The Assassin | Teen Ink

The Assassin

April 22, 2013
By Sayonwiter101, Catonsville, Maryland
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Sayonwiter101, Catonsville, Maryland
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Favorite Quote:
"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." ~Elanor Roosevelt


Welcome to the world of Sayon, a place where the past, present, and the future meet at the same time. Kings and queens govern the land and high tech cruisers glide through the sky. This is where legend and myths are real. This is where mythical creatures like phoenixes and griffins roam the sky and land. You can find the most high tech inter-dimensional portals and the oldest kind of treasures known. This is the home of Sayons, who are like humans but have magical abilities and extraordinary skills and an everlasting connection to Mother Nature. This is the home to the most dangerous dragons to the sweetest fairy. This is the home of the unexpected and where the impossible is possible.

It was a gloomy, rainy night at the town of Ravans. The rain felt like bricks, dull taps storming the streets. A dark, forbidding building rose out into the sky. Its towers loomed in haughtily, throwing dancing shadows onto the asphalt. Various guards, positioned in areas unseen, had their sniper rifles cocked and ready, extra ammunition by their side. They would shoot on sight, even if it was a mere stray dog.
Ravans Inter-dimensional Police Station was inscribed above the building’s entrance, untouched by the rain that pelted from the heavens. Inside, men and women worked tirelessly and silently, always on the alert. If danger announced its arrival, they would be there to answer; like always.
The station was well known for its victories, particularly against the deadly criminal organization, Red Hawk. Rumors said that after the organization crumbled, a new one sprung out of its ruins, one more dangerous than the last.
There was a sudden blur in the guard’s scope and he leaned forward. The rain was still unforgiving, roaring against the din of the thunder. Lightning illuminated the guard’s surroundings and he narrowed in to where he had seen the blur. There was nothing there.
He sat back, unsure of what to do next. He was new to the job, temporarily filing in for a friend who had called in sick. If only he knew that his friend’s sickness had been faked for a catastrophe waiting to happen.
A shadow passed over the full moon and the feeble stream of moonlight faded, darkness clouding the station. The young guard shivered and sat back on his haunches, checking the chamber of his rifle. It was full.
He checked his watch which read a quarter to twelve.
Almost time for my shift to be over, he thought. Thank God.
He clutched his rifle tighter, the water trickling over the black metal. He raised the rifle back to his shoulder and looked through the infrared scope. The street was empty and the metal gate surrounding the station distantly hummed with electricity, keeping the unwanted out. But the unwanted had arrived.
There was crunch to his left and the young man whipped toward that direction, the rifle cocked. He took a silent step forward and cautiously creped in the shadows. He turned a corner, reaching a door in the east tower. His fingers fumbled with the card on his belt but he managed to slide it into the slot.
The green light flashed and he hurried inside the safety of the tower.
“Damn cold out there, isn’t it Harry?”
The voice sliced through the silence and the guard whipped around, his rifle raised.
“That you Johnny?” he tried his best to keep the tremble out of his voice but his hands would not stop shaking. He only hoped that the voice didn’t see it.
He heard somebody laugh, a deep, dry haunting sound.
That can’t be Johnny.
Before he could do anything else, the young guard was swept off his feet, his head hitting the cold stone floor. He gasped, wheezing for breath, scrambling to find his rifle. But it was too late.
The shot rang in the silence, like an arrow piercing through the air, landing on its target; bull’s eye.
Blood pooled from the guard’s head, his hand crunching against the heavy boots as the man stepped over him.
The man smiled, his eyes glowering menacingly.
When the Stranger strikes, he strikes hard.
He smiled once more and before a blink of an eye, he was gone.

“Fox to Ranger, repeat, Fox to Ranger.”
The guard pressed his finger against the radio transmitter on his shoulder.
“Ranger in, what is it?”
There was static in his ear before he could make out the voice of Fox.
“There seems to be an infiltration. A guard was recently shot in the east wing and there may have been more. We believe that—”
The voice was cut off by a shout and a series of gunshots before the familiar static took its place.
“Ranger to Fox! Fox, are you in?!”
The static was his only answer.
The guard gripped his machine gun tighter, his knuckles becoming white.
Suddenly, he felt a brush of air, as if something very quick passed by him.
The guard whipped around, only to receive an elbow to the chin. He stumbled backwards, holding his broken jaw. There was a blur and the sound of a muffled gunshot. The guard’s eyes widened, blood pouring from the hole in his gut. He gasped, clutching his stomach, whimpering in pain. Luckily, he was given the gift of mercy and the pain filled whimpers could no longer be heard.
The Stranger stared at the dead guard emotionlessly, letting the rain clean the blood off of the semi-automatic rifle.
Only twenty more to go.
Thunder crackled and lightning streaked through the sky, its branches of light illuminating the empty spot where the man once stood.

“Sir, all the men on the patrol are dead.”
The head of the security division only grunted, his hazel eyes holding a faraway look.
“Alright, tell the rest to be on the alert. We have an intruder. I want him or her alive, understood?”
The sergeant nodded and quickly scurried out of the room. He scrambled through the dark corridors, going as fast as his short, stocky legs could take him.
Saton Crefan, I hope you know what you’re doing, he thought. Because this is bigger than what it seems to be. And one thing’s for sure, he bit his lip, doubt pressing in the dark depths of his mind. You’re not ready for it.

The Stranger stood, fallen bodies surrounding him in a ring of death.
That’s everyone in this shithole, he thought.
But before he could disappear in the safety of the shadows, the sirens rang and he could hear the distant thumping of feet.
A guard rounded the corner, falling as the Stranger executed a perfect trick, sweep kick. Within seconds, the man was dead.
Over the next few minutes, men and women fell to the clutches of Death, their moans a plea for mercy.
But the Stranger was far from hearing. He was here to find vital information and this he would get done.
He nimbly avoided the dead bodies that littered the floor and strolled into a room, an air of cockiness and relaxation hovering around him.
He wore a brown rain coat that reached his lower calves. He was tall and had a large brown hat to cover his face and black sunglasses to cover his eyes. His slender fingers clasped around his back as he approached a man sitting behind the metal desk.
The man’s dusty brown boots rested on top of the metal desk. He was reading a magazine but raised his head; his white bushy eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Already, the man had his hand on his silver pistol, his hands shaking as he unholstered it; the Stranger said nothing but took in the guard’s features.
He seemed to be in his late sixties and a little chubby. He had white thinning hair and his mustache was just as bushy as his eyebrows. He was wearing a uniform with the symbol of a phoenix. This was the sign of the Ravans inter-dimensional police station. A badge shone on his shirt but the Stranger ignored it.
Just another guard to kill in order to achieve the mission, he thought, and this brought a smile to his cold, hard face.
“I’d like to meet the head of the Ravans security division,” he said, his voice utterly emotionless.
The man had his gun cocked but the Stranger’s rifle was already on the man’s forehead, his finger on the trigger.
The guard’s withered face went cold. Even though the man seemed to be calm and relaxed, there was something suddenly vicious about him. The guard peered at the man more closely.
The Stranger’s lips were thin and chiseled. His eyes were covered in dark shades and his face had a few scars. The guard noticed something out of the corner of his eye. The man had made a slight movement with his hand, revealing a long ugly scar on his wrist.
The gun was equipped with a silencer so no one could hear the bullet leaving the barrel of the gun and gorging through the guard’s skull, his mouth formed in a surprised “O”.
The Stranger stared at the lifeless body and muttered something. With a quick motion of his hand, the guard was lifted into the air and out of the room.
Psychic powers.
It was one of the many abilities he possessed, allowing the user to move or attack opponents with their mind.
Without even glancing around the room or the dead body, he leapt behind the desk and began to hack the security system. A green light flashed on the computer screen and all the data was transmitted to the high-tech watch on his wrist. The Stranger opened the panel of the watch and a hologram shot out. With a slight touch of his finger, he pressed a button on the hologram.
With a hiss, the door to the left of the room opened and he went inside. The room the Stranger entered was surprisingly large and modern. There was a rug under an antique wooden table surrounded by white leather sofas. To the right side of the room was a bookcase of files and thick binders. There was also a brown wooden door which the stranger judged, led to the bathroom. On the left side of the room were a mini-fridge and a little bar. There was a heavy, oak-wooden door labeled, Conference Room. His eyes rested on the man sitting behind the black wooden desk, engrossed in the file in which he was reading.
“What is it?” asked the man sitting behind the desk. There was a golden plague on the front of the desk; black shiny letters engraved reading:
Saton Crefan
Head of Security Division
Ravans International police

The Stranger smiled to himself and replied.
“I’m not who you think I am.”
The head of the security division slowly raised his head, not even trying to mask his confusion. His eyes were hazy and unfocused, like a man who hadn’t slept in days. His uniform was slightly wrinkled and his hair unkempt. An awkward silence passed between the two men.
“Who are you?” Saton growled but his voice was weak, like a bare wisp of wind.
He put his file down which was marked with a dark red stamp that read CONFIDENTIAL.
“Now now Saton, no need to be violent. You know exactly what I want so why don’t you just give it to me and I’ll be on my way.” the Stranger said quite calmly, pointing the gun toward the head of security division.
Saton stared at the Stranger, aghast.
Who is he? he thought.
The Stranger carried himself in professional confidence, silent like an assassin.
He must have hacked the security system and killed the guards. Saton knew he had no way out.
The Stranger looked at Saton casually with an amused expression. He had already found what he was looking for. The file marked "Confidential" was in plain sight. It would all be very quick; shooting the bullet and killing Saton. It would take just two seconds and then he could snatch the file and congratulate himself for a job well done.
The Stranger clutched the gun tighter. It was Dragon Blitz K47, a semi-automatic rifle; a very lethal and illegal weapon. But the organization in which he worked for managed to get it. He would be paid a handsome sum of seventy thousand dollars if he succeeded. The Stranger smiled, his lips carved in a poisonous grin.
Saton shivered and sweat dripped from his forehead. He had a pistol but by the time he could pull the trigger, it would be too late and he would be dead. And if even if he could, he knew he wouldn’t be able to muster the strength to kill another man. He was near retirement and today would be his last day. His last day living.
"Well Saton, I’m sorry to say but your life ends here,” the Stranger said and pulled the trigger.
Saton’s body fell limp and crashed to the floor. Blood pooled from the death wound on his chest, spreading and reaching like maniacal red hands.
With surprising agility and speed, the Stranger quickly picked up the file and opened it. It was just what the organization needed. The Stranger smiled once more, revealing pointed canines. He turned around briskly and dropped a metallic device on the desk. It projected a hologram of a symbol. The symbol was a white snake.

