Diary of an Assassin

[Sir Walnut]

I stared forward, just simply waiting for the tell tale signs of a message. The gods had been quiet the past few decades, and I was starting to get bored. Couldn’t they find anything for me to do. The last request had been to easy. Some silly little doll maker who had “stepped into the realms of divine power”, or something similar. All I need is something to occupy my time I thought to myself. The mortal trappings with which I did occupy my time had slowly become uninteresting. Television was the same old stories that had been rerun so many times in the past fifty years I could pretty much guess the plot before I got through the first ten minutes of the show. Movies were actually less inspired than television. Newer creations like video games were simply not realistic enough to catch my eye. The only thing mortal I actually enjoyed was alcohol. Its effects didn’t change for me. My body didn’t become more resilient, it was already at its peak. Of course it took enough to cause alcohol poisoning to get me buzzed, so it wasn’t really frugal of me to get trashed more than once a month. Of course that would mean I would actually need someway to get money. The money I had gathered was slowly running dry. I remember back when some of today’s big business was just getting onto the stock market. If I had actually just kinda got into the market a little I could probably keep this life style going for centuries. Man, hindsight is the greatest thing THEY ever considered to give mankind. It let’s us look back on our past failings and see why they happened. Or they let us revel in the sheer stupidity of our past actions. I’m gonna have to vote for option number two.

Suddenly, I felt the room falling away from me, and time slowing to a halt. A chill slowly crept up my spine. This feeling never got normal, never could get past it. I really wish they could get a less freaky way of contacting me. Whatever, the fact is this meant some excitement (hopefully), which meant I could finally get in some practice, I was starting to feel a little rusty.

Eyes formed in the darkness before me, like twin moons floating in a starless night. A wicked smile curled out from underneath them. The Coven was here to chat. Great. This meant I was probably gonna die at least once during this assignment. Fantastic. I really do love a challenge, but this was gonna be beyond what I could do and I knew it. The Coven only spoke to me when something ridiculous came along. She really must have gotten a kick out watching me get brutalized.

Their voice echoed in my very being. She wasn‘t speaking, it was more like her thoughts flew through my body into my mind then screamed, “Servant, The other gods and US have finally found a task worthy of your attention. During a recent rite the weakest member, Equilos, attempted to seize my power, but failed and was split in twain. His power then escaped into the human world and now resides in two beings. Find them and destroy them, and return his power to us.”

Great. Now the power of one of the most powerful beings in the universe was on Earth. And I had to find it. And I needed to kill it. This was gonna hurt. This was gonna push me past the brink. Maybe even kill me. Yeah. Maybe if I was lucky I could finally get some peace. Yeah. And I was gonna meet the woman of my dreams and finally have a family that wouldn’t go insane and damage the world and those who lived in it. Oh yeah. That was gonna happen.

I wake up. Still groggy. Still asleep. I drag myself up. The wooden floor is cold, sending shivers to my brain. I wake up more. I push myself up off my ratty mattress. I let my feet lead me. I arrive at the sink. They always went there first. I look into the mirror. That’s why they always drag me to the sink. So I can get the self loathing out of the way. Everyone I ever killed glares at from inside those steely blue eyes. I wanna die, everyday that I see those eyes. Their haunting gaze stares into my mind. Its hard to beat that everyday, but if I didn’t then I would just sit there, wishing to die. Never being able to die but wanting to. It was a horrible thing to do. To waste all that time. Suddenly the face in the mirrors cracks. The thin face crowned with blonde hair shatters into a hundred pieces. I take a few moments to pull the few shards of glass in my hand out. Never let the hate bother me that much. It didn’t really bother me, it was just scar tissue. I bathe, cleaning away the hate at least until tomorrow. I get dressed, throw on my jacket. A familiar sensation runs through my body. The bleeding stopped. I grab the only friend I have off the wall. It’s weight feels good in my hands. I slide my anger onto my back. As I head towards my door I grab my glasses. I don’t need them but they remind me of why I’m still here. My hands place a pack of cigarettes into my chest pocket. I turn the knob. The light hits my eyes and the world goes white for a second. I walk onto the streets of city. Its all noise, and human bodies, twisting together into a hating, wretched mass. It always helps to reaffirm my whole reason for living.

 

“Hey, Manfred!”, A feminine voice calls to me from down the street, followed by the clicking of hard heels on hard pavement.

 

I turn towards the sounds. I see a full grown women moving towards me, brown curls bouncing with the rest of her. Hope was a hooker. Hope is a great name for a hooker.

 

“If you have to address me please call me Mr.Cohlberg.”, I simply wanted some respect. Since I don’t have any friends those who did know me should address me as a gentleman.

