//------------------------------// // Chapter 87: And Now, There Were Two // Story: A Long Way to Fall // by Cinders of War //------------------------------// Things were not going well for Quantum. Ever since Timber had opted that they join the Assassins, everything from living quarters to quality of food had gone downhill. Their lifestyle had taken a step up when they shifted from the safehouse to the Assassin bureau itself, but it didn’t change things much. Already he’d been denied his morning coffee because the mess hall’s coffee grinder refused to work, and now he had discovered that to fix up one of his broken tools he would have to go into town to get it looked at. They had also been going over the Templar plans with the Assassins, trying to find a way to beat Sombra, but to no avail. Not yet, anyway. All in all, not a good day, a fact that wasn’t at all mitigated by the fact that it was going to be his last. By the time the police arrived on the scene, it was too late. The sniper’s bullet hand gone straight into the Quantum’s forehead and exited out the back, effectively blowing half his head off and showering the sidewalk with gore. Timber and Test Tube were not amused, and had spent the rest of the day shouting at each other. “We’re all going to die!” Test Tube crouched down. “It must be Mirror Match! She knows we’re all here! She’s not going to stop until we’re all dead!” “Test Tube, enough!” Timber yelled at the younger scientist. “Panicking about it isn’t going to help one bit! She’s waiting for us out there, yes. Quantum… He made the choice to go to the store to pick up some power converters. There was nothing we could’ve done. Now, I say we hole up and prepare ourselves. We have to make sure Sombra does not win this war.” Test Tube wiped his dripping brow with his lab coat’s sleeve. “But how? We’re not fighters; if worst comes to worst, all we can do is run and hide.” Timber’s mouth tightened, rummaging through a stack of papers that had some kind of diagram on it. “Well, I was looking into a few notes. There’s one here for a mixture of polycarbonate that’s supposed to be good for blocking bullets. Maybe we can make something of it.” Test Tube took the papers. He squinted at them. “Dang. I forgot to bring my reading glasses with me from Mahogany’s. Hold on a minute…” Still holding the schematics, Test Tube walked up to the wall and turned on the lights. At the same time, there was a small clack sound, followed by a few pebbles of mortar falling onto the floor. Both scientists looked about for the source of the noise. Timber was the first to find it, what appeared to be a tiny hole in the wall, about the width of two pencils. Sunlight from outside streamed in. “Huh,” Timber said. “I didn’t notice this before.” Timber bent down and looked into the hole. Closing one eye, he was afforded a pleasant view of Trottingham, almost all of the town was visible from here, including the faint outline of someone lying on the roof of the closest building, light glinting off a pair of binoculars… or a sniper’s scope. “Ohshi-” Clack. Mahogany Wood breathed in the stale air of his quarters as he returned to it after a long meeting with Principal Cinch. That woman, Templar or not, was a pain in the neck. The topics they discussed rarely ever strayed from the topics of legacy and reputation. The old hag received a new dean to help out in her school. The new head seemed to be able to handle school affairs much better, but she was far too nice; she would never make a useful Templar, like that goodie-two-shoes Principal Celestia. “Crescent,” Mahogany called to his bodyguard behind him. “Anything to report? Any news of my brother or his men?” True, the chairman was saddened to hear his brother had deserted the Templars and their cause, but he didn’t want him to die. Grand Master Sombra on the other hand, had immediately requested their execution, tasking the ordeal to Mirror Match. Mahogany had seen her work, and he was afraid she was just too good at it. Even if his brother had Assassins protecting him, there was still a high chance Mirror Match would accomplish her mission. The last he’d seen of her, she’d been getting into her car with a suppressed anti-materiel sniper rifle in the backseat, courtesy of Talon. “Nothing yet, sir,” Crescent replied. Mahogany’s bodyguard shared his sympathy, but they both knew there was nothing they could do to convince the Grand Master to leave his family alone. Mahogany threw the doors open, revealing an opulent room dominated by a glossy black grand piano. Seating himself before the piano, he pulled the lid up and began to play. “Chairman,” Crescent Wing asked as Mahogany played. “If I may ask. Is there a chance your brother may survive this?” The Templar chairman sighed and changed his tune into one of mourning, a dirge for his brother. “Not much, Cresent,” Mahogany’s fingers danced across the rows of black and white seamlessly. “Not much.” The chairman thought back to the day Timber had come to him. His brother had tried to convince him that Grand Master Sombra was a threat and nothing like the person they had been waiting for; the one who would liberate the world for them. Refusing to listen, Mahogany had made Timber leave that day. Mahogany Wood would have preferred it that way, but it just so happened Mirror Match had followed them and learned of their whereabouts. When Sombra found out about their treachery, he had immediately asked for their deaths. “Crescent, I won’t hide it, but I’m worried. Timber is family, something which I don’t have