Untitled Story

Chapter 1

         Hello,          my name is Derrick Nightingale. Codename to be sure, it would be too dangerous if this fell into the wrong hands to use my real name. Why am I writing this you may ask? Well the situation is quickly becoming dire: and I fear another chance may not reveal itself. I fear I walk to my doom and there are no records of the horrors I've witnessed, committed...become. I have washed my hands in the blood of many. Some are deserving, most not and even that of my own beloved: a thought which even now leaves me in crippling agony every time it replays in my mind.

         Having lost everything, I feel the pain I have caused the families of those I have killed. I feel people should finally know the truth and my goal is not to ask forgiveness, but to give those I have destroyed the chance to know and mourn. Now we begin my journey I ask none that read this to judge for my sins as my place has already been decided. I am not going to bore you with the mundane details of my childhood. My family was normal hard working middle class. My father left when I was young and I have not seen nor heard from the asshole since.

         It was a happy childhood, though there were times when I yearned for more excitement. The true part of this story doesn't begin until my early teens. As does every boy going through the pains of puberty,  I watched as my features changed. The long existing baby fat melted away to reveal the muscle beneath and not to mention the  sudden fascination with the fairer sex. The changes were as different as night and day. Within a week I went from being clumsy, "bumbling fool" destroying everything in my path. Into a strong young adult. I realized then that I was born to be something more than normal. Had only I known then what I do now. Maybe things would have been different.

Derrick stopped writing, looking up from his small book as the crunch of gravel reached his ears. He picked up his katana and strapped it around his waist. He cinched the waist strap too tight and felt the bite as it struggled against the flesh. Pain had long ago lost meaning to him. After the incident with his beloved, nothing had really been real. His view on everything had changed, become insignificant. He watched the entirety of the world through a window. Dousing the campfire he walked further into the woods. Hearing the snap of a dried branch he hastened his step. He sprinted deeper into the woods the trees growing thicker and thicker. He didn't stop running until the trees were almost three feet in circumference. Leaning back against the trunks of one of these monstrous trees he slid to the ground his butt hitting the sodden earth with a dulled thump. Opening his little book he began again.

         Deep within the lands of my parents I lived a majority of my life mastering required survival skills and other mundane tasks. Long did I train honing my senses and skills to their absolute. I had no friends growing up so I began to view the world and the people in it as nothing but targets. As I reached the tender age of twenty years my disdain for the world became apparent to those close to me. Shunned by my parents I soon left home to discover the harshest of truths. The world as I had believed was worth nothing beyond the coin. Soon I began my search falling in with brigands, vagabonds and thieves they taught me skills that I to this day use. I learned everything from theft to becoming in essence invisible.
         
         My first big job didn't show its head until I was 23 an aristocrat was abusing his power over the lower class. I had been contacted by a servant within the household. He asked me to make it appear to be an accident. Doing my research I learned he had many "episodes" in which he had lost consciousness. One of the days I followed him as he left his enormous estate, he traveled down into the woods that surrounded the vast estate. Keeping to the shadows in the trees I followed him his footprints in the moist dirt making him easy to track. Reaching the river I saw my opportunity to strike. Stepping out from behind the tree I used as cover. Slipping up behind him I grabbed the back of his cloak and  shoved him into the water. There the struggle began it took all of my strength but soon he stopped moving as his lungs filled with the rapid moving water. My heart beating quickly I cut off the small patch representing his house and authority before tangling his clothing in the hanging branches. Looking out on the scene it would appear as if he had tripped fallen in the water and drowned.

         The trip back was a long one as I did what I could to cover my tracks. Nearly three hours later I arrived back at the house of the now deceased aristocrat. The person that had hired me watched the road obviously awaiting my return. Stepping up in front of him I presented the cloth emblem and watched as his eyes widened first in surprise then happiness. He rambled on his thanks for a good fifteen minutes as I stared past him reliving the first of many murders I would commit over my lifetime. Had I known then what I knew now I would have done things very differently.

