them were two dogs, both trying to look vicious but just looking tired. One had a scar across its muzzle; looked like it was inflicted by a knife or sharp instrument.
Ishtar felt fresh anger wash over him. Laurence Silverspoon deserved to die. There was no question in his heart. Odd, the amount of freedom and relief one can feel when they know that someone awful will soon die by their hand.
He glanced once more at the front door with its large group of individuals. One of the guards tried to yell, probably to tell them to all go away, but he took a purse to the mouth and quickly stopped trying. There was no going through that way.
Fortunately, there were plenty of windows.
Ishtar circled around the house. With the guards occupied and the dogs amusing themselves barking at the silly young women, no one was standing watch in the back. Ishtar put his hands on the top of the fence and hauled himself over, landing with a crouch on the other side. He froze for a few seconds, and when no one came he stood up straight, already doing measurements in his head.
Seven meters to the house from where he stood, another seven to the third story window he was eyeing... Yes. This would work. Ishtar raced forward, grass flying out from under his feet as they tore up the ground. Five meters away... four... At three meters away, Ishtar threw a hand down at his side and cast a magic circle directly beneath him, launching him into the air at an angle, his forward momentum carrying him straight to the window he'd been aiming for. As he sped through the air Ishtar quickly crossed his arms in front of him and cast two magic circles as shields against his forearms; when he hit the glass, it shattered against the strong spell and flew out to the sides, forced away from the assassin by his spell.
He landed in a somersault and quickly rolled to his feet, magic circle shields still shimmering on his forearms with soft golden light. A woman dressed in a servant's shawl gaped at him before screeching in alarm, dropping her laundry and running out of the room, yelling for the guards.
Ishtar cursed but still chuckled anyway. He had wanted to enter the house without being noticed, but shattering glass was hard to miss. Anyway, the guards were occupied; now it was just him, the few odd servants, and Silverspoon himself, like a game of macabre hide-and-seek. How fun.
Ishtar stepped into the hall, glancing left and right. Well-polished wood walls, magic lamps to light the hallway safely, and a dark mahogany door down the right. Ishtar presumed the stairs were at the left end. How wasteful; Silverspoon took an entire floor of the house to himself? Just for his office? How arrogant. Ishtar was starting to enjoy this more and more.
He strode down the hall and kicked the door open with little resistance other than the natural weight of the door. He stepped into the room-- and stopped abruptly.
There were two beds in this small, pink room, decorated with frills on the windows and a dollhouse in the corner. A cute stuffed, misshapen animal- a cat, maybe?- sat on one of the beds. Huddled in the left corner away from the door were two frightened girls, one about ten, the other maybe eight years old. They both shared the same black hair and green eyes, and the same distinctive button noses. Clearly sisters.
Ishtar couldn't believe it. Silverspoon had kids?
He took one step forward and the girls huddled further away, staring at him wide-eyed in terror. "It's okay," he tried to say, working through his shock. "I'm not going to-"
The older one wasn't looking at him. She was looking over his shoulder.
Ishtar turned around just in time for the fist to catch him in the jaw.
He stumbled backwards against the bed and barely got his forearm and its shield up before the other fist came down. His assailant howled and backed away, glaring at him. It was a man, wearing a suit and tie, blonde stylish hair, and green eyes, just like his daughters.
"Elyse! Get Hannah and go!" He barked at the girls, not taking his eyes off Ishtar.
"But papa," the daughter started to protest.
"Go!" He roared.
The young girl gathered her sister against her and hurried out of the room, throwing one last worried glance over her shoulder at her father before slamming the door shut behind her. Ishtar could hear her screaming for someone, probably the guards.
Silverspoon lunged at him again, drawing him back into the fight. Ishtar caught the blow on his shield again and slipped past the man, taking a stance across the room from him.
"How dare you," the man hissed, dropping into a practiced stance. "How dare you break into my house? How dare you attack my daughters?"
