Objective

        Atalia entered the ink black alley, fearless as the darkness consumed her. She couldn’t see anything but the black that surrounded her, she couldn’t feel anything but the sharp, cold air that bit at her exposed skin, she couldn’t hear anything but the echoes of her footsteps.
        A voice whispered in her ear, “Is your mission complete?”
        Atalia’s heart skipped in surprise. She could never get used to the suddenness of that voice. Outwardly she didn’t flinch, she didn’t stop, she didn’t so much as change pace.
        “Yes,” she replied.
        She felt the necklace she had kept from her last victim slide out from her pocket. She knew better than to turn around, anyone stupid enough to do that wouldn’t make it out of here alive. “I see…” whispered the voice.
        Atalia’s footsteps continued to echo in the distance. She waited for another response. It came, “Your next mission can be found on 7th street, under the freeway. He’ll be alone. Good luck…”
        The world around Atalia brightened; she stepped back onto the bustling streets of the city.
        A dark sweatshirt and loose pair of jeans covered Atalia’s body, making her inconspicuous as she moved through the crowded streets. If only they knew what I carry underneath… thought Atalia as she took in the unsuspecting faces of the hundreds of people around her. I could kill them all with just the flick of my thumb…
        Killing was something Atalia thought of often; killing was her profession. She hadn’t become a killer by choice- well, actually, that was somewhat of a lie. She had been offered a choice: become an assassin or die.
        When she first got the letter she thought it was some sort of sick joke; until a bullet grazed her ear. They were serious.
        She had thought to call the police. They intercepted her call, they gave her instructions.
        A series of tests had ensued from there: promotion came when you passed, death came when you failed.
        She had no idea who she was working for, or why they were doing this. All she knew was that she was alive.
        She turned down another alley and began to climb the fire escape of the nearest building. One more kill and I can sleep for the day, she thought as she went hand over hand up the rungs of the ladder.
        She reached the top of the ladder and crossed to the far edge of the roof. Above Atalia’s head loomed a large, thunderous overpass, but below… crouched beside one of the monstrous pillars holding up the freeway was the small, pathetic figure of her next victim.
        They want me to kill this guy? He looks like he’s already on the verge of death. He probably doesn’t need my help to keel over. But, nonetheless, the job had to be done. Best to get it over with so she could go to bed.
        No need to waste bullets on this tumbleweed. A small throwing knife appeared in the cradle of her palm. This should do it. Her hand moved in a swift blur, less than a second and it would be over. He wouldn’t know what hit him; she would finally be able to go to sleep. She blinked. He was gone.
        What the-?!
        “Looking for me?”
        She wheeled around to see her supposed victim standing opposite her on the very same roof.
        How in the he-!
        “Don’t be alarmed,” he said smoothly. His languid movement led her to believe him. She knew better.
        Her muscles coiled, her body fell into a deep crouch. This time a pistol slid in each hand. She wasn’t taking chances.
        “I’m not going to hurt you.”
        Yeah right! Her arms came up, a squeeze of the triggers releasing a bullet each to his brain and heart. They flew through the air, dead on. He disappeared.
        Damn Houdin-
        SLAM! Pain exploded in the back of Atalia’s head, her body fell forward. Inches before her face hit cement Atalia regained control, rolling to safety. She crouched near to the ground, every sense searching for her assailant.
        “You aren’t going to kill me,” a voice whispered into her ear. Her arm lashed out, but her blade only met empty air.
        Her other ear: “You’ll never catch me.” Again she struck, again nothing.
        Behind her: “You know why?”
        She whipped around, ready to counter an attack. No one.
        This time the voice echoed across the distance behind her. “Because I trained you.” She turned around and there, on the other side of the roof with his hands in his pockets, was the frail form of her target.
        The long, flowing coat that enwrapped his body diminished his lean, twenty-year old frame. The coat seemed to swallow the man whole as it blew in the wind, threatening to carry him away with the next breeze.
        Atalia reached for her next set of weapons. “What are you talking about?”
        “I am the best of the Assassins; I am the one who trained you.”
        “If you’re one of us, then why was I ordered to kill you?” The grenades sat ready in her hand, there was no way he could escape this. But first she wanted some answers.