A piece of wood snapping in the distance pulled Derrick once again from his writing. Sliding his book into a small satchel that hung about his waist. He scrambled to his feet looking all around him to see if they had caught up with him. Just off in the distance he saw a shadow that resembled a human. Slipping behind the tree he slid his hand into another slightly smaller pouch attached to his waist. From it he pulled what appeared to be a mask that resembled the skull of death. Sliding the mask into place he lifted the hood of his cloak up over his head. Silently he waited for the man to pass. His heart pounding in his chest he pulled a dagger from the back of his belt as the man approached. With a quiet inhale he slipped out from behind the tree to find his tracker standing over where he had just sat. Slipping up behind him Derrick buried the knife in the mans side his hand sliding over his mouth to muffle the screams as the man died.

Pulling the blade from between the mans ribs he let the body fall lifeless to the ground, a now formless heap. Content with the condition of the blade he wiped the blood off on the mans tunic and slid the blade back home in its sheathe. Dropping his hood and removing his mask he walked deeper into the woods until he came across a small town. The guards watched him suspiciously as he walked towards the tavern. Entering the building he quickly crossed the large floor and settled into a chair towards the back of the building. He was half hidden by shadows, the fire that burned brightly across the room threw changing shadows across his face that made it difficult to determine who he was. Pulling his book free he awaited his eyes to adjust and putting pencil to paper began writing again.

         The payment for the first job was meager in comparison to what I would get for some of my later marks. Taking the payment I left the mansion with the intention of never returning. At the moment I knew not how important that mansion would be. It was not only where I took my first step down the demons path but also where many major turning points in my life would happen. I soon traveled far from the tiny village. Many days after I found myself drawn towards the tranquil sound of water crashing against rocks. Topping a mountain the scene that lay before me took my breath away. What I thought to be nothing more than a small lake turned out to be a vast ocean. Slowly I walked my way down to the sand beaches where the water met the land in a serene fashion. There was no defined line between water and land, the two massive entities meshed together as if they were one enormous being.
         
         For days I watched the waves retreat only to return and crash again against the rocks. During that time I spent a good portion of the time thinking through my future wondering which path I wished to follow. I had enjoyed the kill though my mind refused to believe what my heart knew to be truth. After days of thought and contemplation I decided I would continue down the path of darkness so that those of purity didn't have too. I would be the villain and hero that the world needed. Leaving the shores of the ocean I traveled to the nearest town. For days I had survived on nothing but the waters and my own thoughts. Stumbling into the nearest town I remember getting no further than a few steps into the town before I collapsed. Awaking I found myself in a tavern much like the one I sit in now. Someone had carried me here and paid for a room for the time I had been here. Rolling out of bed  I saw sitting upon a table a new set of clothes folded neatly beneath a note that read nothing more than "I know what you did."

         Examining the clothing carefully I searched for anything dangerous or misleading before dressing myself slowly and deliberately. The clothing fit tightly but did not constrict, running my hands across the smooth material I noticed a few imperfections. Examining them thoroughly I determined that they were pockets hidden in the cloth. Walking downstairs the tavern was quiet which was unusual at any time of day. Looking out the window I watched as the sun peeked up over the horizon. As the rays of light glared through the window a hand on my shoulder pulled me back to reality. Spinning around I reached for a knife I didn't have. Spinning towards the man I came face to face with a hooded figure. The man's face was shrouded in shadows and with a strength almost inhuman he pulled me into a side off room. Throwing me into a chair he checked and shut the door behind us. Spinning to face me he dropped his hood the scruffy worn face seeming to be a shadow of a former knight or lord.

         "You fool" he spat at me spittle covering my face. "Do you not know how quickly rumors travel in this kingdom?" He lowered his voice to little more than a whisper forcing me to lean forward to hear him. "Many in the underground have already unraveled the sloppy work of your kill. You will become a target if you don't tread a little more carefully." He turned around clasping his hands behind his back as he paced too and fro mumbling to himself. Slowly I lifted my hand to wipe the spittle from my face. As my hand neared my face a dull thunk echoed inches from my head and I couldn't move my arm. Turning my eyes I saw the small throwing knife that had pierced the sleeve of my shirt and embedded itself deep in the wall. I looked at him wide eyed as he continued his pacing his hands not seeming to have moved. The only indication that he had done anything was a slight nick in the thick sleeve of his right arm, and a single empty knife holster on his belt.

