I was being mobbed. Literally. And not just by ponies. Everywhere around me there were creatures smiling at me, ranging from wolves, to buffalo, to foxes, to griffins, to Oozlums. They greeted me, welcoming me into their little family, treating me as if I really were their blood relative. It was a bit overwhelming. They were far too overexcited to meet someone new.
Upon waking up earlier that morning I had found the numbness in my leg to have subsided. It apparently had been temporary. I waited in the- my room believing that I would once again be greeted. However, being young, curiosity got the better of me after several uneventful hours, and I removed myself from the bed, proceeding to leave the room.
I thought it best to head towards Sicarius’s office, find out what I should be doing. Plus, I never did find out what his name actually meant. So seeing him would give me the opportunity to find out.
I took the path I had been pulled along the previous day, heading out the large double door a the end of the hallway. The stone was...warm. Huh. I could’ve sworn that it was cooler when I was sprawled over it the other day. How strange.
The door was open for less than a second before I was noticed. I was assaulted by a couple dozen young...creatures. They weren’t hostile, surprisingly. They were calling out to me, greeting me. Some even complimented me. There’s a word for stuff like that. Friendliness. Or weakness depending on your attitude. Kindness and friendliness were usually non-existent, short lived, or a farce in my reality, so I may have been a bit skeptical of their intentions.
Those gathered weren’t looking for anything, though. They didn’t have anything to gain from being nice. It wasn’t like I had anything to offer, after all. There wasn’t even an obligation, really. They didn’t know me, yet I was being treated well. It was different. Not in bad way, strangely. Still, it would require getting used to.
I only recognized two of those gathered. One was the vanilla pegasus with the wisteria mane I had seen yesterday. Pulse, was her name I believe. The other was the unnamed griffin who had attempted to speak to Star.
A voice broke the mass conversation. It resonated from behind the mass, deep and heavy. “Breakfast. Come eat!”
The effect on the gathered swathe of creatures was immediate. As a mass group they all rushed to the source of the voice, leaving me behind in a daze. They all piled onto a singular stair well that led farther into the ground. I didn’t follow.
I was moving towards the room that Sicarius was, presumably, residing in. I lifted my hoof to the door tentatively, unsure of what I would actually say once I met Sicarius. Of course, I didn’t have to worry about knocking.
“Hullo!” I jumped as the deafening voice assailed my eardrums from behind.
I spun around and, acting upon instinct, not thought, pulled my hoof up to strike my attacker and gain a chance to run. I ended up striking Sicarius over the muzzle. The bone quivered as my hoof made contact with his narrow snout, instantly aching from the blow. His bones must have been adamantium. I believe it hurt me much more than it hurt him.
He didn’t even flinch as my tiny azure hoof made contact. He just looked at me with a strange frown. “I take it you’re not one for mornings, then?”
I backed away, swallowing down the trepidation in my throat. Accident or no accident, it wasn’t good to hit a member of an organization when you’re at its mercy. Trying to force movement out of the lump proved futile. All I could manage to splutter out was a guttural and fear-filled, “S-rr-y.”
Instead of become angry, he just sat back. “Its quite alright. That wasn’t the first time I’ve been hit today, and it won’t be the last. Besides, your left hook isn’t nearly as well-developed as Aeria’s.”
Was that good or bad? “Why did Aeria hit you?”
“I forcibly made her play hide & seek with me.”
“How did you force her to do that?”
“I dyed her facial plumage green while she slept then hid. The game lasted for about seven seconds after she woke up and discovered her feathers. Word of advice: don’t hide under your opponents bed. Also don’t talk, it apparently reveals exactly where you are.”
I liked his silliness and stupidity. It made me smile. It was entertaining to see something with a sense of humor. Humor and commodities were very alike in my world. Both were great to see, but hard to come by.
He squinted and arched his eyebrows. One corner of his mouth curled upwards. In a perplexed manner he asked, “Was it something I said?”
“No, no, I just remembered a funny joke.” An average lie. The original thought hadn’t really mattered anyways.
“A joke? Smashing! Please, do tell it.” He looked at me expectantly. He was like a foal. A grown foal.
I stuttered trying to think of something to say. “Uh, well you see, there was this carriage driver. And she, uh, liked to swerve and hit lawyers while she moved. So, uh-”
“How did she identify the lawyers?”
Crap. “Um, because of the trail of slime they left?” That was it? That was all I could come up with?
He stared off for a moment, legs completely still as he considered the statement. “Sounds accurate from what I’ve seen of them, continue.”
“Being a religious mare she naturally picks up a hitchhiking priest.” Why not? “So while she’s moving she sees another lawyer on the road and turns to smash him. She kind of forgot that the priest was sitting in the carriage.”