It was a busy day at the port of Nermiz. Cargo ships were coming in and out of the harbor, seagulls circling overhead, trying to find any remains of food carelessly dropped by a child. Cruisers were gliding across the water, carrying tourists and locals. Shouts and smells of the sailors and the fish filled the air, creating a hectic, yet orderly scene.

Sailors in crisp white uniforms helped unload the cargo on the Neptune, a cargo and cruise ship. A man stepped onto the dock and surveyed his surroundings. He was an attractive man, around his mid-twenties. His pale blue eyes were icy and his close cropped fair hair was neatly groomed. His smooth pale skin showed no warmth, his cold, hard face, no emotion. His chiseled lips were set in a thin line; it seemed as if he had an atmosphere of his own, an atmosphere that seemed to neutralize the hot rays of the Sayon sun.

As he smelled the familiar stenches of the port, the man gave a sigh of relief. Yassen Knight had finally come home.

He weaved through the busy dock, his muscular body moving easily through the crowd, graceful as a dancer. His sharp, cold eyes searched the crowds before resting on a man who came out of a dark grey Shadow T98 car.

The man seemed to be in his mid-twenties with blackish, bluish hair. He had a tall frame with broad shoulders and chest. He was wearing an expensive, long black cloak for his garment and blue-tinted shades. The man spotted Yassen and smiled a genuine smile that showed dazzling white teeth upon his handsome face.

“Yassen, it’s been a long time my friend,” the man said as he approached Yassen and clasped his hand in a firm shake.

“Samson, it’s good to be back home,” Yassen replied, embracing his good friend.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your cruise. I have everything set for your arrival so let’s get you settled in before we take care of business.” Samson said and helped Yassen with the luggage.

The two started towards the car and did not hear the closing of camera shutters as they took many pictures of the two men.

With a heave, Yassen tossed the luggage in the trunk of the car and studied Samson. His old friend was no longer the same. He was not the young fourteen year-old who had an ambition for adventure. Yassen half smiled to himself, something he rarely did. He remembered when he and Samson embarked from home with the thirst for adventure; adventures that had changed them ever since.

“Yassen, are you going to get in the car or do I need to shove you in?” Samson asked, his voice slightly teasing.

Yassen shook his head and went in the car, not noticing as another picture was taken of him. Samson closed his door and sat in the driver’s seat. He turned on the radio and cracked up the volume as he started up the car. Yassen sighed and eased back in the thick leather seat. He could barely hear the drone of the Exceller V48 350 horsepower engine as Samson drove on the smooth black roads, leaving the port of Nermiz behind.

“Water?” Samson asked, holding a water bottle in one hand while the other was on the silver colored steering wheel.

Yassen accepted the water bottle and took long, refreshing cool gulps of the spring water. Yassen caught Samson’s eyes and slowly lowered the water bottle from his lips.

“What?” he asked but Samson just shook his head.

“You seem different Yassen. It’s been years since we last saw each other, which was back in Tervin City.”

“Can say the same thing about you," Yassen replied. “The type of work that I used to do kept me busy and has changed me. I’m just glad it’s all over.”

Samson said nothing but kept his dark blue eyes on the road, his face emotionless. For a while, nobody said anything. Finally, Samson broke the silence.

“I’ve been thinking Yassen; about your job…Do you think that the organization you work for will let you go?” Samson inquired.

“I don’t know Samson,” Yassen said. “When I decided to resign, there were some arguments of letting me go. But in the end, I quit and left. I don’t know if they’re looking for me or not. Chances are, they are searching for me and won’t rest until they do. After all, I was their best¬----”

“Assassin,” Samson cut in.

Yassen nodded. It had all been a blur. Ever since he had left the organization, White Snake, things had gone crazy. He remembered how the head of the organization, Taran Kravins, had reacted to his resignation. He had chewed his head off and had threatened to kill him. Once again, Yassen half smiled to himself. It had been the same when Samson had decided to leave the White Snake six years ago.



It was a stormy night that day. Samson had decided to leave the White Snake; he wanted to get himself rid of it. It was literally driving him crazy when he couldn’t enjoy his freedom anymore. When you’re an assassin, you’re freedom is snatched away, Yassen thought bitterly. Samson had been thinking the same thing.

Thunder boomed at the same moment when Matthew Pain, the old head of the organization, had barged in the room along with four guards. Yassen was there, being held down by two guards while the other two captured Samson. Matthew loomed over Samson threateningly, holding a razor sharp Cumba brand knife. He stabbed Samson again and again. Yassen could see dark red blood come out of Samson’s mouth, who still managed to not lose consciousness. Matthew then banged his fist on Samson’s skull, causing him to bleed. He revealed a silver pistol and shot Samson, the bullet narrowly missing his head. Samson chocked out blood, his breathing heavy.

“You’ll never leave the White Snake Samson, never. You are bound to the organization, it will haunt you forever!” Matthew yelled, his eyes sparking with rage. Samson said nothing and lay crumpled on the floor.

Yassen’s eyes went wide with fear as Matthew viciously kicked Samson on his side, throwing him onto the wall of the room. Yassen could do nothing, only watch and pray for the best.

“If you leave, I’ll kill you Samson. I’ll kill you personally.” Matthew shouted. Samson slowly got to his feet, meeting Matthew’s eyes with bitter hatred.

“No Matthew, I’m going to leave this organization, once and for all. Then I’ll come and kill you.” Samson said coolly even though blood trickled from his head and blood poured from his shirt.

Yassen watched the two look at each other, with only hatred and fury. Matthew’s lips were set in a snarl and Samson’s a thin line. He watched Matthew raise his hand, his two fingers pointed, ready to strike the vein in Samson’s throat, ending his life once and for all. But Matthew left his hand suspended in the air.

“Fine so be it,” Matthew growled and left with the guards following behind him, leaving the two alone.

Samson fell to the floor while he shriveled with cold and fear. Samson lay in a pool of his own blood, barely breathing. Lightning flashed, illuminating Samson’s still body. Yassen sat beside Samson’s body, stroking his bloody hair. He sat by him all night, healing his wounds and soothing Samson’s whimpers of pain.



It was a miracle, Yassen thought, that Samson had recovered. Staring out the window, Yassen saw clusters of trees pass by as they zoomed through the highway. While staring at the greenery around him, Yassen resumed his thoughts.




Three days later, Samson was in the room they shared, packing up his stuff in Tervin City.

“What are you doing Samson?” he asked.

“Leaving, what else,” Samson responded coldly, zipping up his bag. Then he turned to Yassen.

“I’m leaving forever Yassen and I won’t come back,” Samson said as he swung his bag of belongings on his shoulder.

“Will I ever get to see you again, Samson?” Yassen said, fearing Samson’s, the only one he could trust, the only one he loved as a brother, answer. Samson shrugged.

“But Samson, I want to come with you,” he said quietly.

He studied him, an uncanny silence in the air.

“Are you sure?” Samson asked his voice emotionless.

Yassen couldn’t meet Samson’s eyes but only stare down at his feet like a coward. He feared that he would suffer like Samson and not make it through the beating.

Samson nodded at his silence and responded gently, “You fear that you won’t make it…Right Yassen?”

He said nothing and Samson continued, calmly and gently.

“It’s alright Yassen buddy. You’re not ready to leave yet, I can see that. Don’t worry; you’ll know when to leave. You’re heart will make the decision…” Samson stepped closer to him and made him lift his chin up gently like a child.

“I’ll be there waiting when you do break for freedom,” Samson said gently and embraced him in a friendly hug.

Yassen could feel tears rolling down his cheeks and fall onto Samson’s tough shoulders. Samson said nothing but Yassen knew as well that Samson was trying to fight back the tears as well. Samson parted and started for the door but turned to face Yassen.

“Yassen, hang in there buddy. I promise that you’ll have a better life ahead.” Samson saluted Yassen, the final gesture of his goodbye and left.




Yassen glanced at Samson.

His boyish features are gone, Yassen thought and smiled. He realized that he smiled more often when Samson was around. Yassen had gotten his freedom and Samson had kept his promise.

“Sayon to Yassen,” Samson said waving his hand in front of Yassen’s face. He drew up, startled.

Samson chuckled and said, “Yassen, welcome to home sweet home.”

He peered out the glass window. In his “flashback”, he had forgotten his surroundings. They had left the highway and were driving through lanes of houses. Suddenly, Yassen saw something rise out of the horizon. Yassen gasped. It was an awe breaking mansion, no a palace.

“Welcome to my home,” Samson said and drove up the lane that went towards the palace.

The car stopped and the two got out. A man dressed like a butler came out of the house and took Yassen’s luggage.

“Yassen, meet Alford,” Samson said nodding towards the butler. “Alford, this is Yassen. Could you please show him to his room?”

“Come Sir Yassen”, Alford said and Yassen followed him and Samson into the palace.

“Welcome to Casear Lunar!” Samson said brightly, throwing his arms out wide.