        “Conflict of interests, I don’t work for the council anymore.”
        “The council?”
        “They’re the people you work for.”
        “Ah, I see.” The bombs flew out of her hands, she caught a glimpse of him moving to the right, but it was already too late. Explosions were going off everywhere; the grenades had just been the frontal assault.
        BOOM! The ensuing earthquake shook the neighborhood, the crashing debris sending up rolling clouds of dirt. Atalia watched with a satisfied grin as the clouds grew and rolled toward her with gaining speed. They were almost upon her. She waited with excited anticipation. She loved the thrill of racing a debris cloud.
        An arm shot out of the cloud.
        ?!
        Before she could react it slammed into her torso, carrying her backwards several feet. The dirt cloud crashed upon her, blasting her with a wall of dust; she hit the ground, her legs and arms somehow bound. She struggled to see in the gloom as her lungs began to fill with debris. She coughed violently, her body struggling to kick out the suffocating dirt, but every gasp only flooded her lungs with more.
        Something engulfed her face. Atalia tried to react, but she was overcome by another violent coughing fit. When at last it subsided she gasped for air, though she knew it would only be more- oxygen? She took another deep breath. This bastard tackles me, ties me up, then gives me oxygen?? What’s his deal??
        She began again to search for him in the gloom, but the only sign of his presence was the voice that floated out of the shifting darkness.
        “Why do you kill, Atalia?”
        He knows my name?? She didn’t answer.
        The soft, gentle voice floated up to her ears again. She felt compelled to answer. “Because I don’t want to die.” Dammit! He laced the oxygen with something!
        “Hmm, that sounds pretty straightforward, are you a straightforward thinker?”
        “I suppose so.” Shut up!
        “But you’re also a coward, aren’t you?”
        “Yes.” No I’m not! Who the hell does this bastard think he is??
        “Are you ashamed?”
        “Yes.” No!
        “I see. Then you’re perfect for the job.” What job? “You see, the council is an ugly thing. They choose who lives and who dies to advance their own greedy agendas. I say, it’s their turn to die.”  
       “Doesn’t that make you just as bad as them?” she spat bitterly.
       His voice laughed, echoing in the swirling dust. Atalia noticed a faint brightness seeping into the world around her. “I guess it does. But tell me this: would you rather kill good guys, or bad guys?”
        “Bad guys.” Ok, this is getting ridiculous. Can somebody please get this bag off my head and shove the dust back in to keep the stupid from falling out of my mouth?
        “Perfect.” Silence pressed upon them, but only for a moment before he continued, “You’ve always had a choice, Atalia. Do the right thing and die, or make the wrong choice and live. The right choice, of course, being to sacrifice your own life to spare the lives of others. You’re conscious tells you to do what is right, but your instincts are stronger, you always choose survival. Well, this time I’ll make things easier for you: this time if you want to live you’ll have to make the right choice, you’ll have to help me kill the bad guys.”
        Atalia was furious. Who the hell is he to decide what’s right?! That bastard needs to get his head on straight, there’s more to this world than just good guys and bad guys! She pulled at her restraints; she writhed against the floor she lay on, but to no avail.
        The voice shifted merrily through the murk, “If you have any doubts, consider this: you have failed your mission, now they have to kill you.” An obscenely cheerful laugh drifted out of the distance.
        The dust was beginning to settle, Atalia could see that her victim couldn’t stay hidden for much longer. Then the game would be hers.
        Just as Atalia reached her conclusion, a faint odor began to taint the air around her head, slowly seeping into her lungs. She held her breath, knowing she wouldn’t be able to delay for long, but knowing she could delay for long enough. She had plenty of time…
        A whisper came to her ear, “By the way, when next you visit your darkened alley, it won’t be quite so dark.”
        What is he- WHAM! A fist made solid contact with Atalia’s gut. She doubled over in pain, gasping for air, sucking in that pervading odor.
        Wait! No! Already she was slipping away from consciousness. I just- Almost- blackness…

        Cold hard stone pressed against Atalia’s cheek; as she listened she could hear the heightened whistle of wind. I’m still on the roof. She opened her eyes, confirming her assumption. The freeway still stretched overhead with its rumbling traffic, the blare of sirens rang through the air below as emergency vehicles responded to the gaping hole of destruction behind her.
