~On certain occasions, where there's a will, there's more than often not a way.~
Everywhere was peaceful now. The sirens ended their obnoxious blaring, my heart stopped thudding, and even the crickets resumed chirping.
The night, it was peaceful. It's silence being one of the only things I ever adored.
Drowned in the serenity of my own world, I suppose I was too lost to notice the stranger ahead of me and before I could swerve to avoid the hit, our bodies crashed together, my hand moving to rub at my now probably bruised jaw.
"Watch where the fuck you're going, man!" The fucker hissed, dared to jab his elbow into my side and shoved me away.
I stumbled, fist tightening but I barely got the chance to react before the stranger vanished, blending into the dark part of the streets that wielded no streetlights.
Lucky.
My feet toyed with an empty soda can, kicking it ahead and watching it roll down the abandoned street. It clattered, clanked, the little noise echoing in the air. My fingers dug deep into the pockets of my coat, I sighed, kicking the can again.
The Quinns.. The Quinns…The Quinns.
It was all my mind could think of as I turned down the corner. The side of this street was adorned with wrecked mansions and overgrown lawns. Vines crept across the ashened walls and embedded themselves into the cracks that crept across the buildings.
Damaged fences creaked open and closed from the wind that passed by.
My foot hit the can again, it bounced then wallowed down the cold tar, thin metal sound echoing once again through the quiet air.
There was a dying tale of the abandoned street. A serial killer once had his abode here. Every month, a person would go missing with no return, no trace except a single accessory the victims once possessed. They were so good at covering their tracks that the investigators could never quite figure out who they were, even though he lived on the exact same street. So the neighbours fled, and they never returned.
A killer just like me, but unlike mine, his intentions were neither pure nor just.
To assassinate the Quinns would mean putting an end to so much evil. But neither the hood nor Troy had a single proof that the Quinns were indeed guilty of their heinous acts. The burning feeling in everyone's bones of the horrid things the family did under the cover was just that, a feeling.
No solid evidence meant no action, no action meant continuity in the disruption of the order.
An order the hood forged hard to keep.
I only killed the evil and evil needed evidence. Something tangible than just a feeling and cryptic words of mouth spreading around, something of sight. We needed proof, proof of the mangled bodies found, proof that under their luxurious mansions weren't just caviar and overly expensive interiors.
I needed to obtain a reason to kill and just like the serial killer, the Quinns were incredibly good at covering their tracks.
Groaning, I pressed the heel of my palms into my temple before using them to fill my pockets once more.
I kicked the can down a lonely path, a lonely path that supposedly led down to a particularly lonely bench, my particularly lonely bench.
Except this time it wasn't lonely, there was some small pathetic thing all curled up and crying on it, sobbing against my bench.
Now, there wasn't a single way I was heading back home after coming this far to reach my favourite spot, so I weighed the two options: question its sudden, irritating presence or bear with the sob-shattering silence.
With a puff of irritated breath, I sat perched on the furthest end of the bench. Not exactly keen on starting a conversation with a snivelling stranger.
I pulled out my phone which now dinged with a notification, casting my gaze onto the lit screen.
My brows shot up so high I was sure they got swallowed by my hair.
Five hundred and fifty million Euros in promise of the completion of the mission.
Troy had no doubt lost every bit of his sanity.
Now that was too big an offer to pass up, and if the offer was that big, then the risks were no doubt bigger, enormous even.
If I really did accept the mission, certainly it wouldn't be one of the usual kill and flee approaches. Tough requirements were placed on going undercover for a few months because something told me Troy didn't just want elimination, he wanted information too.
The Quinns couldn't just be killed like that. The press would go mad over one of the greatest influencers and politicians suddenly dropping dead the following day, despite the fact a lot of people were already after them—
"Does it ever stop?"
I stiffened, slowly turned to whatever it was crumpled up beside me.
The thing speaks? And why was it trying to speak to me?
With a lifted brow, I humoured it. "What?"
"The pain?"
I hummed, "Depends,"muttered in disinterest, "What kind of pain?"
Wanting to plant my gaze back onto the screen in utter apathy of the conversation being started, it turned, letting out a sigh and our gazes collided.
I found my breath hitching.
It appears it was a she and it was beautiful.
The girl tilted her head, the dark made her features vague, deep brown skin, a heavy contrast to the green eyes that glistened sharply in the moonlight. She chewed on her lower glossed lip in thought, and–oh, for a moment too long, I forgot to breathe.
"Let's just say it's an immense one," she let out a chuckle, the sound soft but bitter, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of her dark green khaki printed hoodie.
The wind picked up, locks of dark curls flew across her face and my fingers itched to pull down the hood that masked the half of her face.
I gazed upon her silently, searching for something I couldn't remember, an answer to a question long forgotten.
I heard her whimper, hugging her knees tightly to herself.
The mere urge to look away overwhelmed my being. It's odd to see someone so…so comfortable in such a vulnerable position.
Incredibly pathetic, in fact, but what was this searing need to comfort her?
"Does it ever stop?" Her voice dropped to a whisper now as she gazed at the ground.