Yassen’s eyes surveyed his surroundings. The Casear Lunar was simply magnificent! The floor was a shining white marble. An exquisite chandelier hung from the ceiling, about the size of a car. To his right was a brown door and to his left, grey leather sofas with a glass table in the middle. An expensive white rug lay in the middle of the room. Behind the rug, in the middle of the vast room, was a spiraling glass staircase that lead to the upper level of the palace.

“You like it?” Samson asked while Alford eyed Yassen.

“It’s wonderful!” Yassen exclaimed with a genuine smile.

“Great. Come down in the dining room when you’re done settling in. Have any questions and ask Alford. I’ll get ready myself,” and with that, Samson went up the glass staircase.

As I on cue, Alford turned toward Yassen and motioned for him to follow. Yassen walked up the staircase and at the very top, looked around the long hallway. Casear Lunar only had two floors yet it was so vast and beautiful!

As he walked down the long marble hallway filled with portraits of Sayon creatures (dragons, griffins, serpents, ect.) and famous war officials, Yassen glanced out of the crystal clear glass paned window that almost reached the ceiling. Yassen saw a huge courtyard filled with sculptures of stone or marble dragons. There was a mini garden filled with exotic flowers and herbs, vines draping down from the perfume smelling Sakura trees. The grass was a dark green color and perfectly clipped. In the middle of the courtyard, where the stone paths met, was a big exquisite water fountain that shot out sparkling blue water.

“This is your room sir,” Alford said and pointed towards a room near the end of the hallway.

Yassen turned his attention away from the window and stepped inside his room. Alford set down the luggage and left Yassen alone.

The room was big and had a large wooden four poster bed with expensive silky sheets and stuffed, clean white pillows. There was a fur rug and a long wooden dresser, next to a closet. He opened the two doors of the closet and stepped in a large walk in closet with many hangers and clothes already occupying them. Yassen stepped out of the closet and opened the door of the bathroom. It had two marble sinks, a Jacuzzi, and a closed in shower and toilet. He stepped out of the bathroom and started to unpack.

As he folded his clothes into the dresser, Yassen picked up a picture frame. It wasn’t a special picture frame design, just plain silver. The photo showed two teenagers, around the age of eighteen. One of them had blackish, bluish hair while the other had fair, close-cropped hair. The two boys had their hand on each other’s shoulder and were smiling as they posed for the photo. He ran a finger along the two faces of the boys. They were Samson and Yassen, both had been currently working for the White Snake.

Yassen put down the photo and finished unpacking. As he changed into a white polo T-shirt and black jeans, Yassen glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

He ran a hand across his cold, hard, well shaven face. He had change from the boy with a thirst for adventure to a cold hearted, “retired” assassin. He left his room and went towards the glass stairs, where Alford was awaiting him.

“Did you settle in well sir?” Alford asked Yassen as he met him at the top of the stairs.

“Yes, I did, thank you.” Yassen responded.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Alford led Yassen into the dining room, a large room with a long, brown oak table that could seat up to twenty people. Samson sat at the head of the table, wearing a striking, blue collar shirt and dark black jeans. He motioned for Yassen to sit down.

As Yassen sat down, servants walked in the room, carrying trays of a variety of dishes. Soon, the smell of warm, delicious food filled the room. The servants placed the trays down, and filled their glasses with wine. Before the servant poured wine in Yassen’s glass, Yassen stopped him and asked for water instead. He could feel Samson’s eyes watching him as the servants left the room.

Yassen turned to Samson saying, “I still don’t drink.”

Samson laughed, the rich laughter warming up the room. “Some things haven’t changed.” Samson said. “I still don’t drink either”, Samson said, smiling and raising his glass for a toast. “For your decision of finally leaving the White Snake, cheers!”

Yassen raised his glass as well and they both started to eat. The dishes were absolutely delicious, their savory taste still lingering in Yassen’s mouth as he settled back into the brown, antique chair. Samson had just finished dabbing his mouth with a napkin when Yassen sighed and turned his head to the domed ceiling.

“So, I guess now that we’re done eating, we can talk about business.” Samson said. Yassen nodded.

“Now, I realize that you don’t have any intention in joining the White Snake again. I also realize that now, you don’t have a job and I still know that you have a thirst for adventure.”

Yassen turned his head to look at Samson and arched an eyebrow.

Samson looked at him as he spoke, “Yassen, we both know that even now, even when we’re not assassins anymore, we both want adventure. It’s what we’re made of, it’s who we are. So, before I sent you the letter that told you that I was here, I found a job that will suit you, which will quench your thirst, and not let your talents go to waste.”

This time, Yassen arched both of his eyebrows. This was so like Samson, always thinking ahead. Samson shifted his gaze and coughed uncomfortably.

“Well it’s really the contrary of your job,” Samson said and held up a hand so Yassen wouldn’t interrupt. “It’s about becoming an international knight which is just a fancy word for police but these guys are highly trained and lethal. Now look Yassen, your knowledge of guns, weaponry, combat skills, and many others will not go to waste. You will keep them up to date and so will I. I know that you have been hunted by these knights but you’ve always slipped out of their grip. You were tricky, slippery like a snake,” Samson said, half smiling.

“If you join, Yassen, you will still have adventure and your knowledge about criminals will come in handy. Yassen, you won’t have to run away anymore. You’re not an assassin.” Samson concluded and something like a cold fire flickered in his eyes. But just how quickly it came, it was gone.

Yassen looked at Samson evenly. “And….?”

Samson laughed. “Alright, I’ll tell you the good news. The pay is good, 500,000 dollars a month. And, you get paid extra if you help a wealthy client such as kings, queens, billionaires, who knows?! Yassen, it’s a great deal, a great opportunity! Take it!”

Yassen ran the possibilities through his head. Unlike Samson, he wasn’t smiling. Being a knight was like being an assassin, there was still the killing, the guns, crimson colored blood. It was the world that he was trying to turn his back on, to start anew. Yet, he was being pulled into this world again, whether he liked it or not. The pay was handsome and he agreed with Samson about getting paid extra by the nobles. But, there was something that Samson was not telling him...

It seemed that Samson had read his mind. “There is a highlight. The team or the organization that you will work for is one of my own. It’s well known among the kings and queens for its victories against the White Snake.” Samson chuckled as Yassen shook his head in amusement. “Actually Yassen, my organization once encountered you, the famous assassin; the famous contract killer. When I heard about it and that you had escaped, I wasn’t surprised. You and I were trained by one of the best.”

“I’m commanding officer of the organization Yassen. I am in complete control and I’ll make sure that you will too. What do you say, old buddy?” Samson uttered the last two words quietly.

Yassen said nothing. He sat there, thoughtfully drumming his fingers on the polished wood. After what seemed eternity Yassen spoke quietly, his voice emotionless. “I’ll do it.”

Samson smiled and was about to say something but Yassen interrupted him.

“There’s just one thing Samson,” Yassen said, his cold blue eyes meeting his friend’s. “Why did you create the organization? You hated the work of the police and the assassins. You told me you wanted to live a normal life, away from all the killing and the guns. So why, why have you come back into the world again?”

For a moment, Samson was speechless. His jaw tightened, his face went hard, and his cold voice sent shivers down Yassen’s spine. “It’s because I---”

“Sir, you have an emergency call from the deputy of Ravans’ security!” Alford said as he rushed into the room, cutting off Samson.

“Alright Alford, send the transmission,” Samson said and Alford left the room.

Almost immediately, a large TV screen came down from the ceiling behind Samson’s seat at the head of the table. Samson and Yassen both turned around as an image of a grizzled, mid-thirties man flickered on the screen and stabilized. The man had not shaven and there was stubble of hair at the bottom of his chin. He had mud streaks on his cheeks and his hair looked messy, as if he just ran out of the safety of his bed to the office he was sitting in. His uniform was slightly wrinkled and had the symbol of the phoenix. His state was shocking pertaining to the fact that he was the deputy of Ravans’ security and should have had more fitting attire.

“Commander Samson, we have a situation. The White Snake has attacked the inter-dimensional police station!” the man said.

Yassen’s blood went cold and Samson stiffened.

“Did they take anything?” Samson growled.

“Yes,” the man said, shaking his head vigorously. “They took a file on Princess Elena’s crowning! The festival is supposed to take place in a week and two days from now. The guards, Max, and the head of Ravans’ security Saton Crefan were all killed. On Saton’s desk was this,” and the man held up a device that projected a hologram of a white snake.

“The symbol of the White Snake,” Yassen muttered.

The man nodded, not noticing that it was Yassen who uttered that, not Samson. “We think the White Snake may be planning to sabotage the ceremony. We need your help ASAP!!!”

Samson seemed thoughtful and Yassen could see him working out the possibilities in his head. Yassen’s eyes caught Samson’s and he could see a twinkle in those deep, ocean blue eyes.

The man coughed impatiently.

“I will send somebody to the Ravans district as well as some troops. I will be there myself,” Samson said slowly, his voice clipped as if he was still thinking if the decision he made would be effective. “That somebody is a high ranked official in my organization. He’ll be suitable for the job, from his experience from the White Snake.”

Yassen stiffened slightly and narrowed his eyes.

“Who will it be?” the man asked.

“Yassen Knight”, Samson replied smiling.

No one spoke. Yassen knew that the deputy of Ravans’ security was shocked. He could clearly see that written on his face.

“But Yassen Knight is an inter-dimensional criminal, a contract killer. For goodness sake, he’s a professional assassin. Why would he go against the organization he works for?!” the man exclaimed.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him yourself?” Samson shifted himself so the deputy of Ravans’ security could see Yassen.

The man’s eyes went wide with fear and shock. Yassen was starting to regret his decision. The man seemed to say something but nothing came out of his mouth. Yassen shifted in his seat uncomfortably and could see that by the look on Samson’s face that he was amused.