         Reaching up I pulled the small blade from the wood examining the sharpened metal. Slowly I drew my thumb across the razor edge. The small blade effortlessly cut through my skin. I watched as the blood beaded. Examining the bead I felt a tingle run through my body. From across the room I heard the older man bellow. "You fool!!" As he finished I felt a pain unlike any before rack through my whole body before I fell unconscious. Awaking I stared at a bare white ceiling, my whole body ached and the urge to move was furthest from my mind. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a shadow move followed by the recognizable grumbling of the man. He came into a view and shook his head at me. "You damnable fool you've escaped death twice now in less than a week. That dagger was laced with Red Viper venom. Its a nearly untraceable venom and even fewer have an anti-venom."

Derrick stopped as he watched a man sitting across the bar stand up and walk deliberately across the bar towards him. The large man stumbled a bit and crashed his way into the chair across from Derrick his eyes heavy with the effects of the liquor he had gorged himself on. He opened his mouth to speak and the rancid smell of digested alcohol and old food washed over me. "You look familiar friend." The large man slurred his way through the sentence. Derrick looked up at the man his voice cold as steel and just as sharp. "I am no friend of yours you drunken idiot." The large man took a moment to recognize the insult and his face contorting with anger stood to his full height. He was a giant in comparison to Derrick who looked puny not standing from his seat. The man placed his hand on Derrick's shoulder, quick as a snakes strike Derrick struck. Grabbing the mans wrist he twisted until he heard a pop. Still sitting he pushed the man back and watched as the man crashed to the ground clutching his broken wrist. "I said I am no friend of yours."

Standing up he gathered his book and stepped past the front counter. Dropping coins on the counter he walked up the stairs stepping into the nearest open room. Locking the door behind him he removed his katana and belt. Propping it against the wall he looked in the small mirror hanging on the wall. The man that looked back at him was a complete stranger. His once vibrant eyes were now sunken and distant. Sighing a ragged breath he stepped from the mirror. Sitting down against the wall he opened his little book and lifted his pen to write. Just as he was about to start writing a knock at the door pulled him from his thought process.

As he opened the door Derrick was surprised at the woman of no more than 17 years old standing in front of the door. Dark, raven hair and amazing blue eyes stared at him. Derrick, uncertain, welcomed the girl into the room. Not even sure why she was there. Derrick began talking to the girl to try to figure out her purpose.

"Why are you here?" Derrick asked.
"I am here as your companion for the night." She answered.
"I do not need a companion."
"But sir, I am to stay the night or I will not be alive tomorrow."
"Why is this?" Derrick responded to the startling news.
"Well, as the rules and laws are concerned for this life, we must follow the orders of our mother. The one that assigns us to people or rooms. We are not allowed to return before morning without some sort of punishment."
"This punishment.  How bad is it?" Derrick asked.
"Sir, I'm afraid. That is how it is." The girl responded.
"Hmm. I suppose you can stay here for the night. Do not touch my things or my person. And you must leave first thing in the morning."
"But sir...."
"No, this is my offer. Or you can return tonight. I do not need, nor want a companion."
"Yes sir. I will stay, I will follow your rules. Although, where, sir, shall I sleep?"
Derrick thought about this for a moment.
"This is not my concern. Although I hear the floor is comfortable."
The girl, in wide eyed amazement at the harsh reality of her situation, looked at Derrick and her last response for the night, "Yes sir."

Deep in the darkness of the night Derrick lay in bed his breathing deep with sleep. The woman lay on the floor wide awake her mind reeling with the task she had been given. Lifting her self as quietly from the floor as she was able she drew the serrated blade she had secreted in on her person. Creeping to the bed she looked down at Derrick as he slept. Her breathe caught at the innocence that lay before her. Drawing the blade back she closed her eyes and plunged it towards his heart. Waking instantly Derrick caught her wrist stopping the blade and in a fluid motion pulling her to him and spinning the blade to set against her throat.
"So you lying whore why are you really here?"

The sudden reverse of the situation left the woman speechless for a moment. The blade persistently pushing harder against her throat with each passing second quickly prioritized her thoughts. Stretching her neck to loosen the pressure on her neck she looked at him as best she could.

"I was sent here to take care of you." Her voice quivered with the natural fear of death.
"Well you have failed at that so either you tell me who sent you and I might let you survive or you don't and I slaughter everyone." His voice was flat dangerous.
"I wasn't lying when I said who sent me. I don't know who ordered the hit. Her voice quivered her body beginning to go into hysterics.
"I have an idea." He drew the dagger up and hit her in the back of the head with the handle knocking her unconscious.