I didn't know what to say. Was I to offer false hope when mine never did? "I wish I could assure you that I was certain it did," I managed to let out earnestly. I didn't have a grasping clue about what she was on about, did I? In some sick way, it felt like I did.
A strike of lightning sprawled across the sky, illuminating the dark space for a brief moment. Too little time to see the greater part of her features.
The loud sound is followed by the gentle pouring rain from above.
"How do I make it stop?" She asked, unbothered by the cold rain now pattering down against us.
Silence reigned shortly as I picked my next words carefully. "I suppose you could wait it out," I began, hesitating. Her glassy eyes pierced into mine, urging me silently to continue, "Wait it out? Until it finally does grow numb, desensitised. Until you can barely feel it anymore," I paused, noting the way her eyes dimmed with what looked like disappointment. It didn't seem like what she wanted to hear, it didn't even seem like what she wanted to consider. Why then ask me when her mind had already been made up?
Snaking my hand around her side of the bench, I tilted my head to stare at the sky. Her eyes bored into my side. "Or you could settle on a faster option, darling. An easier one, in fact," I chuckled dryly, uttering the option she so desperately craved. "I'd say…" I drawled, feigning a moment of thought, deliberately piquing her curiosity. "Consider other paths."
"Other paths?" She pressed further, voice high, eyes searching, gaze watery.
"End it all," I even added a sigh, faking a reluctant admission.
My words seemed to hang heavy in the damp air and I turned my gaze to her. "Is that what you're so eager to hear?"
She looked away and that was all the answer I needed.
She was seeking to validate her decision, her very pathetic decision.
Except I was never one to offer validation.
The silence that came after that was nearly painful.
I reached forward, my fingers swerving her head sideways and tipping her chin upward. "Are you really that weak?" I muttered lowly, staring deep into her sage gaze.
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, fire igniting in them for a second as she pinned me with a boiling liquid glare.
Oh? She did have other emotions aside from sadness, vulnerability and hopelessness.
"Weak?" She swatted my hands roughly. Weak, but nevertheless, I retracted my hand still.
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, fire igniting in them for a second as she pinned me with a boiling liquid glare.
Oh? So she did have other states aside sadness, vulnerability and hopelessness?
I resisted the smirk that threatened to twist my lips. It was exactly the reaction I had hoped for, expected in fact. So she wasn't fully tears. That was good.
There was still hope to sway.
"Weak," I mumbled lowly, wiping a tear from her cheek with a calloused thumb.
"What do you know?"
"What do I know?" I chuckled, taunting. "I know for a fact you're just a weak pitiful little g—"
"I'm not," she cut in sharply, voice irritated.
"Wait then. Just a while longer," I leaned in slightly, uttering in her ears, "Prove me wrong."
She stared at me silently, eyes burning in a challenge. I wasn't certain if whatever reason for her decision was valid or not, if she really was weak or not. But to end one's life, to decide to stop living? That was a drastic decision. And for a moment, I found myself hoping she would take the bait, but then I watched the tears spill over, quenching whatever fire had ever erupted in her eyes.
Fuck.
No one spoke a word, a single glistening tear fell, proximity is ridden.
"I can't-I can't wait," was all she said, a break in her silky voice, nearly breaking my soul in the process.
I can't wait really did sound like I can't wait anymore.
Maybe she did try, did endure though I made it sound like she never did.
I didn't know how to take it back, didn't know why I was even concerned with taking it back, why I even cared.
But when her head rested gently upon my shoulder and the sweet scent of berries invaded my senses.
I decided I would say nothing, and somehow I found myself wishing she did.
Maybe it was the remaining shreds of humanity inside me.
Or maybe, it was that some time in my life I had once been like this crying stranger on the bench beside me except then, there was no one to offer solace during mine, no one to have shared my vulnerability with. No one capable of it. No one who cared. Maybe it was for the reason that I never stopped seeking solace.
But there was now.
I understood. I related.
And there were no more words that needed to be spoken as the comfort of tranquillity engulfed us whole.
Now, two strangers rested upon the old bench, an old bench that sat under a blinking street lamp, the cold rain pattering down on them unbothered. Both in search of solace from each other and you wonder…
The world could be so abstract sometimes.
I couldn't help but examine my stained clean hands.
Something about the presence of what I'd assume was a delicate soul beside me brought back the feeling of filth and guilt all over again. It evoked another feeling…a call to serenity, and usually I never really was one to succumb so easily, but I did this time.
It came to me then, the way to end the sudden unquenchable rage.
I would start over. I would kill the Quinns, and that would be the end. They'd make up for the innocents I destroyed, and then I would never crack the balance or break the pact or disrupt the order ever again.
I promise, Tobias.
Ironic, wasn't it? I craved a fresh beginning while at my side someone sought an irreversible end.
A mission paved the way for my rebirth and hers, to lack the will of what the sombers sought for.
Without another thought, I accepted the mission with a small message and nearly as soon as it showed read, the reply that came under it ruined my entire mood.
"Xavier's coming with you" with an irritatingly cheerful emoticon. Who was Xavier even?
Troy you sly, sly fuck.