Prologue: Retirement (1)

NOTICE

The prologue is written in third-person, however, the main story is told from the first person perspective. While it is not mandatory to read or skim through the prologue, I do recommend you do so just to grasp the basic backstory, as well as aid in comprehension and general understanding for a better expierence when reading chapter 1 and beyond, if you so choose. My third-person writing is still unpolished, so I do request you as a reader to make it to at least end of chapter 1 before you decide to continue or not. Cheers!

. . .

The wind was howling hoarsely when a shadow danced atop the roof.

His steps were light; each a gentle and rhythmical tap that filled the night. Before long, the shadow clad with black reached the illuminating window far at the centre of the villa. He stood at the edge of the balcony, waiting. A gust of wind brushed his face, revealing nothing but a pair of soulless eyes that was one with the darkness of night. His ears, pressed against the sliding doors, listened to the oogles and moans coming from inside. With a knot of disgust on his brows, there, he stood patiently.

"This is the upper echelons of society?" he mumbled, his breath languid.

The shadow peered from the balcony at the lapping waves of the pool. The wind hummed over the trees that surrounded over the villa. The trotting of the guards rang from the courtyard.

"Incompetent," the shadow stated with zero shred of emotion.

Heads swivelled upwards. Guards, perhaps out of reflex, pulled for guns and radios from their belt. But there was nothing in sight.

Then the silence descended, as if to prove that the voice earlier truly was nothing but of their imaginations. There was a clatter, but then shouting from the servants inside downed everything to peace once more. Though there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary, guards still dialed a number, prompter requesting for backup. Still wary, they stole glances at each other before resuming their patrol.

The shadow let out a dull smile as if this very scenario had been played out in front of him for a million times. The same, familiar cold breeze tickled his skin. The same shining crescent moon in the sky, and the same tight air, ridden with tension. It was perfect environment for assassination. His figure rustled. Conveniently, the moaning had stopped. He licked the blade of his dagger, and when the glint of moonlight reflected outwards, it beckoned him forth.

Sounds of the shower running filled his ears as he pressed against the window. Through a little crevice of the curtains and a little squinting, he could see the man buck naked sitting at the helm of the bed, his pudgy belly bare. He was reaching down digging around his pockets when the shadow knocked at the door. It garnered his attention. The target dialed a number on the phone as he walked closer and closer before his head and hand popped out the window. Just as he peered left and right, that was the moment the shadow grabbed his neck and striked.

. . .

There was a black Audi waiting for him when the shadow descended down the mountaintop villa. It's headlights turned to face him, casting a long and slender silhouette on the desolate streets; no streetlights nor other signs of life. The shadow stepped in patiently, before the engine throttled and the car disappeared.

They were halfway down main street and about to run a red light when sirens blared from behind them. Aside, the shape of what looked like a gang with clubs smashed a shop's windows. Screams and shouts followed from the people inside.

The shadow shuffled in his seat at the noise. Then his eyes sputtered open. He didn't respond any further on the commotion outside or even take a glance but instead lit a cigarette. His eyes lingered on the dashboard and the slender figure driving before motioning her to open the windows.

A sultry voice chuckled as she hit the brakes. "Sometimes I wonder if you're the boss."

The shadow didn't reply. In the awkward silence, his nose merely wrinkled at her scent of gunpowder and blood.

The sign of rejection and half-assed acknowledgement frustrated the woman.

"I'm the mafia head of a secret underground assassination organization! Of course I'll smell bad..." she muttered, trying to keep her breath steady and the leather of the steering wheel anymore scratched up.

Two minutes passed and the traffic lights still didn't run green.

The woman clicked her tongue in annoyance. Her hand was raised to honk button on the steering wheel when two warning shots rang from behind them. Though the soundproof windows of the car had muffled some of the sound, they were assassins, master criminals. Of course they recognized the gunshots in a matter of microseconds.

Maniacal waterfall of curses followed the gunshots, and then, the inevitable brawl. The woman sighed in defeat. Clearly, weren't going anywhere soon. The traffic police in the jurisdiction must've closed down all the roads.

The Audi sat at the intersection alone. Only the woman in the drivers seat seemed to realize that, and with a fiery look that flickered in her eyes, she turned around and threw a scorching hot gaze to her left.

Puffing her ruby-glazed lips, she leaned herself forwards with her scarlet dress glamouring in the moonlight. Her figure and looks spoke her confidence and danger—a seductress, a rose, as deemed by her enemies, who'd kill you without a second thought while you'd remain enamoured in a stupid daze.

Scarlet Rose of C.L.E.O, the leader of the country's most feared and renowned underground assassination organization. Fifteen years ago, they were no different from no-name mobsters that criminalized for a living. Nowadays, the demonic rose princess and her second-in-command showed no signs of stopping their rise.

Government officials quavered in their boots at their names. Crime syndicates dropped to their knees in their presence. The citizens never knew their horrifying existence that lived underground the cities. Even it's own members of the organization from undercover agents, spies, doctors, researchers and other assassins never knew the depths of the organization's network.