“Meet Yassen Knight, Leon”, Samson said to the deputy. “He has decided to escape the White Snake’s grasp and decided to use his abilities for the greater good. He’ll be perfect for the job, you’ll see.”

Leon, the deputy of Ravans, slowly nodded his head and said, “Just make sure he knows who he’s working for.”

The image of Leon disappeared and the TV screen slid back into the ceiling smoothly. Silence filled the room. Yassen did not know what to make out of it. Just when he thought he had gotten rid of the White Snake, he got tangled back in the mess once again. He would need to be careful this time though. If the White Snake had any idea about him being in Ravans, he would be in immediate danger.

The silence was broken when Alford came into the dining room. “Sir, I have received an email that you will be meeting Ravans’ war officials through a video chat in the Odessey room seven am sharp.”

“Thank you Alford, you may leave.” Samson said.

Alford made a slight bow and left the room, but not before he shot a glance at Yassen. After he left, Yassen found the nerve to speak. “I can’t believe that I’m back in this mess again Samson”, Yassen said looking at his friend dead in the eye.

Samson just shrugged but Yassen saw a strange look in Samson’s eye. “This time Yassen, we will be going together. And this time, we’ll be defeating the White Snake forever.”
Then he got up and left. Yassen sat there alone, staring at the ceiling. A look of determination passed on his face. Samson was right; they had to defeat the White Snake once and for all. He got up and stretched. If he was going to defeat the White Snake, he had better get some good rest.

The next morning, Yassen awoke to the bright rays of the Sayon sun that streamed through the window like a golden river. He could hear the chirps of the morning birds as he dressed quickly. He stepped into the hallway and walked down the glass stairs, seeing no activity in the vast room.

He walked silently across the floor, turning a corridor with many windows. It seemed like the corridor was golden, the sun rays brightening it up, the clean marble floors and strong walls sparkling. A large wooden door stood at the end of the corridor and Yassen swung it open. A rush of cool fresh Sayon air came to meet him. He closed the door without a sound and started to walk down the stone pathway, which was edged with perfectly clipped grass. As he filled his lungs with the refreshing air, he surveyed Sayon nature. The sky was a beautiful rosy pink and golden orange with only a few wisps of clouds. A flock of jet black birds perched on the tree branches, chirping loudly. He seemed to be in a garden, the blades of the green grass swishing against his Blade Streak running shoes as he left the stone path and walked across the soft carpet of green. The air was heavy with the perfume of the Sakura trees and flowers of all different shades brushed against his legs as Yassen moved gracefully across the courtyard. He suddenly realized where he was and confirmed the idea when he saw the large fountain shooting out sparkling blue water. He was in the courtyard he had seen yesterday. The marble and stone dragons stood proudly among the stone paths. There was a wooden bench between two, fierce looking dragons and with a sigh, he sat down.

It was always peaceful during early Sayon mornings but of course, he thought, that was a lie. Some were dying at this same exact moment, taking their last breath and closing their eyes to let the darkness settle.

The world was full of life and death, shrouded in darkness yet opening up to the light whenever it came. Not like it his problem, he was just another player in the game of life and death. Just another piece on the chess board: a piece to be moved in order for the war between the two opposing forces to end. But he knew better. He knew how to handle himself, knew how to not fall in the hands of others. After all, it was what he had been doing his whole life. He had closed his heart, not allowing himself to succumb to daily pleasures. He lived a cold life, a life full of guns, betrayal, blood, assassins. His heart was untouchable; he was an assassin that killed without a second thought. Though Yassen knew he was just another life, just another soul in this large world, he was not a player, indeed he was anything but that. He had learned too much about the world’s dark secrets to be just another piece. He was too cautious to be played easily, too cunning to fall to such easy tricks. No he wasn’t a player; he was the creator, a mastermind, a controller of his own life. And that was why he knew how dangerous the task was in bringing down the White Snake. After all, he had been their assassin.

The news of the White Snake had taken him by surprise. He was back in the world he had sought to run away from. Back to the killing, the guns, the world in which there was no mercy and killing was second nature. His most dangerous enemy was after him, plotting to kill him. Was it a mistake that he had taken this task? Life was too precious to lose so easily. Should he refuse the task? He was so deeply engrossed in his thoughts that Yassen did not realize someone come behind him. Suddenly, he straightened up and turned around quickly, his arm outstretched. As he saw who it was, the rate of speed his arm was going slackened, his fingers hitting Alford’s wrist lightly.

Alford did not seem surprised at Yassen’s reflexes and only nodded, indicating him to follow. Without a word, Yassen followed. But when he stepped into the palace, he felt something wrong. He knew better than to ignore his instincts. He stood stock-still in the hallway, his keen eyes and ears surveying the empty hall except for Alford, who walked on. He listened to the eerie silence yet could not shake off the feeling that he was being watched.

Alford finally seemed to have sensed that Yassen wasn’t following him and turned around saying, “Sir, is anything wrong?”

Yassen shook his head and started to walk after Alford cautiously, his eyes darting to the shadows to find the unseen.

“This way Sir Yassen,” Alford said and lead him down another sparkling hallway.

They entered a room with a large, glass paned window where sunlight streamed through like warm hands, greeting the cold-hearted assassin that had stepped into the cozy room. There was a black, round breakfast table with a tray filled with exotic Sayon fruits and where a pitcher of glass clear water rested upon its silky cover. A picture of Casear Lunar hung on the wall, as if showing off its beauty. There was soft white rug under the table and he could hear faint, soft music coming from the adjoining mini kitchen.
“Breakfast will be served here sir. What would you like?” Alford asked as he pulled a chair up for Yassen.

“An omelet, bread, and a glass of orange juice would be nice.” He answered, sitting down.

Alford went into the kitchen and Yassen noticed that there were two chefs. Talking briskly, Alford repeated what Yassen had said and left.

Yassen settled back in the comfy chair. As he waited for breakfast to be served, he had the feeling that someone was watching him once again. He sat upright and tried to hear or even sense someone or the something that watched him. Years of training in the White Snake raced back to Yassen as he controlled his powers. He imagined himself getting in touch with his Sayon instincts; a Sayon’s greatest power for it was their link to nature.

But it wasn’t as if Sayons were nature freaks. Every organism, every living being was somehow connected to the world Sayon. It was a world where magic was used daily but not as much for technology was taking its place. But the White Snake knew how to make their assassins the best. Though magic was wild and unpredictable, it was the greatest power known to man. If one could control it, the world could bend to their knees. Many had tried and many had died doing so. Assassins had to learn how to control their powers and find out how to use them in a time of need.

He concentrated hard and felt himself open up. He could hear the clatter of pans in the kitchen as a distant heartbeat. The pit pat of the water dripping from the sink was an overpowering sound of a waterfall. He fought to control his instincts, sweat beaded on his forehead. Suddenly, the fog cleared in his mind and an image appeared. He could see the shape of a person. The outline looked familiar, someone he had met before. Was it…?

He drew up with a start. Alford was by his side, his hand on Yassen’s shoulder.

“Sir, is everything alright?” Alford asked, concern showing on his face.

Yassen nodded slowly saying, “I’m alright, nothing to worry about.” He waved his hand dismissively.

Alford didn’t seem to believe him but nodded his head as well. “Well then, breakfast is served!”

As if on cue, the two chefs came out carrying trays of more exotic fruit, an omelet, loaves of bread, and a pitcher of orange juice. They set it down on the table, motioning for Yassen to eat.

Helping himself, he accepted the omelet, two loaves of bread, and an exotic Dragon Fruit. One chef poured him a glass of orange juice while the other poured him a glass of water from the pitcher. Then they stood back, waiting for Yassen to take his first bite.

Raising an eyebrow, he took a bite of his omelet and nodded approvingly. The taste seemed to melt on his tongue, the savory taste thrilling his taste buds. The two chefs smiled and left soundlessly. Alford followed them a few seconds later but hesitated at the door. He turned around, his eyes searching Yassen’s emotionless face. Yassen stared back at him, his eyes revealing nothing but he could not help feeling amused at how hesitant Alford was to trusting him.
They all are, he thought.

The eerie silence was interrupted when Samson appeared in the doorway, dressed in an expensive black suit, white collared shirt, and a well ironed tie.

Alford turned his head towards him and smiled. “How was your day sire?”

“I rather not talk about it,” Samson grimaced and pulled up a chair, sitting across from Yassen.

Alford poured him a glass of water and Samson murmured his thanks.

“What happened?” Yassen asked, searching his friend’s face as he took a sip of water.

Samson paused before replying. “They don’t trust you.” He said in a matter-of-fact voice, with no emotion at all.

Yassen fell silent and no one spoke.

“So am I still going to Ravans?” he asked, his cold blue eyes searching Samson for an answer.

“Your still going, my influence over them at least made them to allow you to set foot in the district. They’re such bastards,” Samson said, his eyes glinting.

Yassen stifled a chuckle while Alford shot him a look.

“They want me to keep an eye on you though,” he said, looking at the picture of Casear Lunar, his jaw set in a tight line. “But don’t worry. It’s not like you want to go back to the White Snake. Just do your job that you’re assigned to and you’ll be alright.”

“What is my job?” he asked.

Samson raked a hand through his hair, the sunlight making it look more blue than black.

“Well,” he said, and Yassen noticed the hesitancy in his voice. “Your job is very important, I’ll tell you that.” He coughed uncomfortably as Yassen held him in his cold gaze.

“You and another guard named Mark Tyros are to be the guards of the princess. You must be by her side at all times and make sure that she is safe. You will be under my organization, however, so others will know that they can trust you.”

Alford’s face was the perfect picture of disbelief as he gaped at Samson.

“Such an important assignment,” Yassen mused. “Was it under your influence that they did so?” he asked as he smiled to himself.

To be the guard of the princess showed that he had a high status, was ‘top ranked’. This meant that he could give orders and that none could assign him tasks except for the royal ranks. He was indeed the controller.