“Ooh, conflict! I love conflict.” He looked to me expectantly. “What happens next?”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “At the last second she remembers who’s in the carriage and straightens out. But, uh, there’s still a thump noise. So she, uh, said, uh, ‘Please, forgive me father.’ And, uh...”
“And, uh...what?”
Crud. What was the punchline again? Eh, it wouldn’t hurt to make one up. “And the priest replied, ‘It’s okay, I got em’ with the door.’” I smiled nervously and stared up at Sicarius.
He chuckled. “Pretty good. A little training and you might do well.”
“Do what well, exactly?”
He stared at me for a moment, smiling widely. “Well, even if it was a bit rough, you did a pretty solid job trying to spare my feelings- don’t do that, by the way, I hate that. But maybe we could teach you how to form a proper lie. I’m sure you’re used to manipulation. You could be an excellent liar.” His smile was broad and genuine, his pitch having borne no signs of sarcasm. Which was even stranger.
“I could become an excellent liar?” I repeated his statement blankly, not really understanding how that could be considered positive.
“Yes, you could. It’s quite important in our line of work to be persuasive and sale your character. Or whatever character you’re portraying.”
“Okay...so what are you good at?”
Sicarius inhaled deeply. “Star didn’t tell you?” I shook my head. “I personally specialize in murder, political assassination, kidnapping, torture, and bobsledding” He was still smiling as if he had not just stated that he caused pain for a living.
“What...?”
“Bobsledding.” He deadpanned. “I realize it’s unorthodox, but I still hold firmly to the belief that everything can be solved with bobsledding.”
“You’ve killed others?” My blood froze at that. Star had said that his organization worked in that...field, but I hadn’t really thought much of it. I figured...I don’t really know what I figured, actually.
“One-thousand-sixty-eight and a half others.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
I was gawking. “You’ve killed over a thousand ponies?” Impossible.
He scoffed. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” my chest heaved in an expression of relief. “I’ve killed two-hundred and forty-one ponies.” Once again my mouth dropped. “The rest was a bunch of other creatures.”
Wait. “What about the half?” I asked. This was insane. Completely insane.
“Paraplegic griffin.” He said that as if explained everything.
I was still suspended in a state of disbelief. “How could you have possibly killed that many...living things?”
He blinked and thought for a moment. “Mostly through evisceration, excessive stabbing, blunt-force trauma, drowning, excessive sugar intake, poison, slashing, burning, traps, manipulation, manipulation of wild life, bubbles, temperature, crossfire, intense glares, exorbitant amount of hugs, trampling, dehydration, starvation, masquerading as a surgeon, electrical shocks, sticking forks into things, avalanches, rock slides, overly friendly lighting clouds, strangulation, forced suicide, grass, and illusional distress.” He nodded along as he listed the ways he had killed.
He continued. “That’s how I got the nickname Sicarius. It’s an honorary title here that is given when you’ve disposed of at least seven-hundred and seventy-seven targets. It’s based off of the number of creatures that our founder killed in her time.”
Now I knew he was lying. This was simply impossible. He couldn’t have killed that many. He was too cheery, too happy, too humorous, too...not empty. “How could you do that?”
He stared at me. “Well, you see, living things are like balloons; when you stab them they die.”
“You’re insane...”
He scoffed once again. “Am not! I am, in fact, on a higher plane of sanity. I rest above the lot of you, in my sanctum of sanity. I am so sane that I am inside the inner workings of sanity, itself! That’s right, I am inside sanity! Sanity and I are so close that I wave to him and he’d wave back! You could even say that I was in-...sanity.” He paused for a moment. “Huh...” The whiskers on his snout quivered as he breathed. “I could have phrased that better.”
“How do you live with that knowledge? How do you exist knowing that you’ve ended that many lives? How can you not possibly think about the ones you’ve killed?” True, I had killed somepony as well, but that was in self defense.
He didn’t even pause. His answer was instantaneous. “Because I don’t consider death to be a negative.”
What? That was gibberish. Death was the end. It meant you were gone. Kaput. Lost forever. “But it’s the end...”
“Exactly. It’s the end. What should I care about the middle of a story when I reach the end. When looking for spoilers, you don’t turn to the middle page of a mystery novel, you go to the end. That’s the part you want to see. And I do. A lot. It interests me.”
“You enjoy it?” I couldn’t mask my disgust.
He recoiled, the long black tuft of fur on his back arching upwards. “Are you mad? I’m a bloody assassin, not a sadist. Every time I kill it serves a purpose. It serves several in fact. First, it serves the client, second, it serves us, and third, it serves to create a wound. One that will be doctored. I don’t enjoy killing, nor do I particularly dislike it. It just happens to serve my interests. And I’m friggin’ amazing at it.”
