Fiona Nightshade sat in the tree. She was watching her target. It was a werewolf, Rutabaga Blackfur Copperfindersson, Commander of the Guard. She looked at her knives - they were silver coated, and tipped with poison. The werewolf would be dead by her blades, if everything went according to plan. If things didn't go according to plan, she was in the perfect position to escape. That being said, Rutabaga was known for his ability to not only avoid being assassinated, but for capturing those who tried to do the deed - Non-Assassin assassins were sent to the Station, male Assassins got a limb broke, and female Assassins, well, it was a good thing they wore black, even to their own weddings. The stories were told by those who tried to do the deed, only to end up doing the nasty. There were stories about how big he was. There were stories about him doing it doggy-style. There were stories involving chains. There were so many stories, but there was one thing they had in common: he was good.
She then noticed someone enter the yard. She watched as they climbed another tree that had a view of Rutabaga. She saw as they got out a crossbow, and took aim.
"Guild papers."
The other looked at her. "What?"
"Where are your Guild papers?" In her hand, she was carefully tossing a knife up and catching it.
"Oh, I know where those are!" The figure turned, and fired the crossbow, pinning Fiona to the tree, causing her to drop her knife. "Now, be a good Assassin, and die."
Fiona looked at the bolt that had pierced her. It was a fatal shot, but not yet immediate. She knew what she had to do, as she watched the Non-Assassin killer reload their crossbow. She took out another knife, and threw it, hitting them in the throat. The killer looked at her, glared, and did a real amateur move - they pulled out the knife. That was when things went wrong for them, as the blood came out. They tried to stop it, but couldn't. They almost fell, but managed to grab the tree limb, but the blood made things too slippery. They fell out of the tree, and Fiona heard the snapping of bones. She watched the killer gurgle their last gurgle.
She sighed, or rather, she would have, but that would have killed her. She couldn't scream. Couldn't yell for help. Couldn't do anything, if she wanted to live. She glanced at the window, and saw that Rutabaga was no longer there. If nothing else, she had kept her target from getting killed by a Non-Assassin Assassin, which meant she'd get a copper blade, and possible a gold blade, postmortem of course.
Then, she heard something, and glanced down, where she saw Rutabaga. He looked at the body, and then he looked up at her.
"I suppose I owe you for this," the werewolf said. He then climbed the tree she was in. He looked at the bolt, and then he looked at her. "Why?"
"Guild honor," Fiona said, quietly.
Rutabaga nodded. "I understand. Hold still." He slid a hand behind her back, and she heard the shaft break. "I'll take you to a Healer, a good one."
He carried her out of the tree, and down the street. He took her to the Healers, grabbing one of them. "I want your best healer for arrow wounds. This Assassin is bleeding to death."
The Healer ran off, to get one who knew what they were doing, as Rutabaga set Fiona on one of the cots, and stood by her. Soon enough, the one Healer came with another. They looked at Rutabaga, and looked that the Assassin.
"We'll do our best, but no promises."
"Get to work."
Three weeks later, Fiona stood before the Head Assassin. There was a hint on concern in the senior Assassin's eyes.
"Are you sure you are up for this Contract?"
"My injuries are fully healed, and I was released from the Healers' care."
"Only because you unnerved them." The Head Assassin looked at the Contract. They looked at her. "Are you sure you can do this? This Target saved your life. Are you sure you can kill him?"
"My feelings do not enter into this," said Fiona. "Either I'll kill him or he'll stop me, but my emotions will not betray me."
"In that case, I'm reluctantly giving you the Contract. Now, put away your knife."
A few hours later, Fiona was sitting in a chair, because standing was starting to tire her. Another week, she'd be fine, but for now, she needed to rest. The door opened, and Rutabaga came in. He stood before the robe rack, and took his uniform off, very slowly.
"What are you waiting for?" the werewolf asked. "I owe you."
"What?" Fiona groaned.
"I owe you a throw," said Rutabaga. "Given that you killed someone who was trying to kill me, I owe you the chance to try and kill me."
"You won't move?" Fiona asked.
"You have my word."
"I wasn't planning on doing it like this."
"You're in no condition to move," said Rutabaga. "You'd only get one chance. Succeed, and you'll be the Assassin who managed to kill me. Fail, and you'll be just another woman who ends up in my bed."
"Thanks," Fiona said, as she drew her knife. "Just don't tell anyone about this."
"Depending on the outcome, I won't be able to."
Fiona steadied her arm, carefully aimed the knife, drew her hand back to throw, but, just as she started the throw, pain shot up her side, and her arm, affecting her aim. Instead of pinning the werewolf in the back, the knife hit the wall, just beside him.
He looked at the blade. "Silver-coated, and laced with poison. Very nice." He turned around, and looked at her.
She was gasping in pain, and holding her arm and side. She looked at him.
He shook his head. "Like I said, you were in no condition to move." He walked up to her. "Still, I will say this, I will take it easy on you."
Fiona groaned. "Nice to know."
"I'll also put you in chains."
Fiona looked at him. "Why?"
"Because you're a fighter; if it wasn't for this, you'd of drawn another blade, and kept trying, right?"
Fiona glanced at her other hand, and saw that it was near an empty sheath she'd tried to remove another knife from. She looked at Rutabaga, and saw that the werewolf was grinning. In his hand was the knife she'd been going for.
"Like I said; you're a fighter."
He then helped her to her feet, and walked her to his room. There he disrobed and disarmed her, removing her clothes and her weapons, being careful around her injury. There was one small consolation; he didn't remove the cloth from around her face. He then chained her to the bed, finished removing his clothes, and picked up a Zonkier packet.
There was one thing the stories were right about - he was good.
A few weeks later, she was standing before the Head Assassin.
"I have a very important job for you," they said. "I want you to join the Guard."
"You're giving me another chance to kill the Commander?"
"No. However, my wife seems to like him, because he likes her cooking."
"Sir, your wife is skilled for her lethal cooking talents," said Fiona. "Even you won't eat her cooking."
"Yes, but he's had seconds of her rainbow frog soup, and thirds, and fourths," the Head Assassin said. "Maybe even fifths."
"That's her most deadly concoction," said Fiona. "You'd need the antidote right then and there, just to make it through the night, just from one bite."
"Yes, and that's why you are needed to keep an eye on him."
"I understand."
"Good. Be careful."
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