Samson smiled and his eyes twinkled. “I persuaded them that much. I thought you would do it well knowing from your experience with the White Snake. But, Mark Tyros will be watching you, so stay on your guard. You know how hesitant people are these days, especially when an inter-dimensional contract killer is within their district.”

Yassen didn’t respond but finished his breakfast quickly as Samson grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator. Alford said nothing but Yassen knew that he disagreed with Samson’s decision.

“Alford, get the jet ready and start making the preparations. We’re leaving for Ravans tomorrow morning.” Samson said.

“Yes sir,” the butler responded and started for the door. There was a blur and suddenly Yassen was blocking his path, his eyes looking at Samson squarely.

“We’ll leave tonight.” he said firmly.

Samson lowered the water bottle from his lips and raised one eyebrow. Slowly, he nodded in agreement.

Alford left without a word, his eyes to the floor but Yassen saw a flicker of annoyance on the drawn face.

Samson leaned his tall frame against the wall, one hand in his pocket casually while the other held the water bottle. In a flash, the water bottle was hurtling towards Yassen’s face. He did not even flinch as he caught the bottle mid-flight. A slow smile made way on his face.

“A challenge?” he inquired, his eyebrows slightly raised.

Samson had a twinkle in his eyes as he responded. “It’s been a long time since we went one-on-one. How about you meet me in the dojo and we can see how we improved since last time. I’ve been itching for this fight for a long time.”

Yassen turned around, his hand raised.

“Looking forward to it.”








****
Yassen entered the dojo wearing a half sleeve T-shirt and jeans of dragon skin material. This allowed one to move easily but the dragon skin blended in so perfectly that it could be considered as regular jeans. Samson was already there, swinging a long sword. The sword was both an offensive and defensive weapon. It could be used for parries and deflections, as well as cuts and thrusts. Cuts with a long sword could be delivered either as slices or as extremely powerful chopping blows. Such blows could break a man’s bone or snap his body in half. Although it is primarily used with two hands it is still capable of being wielded with a single hand, allowing the off hand to be used for grappling, punching, and grabbing an opponent or his sword.

A broad block of wood stood upright before him, the dark surface reflecting the lights of the dojo. Yassen watched closely, his eyes fixed for he knew what was next.

Samson’s hand was a blur as he made long, powerful slices. Suddenly, the block of wood crumbled in pieces around him, falling in a circle. The blade of the long sword glinted as Samson picked his way towards Yassen.

“I see you still haven’t lost your passion with swords,” Yassen said.

He caught the hilt of the sword as it whistled by his ear. Samson did not miss a beat, swinging his leg at an alarming rate of speed. Yassen dodged it nimbly, bringing his arm out to grab Samson’s leg. But his leg was not there and Yassen clutched empty air. He turned around narrowly missing a punch that could have broken his nose.

Samson back flipped, getting out of Yassen’s attack range.

He smiled, his eyes glinting devilishly. “Haven’t caught you by surprise, have I?”

He stiffened as Yassen was suddenly behind him, an arm around his throat loosely.

“Not at all but I prefer we do less talking.” His elbow raced to hit Samson’s neck while rotating on the ball of his feet.

But his friend was quick, ducking and bringing his arm into Yassen’s stomach.

Yassen did not wince as he landed in a crouch at the other side of the dojo. Bringing out his arm to his side, he stood slowly. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword. Hurling it like a spear, he aimed for Samson’s chest while taking a step forward. Samson easily deflected the sword but watched in amazement at his old friend.

He was in the air, using his right leg to propel him forward, and his fist ablaze in a fiery light. He smashed his fist where Samson once stood but used the force of his arm to turn around in mid-air, where he was greeted by a fist to the face. He somersaulted in the air, his body outlined in a strange light.

The room was filled with the sound of clashing as Yassen and Samson flickered here and there; streaks of light sparking. Yassen raised his arm, a ball of orange crackling in his hand. He hurled it like a pitcher in a baseball game. It hit Samson squarely in the chest but he did not hesitate to counter attack, his arm emitting a blue light that took the shape of a very sharp sword. Yassen dodged it with ease, smiling to himself. They both knew each other’s tricks after knowing each other inside out. Yet, it was time to show Samson the new ‘tricks’ he had learned.

He knew that Samson was better at controlling his powers than he was. Though he had mastered all the elements and forbidden ones such dark energy, Yassen knew that Samson was superior to him. Ever since they were young, Samson seemed to have a natural ability when using his powers. It was as if the energy flowed through him while he commanded it so easily, cunningly, delicately, yet effectively. Once, on a mission together, Samson had set a whole forest ablaze just by summoning a ball of fire. He controlled the flames, using them to trap their enemies and so they could eradicate them. Even now, people in that area talk about a mysterious fire burning down a whole forest. It had come so surprisingly that they couldn’t make it die down, allowing it to consume the greenery. If only they knew the truth.

Yassen did a trick sweep kick that Samson easily dodged. But Yassen swung his leg in a full 360 degrees and as he did so, dark flames started to cover him, surround him. The flames shot towards the ceiling, the lights of the dojo flickering on and off. The flames were fierce, leaving a black circle on the ceiling. Instead of emitting heat, the flames were cold and Samson recoiled from their touch.

He smiled to himself as he planned for his counterattack. Yassen was not the same man he had once known; nor was he. Samson raised his hand, a blue sphere appearing on his palm. The air around the sphere seemed to be sucked in, as if the sphere was a black hole, taking the light and energy. The black flames spiraled towards him, the wind whipping his hair. They disappeared in the blue sphere, black energy outlining the sphere. Samson gritted his teeth, waiting for the aftershock. He bit his lip from crying out loud as blue lightning coursed throughout his body! Though he did not show it, Yassen could see that the aftershock hindered Samson and he took the chance to his advantage.

Whipping his leg around, he rotated on the ball of his feet, using the added momentum to add power into the kick. His foot hit Samson in the stomach, hurtling him upwards into the air. Suddenly, Yassen was up in the air, his speed incredible, almost like the ninjas that fought in the early wars of Sayon. He wrapped his arms around Samson’s, throwing him, where he fell into the crumbled wall. Then he was in front of him, holding a dagger to his neck.

“Surrender,” he said, his cold voice having an edge to it.

Samson chuckled softly. He turned his head, staring into Yassen’s eyes. As he looked closely, he could see a spark in those ocean blue eyes; a spark that told him that he was in danger.

Drove by instinct, Yassen veered away as Samson walked forward, brandishing a sword. It was the sword that his friend had wielded for so long, a family heirloom. Its blade was long and the hilt was intricately carved into a dragon’s head. Its name was Aargon Silvx or “Silver Dragon”. Yassen had seen it cut through bodies with ease, its blade sharp and deadly. It was so finely made that surprisingly; it was light, allowing the user to easily wield it with just a flick of a wrist. Electricity crackled around the sword, the blue and white light causing the sword to look even more forbidding. He knew just how much his friend loved to play with fire or more so, lightning; and whenever he did, hell arrived.

Samson swung the blade, his speed suddenly increasing that in an instant, he was before Yassen, the blade heading for his chest. Yassen lunged backwards, the blade missing him by the width of a hair. Samson’s skills with a sword had improved. It would only make the fight harder.

He drove his knee upwards, hitting Samson squarely on his chin. He cursed and got out of Yassen’s range. Yassen grabbed the blade of the sword tightly, putting all his power in a roundhouse kick. But Samson was quick, dodging the perfect kick and pulling his sword out of Yassen’s grasp.

Yassen advanced, holding his arm out, his palm outstretched horizontally so that it was facing the floor. His face was lit with the bright orange flames of the blazing sword he held in his hand. The blade was warm to his touch, but did not burn his hand. His sword clashed with Samson’s, sparks flying out of the glinting blades. He tried to do an undercut, but Samson easily blocked the blow. They locked their muscles, each one trying to use his strength so that the blade in the other’s hand would fall.

Samson stepped forward, bringing his free hand into a punch, knocking the blade out of Yassen’s hand. Yassen sidestepped, catching the blade while moving quickly to get out of Samson’s range. The flames of his sword suddenly became brighter, enveloping him in a bright blaze of flame. The same was for Samson, but his blade covered him in blue, dark flames, with electricity sparking. They both raced forward, moving at the same speed. The two blazes of light neared and the dojo came to the life, the light so dazzling that you could not make out the bodies as their swords clashed in one final strike! Flames and electricity filled the air and there was an explosion that set the overhead sprinklers off. The dojo shook with the magnitude of the power, the heat unbearable and the smell of smoke overpowering! The light cleared, revealing two bodies lying side by side. Their chests heaved up and down; sweat beading down their forehead, their damp hair slick.

Yassen smiled contently and coughed from the smoke. He did not feel like getting up and stayed on the floor chuckling. His friend joined him, the unusual laughter of the two assassins echoing in the dojo as the smoke cleared. Their bodies were wet and their clothes stuck to them, either from the sweat or the water.

The laughter was merry, a laugh between two united friends, a laugh between two brothers. The sun was setting as the fire alarms died down, as the laughter died into a comforting silence, their worthy blades by their side.

“I guess it’s a tie then,” Samson said, his voice soft.

“You got that right.” Yassen said. His eyes were closed as he lay by his friend. It had been a long time since he had felt relaxed; let his guard down. It was rare, just as it was rare to find an assassin like him, a most wanted criminal, laughing, enjoying instead of being out on the field, taking lives as a daily part of his day.

They both got up slowly at the same time. Samson handed him a towel, while putting one around his neck. He extended his arm toward Yassen, who accepted it, letting him have the rare luxury of a smile.

“It was an honor, to battle against you once again. I feel like I’ve finally been challenged.” Samson said to him, smiling warmly.