 

“Man your uptight.”, a little bit of whimsical music in her voice. If I hadn’t been ready for it then it might have caught me off guard. There was a little bit of magic in her voice. Probably why she had so many return clients. “Just gonna ask for a smoke.”

 

“Their bad for your health, so N-O.”, I said as I slipped a cigarette into my mouth. Talking to mortals always reminds me of talking to a 2 year-old. Why did they always find the need to harm themselves. Sure I hated being alive, but the suicidal phase was way past. And, pain is really just something that can be ignored, once it’s a common occurrence.

 

“Fine, …Mr.Cohlberg, guess you finally found some work, huh?”

 

“You could say that. Take care Hope.” I’m not really one for conversation. And I do have some work to do. I have learned from the past though. I know not to rush things. I always let myself think out a situation. Losing myself to my emotions has never helped me, in work or in privacy. I have perfect hindsight.

 

- From the diary of the undying assassin

[Wyvern]

Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat frowns and taps his fingers on the arm rest of his applicant easy chair, glancing up at the Office's Rolodex clock and blinking twice at the amount of time that has passed since he first stepped in and set his application story on the messy Recruiter's desk. He stands up to stretch for a moment and glances over at the Office door, wondering if any Pen members are wandering the hall and whether they might be able to point him in the direction of the extra-tardy Elder of Initiates. The applicant's worries are answered by the sound of the Office window slamming open, however, along with the sound of scaly wings scrunching their way through a crammed space and a hissy grunt. Wyvern collapses into a pile of half-finished scheme outlines below the window and struggles until he dislodges his tail from the window sill. He brushes a few brambles and sticky glue-related scheme sheets from his crimson scales, then turns to Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat with a wide toothy grin.

 

"Greetingssss, and apologies for the slight delay Mr...?" Wyvern bounces over to his desk and scoops up Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat's application, shoving several important Office doodles and Naughty Nymph Magazines to the side in the process. The overgrown lizard's face goes flat for a moment as he reads over Sir Walnut's last name several times, his eyes slowly narrowing as he stares in the applicant's direction. "Clamhat... No relation to Clam Chowder Head of the Ssspecial Chef Operations Outfit, I hope?"

 

Sir Walnut stares at Wyvern with a confused expression on his face, then slowly proceeds to shake his head.

 

"Good." Wyvern breaths a sigh of relief, then shakes Sir Walnut's application sheet in the air and lowers it to his snout to read the tale detailed there within. The reptilian Elder nods and scratches his chin once he's finished looking over the piece, then turns to Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat with a grin.

 

"Nicccely done. This guy kinda reminds me of a modern suicidal version of Taleth the Black, you should check out some of Orlan's Assembly Room epics while yer over here." Wyvern taps the application sheet with one of his claws, tilting his head and letting his tail sway back and forth. "Good newsss is that, should you tire of living 'round these parts, you can always offer yer services as one of Minta's litch underlings... I'm sure one of our sorcery adepts would be happy to offer their services in rendering ya undead if ya requested it."

 

Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat scratches his head and raises a brow at the offer, then watches as the overgrown lizard huddles near the Recruiter's desk with his application and raises a wing over it to hide what he's doing. He frowns and cranes his neck in an attempt to spot what Wyvern is up to, but calms his nerves when the lizard emerges with his ACCEPTED application story several minutes later.

 

"Thisss'll do just fine." Wyvern hands Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat back his story with a smile, then feigns an expression of having forgotten something in an unconvincing manner. "Oh, and by the way, I found thisss note addressed to you on my desk. I think it'sss important."

 

Wyvern hands Sir Walnut a small sheet of folded scrap paper with some messy words crawled on it in a near-illegible hand. The applicant squints as he tries to make out the supposed message:

 

---

 

Dear Undydeyeing Asasin,

 

Servent, da other Gawds and US all da other gawds this tyme, have an new asinemint for U. Yoo are too plase all yoor money in Almost Dragonic Inc. via th' I <3 Wyvern Fanclub, pronto cus time essen iz of the esense. This tax task tasc is mos' worthee of you. Don't bee like Equilos and giv a fraktion of your saving, give'em all it. No more tyme, have Gawd things too doo. Luv you, XXX.

 

Sinserely,

Covon Coven

 

---

 

Wyvern whistles to himself and twiddles his claws as a blank expression falls over Sir Walnut's face.

 

;-)

 

OOC: An ACCEPTED application, Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! :-) I enjoyed reading over this segment from the diary of an undying assassin, and am looking forward to reading more of your works, as well as to writing collaboratively with you in some community events when the opportunity arises. I hope you find the Pen a friendly and welcoming community to share your writing with, and that you develop a communal bond with some of the people here. :-) Once again, welcome!