        Her eyes combed every nook and cranny, every shadow, every crevice above and below, but there was no sign of her victim-turned-assailant. She sat up and peered over the edge of the roof. From the looks of it, the crowd below had been there a while, the impatient onlookers demanding answers from a worn officer.
        “We don’t know anything yet, ma’am… No, it probably wasn’t a terrorist attack…”
        A few other officers could be heard further into the crime scene.
        “…Yeah, that building’s been checked out…”
        “…how ‘bout… go up and clear the roof…”
        Shit! I have to get out of here. Atalia jumped to her feet, but was immediately overcome by a swirling headache and a wave of nausea. She couldn’t afford to leave DNA behind, but she couldn’t afford to stay here much longer either.
        She relieved her stomach over the edge of the roof and watched as it splattered upon the pavement of the alley below. Her stomach finally settled, she took off.
        Atalia hadn’t gone more than three buildings before she realized she didn’t know where she was going. Nevertheless, she continued to run from building to building as she sorted through her options.
        So, first option: I run and hope they don’t find me, but when they do, which they will, I will be stuck fighting off other assassins until they finally kill me.
        Option B: I go to my assigned sleeping quarters, business as usual, and hope they don’t have an ambush set up.
        Or, I could just walk straight into the Dark Alley and hope my mysterious friend comes through.
        She paused in front of a fire escape. A long sigh emitted from her lips as she rubbed a hand across her forehead.
        Well, I may be a coward, but I refuse to go down running. Beyond that, if I take the fight to the enemy, at least I’ll have the edge of surprise… I hope…
        She took in a deep breath, swung her legs over the edge of the roof, and proceeded to climb down the fire escape.
        Once on the ground Atalia found it easy to go out onto the main street and weave her way through the crowds; the hard part was forcing her legs to bring her closer to that Dark Alley and certain death.
        The alley appeared in the distance along the road. Every muscle and instinct told her to run, but she silenced the impulse. No matter what she did now she was guaranteed death, except this way held some hope that she could make it out alive.
        She crossed to the side of the street opposite the alley, checking the rooftops for signs of lurking assassins.
        When she reached the edge of the road she looked out into the alley that had meant death for so many. Except… something was off.
        The alley- it wasn’t dark. She could see right into it, just like any other alley.
        This can’t be right. She looked around and saw that the alley lay between a dim pub and a corner store, same as always… Why is it suddenly so bright? What the hell is going on??
        A man in the alley noticed her. He stood there, staring, openly staring. Atalia felt extremely uncomfortable under the man’s gaze. She couldn’t decide whether to shoot him or walk away.
        What if he’s trying to distract me? She suddenly thought. A quick glance to the roofs and surrounding street told her there were still no other assassins- yet.
        “What are you waiting for?” A voice called out.
        Atalia’s eyes widened with fear. Th-That’s the voice!
        Her eyes snapped back to the alley to find the man still staring at her. Is he??...
        The man called out soothingly, “Come on, Atalia. I won’t hurt you.”
        N-no way!! Her hand flashed and a bullet shot out across the street, the man crumpled to the ground.
        Atalia stood there, dazed, her weapon still held out in front of her. He wasn’t expecting that…Why wasn’t he expecting that?...
        Shrill screams tore into Atalia’s reverie. The crowd around her erupted into panic. Some pointed in terror, others ran for their lives. Shit.
        Atalia shot through the scrambling crowd and into the now vacant alley, disappearing into the distant streets on the other side.  

        “What the hell is going on?” It was the middle of the night, Atalia sat atop a towering skyscraper, her legs dangling over the edge. Her mysterious victim-turned-assailant sat beside her.
        “I already told you, I need your help to kill the council.”
        “No you don’t, you’ve already kicked my ass twice.” She tried not to remember the royal butt-whooping he had given her a few minutes back when she had tried to kill him again. Let’s just say that when his cheery face popped up she was pissed, but he was quick.
        “Well, you’re right, I don’t, but I still want your help.”
        “You’re not making any sense. I’m no different than the others.”
        “How would you know? You haven’t met any others.”
