Fair Flight

by Baryski

Chapter 3: Competition (Faith)

2:30. Preparation was everything to an assassin. Creed were skilled fighters and unbelievably agile, but above all else they were tacticians. Faith had been given an opponent who was studious to a fault, a Creed who believed himself untouchable. His strict schedule was perfect, though, and now she only had to wait.

Slips of paper were laid onto the ground in front of her. She had time, time enough to play a little game. One by one each paper was turned over, from the back they looked rather plain. Each of them marked with the familiar brand of a different, valid, backing company. All of them except one, of couse, but she purposefully arranged the papers allowing that one to be last. The rest she mixed up, not caring particularly about the order.

Raintail. The first paper was flipped over revealing the mottled grey pegasus’ dossier. He had always been simple to a fault, she still remembered how proud he had been when he got his first solo mission. But, he’d always seemed to belong in the sky more. Dawn Blade. This one was a little tougher to look at. She’d always been as much a rival as a sister. Honestly, it could have been just as easily her sitting there instead of Faith.

Star Dancer, Mist, Crash Down. Order after order was flipped. She hated to admit it, but it got easier as they went along. It became more ritual than commemoration. Each thought getting shorter and shorter. Once or twice, she even had to pause, forcing herself to remember these weren’t just ordinary kill orders.

2:40. Just Faith. She finally reached her own paper. It was pointless to recount memories about oneself, so she glanced over it instead. The picture was old, maybe a year or two, from just after that deep cover job. Her mane had been so much longer then; begrudgingly she had to admit it looked more appropriate for her build. But, she wasn’t a mare, she was a Creed. Even the Dossier spoke of that.

Elite assassin: Class X1. Security clearance; Lore Division clearance Specialist. Read into active programs: Dawnbringer, Candy Stripe, Discord, Catfish, and Blademaster. Physical level: Top Conditioning. Specialization: Hoof-to-hoof combat and herbology. Expected to succeed current master of Lore Division. Recommended dispatch method: Wide area explosive charge with low level members as bait.

2:45. Faith finally moved away from her paper. The past was pointless, remembering that she was only a pile of skills and abilities was just as pointless. Scarlet Blast. That was right, that pegasus’ kill order was here as well. In all honesty, Faith had never actually read it, just enough for the basics. Why not? It was the last order before the ending and she had time. One thing had to be admitted. Even if it was just from the pictures, there was no competition for the mare. Her own picture had been taken just after a cover where she had been expected to be highly attractive and yet she felt ashamed putting them in the same context. This Scarlet on the other hoof, was only photographed coming out of what seemed to be a bakery. Red on blue, and a mane that looked like, well, was there actually a way to properly describe that? Wait, an assassin doesn’t care about appearances. Not that thinking that made it any easier, but it did allow her to go back to the actual dossier.

TWOS operative under Sora command. Highly proficient with explosive charges and traps. Expected above average tactical capacity. Physical level: Non-threatening. Critical knowledge: Not suspected. Recommended dispatch method: Poisoned food or baited physical combat. Do not allow prey to lead you.

These kill orders were getting amateurish. Faith knew from experience already they were lacking most from this one. It wasn’t surprising this mare had survived as long as she had. That being said, that night Faith took this order probably would have been her last night breathing.

2:55. The last order was finally flipped over. Father. Faith had thought she had been ready, but she was wrong. This wasn’t the time, she still wasn’t ready to come to terms with the kill order for her master. These weren’t just kill orders any more, though. They were gravestones. Important objects of memory for those that left no memory. She would be their memory, and their memorial would be the destruction of Hooftail.

3:00. It was time, she didn’t even have to watch by now. She knew the schedule by heartbeat. The alley she had been standing in was exited with no particular hurry. She was a simple school filly, for the time being. 1, 2, 3. She walked past the first few escorts, clad almost perfectly in Creed gear, then pretended to stumble, knocking into the fourth.

“Watch it, don’t you have any respect?” The colt seemed furious and shoved her away, into guard number 3. The plan was without flaw, as she stumbled into the guard her newly constructed bracer extended. It wasn’t as good as the one she had given up to rubble, but it would do the job. The guard didn’t even feel it, the blade sliced into his side. He wouldn’t even be dead for another full minute.