"I'm not attacking them," Ishtar sputtered, still taken aback by this turn of events. "I'm here for you!"
The man sneered. "Please. Whoever sent you, they should have sent a professional."
That twinged Ishtar a little too much. He was a professional. He was just... rusty. And now he was pissed. He widened his stance and spread his hands as far apart as he could. An enormous magic circle, over twice as wide as he was tall, spread between them with a soft hum. Silverspoon's eyes widened in fear.
Ishtar threw the circle at the nobleman, who tried to dodge but instead caught the projectile across his abdomen, splitting him clean in half. Blood splashed everywhere (messy, Ishtar thought dispassionately), splattering the beds, the windows, the floor, even the dollhouse. The two halves of Laurence Silverspoon thunked to the floor.
Ishtar could hear the guards starting to shout and enter the house, and cursed again. No time to hide the body; nobody had gotten a good look at him except the girls, and they were children. Hopefully they'd misremember enough that nobody would immediately recognize him. He'd probably half to stay out of Crocus for a while, though. No use taking unnecessary risks.
He jumped out the window he'd entered through, landing with a grunt at the bottom, using his magic circles as buffers against the fall. They disappeared with a puff as all of his magic circles eventually did afterward; they'd taken too much damage.
Ishtar took one last glance at the house before sprinting for the back fence, leaping over it, and racing out into the neighborhood back to the train station.
Word Count: 1371/1000
Because everyone I love is dead. Again, anger pierced his frosty demeanor, and he struggled to fight it down; he couldn't allow battle-rage to overwhelm him, not in a public space with innocent people.
Focus, Ishtar. He looked back at the Job Board. Laurence Silverspoon, huh? Sounded like a pompous asshole. Someone who deserved to die. Ishtar felt a strange satisfaction knowing that he would finally be killing someone whose existence was better ended than permitted to continue; he hated killing innocents. It was why Kersaidh had imprisoned him in the first place.
Focus, the white-haired man reprimanded himself. Now, where was this rich bastard? The capital? He could catch a train and be there within an hour; time to prepare himself to kill once again. Ishtar turned and rolled his shoulders, a small grin unwilling stretching across his face. Finally, something he was good at.
* * * * *
Ishtar stared up at the mansion with distaste. Three stories tall, adorned with golden statues and accents wherever they could fit them. A fence wrapped around the entire complex. At the illustrious front door stood two hassled-looking guards surrounded by a group of excited young girls giggling and yelling for "Silverspoon, we want Silverspoon!" Barking at them were two dogs, both trying to look vicious but just looking tired. One had a scar across its muzzle; looked like it was inflicted by a knife or sharp instrument.
Ishtar felt fresh anger wash over him. Laurence Silverspoon deserved to die. There was no question in his heart. Odd, the amount of freedom and relief one can feel when they know that someone awful will soon die by their hand.
He glanced once more at the front door with its large group of individuals. One of the guards tried to yell, probably to tell them to all go away, but he took a purse to the mouth and quickly stopped trying. There was no going through that way.
Fortunately, there were plenty of windows.
Ishtar circled around the house. With the guards occupied and the dogs amusing themselves barking at the silly young women, no one was standing watch in the back. Ishtar put his hands on the top of the fence and hauled himself over, landing with a crouch on the other side. He froze for a few seconds, and when no one came he stood up straight, already doing measurements in his head.
Seven meters to the house from where he stood, another seven to the third story window he was eyeing... Yes. This would work. Ishtar raced forward, grass flying out from under his feet as they tore up the ground. Five meters away... four... At three meters away, Ishtar threw a hand down at his side and cast a magic circle directly beneath him, launching him into the air at an angle, his forward momentum carrying him straight to the window he'd been aiming for. As he sped through the air Ishtar quickly crossed his arms in front of him and cast two magic circles as shields against his forearms; when he hit the glass, it shattered against the strong spell and flew out to the sides, forced away from the assassin by his spell.