“Same to you,” there was no coldness in the voice, no icy edge to it.

“Well, I’m off to the shower. You should start packing; we’re leaving in three hours.” Samson made a motion with his hand and his sword disappeared. Yassen did the same, his sword disappearing in dying red embers.

The two friends walked out, chatting happily, enjoying each others’ company.

A shadow moved outside of the window, in the day’s dying light. A man’s figure formed, his tall frame outlined in the red light of the sunset. His long overcoat reached his calves, his hat casting shadows on his cold face. The man tapped a gloved finger to his earpiece as he watched the preceding figures of the once been assassins of the White Snake.

“It was a tie. They used swords,” there was a pause before he continued. “And they seemed to have gotten better.” His soft, emotionless voice was a faint whisper in the rustling of the trees.

There was a laugh through the crackling of static in his ear.

“I expected so.” The voice was flat, almost mechanic. There was no emotion to it but the man could not help but feel unsettled by the voice at the other end.

“We have been watching them for so long. In time, we will make our move,” another laugh. “And this time, the once most dangerous assassins of the White Snake will be nothing but a myth.”

The man removed his finger from his earpiece and gazed emotionlessly at the ruined dojo. Without a sound, he whirled around, the bottom of his overcoat flapping in the breeze.

Astonishingly, his drawn lips curved up a notch, his canines glinting menacingly. “I look forward to it.”

Then, he disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Yassen stood next to Samson as their jet flew into the night sky. Alford was with them, Samson insisting that he join and be their company. According to Samson, they would be staying in Ravans for two weeks. One week and half if things went the way they planned. The plan itself though, would not be revealed until tomorrow.

A dark, black 6-seater car, a 99 Night Cruiser with a turbocharged engine made its way silently towards them. Two men, dressed in expensive black suits and black glasses, came out of the car. Samson shook their outstretched hands while Yassen nodded his greetings. They motioned for them to sit inside the car, opening the doors. Yassen settled back in the leather seat as Samson sat next to him while Alford sat in the back. The car started as once as he buckled his seat and within a few minutes, they reached the gates of the kingdom. The man driving held out a card and spoke quickly to the watchman. The gate opened almost immediately without a sound and they were inside.

It looked more majestic up close. The white-washed walls shimmered in the moonlight, the towers jutting out of the sky, patrolled by heavily armed “knights”, who were dressed in black suits and were watching the assassin whom they had been warned of, step out of the car. Though he may be “retired”, one can never be too sure. They watched closely, noting his every move until he disappeared from sight.

Once inside, Yassen stood back and let Samson take over and soon enough, he was being lead by a guard to a room at an end of a hallway. It was more beautiful than the one he had seen at Casear Lunar. A giant, black wooden, four-poster bed covered with the softest silk, caught his attention as he stepped inside the room.

“Hope you settle in well sir. The Commander would like to see you once you settle in. Meet me at the end of the hallway in five minutes so I can take you there,” the guard said and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Yassen put his luggage on the bed and started to unpack. Soon enough, he was ready and made his way to the end of the hallway.


The guard escorted Yassen down the white marble stairs, taking him to a softly lit room where instrumental music played in the background, fading in and out. Cream-colored leather sofas lay in a rectangle around a glass table where neatly piled books lay. The Commander was making himself a cup of coffee and turned around as Yassen made his way towards him. The guard bowed and silently left as Samson laughed.

“Wonderful here, isn’t it?” he asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“Too early to tell,” Yassen said. He took a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and took a swig.

Samson did not answer him and took a seat at one of the sofas, staring off into the empty space, his face blank. Yassen took a seat across from him, losing himself in his own thoughts in the eerily yet comforting silence.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head into the smooth leather, letting its cool touch soothe his muscles. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, he hardly slept at all. He never exceeded a full four hours but usually slept for three hours. He had learnt through experience that even in your sleep, one could find himself in the tangled web of danger. Slowly his mind wandered something he didn’t do often, but for the first time, he felt safe, or as safe as an “assassin” could be. The memories of his last mission in the White Snake came from the dark depths of his mind and he could feel the cool night air as he relived the event.

He lay in the shadows, dressed entirely in black, waiting, as still as stone. The White Snake had been informed that two members of a secret government agency were supposed to meet at this location; alone. They were to hold something vital to the client that had called upon the White Snake for this mission. He was to receive it without any difficulty and return at once to headquarters.

Soon enough, he heard them coming. They walked down the alleyway, a man sharply dressed in a white dinner jacket and a man dressed in a green combat suit. They came from opposite ends, the space between them slowly growing smaller as they neared each other until they were only a few feet apart.

“Do you have it?” The man in the dinner jacket said.

Combat Suit nodded and withdrew a brown package from his suit.

“This is it,” and handed him the brown package.

The man in the dinner jacket, or the man he had been told to call as Snake, nodded. His eyes darted to the shadows uncertainly, the fear showing plainly in his eyes.

“Are you sure that they aren’t here?” he continued to glance around nervously.

Combat Suit shook his head. His posture was sure and relaxed, as if he was self-confident.

“Nope, the area is secured. You have my word for it.”

Snake muttered something inaudible under his breath as Yassen raised his gun, a well crafted .30 automatic rifle equipped with a silencer and scope. Snake was looking through the package, nodding his head approvingly at the contents. His .15mm hand gun was in his holster, hidden in the darkness but could be seen through the scope.
He swerved the rifle, finding the enemy's chest through the scope. It was now or never. This was the end; he could take it or leave it. He narrowed in and pulled the trigger. A single shot rang out in the night as crimson tainted the black.

Combat Suit was on the ground, lying still as Snake raised his gun, looking in the shadows of the buildings around him.

He dropped silently to the ground, emerging from the shadows, the moonlight outlining his intimidating frame. Snake started to move backwards, holding his gun up. He sprinted down the alleyway but he was suddenly in front of him, the hilt of his dagger poking out of Snake’s gut.

Snake’s eyes were opened in horror as he fell to the ground, blood pooling around him like a swarm of bees around honey. Yassen gazed at his dead body emotionlessly, his army boots grinding on his hand as he stepped past him.

He grabbed the package from under the dead man’s body, wiping away the blood. He sealed it shut, knowing that his mission was nearly complete. He walked down the alleyway, throwing a grenade as he went. The explosion rocked the buildings behind him as he stepped out of the cloud of fire unscathed. He was surrounded by a light blue light and when it disappeared, so had he.



“Yassen, you there,” his friend’s voice brought him back to the present as he blinked his eyes.

“As there as I’ll ever be,” he responded, sitting up.

Samson shot him a strange look, a smile on his lips. “You didn’t, lower your guard, just now, right?”

Yassen shook his head, an annoyed look on his face. “Shut it before I electrocute you.”

Samson laughed, his eyes twinkling. “I’m looking forward to it actually.”

He sighed heavily but rolled his eyes good naturally. He stood up as the Commander watched him as he made his way to the door.

“Good night assassin,” he said lightly.

Yassen did not glance back at his laughing friend. “Good night jackass.”








******


There was a knock on the door as Yassen dried his wet hair with the towel. He opened the door, revealing the guard from yesterday.

“Sir, a meeting is to be called shortly. You are required to take part in it, sir.”

“Alright then, I’ll be ready in ten minutes.” He closed the door and made his way to the bathroom.

He spread the towel on the counter while taking his hair brush. He smoothed the fair hair until it was neatly cropped. Within a few minutes, he re-entered the room, dressed in a black collared shirt and pants. The clothes hung off his muscular body and the sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to reveal muscular arms. In one move, he had his semi-automatic pistol in his holster and was making his way to the door. He walked down the hallway, every movement of his clean and graceful from the training he had received for most of his life.
The guard guided him down a long hallway filled with colorful paintings. Portraits of past kings and queens of Ravans were lined up neatly, some holding their head high, some with cold expressions, some grinning, and some with twinkling faces. At the end of the hallway were the portraits of the current king and queen, King Cecil and Queen Rosaline. King Cecil had golden hair, green eyes, and a warm smile as he stared welcomingly at the viewer. Queen Rosaline was a beautiful woman with long flowing hair the color of dark brown, gray eyes, and a circular face with faint red cheeks.

The guard opened the door at the end of the hall and gestured Yassen inside. There was a long, black table already filled with castle and war officials, knights, governors, warriors, lords, Ravans security technicians, and other important individuals. Out of all of them, he recognized three, Samson, Alford, and the deputy of Ravans security. Samson motioned him to sit beside him and he obeyed.

“Yassen, meet the deputy of Ravans security force, Leon Lacore.”
The man across from Samson held out his hand in a greeting. Hesitantly, he shook his hand but could see the arousing suspicion in Leon’s eyes.
“Nice to meet you,” Leon said but before he could add more, a hush of silence fell in the room.
Yassen turned his head and saw King Cecil enter, followed by Queen Rosaline and professionally trained knights dressed in black suits, black glasses, and with a coiled wire reaching up to the earpiece in their right ear.

The king sat at the head of the table and the queen sat beside him. The knights stood behind them, as still as statues with their hands behind their backs.

“Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen,” the king said, his deep voice tinged with authority and tiredness. “As you all know, the file on all the plans and security measures needed for the crowning of princess have been stolen. Though we have extra copies, we have found the evidence that whoever stole the file worked for the White Snake.”

A knight wearing gloves withdrew a metallic object from a plastic bag. It projected the symbol of the White Snake. Murmurs of shock and fear swept through the room. Yassen looked at Samson, who seemed relaxed and calm throughout the commotion.

The king held up his hand and the silence returned. “The employee of the White Snake hacked the alarm and security system so we do not have any footage of the actual event. But, we do have some bits and pieces yet are not clear enough to draw the conclusion of who their employee is.