        “I-“ she stopped midsentence. Damn, he’s right. I’d never even seen the face of another assassin before I killed Mr. Voice back there. “Wait, then how did I know people had died in that alley before?”
        “You didn’t.”
        “What? If you don’t start making sense I’m going to-“
        “What?” he calmly replied.
        She glared at him, absolutely fuming. She gritted her teeth for a few moments before finally saying in cold, measured tones, “Could you please be a little more specific and explain what the hell is going on here? Why wasn’t the alley dark?”
        “The same reason you think people have died in that alley.”
        It took every ounce of self-control Atalia possessed to keep her head from exploding. “Which is??”
        “You were hypnotized.” He succinctly replied.
        She stared at him, waiting for more. When none came she said, “What?”
        “You were hypnotized.”
        “When?”
        “On one of your training missions.”
        “Why?”
        “To set up boundaries and rules.”
        “Boundaries?”
        “Yeah, to keep you from finding them should you suddenly decide to kill them and regain your freedom.”
        “So the dark alley was…”
        “A boundary set up to keep you from interrogating or otherwise killing one of their agents. Should you rebel, he would have been your only link to the rest of them.” So that’s why he wasn’t expecting my attack…
        She leaned back and let out a long sigh. Man, extracting information from this guy is like trying to pull teeth from a rock.
        “So how could I see him today?”
        “I hypnotized you.”
        She rounded on him, “You what?”
        “I hypnotized you.”
        She sat back and crossed her arms as she glared at the night sky. “I heard you the first time.”
        They sat in silence for a while, the stranger staring at the sky, Atalia waiting for more answers. When it became apparent that they weren’t coming, she forged on, “So why do you want my help?”
        “I think there’s another question you should be asking me first.”  
        Atalia scoured her brain for another question, but she couldn’t think of anything more pressing. “I’m lost, what should I be asking you?”
        “My name.”
        Atalia was dumbfounded. She hadn’t realized that she still didn’t know his name, but at the same time, she didn’t care. “You already know mine, what difference does it make?”
        “My name’s Demathrin.”
        “That’s nice, so why do you want my help?”
        “You know, you’re a very rude person.”
        “Well, when you kill everyone you meet you don’t exactly get much chance to practice your manners. Now, can you please answer my question?”
        “Doesn’t that make you lonely?”
        “Huh, well- yeah, I guess, but can we please stay on topic? You still haven’t answered my question!”
        “I believe I just did.”
        “Huh?!”
        “Just ponder that for a while.”
        She did. And the more she thought about it the more ashamed she felt. Here he was, an assassin like herself with no friends, no family, just people to kill, and he was sitting here, the first person to have a conversation with her in years, and she hadn’t even asked his name.
        “Well,” said Demathrin as he picked himself up off the ledge. “It’s time to get to work.”
        Confused, Atalia followed suit. “Get to work?”
        He looked at her for a moment, pulling a black glove onto one hand before saying, “You know, for someone who wants answers so bad you aren’t very good at filling in the blanks yourself.”
        “And for someone so deadly, your name sounds like a prescription.” Lame comeback.
        He turned and finished pulling on the other glove before walking off. “So.”
        She jogged a couple steps until she was standing beside him. “So, what are we doing?”
        It was his turn to let off a sigh. “We’re assassins, we kill people. Now go to East 43rd and in Room 742 of the Laxor apartment complex you’ll find your victim, a member of the council. That’ll be the seventh floor, ninth window from the right if you choose to go in through the window. But watch out, there should be three assassins guarding him, one on the apartment, one on the building opposite, and one with the man himself.”
        “Wait!” She caught his sleeve before he could take off. “Why the hell should I take orders from you?”
        He stopped and looked her in the eyes. “Do you trust me?”
        Common sense said no, but for some reason… she did.
        He knew her answer. “Have fun.” He was gone.

        Dammit, now what do I do? Atalia sat on the corner of 40th and Monroe, not sure what to do next. I’ve never fought another assassin before. A quick flashback reminded her of her fight with Demathrin. That doesn’t count, she thought bitterly. She took in a deep breath. Okay, well, I’ll just have to go in just like I do any other kill… except they’re assassins and they’ll hear or see me coming from a mile away… Damn this is going to be hard.