He landed in a somersault and quickly rolled to his feet, magic circle shields still shimmering on his forearms with soft golden light. A woman dressed in a servant's shawl gaped at him before screeching in alarm, dropping her laundry and running out of the room, yelling for the guards.
Ishtar cursed but still chuckled anyway. He had wanted to enter the house without being noticed, but shattering glass was hard to miss. Anyway, the guards were occupied; now it was just him, the few odd servants, and Silverspoon himself, like a game of macabre hide-and-seek. How fun.
Ishtar stepped into the hall, glancing left and right. Well-polished wood walls, magic lamps to light the hallway safely, and a dark mahogany door down the right. Ishtar presumed the stairs were at the left end. How wasteful; Silverspoon took an entire floor of the house to himself? Just for his office? How arrogant. Ishtar was starting to enjoy this more and more.
He strode down the hall and kicked the door open with little resistance other than the natural weight of the door. He stepped into the room-- and stopped abruptly.
There were two beds in this small, pink room, decorated with frills on the windows and a dollhouse in the corner. A cute stuffed, misshapen animal- a cat, maybe?- sat on one of the beds. Huddled in the left corner away from the door were two frightened girls, one about ten, the other maybe eight years old. They both shared the same black hair and green eyes, and the same distinctive button noses. Clearly sisters.
Ishtar couldn't believe it. Silverspoon had kids?
He took one step forward and the girls huddled further away, staring at him wide-eyed in terror. "It's okay," he tried to say, working through his shock. "I'm not going to-"
The older one wasn't looking at him. She was looking over his shoulder.
Ishtar turned around just in time for the fist to catch him in the jaw.
He stumbled backwards against the bed and barely got his forearm and its shield up before the other fist came down. His assailant howled and backed away, glaring at him. It was a man, wearing a suit and tie, blonde stylish hair, and green eyes, just like his daughters.
"Elyse! Get Hannah and go!" He barked at the girls, not taking his eyes off Ishtar.
"But papa," the daughter started to protest.
"Go!" He roared.
The young girl gathered her sister against her and hurried out of the room, throwing one last worried glance over her shoulder at her father before slamming the door shut behind her. Ishtar could hear her screaming for someone, probably the guards.
Silverspoon lunged at him again, drawing him back into the fight. Ishtar caught the blow on his shield again and slipped past the man, taking a stance across the room from him.
"How dare you," the man hissed, dropping into a practiced stance. "How dare you break into my house? How dare you attack my daughters?"
"I'm not attacking them," Ishtar sputtered, still taken aback by this turn of events. "I'm here for you!"
The man sneered. "Please. Whoever sent you, they should have sent a professional."
That twinged Ishtar a little too much. He was a professional. He was just... rusty. And now he was pissed. He widened his stance and spread his hands as far apart as he could. An enormous magic circle, over twice as wide as he was tall, spread between them with a soft hum. Silverspoon's eyes widened in fear.
Ishtar threw the circle at the nobleman, who tried to dodge but instead caught the projectile across his abdomen, splitting him clean in half. Blood splashed everywhere (messy, Ishtar thought dispassionately), splattering the beds, the windows, the floor, even the dollhouse. The two halves of Laurence Silverspoon thunked to the floor.
Ishtar could hear the guards starting to shout and enter the house, and cursed again. No time to hide the body; nobody had gotten a good look at him except the girls, and they were children. Hopefully they'd misremember enough that nobody would immediately recognize him. He'd probably half to stay out of Crocus for a while, though. No use taking unnecessary risks.
He jumped out the window he'd entered through, landing with a grunt at the bottom, using his magic circles as buffers against the fall. They disappeared with a puff as all of his magic circles eventually did afterward; they'd taken too much damage.
Ishtar took one last glance at the house before sprinting for the back fence, leaping over it, and racing out into the neighborhood back to the train station.
Word Count: 1371/1000