In other words, she couldn't care less about these street scuffles when her duties ranged from plotting the deaths of international ministers to evading the trails of the secret police and other agencies.

Under the guise of gunshots, cries and screams was the perfect setting for a budding romance for assassins.

BRZZT

"Boss, there's been news! The governor—just as you predicted—moved back to the military base. The coal mines at Mt. Kuala are free to take."

He was answered with silence.

"Boss...?"

"Hello?"

Scarlet Rose's fingers trembled as she hit the speaker button. Heaving herself, she composed herself back in the seat before bringing the radio to her ears as slow as possible.

"Boss? You still there? What's going on? Don't leave me hanging like this!"

She snapped. "You bastard! Always interrupting me when I'm flirting with Vincent. Fuck, my advances were working this time too! He shuffled in his seat, clearly hiding the thing in his pants—"

"Boss, you said that yesterday, but then Brother Vincent slept in a public restroom—" the voice at the other end retorted instantly, as if out of reflex. He then paused, clearly noticing something was off in his words.

"—you..." Scarlet Rose murmured. "Do you truly believe, that, I won't skin you alive and throw you to Hannibal to cook and the two of us will have a nice meal together for dinner if you don't stop talking?"

The childish voice that came through phone shrieked. "No boss, y-you can't do that! Hannibal is TOO creepy, so scary... Brother Vincent won't let you! He won't! Never, ever!"

"You're breaking my eardrums. Calm down, Sicily." Scarlet Rose sighed, rubbing her ears with two hands. She glanced at the shadowy figure, whom sat with his legs crossed and stared out the car window. His cigarette was long gone. Whether or not he heard the conversation or not, he remained aloft and disinterested as always.

"But he'll let me for sure."

The two on the phone went silent at that statement.

Sicily could only begrudgingly agree; a hint of hurt in his voice. "Yeah. He won't care. Brother Vincent doesn't care about anything."

"This walking doom-and-gloom cloud is so—" Scarlet Rose gritted her teeth. Her fingers did a little tap dance around the steering wheel but it did no good in calming her down. She was about to unleash her nails against the leather dashboard when Sicily suddenly hushed her.

"Boss, boss! Shh. Shh! There IS something Brother Vincent cares about, and only one thing," Sicily murmured slowly, as if he wasn't sure if this was the right thing to say.

"Speak." Scarlet Rose didn't even notice that their voices were growing softer and softer and more and more suspicious. And while she felt calmer, her heartbeat was thumping more erratic then during any of her missions, ever.

"But you have to promise me you won't feed me to Hannibal," Sicily whimpered. "And, and, I get to go on vacation. Particularly... at the orphanage!"

"Okay, I hear you," she agreed, eagerly waiting for the golden secret.

In truth, she didn't hear anything after the word 'promise', either because the commotion behind at the shop grew too loud or her brain simply tuned it all out. Sicily too must've thought the latter, for he remained silent the whole moment before he whispered some incessant nonsense into the phone. Then he exhaled, finally relaxed.

"So? What about it? Tell me already."

"Brother Vincent—"

"Yes!"

"—C.L.E.O's second-in-command, the country's most feared assassin, is actually—"

"Get to the point already, you damn brat!" Scarlet Rose roared. She couldn't hold it in any longer. Her nails started to hurt at how hard her grip on the phone was.

Scarlet Rose was seconds away from tearing both the car and Sicily apart when the hues and cries outside drew to a disturbing pause. The firing stopped and so had the angst voices and shouts. She flicked a quick glance backwards but returned her full, undivided attention to the phone.

"My daughter! My daughter—!! Don't hurt her, please!" A woman, presumably a mother shrieked from aside. They had been hiding in one of the isles when the chaos broke out, but amidst the all the fighting and destruction of the shop they were eventually discovered; the little girl taken hostage.

"Mama, mama, waa—MRFFF!"

"Drop the weapons else I'm blasting her head off!"

The officer's guns were instantly lowered to their sides. Their eyes were narrow glares of both disgust and desperation. They could only watch rendered helpless, as the other groaning mobsters took the opportunity to themselves up.

From the phone, Sicily was muttering about how guarded this secret was and the consequences if his Brother Vincent would do the him if he ever found out. He could feel the heavy atmosphere through the phone, and it couldn't be ignored any longer. Sicily asked, "What's going on there? You okay, boss?"

"And who would want to mug a old hag like the boss unless they have brain-damage or wants a death wish..." he added, perhaps a little louder than he'd wanted.

"You, you damn brat must be messing me with." Scarlet Rose muttered. She inhaled deep breaths, remembering what she wanted and what she needed from the brat. She needed to put up with him. "Nothing is the matter, Sicily. Nothing. Just some small gang-fight with the police. And I'll only be okay after you just tell me about the thing. Tell. me. it!"

TING

Windows shattered into pieces as soon as Scarlet Rose finished. Everything came to a halt again. In the silence, only the muffled cries of the little girl surrounded the streets.

"There's snipers!"