“All we know is that somehow, this employee is like no other. Within a minimum of five minutes, the employee killed all our knights. We’re astonished because I assure you; they were professionals in their fields. We think that there might have been more than one employee that night but are not sure. We received word from our head of the security division, Saton Crefan, a minute before he was actually killed. He was suspicious of activity in the station and asked for backup. When the back-up arrived, he was already dead.”

No surprise there, Yassen thought. During his own missions, he had hacked numerous security systems and had left none alive. He tuned out Cecil’s voice, his eyes cold and vacant. But, he was not daydreaming; indeed he was doing anything but that! His mind was already racing, thinking of a convoluted security system that would leave even the best technicians of Ravans dumbfounded.

“Mr. Knight, do you think so?”

Yassen turned his head towards the king. “Come again?”

He heard the king sigh and saw Samson shoot him an amused look.

“Do you have any ideas for the security system?” the king repeated. “I’m sure your and Samson’s minds combined may make an exceptional security for the crowning.”

He sat up and cracked his knuckles, looking around at the anticipated faces. He gave his bone-chilling “half-smile” and responded. “I’ll see what I can do, my liege.”

Activity erupted as once as he uttered those words, various files, maps, codes, holograms, and such, being placed around him and Samson until it seemed as if they were submerged in the information. They both glanced through the data, barking orders at the knights and servants and steadily, slowly, a plan began to take form.

“The Ferno Howlers will be positioned here,” Samson said to a small group, pointing at the border of the district. “They will guard the outposts and fellow knights will accompany them.”
A projection of a wolf-like creature with a flaming body appeared, positioned at different areas of the border.

“The Ember Forest and the Silin Mountains at the south and west will serve as natural borders but the Portal Bay in the north is like a welcoming entrance gate to the kingdom.” Yassen said to the king as Samson continued to talk to the other lords and officials.

“I want regular patrols on that Bay, stat,” he said and immediately the knight next to him barked orders. “Make sure they’re equipped with thermal radars and the most lethal weapons you have in Ravans. There will have to be sky patrols; I see that you have two phoenixes in captivity so they will also be a part. I want heavily armored Sky Raiders out there equipped with cannons, machine guns, and assault fire. The soldiers on the war crafts must be well experienced.

“Oh, and one last thing before I move on,” Yassen pressed a button on his module and another hologram materialized before him. A moving projection of a serpent-like creature filled the onlookers’ eyes. It was blue scaled and ranged from ten to twelve feet tall; it’s dagger like teeth were elongated, glinting menacingly. To the left of the serpent was another wolf-like creature but it was hardly visible, almost transparent. It seemed to be flickering in the ghost like flames that coursed throughout its body.

“As we all know, every army or military force has some animals as one of its forces. Ravans particularly is famous for having a large number when it comes to these forces. As I see from the information on this holo’, you have two thousand Tartinians, the serpent creatures. They not only love to use brute force, they also are handy once it comes to offense. We’ll use their offense as our defense on the Portal Bay and in areas near the kingdom. The Nightraiders are ‘ghost wolves’ or appear and disappear to their own will. They will come in handy when reporting immediate messages. Any questions?”

Activity bustled around Samson as he barked orders, telling his officers and those of Ravans to immediately rally their forces.

“I want the army, marines, navy, air force, every military branch to be present this week. Organize and start the patrols immediately, lieutenant and captain, contact Ravans secret intelligence to have their best security systems installed by tonight. I want DNA scanners, cameras, heat detectors, security patrols to be happening by tonight as well. Make sure you do the job quietly and go by unnoticed; we don’t need the public to know of our plans.”

Figures were littered in the map of Ravans and stationed delicately in the complex hologram of Ravans. Suddenly, the noise and activity stopped as the plan came to its full construction. The commander-in-chief and Leon scrutinized the holograms, taking note of every single detail. A tense, skin-prickling silence fell like a heavy fog in the room and no one dared to breathe. After what seemed like eternity, Leon straightened and slightly nodded at the commander-in-chief.

“We both approve.”

Hoots, whistles, and clapping thundered in the room as soon as the words were uttered. Everyone congratulated one another, clapping each other on the back, and nodding towards Yassen and Samson.

Leon chuckled. “You and Yassen are quite a pair,” he said to Samson. “Both of you are retired assassins of the White Snake.”

Samson’s face hardened and Yassen shot Leon a dirty look. The room suddenly fell into an eerie silence. Then, the king nodded slowly.

“That’s true,” he said thoughtfully. “You two did have a remarkable teamwork and both of you have the experience for working in the White Snake. I remember the time when you two were well known throughout the secret intelligence agencies as the natural, undefeatable assassins.”

To Yassen’s surprise, Samson smiled.

“Well, knowing your enemy comes can be convenient,” he said lightly and everyone laughed.

The meeting was officially over and already, the officials, knights, technicians, and agents were getting to work, taking the plan into action. Yassen stayed in his seat, his face unreadable. He felt someone touch his shoulder and turning around, he saw Alford. He made a motion for Yassen to follow and hesitantly, shooting a glance at Samson, he got up. Just when they were about to reach the door, it burst open, revealing a man dressed in a black suit and tie with a white collared shirt. A badge of phoenix was above his heart, a sword clutched in its talons. This man was no ordinary knight. He was most probably a lord or a high ranked official. The man surveyed Yassen and extended his hand. Yassen shook it and took note of the man’s firm grip.

“Mark Tyros, nice to meet you,” the man said.

“So you must be my ‘partner’ then,” Yassen said.

The man nodded.

“Mark, I was just about to introduce you to Mr. Knight here,” Alford said and clapped Mark on his back. “I’m sure you can show him what he needs to know for the job.”

Mark smiled in response and gestured to Yassen. “Shall we?”
Yassen followed him out the room, falling in step with his ‘partner.’

“The princess is practicing archery at the moment.” Mark said, trying to lighten the silence that hung between them.

Yassen said nothing, his face emotionless. Mark also fell silent and the only noise was the echo of their footsteps on the spotless marble floor. They soon reached a door that Mark unlocked with the keys on his belt. Inside, there was a metal bench and the walls were covered with hooks with belts, gloves, armors, weapons, and uniforms. He handed Yassen a hanger with a grey uniform, a belt, gloves, a walkie-talkie, an earpiece clad with a coiled wire, a silver 15mm pistol, and other high tech equipment that he couldn’t identify. Mark pointed to a door to his left.

“You can change there,” he said.

Within a few minutes, Yassen reappeared, dressed in the grey uniform with a bullet proof jacket, earpiece and leather gloves, belt with the walkie-talkie and gun on his side. He clipped one of the highly tech equipment, which Mark called, the Eagle, to his ear. He pressed the button on its side and immediately, a red, transparent hologram slide from the thin slot near his eye. Data scrolled by, various diagrams, maps, numbers, and codes on the hologram which was almost a centimeter from his eyelashes.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Mark said, tossing him some shoes.

Examining them, he realized that they weren’t shoes but almost like highly durable boots; yet they felt light as air. He quickly tied the shoelaces with experienced fingers. He stepped in front of the body length mirror, running his hands along the jacket. It almost looked like he was dressed to fight in combat, the pants tucked in the boots, and the sleeveless bullet proof jacket built to withstand any stabs or bullets. The finger gloves were wonderful and the Eagle gave him an almost imposing view.

“I like it,” he said absent-mindedly, smoothing his hair. He caught Mark’s smile and narrowed his eyes.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing,” Mark laughed and waved his hand as if to dismiss the issue. “Come on, we have to go meet the princess right now.”

They left the room and Mark told him that his clothes would be delivered to his room. After locking the door, they made a turn, meeting another door, this one heavy wooded and occupied by three knights. They stood expressionlessly as they walked by, entering a small hallway, with an opening leading to the archery field. There was a smell of freshly cut grass and the slight smell of smoke. Targets were set up, the typical man shape and bulls-eye. As Yassen strode into the field, he suddenly back flipped as an arrow whistled by his head. More arrows flew in the air before him but he missed every single one of them with ease. As the last arrow zoomed towards his forehead, he caught it just before it hit the flesh of his head, snapping it in half.

Mark clapped as he slowly walked into the sunlight, blinking against the sudden brightness.

“Impressive,” he exclaimed.

Yassen didn’t know who he was directing the statement to, him or the figure on the field.
The figure approached them, stopping a few feet away. She was strikingly stunning. Her body was lean and athletic, curving delicately. Her skin was slightly tanned, her silky brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She had the green eyes of her father yet had the beauty of her mother, including the soft smile. She was wearing a khaki colored Capri and a brown V-necked shirt with a belt strung around her torso, holding the other arrows.

She pursed her lips and by the look on her face, he knew that she was observing him, judging his worth. Her eyes shifted to Mark, those marvelous shades of green, and lighted up by his smiling face. She squealed with delight and threw herself into his awaiting arms.

“You’re finally back!” she exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek. “I missed you terribly.”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I did too Elena.”

Yassen shuffled his feet, masking his face. As if finally acknowledging his presence, she turned towards him, her eyes surveying his body.

“So, you’ll be Mark’s partner,” she said, circling him before stopping in front of him. “Your body is most definitely athletic and muscular and your reflexes are sharp as your eyes.”

She smiled and winked at him. “Not too bad.”

He said nothing and stood emotionlessly while casting a glance at Mark.

“What were you trying to do?” He asked. “You could have hurt someone.”

She rolled her eyes and replied nonchalantly. “Whatever dimrod. I’m sure nobody would have gotten hurt. Your friend here seems exceptionally experienced anyhow.”

He only narrowed his eyes as Yassen stifled his laugh.

“Princess,” he said through clenched teeth. “Meet your new guard.”

She only glared at him and whipped around.

“What’s your name?” she asked Yassen.

“Yassen Knight,” he answered.