“I wonder what kind of fun we could have with a school filly like this!” He grabbed her, the blade completely concealed again and threw her further into the group. Faith’s eyes mimicked the fear her cover demanded out of her, pleas and whimpers escaping until just the right moment. The guard from earlier collapsed into his own blood.

There was a commotion, scrambling and mad searching. Some pony had dared to take a guard out while they were focusing on tormenting their prey. Of course, not a one seemed to realize, she was about to extend the blade again and remove their master in broad daylight.

Understand, you are powerless against retribution. Have all your power and fearsome presence erased in one blade strike. It no longer mattered if the rest of the plan went properly. Faith was going to provide a show Hooftail could never recover from. She could die afterwards if need be.

Moments later a dart embedded itself into the pony’s neck, his visage whipping around to check on the location of their assailant. Not now, not like this. His twisting and contorting didn’t matter, the blade found his neck with no problem. What did matter, however, was that Faith didn’t want to be attributed to anypony else. She would deal with her accomplice later.

The black cloak of her target and her own disguised became stained in blood, she quickly grabbed the dart out of the elderly pony’s neck. This was her job. Let that mare brag about it to her command all she wanted, but Faith’s work wasn’t about to be chopped up to some other organization. The wrapped up piece of paper slipped off revealing the cocky words imprinted on it. Kill Count? Hell, I’ll show you a kill count.

Not that anger and bravado mattered at this point. The damage had already been done. The words rang out from the group, “SNIP...” Faith wasn’t playing for bits, two more of the escort fell as the remaining tried to rally around her. Soon afterwards explosions littered the rooftops, launching rubble into the already tense fray.

Several of the less agile members of the guard were crushed underneath the rubble while the rest of the group became separated. Small squads began forming to try and take out their targets, but the confusion was working against them. Groups came at her over the rubble, two or three at a time, but it wasn’t enough. Amidst explosions and dins akin to a war zone ponies breathed their last breaths from the single blade. It worked to her advantage quite well. Honestly, twenty-eight at once would have been a little tough, but small groups like this...Well, she was up to thirteen now, and it was about to be 17.

Shing! Metal slid along the edge of her blade seconds before she descended upon the next group. The pony had wasted no time in parrying her blade, still panting from the forced descent, but Faith still had a lot left in her. Carefully controlled, timed stabs arced out. Each one targeted a completely different vital area with deadly efficiency. This wasn’t showy, like most swordplay, but was meant for one thing; killing. Most of the ponies so far hadn’t survived past the second strike, but this one managed, barely, to parry every one.

By the end of the onslaught he was covered in small wounds, but had managed to avoid any vital damage. A pony on par with her skills, a specialist, was the only option behind that hood. Probably one of those three that she had heard about. Normally, even a specialist in a group like this wouldn’t have been an issue, but her blade was buckling more with each successive parry. It was of inferior quality and couldn’t stand up in the same way a proper bracer blade could. Two, no three strikes. I have to decide it in these next movements or else.

She feigned to the left, a larger wound covering her opponent’s forehoof on that side, and he moved to parry. As her form shifted to the right the cloaked pony stumbled on the wounded hoof. Just as expected! It would have been perfect, except his left wing shot up releasing one of the numerous daggers lining the underside of his scarred wing. She had fallen directly into his trap! Bracer blade instantly parried the dagger, redirecting the path to a small gash along her side and wings, but the damage was already done. The blade cracked and broke along the middle. It wouldn’t last another blow.

Faith wanted to scream in gutteral rage for being baited into such an obvious trap, but she had neither the time, nor the luxury of such a frivolous act. Her opponent launched a flurry of daggers from his wing. She could no longer block, only dodge the best she could. Her smaller frame and higher agility meant it was easier, but several blades sliced into her wings and sides. The pain was nothing in comparison to the shame and anger she had coursing through her body.

As the last dagger passed inches below her upside down head her precious other hoof shot out. She had intended not to use that in this fight, but pride was more important than concealment. One, two, four darts shot out. To his credit, the specialist actually dodged two of them, even in his current condition, but Faith was a better aim. She tracked every movement and predicted perfectly, the last two darts embedding in his flank and neck respectively. He was dead as his limp body hit the ground.

