An Unusual Hero

by Barrel-of-fun

The morally superior side of the coin

My first few assassinations were amateur and completely unsatisfying.

I had used my old underground fighting contacts to purchase a weapon. An old service revolver. Hardly satisfying or elegant, but effective and very loud. I affectionately named it Boris. The two had so much in common. My first job came from a surprising source. A young man who wanted his grandfather killed for his inheritance. He was nothing special, a normal everyday bloke that you wouldnt look at twice and, aside from the whole homicide business, wasn't very remarkable. Never judge a book by it's cover, it might just be a horror story. the job was a piece of cake really. I walked up to the old man’s rundown apartment in a block of identical apartments in one of the worse parts of town. As I waited for the old duffer to answer I ideally wondered what possible inheritance this poor bastard would be able to pass on. The people in this part of town were not famed for their wealth. The door creaked open and I heard a dry old voice call out:

“who is it?”

I raised Boris to point at a withered prune of a face a smiled kindly at the old man.

“G’day!” I said merrily as I pulled the trigger and splattered his brains all over the wall.

For a moment the smile stayed on my face, but it slowly turned into a frown of confusion. Then the bared teeth of rage. Where was the satisfaction?! Where was the rush?! I looked down at the gun in my hand and slowly began to realise. It was too easy. Too simple. How was I supposed to enjoy that. In a fit of rage I threw the gun of the apartment block and stalked away.

For my next few missions I was much smarter. I went with knives hidden on my person. A far more elegant weapon, and importantly, far more satisfactory than Boris had ever been. I began to make a name for myself in the criminal community. A knife-wielding mad man who would take any job, so long as it was interesting.

It was then that I met him. The man who I would proudly call my rival, my constant source of joy and rage and perhaps the only man who truly understands me in this world.

Warden.

I had heard of him before of course. In my line of work it is absolutely necessary to know your enemy but it never even crossed my mind that he would be such an enjoyable enemy. He was a bodyguard you see. The natural enemy of the assassin. We were as opposite as it was possible for two people to be. Where I was tall, he was stout. Where I was lean, he was burly. Where I was a bloodthirsty madman masquerading as an assassin, he was a guardian angel masquerading as a bodyguard. And a damn good one at that.

He was the perfect sparring partner for me. Not only did he make every kill a challenge but he also helped me to improve myself. There was a couple of times that he almost got me actually. Five years ago in Brussels is a good example, heh, I only managed to escape by throwing myself of a building. Broke both my legs and had to crawl to a manhole cover. Let me tell you guys, you do not want to have to crawl through three miles of European sewers with two shattered legs. Its not pleasant.

Soon after meeting Warden I began to send notes to my targets. A simple piece of paper would be found in an intimate place. A top secret document, the desk of their drawer, their heavily secured vault…in-between the pages of their child’s favourite book. It was a simple note, not a word on it, just a picture of a skull crossed by daggers with a crosshair over it. Tacky I know but it got the job done. It was at this point that the media decided to christen me Deadshot. That was a new low. Made me sound like a comic villain. I killed the people who came up with it of course but that just made it worse. All of the headlines became.

“Deadshot strikes again!”

Or

“is no one safe?!”

Or, my personal favourite

“Massacre of Biblical Proportions!

Deadshot suspected”

Eventually I just decided to accept the name and work with it. Anyway back to my original purpose. Sorry if I keep going off on a tangent here guys, you really must try and keep me on track. The true purpose behind the notes was that whenever my next victim saw the note they would immediately hire Warden and he, being the noble fool that he was, would immediately rush to protect them. And with him came the promise of challenge.

“Thanks for listening you guys, I really needed to get that off my chest. I truly appreciate you staying with me for all that”

The man known as Deadshot looks around the room.

“Well I guess your right there, you didn’t have much choice in the matter did you?”

The corpses around him stare back with their accusing eyes. Their mouths pulled up into morbid grins by the decay already beginning to claim their bodies.

“Your not very good conversationalists are you?”

At this point the door smashes apart to reveal a bear of a man. He can barely fit through the doorway as he rushes in to take stock of the horrible scene in front of him. Warden.

“Where have you been young man! You have kept all your new friends waiting” Deadshot said in his best old woman voice, his manic grin threatening to put the corpses to shame.

Comments

[SteampunkBrony]

ooh, this is entertaining. can't wait to read more of this...

dunno why but i find these kinds of stories the best

[psp7master]

I say! The story is a true marvel among the competitors. Keep up the amazing work, good sir, and never ever think of increasing the pace. 5/5

[Barrel-of-fun]

thank you so much :) chapter 3 is coming along nicely and should be much longer than the previous two as we actually get some plot going ohhh shiny shiny plot