Her perfectly threaded eyebrows furrowed as she tapped a manicured finger on her chin. The sun caught the thoughtful look in her eyes and she seemed to ‘glow’ in the light. If he was not a well experienced killer, he would have been engrossed in her beauty like any other commoner. Her lips turned upwards in a smile as she snapped her fingers.

“That’s right. You’re the Commander’s right hand man, aren’t you?”

“Yes he is,” Mark said before he could respond. “Anyhow, you should be getting ready for your crowning young lady,” he scolded her. “Your Majesty has to be the new Queen.”

She scowled. “You know how I hate when you address me as that. It’s just Elena, you got it, Elena!”

“For a 21 year old, she’s kinda feisty,” he whispered to Yassen.

He chuckled quietly, watching the two quarrel. He cocked his head, studying Mark’s and Elena’s features. They faintly resembled each other. Yes, it was definitely that. He recalled Samson telling him just before they left Casear Lunar that a late relative of the princess’s would be present, from a distant kingdom and was possibly her guard as well.

“If I may your Highness,” his cold voice instantly quieted them as shivers ran down their spine. “I would like to see your archery skills,” he continued calmly, “and maybe we can perfect it.”

She opened her mouth and when no sound came, she stalked off towards a bulls-eye. Mark sent him a grateful smile and followed, with him a few steps behind. Already, decisions were being made in his head as he silently tread in their path.

Already, he could think of the possible problems that would arise and shook his head annoyingly. Why did he have to end here? Of course he hadn’t expected a quiet life after “retiring” but he hadn’t expected to be this close to the enemy. If only they could get this over with. His eyes traced the arrow as it zoomed through the air, the head landing in the dead center.

But, she isn’t that bad, he thought as he raised his own bow and arrow. Yet you’ll still be in trouble old buddy. The arrow pierced through the middle, the force of the blow causing the target to crumble in itself. The princess and Mark stared at him dumbfounded as he shrugged. You can never be too sure.

Samson rubbed the palm of his hands into his eyes. He was sitting on a couch in the king’s study, where messengers, attendants, knights, officials, and his advisors treaded in and out, delivering holos’ and various other information to the king. His knights wordlessly took the information, waiting patiently for the king to read and respond. Some of the officials flocked around Samson, firing questions about his plan, the guns, the troops, how many branches of infantry would be present, the number of Raiders from the Air Force, if he had talked with Leon Lacore or the prime minister for any last minute updates; until he was overwhelmed in a sea of questions.

He rubbed his eyes, waving them off, his men taking care of the rest. He sorted the holos’ before him, flicking the data around him until he was enveloped in blue light, writing covering his body. His eyes darted everywhere, registering the information, the number of men available, and the small bends he would have to make in the security to fit the resources available.

He was too busy sorting the data that he didn’t notice that the trickle of people in the room had lessened until it was only him, the king, and their men. The holograms faded and he cracked his knuckles, rubbing his neck as he sat back down on the couch. A knight handed him water and he took it gratefully for he was thirsty and his throat was unusually dry.

As he drank, the hair on his neck rose and he could feel strange sensations traveling down his spine.

Something’s not right, he thought.

He motioned for one of his guards, ordering him to show him a live map of the Ravans district. Within minutes, he was zooming into the city, moving the bird’s eye view a little down south by using a flick of his finger. The holo’ stabilized and he could see the treetops of the Ember Forest, swaying in the light breeze that originated from the north; Portal’s Bay.

“I want a report on this area,” he said, gesturing and the guard dutifully left the room, knowing all too well that he shouldn’t underestimate the Commander’s order. Rumors said that he had a knack of knowing where his enemy was, no matter how well they hid.
The guard returned a few minutes later, a holo’ hovering above his hand. He watched as the Commander read the report, his eyes moving rapidly as the words scrolled by. His face was shrouded in shadows as the light from the holo’ disappeared.

“Your Majesty,” he said, cutting through the silence.

The king raised his head and his eyebrow rose. “Yes, my dear sir?”

Samson coughed uncomfortably, astonished by the king’s gentle reply. But he quickly regained his composure and found himself staring into the eyes of the king’s.

“Sir, we spotted a disturbance in the south. I suggest an emergency patrol be commenced at once.” He paused before adding quietly. “It would be best that I go as well.”

The king did not respond; his face suddenly darkened and his expression was almost unreadable. Almost.

He sighed heavily and looked at Samson through weary eyes.

“But why must you go, Commander?”

“Sir, I think this is something rather large that would need my attention first hand. It’s better to be safe than sorry but I’ll only go on your Majesty’s sanction.”

The king nodded his head. “Alright then, inform the knights and your men.”

He turned to a knight by his side and whispered in his ear.

Samson turned towards his lieutenant and barked orders, while flipping in the coordinates of the location in his transport module. But his hand wavered as he hesitated.

Why not go the hard way, he thought. Because transporting is much easier, he scolded himself.

He smiled to himself and shook his head, cancelling the transportation. But the harder way is also more exciting and dangerous. He laughed quietly and his eyes sparked with a strange look. Adventure calls Aardon. Mind if you join?

He could hear a voice in the corner of his mind, a voice that sounded like the deep rumbling of thunder.

Gladly.









******

Yassen swung his sword, striking his opponent. He swung his elbow, jabbing his opponent’s jaw while swinging around his leg, landing a blow to Mark’s gut.

He doubled over gasping for breath as Yassen did a trick sweep kick, knocking the princess off her feet. Quick as a snake, he sprung back to his feet, the tip of the sword above her throat.

“Surrender,” his voice was cold but his chiseled lips curved up a notch.


She laughed but her voice was shaky as he helped her to her feet. She wiped the dirt from her feet and gave him a weak smile.

“That was the most intense training I’ve ever received in my life!” she exclaimed. Mark only wheezed in response.

Yassen glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

Before he could respond, there was a rush of static in Yassen’s ear. He pressed the earpiece as did Mark.

“Come again?”

“Emergency patrol is commenced.” There was more static in his ear and he heard a familiar voice. “Mr. Knight, you and Mark Tyros are to take the princess inside immediately. I repeat, take the princess in immediately.”

She looked at the both of them, her eyebrows in a knot and her lips pursed.
“What’s going on?”

Yassen approached her, speaking calmly. “A patrol has been called and we’re ordered to take you inside to safety.”

“What?!” she shrieked.

She whirled around to Mark but he pulled her by her waist while she tried to fight against his grip.

“It’s alright, we just got to take you inside,” he said reassuringly.

For a moment she stopped struggling, watching Yassen, trailing her eyes to where he was looking. There, on the tower, was a figure. The man was tall and his coat flapped around him. He looked strangely familiar and she concluded that thought when Yassen spoke.

“It’s the Commander,” he said to no one in particular.

Elena was suddenly pulled inside and she could no longer see the Commander or Yassen.

Yassen tapped his earpiece while looking at the man’s silhouette.

“Cassian to Richard,” he said through their private line. He heard the deep voice in his ear, one that he learned to love and trust.

“Took you long enough to notice,” his friend chuckled.

Yassen smiled to himself as he jogged to the nearest exit.

“So what’s this all about?” he asked as he swiftly ran up the tower steps.

But his friend’s response was deafened by a blood curling roar. It seemed as if the sky itself was quivering and the trees shaking under the tremendous cry. Yassen threw open the door, only to find his friend jumping over the edge.

A long, gargantuan shape suddenly spiraled upward the tower wall with surprising agility. Samson landed nimbly on its scaled back and shouted a command, which was lost in the beast’s flapping of majestic wings. It let out another roar, racing to the heavens until it was lost in the clouds.

“Samson?”

The static was his only response as Yassen stared at the clouds, feeling slightly dumbfounded. Awe and wonder struck him when he finally collected his thoughts; when he was able to think clearly, his astute mind fitting the pieces of the puzzle.

Damn, he thought as he walked forward slowly, a breeze stirring, whistling through the trees.

Didn’t know you had a dragon, Richard.

He continued gazing at the white fluffy clouds, as if they could answer the questions in his mind.

He had never met a Sayon who had Bonded with a dragon; let alone being able to control it. It was a legacy, a myth lost in the mist of childhood. A dragon on Sayon was as rare as Yassen smiling; and it was a wonder to behold.

The sun’s rays dappled the tower, Yassen’s hair glowing golden in the warm light. A ghost of a smile flickered on his stone cold face as he twirled Dawn in his hand, the Meriian metal dazzling in the sunlight.

Samson old buddy, you’ve outdone yourself.

He almost laughed; almost. Alas, even the assassin could not find merriment in the rare sighting. The ghost of the smile was gone, replaced by a calm, emotionless expression.
His eyes gazed over the green, fertile land, the wind playing with his hair, gentle and soft to the cold-hearted assassin. The breeze created a musical note as it whistled through the swaying trees, the sky a clear blue with few puffs of white.

Yet the assassin took this all in emotionlessly, and not even the warm rays of the sun could warm his stone-like heart.

With one last look, Yassen turned his back to the beautiful sight and quietly glided down the tower steps.

I’ll be waiting to see you once again, Aardon.



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This book has 4 comments.


on Jun. 22 2020 at 8:22 pm
ForgottenEcho BRONZE, San Diego, California
3 articles 0 photos 21 comments

Favorite Quote:
When written in Chinese, the word 'crisis' is composed of two characters. One represents danger and the other represents opportunity.

That. Was. AMAZING!!!

Cici said...
on Jun. 20 2020 at 9:28 pm
Cici, Beijing, Alabama
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
Every day is a brand new day.

真的么么么v放过虎脚后跟发的人5678i科技部vcxzasert

Cici said...
on Jun. 20 2020 at 9:27 pm
Cici, Beijing, Alabama
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
Every day is a brand new day.

It's great!

light1817 said...
on Jun. 21 2018 at 1:32 am
light1817, Lac Du Flambeau, Wisconsin
0 articles 0 photos 1 comment
this is the best action pack and long story that I love