"Boss, we gotta run!" The mobsters cried out.

"Tch!"

"Don't you dare move!" An array of officers step forwards, but they froze in place when as the ringleader of the mobsters turned around. This time, there were no bluffs. Pressed against the girl's head really was a gun.

"Your words, not mine. Don't you dare move!" The mobster hoisted her upwards by the collar of her dress. The little girl squirmed and gagged.

An officer couldn't bear the scene any longer. He hollered, "You—bastards! What do you want?"

Although the little girl was whimpering and struggling, she could sense that her captor was distracted. With two coughs, she sent one kick with all her might at his stomach. His knees buckled and he couldn't finish his sentence.

The little girl ran as fast as her legs could take her to her mother's side. Shot and tears dribbled down her face. She couldn't stop trembling at what she had just done and the scariest thing she had just gone through. Her moment of freedom didn't last. To the horror of everyone on site, the little girl stumbled. Behind her, the mobster had recovered and he snarled. Once more he grabbed by the helm of her dress and dragged her backwards into an arm-choke.

The mobster stood up, panting. In his pockets, something vibrated, making him sneer. His tongue slurped up all the blood that dripped from the cracked corners of his mouth before his eyes turned a maniacal red.

"mmHH—AHHH!!" The little girl cried as she was held by her hair.

"B-boss, you're sure everything is alright over there?" Sicily asked, his voice dripping with concern.

"Sicily. Tell me. The thing. Already!" Scarlet Rose heaved. By this point, she was exhaling fumes and couldn't care less about whatever that was going on outside.

"Beat it, kid. No more chances. Blame the petty law enforcement for your life—"

BANG! Another gunshot rung out and everything from the tears, the faces of horror, and to the bullet froze.

"—okay then. Prepare yourself, boss." Sicily drew in a deep breath. "Brother Vincent only cares about little girls."

Scarlet Rose spun around in pure admonishment amidst the silence.

But the shadow was gone. The doors was left open, swaying in the wind and the seat-belt left unbuckled in a mess.

The words and individual letters of 'little girl' repeated and rearranged itself over and over again in Scarlet Rose's mind.

Then it all finally clicked: what Sicily's words meant and where he'd gone. She lunged herself forwards to adjust the rear-view mirror but the only thing she could see was Vincent walking calmly back to the car, the mobster's body surrounded by the police and the little girl wrapped by her mother's arms. He didn't say anything as he entered the car.

"You—"

Two taps of his foot interrupted her. Behind, two policeman were running over with a notepad and pen in hand. Scarlet Rose got the signal immediately and stepped on the gas. Her words would have to come out later. The Audi breezed off down the empty roads and disappeared, leaving behind nothing but dust.

. . .

In a few minutes, they were drifting on a exit ramp and onto the highway. Whether or not the skidding earlier was an intentional show of skills by Scarlet Rose weren't clear, but the dozens of near misses and high-speed lane changes clearly were. Even so, Vincent remained unimpressed, much to Scarlet Rose's fury. She made sure she let him know with a grit of her teeth. Why was night time scene of the city and the other speeding cars so much more important than her? Why is caring about 'little girls' even supposed to mean?

Even the matters and planning of the flawless presidential assassinations months ago were never as head-wrenching to Scarlet Rose as flirting and trying to bed her beloved. Her fingers gently pounded on the dashboard. Seconds later, a romantic piano tune enveloped the car. She hummed along silently, sneaking peeks from time to time. When his glance (finally) landed on her, her fingers on the wheel squealed and almost spun the car around.

"Rose," he said, flicking his gaze at the road. "Pay attention."

Sicily giggled. Somehow, he was still in the call. "Boss always drives like a crazy person."

Being red and flustered made Scarlet Rose terribly uncomfortable. She was used to things being the other way around: where she had control of everything. But these were her most trusted subordinates and her one and only, so things would have to fly. Anyhow, being red, flustered and not even having the chance to retort or explain things made her feel even worse. She made a mental note to punish Sicily and his excitement after whatever the hell he has to say and what was so important to cheer for.

"Report, report! The governor... it looks like he's moving to the capital! He's left the military base! Brother Vincent, this is the prime opportune for you to strike. I have my cameras ready already. It's been so long since I've watched you at work!"

"Read the coordinates aloud, Sicily. I can speed up my plans," Scarlet Rose said.

"Lat of 36.64, Long of 108.89, two miles north of the military base. He's escorted through the forest. I'm tracking their path right now!"

"We'll be there in less than 7 minutes." She glanced to her side, locking eyes with him. "You ready?"

Vincent remained his usual silence. He held eye contact with her. The bottomless pit devoid of mirth and life was both mesmerizing and heart-breaking for Scarlet Rose. She was the first to concede, turning her attention to the road. A faint hotness crept on her cheeks. She didn't know how to act around him anymore, after the fifteen long years they've been together.

"Rose. Sicily," Vincent finally spoke. He grabbed their full attentions and Rose's shock as he revealed his mask for the first time in years. "I'm going to retire."