Leaving her lying there he dressed quickly and slipped out of the room. Walking down the hall way he passed a number of occupied rooms. Noises of every type emanated from within from screaming to snoring. Ignoring them he came to the end of the hall. From there two sets of steps lead the landing one leading up to the masters quarters one down to the tavern below. He had a decision go downstairs and walk away or continue upstairs and kill again. The decision had been made long before he ever reached the landing. Stepping up the stairs he flattened himself against the wall in case anyone came down the stairs. With no interruptions he made it up the stairs in a few seconds. Stepping into the hallway he scanned all the doors. Only one had a light on, stepping to the door he knocked. The door opened and an elderly woman looked out. Surprise registered on her face around the same time Derrick's hand clamped over her mouth and shoved her into the room shutting the door behind him. She was a woman of about fifty auburn hair tied back in a tight pony tail. Even at this late hour she wore a meeting dress. His hand running over her form he quickly found the dagger attached to her leg.

Freeing it he brought it to lay across her throat. Releasing his hold across her mouth he backhanded her before she could scream. As she sprawled across the floor he stepped over her, as she rolled he dropped pining her arms with his knees. The tip of the knife settled against her throat a small droplet of blood forming and dancing down the blade.

"Hello, mother." He sneered the word showing he knew exactly what she was.
"So you send a girl to kill me? You believed me not even that capable to die by such a simple trick?"

She opened her mouth to respond but the blade pressing deeper into her throat silenced the words on her tongue.

"So, this is how it will play out you will tell me who opened the contract and die quickly or you will suffer tell me anyway and die slowly."

A flash of defiance crossed her face and she spat in his. Using his free hand he wiped the spit off his face.

"Slow it is then."

Placing his hand on her throat he moved the blade away and slowly pushed it into her arm just above the elbow point first. She initially held silent until the pain became unbearable and she screamed despite the hand constricting her throat. Derrick pushed until the tip of the blade showed through the back of her arm. Holding the blade steady at that point he smiled down on her.

"Feel like talking now bitch?"
"I don't know anything." Her voice was weak the terror in it obvious to anyone.
"Wrong answer."

Derrick pushed the knife feeling as the muscle and flesh parted around the blade until he had shredded her entire upper arm.

"Now think carefully or the other arm is next."

Tears streaming down her cheeks she spoke her voice quivering.

"He didn't give me a name just an organization."

Derrick pulled the blade free and switched it to the other hand.

"Not good enough."

The tip dropped dangerously close to her other arm.

"Wait, wait please the name of the organization was the Order of the Red Dawn. The man said you would know the name.

Derrick froze, the name did mean something he had once been a member and had walked away from them. He thought he had long ago lost them.

"What did the man look like?"

He had lost his cool and it was becoming noticeable. He had even fallen so far as to let an amateur organization locate him. The woman cried her head shaking from side to side as her hair fanned out behind her. The small rubber that had held her hair ripped to shreds from the movement.

"I don't know," her voice pitched higher. "He stayed in shadow as often as possible."

Derrick sighed his body relaxing alongside the exhalation of air. " Fine whore that will do."

As she began to thank him he drew the blade quickly across her throat her words of gratitude lost in a river of red that sprouted from her shredded throat.

Dropping the bloodied knife he listened as it thumped dully into the wooden floor beneath him. Walking out the door he closed it behind him just as the blood began to seep under it. Walking down the hallway he stopped as he heard the quiet shuffling of a woman's dress behind him. Spinning around he ducked under the blade and lunged forward tackling the attacker and drawing a blade at the same time. As the attackers face came into view he froze, her face looked so familiar as did the situation.

"You again?!" he said startled.

She glared at him her shaking body betraying the fear she actually felt.

"Yes, I was hired to kill you just because I fail once doesn't mean I won't try again."

With a groan he stood up sliding the knife back in its holster. "Dammit whore give up you wont kill me."

Slowly she stood smoothing her dress and standing as tall as she could. "My name is not whore its Amelia."

"I dont care what your name is." He continued walking again the sounds of the tavern below growing louder as he descended the stairs.