much of anymore. Even if he were to fight against me, I couldn’t think of killing him.” “Sir,” Crescent said simply, but Mahogany knew that his bodyguard understood. Mahogany played one more song, but just as he was nearing the last few bars, the doors swung open. “Chairman.” A guard stood in the doorway, holding his helmet under one arm and looking nervous. “Mirror Match is back.” Mahogany’s hands quickly froze atop his piano keys. “Send her in…” His voice was lower and quieter than his normal tone. “At once, chairman.” The man bowed and took his leave. “Sir?” Crescent stood by the chairman’s side, watching him. Mahogany seemed to be trapped in time, unmoving over his piano. Moments later, Mirror Match strolled into the room, dressed all in black, her rifle still slung over one shoulder. Her face betrayed no emotion, and her steps were firm and measured like a soldier’s. “What do you have for the chairman?” Crescent Wing asked for his superior, seeing as he was still motionless by the musical instrument. “Reporting in, Crescent,” Mirror bowed slightly. “Since King Sombra isn’t here, the chairman falls under the next branch of command.” She saluted casually and said, “All targets eliminated, as instructed by King Sombra, sir.” The Horston Templar looked back at the chairman, unsure of how to respond to Mirror Match. “If that is all, you may go,” he said after a short moment of complete quiet. Mirror cleared her throat. “There’s also the matter of my payment…” she said slowly. “The chairman isn’t going to be paying you for the death of his family,” Crescent Wing replied curtly. “I suggest you find Grand Master Sombra for your reward.” “Well I would, if he wasn’t in Saddle Arabia at the moment. By order of precedence, the next highest ranking should be acting Grand Master until he returns.” “Well, then I guess you’ll have to wait for your payment. The chairman isn’t ready to entertain you today, if you can see.” Mahogany Wood was still seated at his piano, but his hands had moved to his side. Mirror Match frowned. “That’s not how this works, chairman. I do the job, and you pay me. What makes this time different?” “Go away,” Crescent growled. “I won’t say it again.” Mirror Match sighed. “Look, it’s nothing personal, me killing your brother-” “Get out!” “Well, okay then, I’ll go,” Mirror pushed the door open and at the same time, a pistol fell from inside her coat. She caught it with one foot and kicked it up into her hands. “By the way, chairman, I like the new haircut. Very, er, shiny.” And with that, she was gone. Crescent Wing was about to go after her when something flew past him, spinning and embedding itself in the door with a loud splintering of wood. “You know, Crescent,” Mahogany said as his bodyguard moved to retrieve the tomahawk from the door. “If it weren’t for her usefulness, I would’ve killed her right there.” “Yes sir,” Crescent walked over and left the tomahawk on the piano top. “I’m sorry. About your brother.” “Thank you, Crescent. At least I know I can count on you.” Mahogany lifted his hands back to the piano keys and began a tune, much more melancholic than the last. And now, there were two. “Sleep well?” Frigid Night asked his partner as she rose from the mattress and stretched. “Yes sir,” she replied with a controlled yawn. “Had a great day yesterday. I picked up some new tricks from a Saddle Arabian Assassin.” “That so?” Frigid said uneasily. “Well, so long as you think it’s okay…” He shook his head. What if Morning ever used these new tricks against him? Frigid made a mental note to train more and look into Saddle Arabian tactics, just in case. “Anyway, we’re going back to Trottingham today,” Frigid said as he pulled on his boots. “Be good to go back home, huh?” “I guess. Though, I’m starting to like it here. Do you think we can come back?” “Maybe next time,” Frigid quickly answered. When you’ve graduated from being my apprentice. Morning Blade headed to the bathroom to change while Frigid got his coat and gear back on. Finally. Today was the day they were leaving this sandy place. The Assassin just couldn’t wait to get his feet back on Trottingham soil. In a few hours, Frigid and his apprentice were with the Mentor and High Noon on the runway beside the plane, almost ready to head home. “Are you sure you’re staying, Star Lance?” the Mentor asked her lieutenant as he stood by Mentor Shamal’s side. The Master Assassin nodded. “I’ll help coordinate things from this side while you’re gone. I won’t let you down, Mentor.” In an act that surprised everyone, including her lieutenant, Mentor Steel Shine dove to him for a hug. “I know you won’t,” she replied in his arms. “Stay safe, Lance.” “As always, Shine.” The Mentor broke away from her lieutenant and headed up the plane after one last farewell. “Guess it’s time for us to go,” High Noon said and placed his hat atop his head. Frigid beckoned for his apprentice as the three Assassins climbed aboard the plane, seating themselves across from each other. He could see Mentor Shamal waving to them through the window as the engines began to start. “I won’t be missing this place,” Frigid spoke as he leaned back and placed his arms behind his head. “Way too hot and unfriendly.” “Oh, I don’t know,” Morning said from beside him. “Maybe you just ran into the wrong crowd?” “Yeah, partner,” High Noon added from the other row. “Saddle Arabians are generally nicer than the cityfolk you have in Trottingham.” “Yeah, sure.” Frigid closed his eyes as the long way home began. First, he would have to endure the treacherous plane ride.