She had barely had enough time to catch her breath, forget about surveying the scene, before another dart collided with the ground in front of her. Instinctively she whipped around ready to take on whichever assailant tried to kill her this time, but found only a single pony who could have shot it. That damnable mare again. Faith was aware she should drop her right then and there, but something tugged at her. The mare was left alone as she turned to the dart again, carefully unwrapping the note.

31 kills, southern rooftop. Admittedly Faith was at 14, not nearly as wonderful of a number, but she didn’t care. Everything had almost been ruined by an orange pegasus with an ego the size of the couch she loved dearly. Worse yet, Faith might as well have been thought a TWOS operative instead of her true drive. Wounds or no wounds, she was going to make her way up to the roof and show up that mare yet another time.

“You did take your time, there.” Those words, what right did that pegasus have to act like she was Faith’s superior? It was taunting, she was practically begging to be killed. In fact, not killing her was quickly turning into a decision she was bound to regret, “You couldn't have scored more than... say, half. There were 50 in the escort, and you know my count.”

Faith finally touched down on the rooftop, wings aching from the wounds. Still, she wasn’t planning on letting her opponent have the satisfaction of seeing that weakness, “And, you pretty much ruined everything. Besides, count isn't everything. I had a combat specialist. If it wasn't for me, you'd have ended up with your head off.”

“I see that you have a deathwish as well,” It was partially true, and that actually kind of hurt. Who was this pony to judge Faith’s intentions? She looked haughty and confident, but she knew nothing about her, “You think you could handle a score assassins, even upstarts?”

Yes, no, does it even matter? Was there a point in trying to answer a question like that? In reality, with no specialist in the group, she had a fifty-fifty chance to actually take them all out. But, the odds weren’t the point. The point lay in the fact that she had done something unforgivable, “Does it matter what I think?”

“I see somepony is pretty pissed on their numbers.” Oh, she was just determined to draw every ounce of hatred out now. The number really didn’t matter, but that elite had been more danger than he should have been. It wasn’t really the mare’s fault, but Faith had been careless and dredging it up put the anger squarely at a new target.

“I would just have loved to see you up against that. Bet you wouldn't have lasted a minute.”

“It doesn't matter. The master of the Hooftail is dead. As for your bet. I can last longer against you,” Damn right, he was dead. But, Faith couldn’t stand the thought that his death would now be attributed to TWOS. How was the point supposed to get across when it seemed as though it was just another casualty in the war? Not that it mattered as the mare seductively slid on her goggles...Wait, there was nothing seductive about it. They were just goggles, weren’t they, “It's on.”

In the aftermath of trying to shake the thought of seductiveness out of her head a smoke bomb exploded into life. Eyesight was almost useless now, but that was less than a hindrance to an experienced assassin. She had many other perfectly fine senses. Still, danger flushed out the detrimental mental state and replaced it with the last emotion, anger.

“He was mine to kill! Not yours!” Faith screamed as she charged towards the pegasus. It was reckless and foolish, but damn did it feel good. She wanted to unload all that frustration on the mare. All that frustration, all the anger, all the pain, she wanted it gone. She wanted something else.

The charge was completely uncharacteristic, so it really shouldn’t have come as any surprise when the pegasus dodged it and landed a hoof squarely in her side. It hurt, but it also brought the reality of the situation crashing down. A fight was a fight, if she caught herself up like that, she would die. Cute pegasus or no, “We both have our reasons to want him dead. Mine were quicker.”

She was better now, at least a little bit. She was able to react quickly enough to bring her hoof around to land on her opponent. But, the attack lacked its usual bite. There were countless options she had, but she had forgone all of them, leaving only something barely akin to a tap for her. She could play it off, though, pretend it was just a warning, “You really are that arrogant, aren't you?”

“Sweet Luna you're pissed. That barely even hurt.” Scarlet, no, that mare was intent on rubbing as much salt in the wound as possible.

“You're lucky you're even alive. You should be counting your blessings instead of taunting the pony who already spared your life.” But, why did she keep sparing her life? Scarlet should have been dead twice now. Once in the initial meeting, that was acceptable as Faith didn’t have information yet, and a second at the apartment.

“I told you I'd get revenege for the couch,” Of course, the couch again. On the list of things Faith didn’t understand, that couch would have a wondrous place of honor. That was, until she went back and removed its existence. Wait, was she actually planning to assassinate a couch?