        With that she turned and made her way into the darkness of the nearest alley.

        A dark figure lurked in shadows on the roof of the Laxor apartment complex. Wary of every shuffle and sound he kept his eyes sharp, keen to pick up on any movement.
        BOOM! The next building over erupted into a fireball. The figure jumped, tense as he took in the sight of the diminishing explosion. Before he could pull out of his reverie a bullet slammed into the back of his skull.
        Atalia opened the door leading down into the complex. One more to go.  
        She crept down into the stairway, vigilant, yet relaxed. Any minute now… Click-Click! Rookie mistake. She spun and dropped in one smooth motion, the bullet shooting from her gun before she could even see her target. It didn’t matter. By the time she could see him he lay in a crumpled heap.
        Now for the objective. Atalia slipped on an ornate mask and exited the stairway.
        Golden numbers gleamed from the doorways that lined the hall. 732, 733… Ah, there’s our guest of honor. Five doors down a man shot out of his apartment. He glanced down the hallway, his sweat drenched face streaked with terror. He saw Atalia. He ran.
        Atalia calmly raised her weapon and squeezed the trigger. Objective met.
        She walked down the hall and stepped over the bleeding body. The push of a button summoned the elevator. Once inside another button brought her to the Main Lobby.
        The elevator doors opened. Atalia walked out into the crowd, though the front doors, and into the night.  

        “What the hell was that??”
        “What was what?” Demathrin asked innocently from their meeting place in the darkened park. He sat lazily sprawled across a park bench.
        “You know what!” she yelled, throwing her mask at him. “You gave me a novice mission! What- did you think I couldn’t handle it? Did you think you’d be a gentleman and take the hard missions for yourself??”
        “I took them all for myself.”
        “WHAT?”
        “Well, aside from the one I gave you of course.”
        “Ergh!” Atalia plopped down in the grass in front of him. “Are you telling me that you’re gonna make me sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you go out and do all the dirty work?”
        “It’s already done.”
        “What?”
        “Are we really going to start up with the interrogations again?”
        Atalia stood up, furious. “Yes! Answers! Now!”
        Demathrin held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, calm down. While you were out I took out the council and the remaining assassins.”
        Atalia didn’t doubt that he could have easily done just that, but that didn’t mean she was very happy about it. “Ok, so now what? The council members are dead, mission accomplished. Now what do we do?”
        “You take all the blame for the killings and bombings in the city while I go out and start a new killing spree of my own.”
        “Wait- What?”
        “You sure do like that word tonight.”
        Despite his joking Atalia was dead serious. “That’s not funny. What the hell are you talking about? I thought we did this to put an end to the killing.”
        “We did this to put an end to the council’s killings. Things were getting out of hand; the council wasn’t taking orders any more. It was time for me to clean the slate and start anew.”
        Atalia was confused, her mind couldn’t grasp onto the full extent of what was going on. “Start anew?”
        “This venture has run its course; I invested my power in the council, using them to multiply my power through students such as you. But they grew corrupt, as all men do when given the power to kill, and now I’m left to put an end to yet another venture.”
        “Venture? …What kind of venture? Why the hell did you drag me into all this?”
        Demathrin let out a sigh. “You really do ask too many questions, Atalia. I’ll put it to you simply and leave you to fill in the blanks. You’ve learned to be an assassin, I’m sure you can learn to think on your own: like you, the media asks too many questions. But, unlike you, they are satisfied with simple answers. Everyone is burning to know who is behind all the killings in this town. I’m too busy to take the fall, so instead they’ll have to settle for you.”
        “Wha-“
        The bite of cold metal pressed against the skin of Atalia’s neck. She felt a warm trickle slide down her skin. Demathrin was no longer sitting on the bench. She held her breath.
        “It’s nothing personal, Atalia.”

        The next morning they found her body.
        Several days later an anchorwoman reported on the morning news: “Police have found both Surveillance and DNA evidence linking the mysterious figure of Atalia Therin to several major crime scenes around the area, including several murders and a number of bombings. Due to this and other circumstantial evidence, Police believe that it is safe to say that these were not the work of terrorists, but rather, the work of one Atalia Therin…”