“But what about everybody you’ve killed? They’re dead because of you.” Unbelievable. It one thing to hear a tale about a killer, but to actually meet someone with so little regard for life in reality...it was a change in perspective.
“So what?” He asked.
“Beg pardon?” What did he mean, so what? They were dead! Without life! And it was because of his actions. How could he not feel bad about that?
“What does it matter if they’re dead?” He stared at me, waiting for a answer. Why did it ned an answer? It was common sense! Thing was, though, that was the only reason I could come up with. Strange. “They’ve never helped you have they?” He continued, “They’ve never done anything to earn your trust or respect. So why should they matter?”
“But still, they were alive. They had family and friends waiting for them. How could you take them away like that? What kind of black-hearted monster could do that?”
He bit his lip then asked, “Sticks and stones, love. I’m able to keep on just by knowing that I’m serving my purpose with every life I take.”
“What about their purpose?”
He was frowning. At least he took this seriously. “If any of them had felt as strongly about their purpose as I do mine, they would be here and not me. The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who won’t do anything about.” His voice was sharp, unlike the kind, if not a little bit enthusiastic, tone he sported earlier.
“Living isn’t about surviving, or even about making sure you’re remembered. It’s about furthering your ends by any means necessary. If you’re not making enemies or causing mayhem along that way, then you’re not getting anywhere, ever.”
“You’ve killed.” I stated flatly. “That’s not something you can justify.”
“You’ve killed as well.”
“That was in self-defense!”
“How is that not a justification?” He asked.
I could feel the anger swelling up inside of me. “Because she would have killed me if I hadn’t done something!”
“So it was okay because your victim threatened your survival?” He asked bluntly.
“Yes! Well, no. I mean-well, yes, I think-but-I don’-” I was spluttering, brain unable to function properly. The words I needed remained restrained within my mind, bound by some unseen force.
“You yourself conceded that your only reason for living was to survive. So, weren’t you killing for your purpose?” He almost sounded accusing.
“It was self-defense...I couldn’t just let her...”
“You’ve killed.” He said mockingly. “That’s not something you can justify.”
“...” I stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact.
He placed a paw under my chin and lifted my head up, forcing me to look into his eyes. He leaned forward. “My point is, that you killed in order to ensure your survival. You were serving a self-satisfying purpose in doing so. I have slain others in order to advance the purposes of my group, who’s long-term goal is the advancement of the world.”
He pulled away, letting my head drop back down. I continued to stare at the floor. He continued, “Now, I want you to tell me something Trixie. Which of those sounds more noble in the end?” His whiskers vibrated as he spoke, and the tuft of blackened fur on his neck rose in anticipation of my answer. “Which one?”
“...” I was dumbfounded. My moral beliefs were never strong, yet even they existed. But now, now I hadn’t clue what to think. Silence was all that was allowed to permeate the bare, annular room.
“And there you have it. What should it matter?” His voice was harsh and low, different from his normally cheery tone.
“I-I-do-don-kn-know.” And I really didn’t. It wasn’t often anypony, or rather, any creature managed to change my mind. I usually just trusted my instincts. But his logic, his terrifying logic, made sense. As difficult as it was to provide justification for the reaping of over a thousand wayward souls, his words managed it.
As a street-rat I had seen enough crime and sin, I had seen how disgusting it was. I had seen what it did to victims, families, friends, communities, even perpetrators. And I knew I had never wanted to be a part of it. Yet there I was, allowing thirteen(ish:my age was only ever approximated) years of experience to wash away in one moment. There I was, letting it fall away, and I didn’t even care.
Sicarius became suspicious, his tail twitching. “Star was supposed to have explained what we do to you.” His eyes burrowed into mine.
“He did, but he kind of just listed off what you all do. I only heard a little bit of it. The murder part might have just slipped past me.” That was close to true, almost.
He looked thoughtful for a moment. “He and I shall talk about proper stage presence.” He turned away from me. “Come now!” He waved his paw in a dramatic flourish to draw my attention to him. “Let. Us. Get. Ice cream!” He bellowed out the words dramatically.
“Isn’t it a bit early for ice cream?” I asked quizzically. “I haven’t even eaten breakfast. I don’t even know where to eat breakfast.”
“It is never too early for ice cream! Even alcoholic ice cream. Especially alcoholic ice cream.” His tail swished back and forth, rolling across the stone gently. Each hair bristled at the touch of the stone. “Come along and you shall find: The Mess Hall!” He broke out into a whimsical saunter as he headed towards an open door.
I trotted a few paces behind him. That wolf...he was a mystery to me. He acted and spoke in a manner that seemed so doltish, yet in a single instant he could become cold, and calculatingly intelligent. Perhaps he used immature behavior as a shield, deflecting the passing glances of the more analytical creature. Or he was just odd.