What could possibly come next? Backing up, that’s what. A trained killer was actually backing up a few steps. There was no good reason, Faith could turn this fight around in a split second, she knew that, “The couch that I didn't damage and even removed the adhesive from?”

“The couch you put adhesive on in the first place,” A lunge? Come on, read the mood, I put distance between us. Scarlet closed the gap in seconds, bowling Faith over and providing a strangely crafted bracer blade to the neck. She should have been expecting the killing blow, but she wasn’t. She should have been planning a counter, but she wasn’t. Something, completely unfamiliar stopped her there. There was almost little doubt in her mind that Scarlet wasn’t going to kill her.

So, she laughed, “Oh well, it's not you can beat me anyway.” It was part bravado and part something else. Some other part of her mind was pushing for something else. Part was pushing for Scarlet to lose utterly and completely.

Scarlet. It had been only a few moments but her mind had completely switched to using her name. Targets weren’t supposed to have names, names meant a connection. Connections meant mistakes. So, using her name was a mistake.

“One slip and I would.” The blade dug lightly into her neck, attempting to signal Scarlet’s intentions. But, Faith would have none of it. It seemed almost like there was something else at play behind those words.

“You're forgetting one thing.”

“What is that?” You know how to turn this around. It would be simple, right? The eyes again, what was it that kept her looking there instead of making a quicker move? It didn’t matter, she locked on those eyes and slowly moved a hoof to the bracer pushing it back just enough that she could lean up.

“Assassins play dirty,” It was true, assassin’s did whatever it took to win. That included the kiss Faith planted squarely on Scarlet. She held it for a few moments, letting the depth of it sink in. As her prey, no, Scarlet, buckled slightly under it she slid her leg up and threw her completely off. Her face burning with a completely alien sensation.

It was definitely effective in getting her free, but Scarlet seemed completely dropped by it. The poor mare was still stuttering on the floor beside her. Had the push been that hard, “Wh...What the hell was that?”

Yes, what was that exactly? Faith’s cheeks still flushed with that alien burning as she got to her hooves, but she kept the feeling under control. An assassin doesn’t lose control. She wouldn’t again, “I told you, assassins play dirty. Whatever it takes.”

“No. No, no, no. You didn't just do that.”

Faith drew in closer, a few breath lengths away now, “What? You didn't enjoy it?” Do it again! That’s the key. That strange corner of her mind screamed out again. But, it had all been to get free. She was free, therefore another time served no purpose. Right?

“No. I mean, why? Why did you do that?” Scarlet was choking on her own words now. Somewhere in the back of Faith’s mind fear registered and she felt like she was winning, but in the forefront only two things remained. Why did I do that? and She even makes trembling look good.

The killer slipped effortlessly around behind her prey and embraced her. It was light and barely counted as a hold, more of a caress. The disturbed part of her mind getting louder, You liked it too. You wanted to do it, “To distract you. Or, was that your first?”

The pony in her embrace was breaking down now, Scarlet was in tears. It actually hurt, at least it sort of felt like it should hurt, “No, I'm not talking about this... with an assassin.”

That’s right, a Creed is a Creed is a Creed. Faith was harshly snapped back to who she really was. She released the embrace and began backing away slowly. She didn’t know why, she just felt like it needed to be done, “Relax. The big bad Creed isn't going to force you into anything,” She still felt the burning in her cheeks and the alien feelings, but they weren’t important, “I told you, though, you didn't stand a chance.”

Nothing she said anymore mattered, Scarlet was just in tears. Faith had been required to kiss, to play, to kill, by missions for as long as she could remember. Why was this one different? Why did it actually matter? There was little to no real difference. Leaving a crying mare was still winning. So, why did she want to console her?

“Oh, come on,” The only words that would come out. The only words that felt appropriate. She was just an assassin, right?

“Just, forget it.” With those words Scarlet was gone. She dove off the building and started her flight away.

Part of Faith desperately wanted to chase after, but that was pointless. Why would a killer chase after the pony she had just beat? That’s all Faith was, after all, just a killer. You wanted it too.

All she had left in her was to laugh and put on her best bravado, “I will never, never, never understand mares.”

Not Scarlet, names are connections. Connections are pointless.