This is a work of fiction; all the resemblances are completely accidental. I am the one who owns all the ideas and characters in the story. Contains violence and descriptive sexual scenes between two males. If you are not supposed to read it, don't do so. Feel free to e-mail me with praises or insults (former preferred).
- XVIII -
"You did *what?!" *Jason stared at him with wide eyes.
Desmond shifted on his feet uncomfortably. It's been seven years since that fateful night when he decided to wait for the rain to pass on the bench next to Jason's house. Seven years since Jason offered him to become his teacher. Seven years since the nightmare has finally stopped.
When Desmond learned what Jason did for a living, he was almost scared at first. Killing people for money? The thought made him shiver. Then, after a while, he realized that it didn't shock him anymore. People had to make living somehow, he reasoned. And if someone is good at something and can make a living off it, why not? Jason just happened to be good at killing; it was his talent if you wish. Somebody could paint breathtaking art; somebody could play the violin in such a way you wouldn't mind selling your soul to them; somebody could build amazing buildings... And somebody was a natural-born assassin. Jason was the latter.
In the past seven years, he taught Desmond a lot. Sometimes he would even say that he taught him everything he knew. Even if it was true however, Desmond still felt like a complete amateur. Jason would just snort at that and say that he simply needs experience, and that he has no idea how good he actually is. "Seriously, kid," Desmond remembered him saying once. "You pick up things faster than anyone I know. I only have to show you something once, and I never have to repeat myself."
Maybe so, but Desmond still felt uneasy whenever he had to work on his own, without Jason, who made sure that it happened more and more often. "You don't need to be babysat," he said once. "You are completely capable of working by yourself. Just remember everything I told you, and you'll be fine."
Desmond's first kill (well, third, technically) was a pawnshop owner. The guy was a pain in the ass for lots of people. He charged an enormous interest, and he would use every single trick in the book to rip someone off. Desmond thought that it was a miracle the guy stayed alive for as long as he did. The entire case wasn't anything difficult, and Jason simply handed him the file on the guy, and said that Desmond was on his own. He would be the one to decide how he wanted to dispose of the mark (that's what Jason called all those people -- `marks'); he would be the one who decides how slow or painful the disposal should be; he would be the one to decide where to conduct the operation. The only thing he wasn't in charge of was the time frame. The pawnshop owner had to be dead before the end of the week.
Desmond didn't get any sleep that week. By Friday night, he looked like someone who is suffering from some bizarre illness -- he was pale, nervous, and the circles under his eyes could put panda bears to shame. Finally, he decided to go through with it on Saturday afternoon. At first, he was thinking of using a gun. Then he decided against it -- too noisy, even with a silencer. Then he thought of using a knife. Decided against that one as well -- his hands would probably shake so bad that the guy would end up wasting him instead. He finally settled on poison. Jason made sure that he drilled Desmond like a drill-sergeant from hell when it came to poisons. "You mess up the poison once," he told him. "You are dead." By now, Desmond knew about poisons everything that was in Jason's expertise, and that was a hell of a lot.
Poison seemed like the lesser (and much easier) evil, so Desmond decided to stick with that. On Saturday afternoon, he went into the guy's pawnshop and asked him timidly if he could maybe sell his Grandfather's watch to him. Desmond knew that he looked younger than he really was (right then he was eighteen but he looked fifteen at the most), and when the guy's eyes lit up the minute he saw an easy young prey, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.
"Of course, young man," the pawnshop owner told him in a soothing voice. "Let me take a look at the watch."
Desmond handed him the watch he borrowed from Jason. He knew that the damn thing cost a small fortune. Jason promised him that he'd rip his heart out with his bare hands if he managed to lose the watch.
The guy looked at the watch with great intensity. Desmond saw the hunger that flashed in his eyes almost immediately. The man, however, managed to make a very bored and disappointed expression. He was good at it too, Desmond thought with amusement. Of course, he is good at it, he thought right away. He's been doing this for years.
"I am sorry," the owner sighed a few minutes later. "It's nothing special, really. And it's not in the best condition..."
Desmond bit his tongue so hard that the pain made him slightly dizzy. Not in the best condition? Jason kept the damn watch in immaculate condition for the past seven years.
"The best offer I could give you..." the owner hesitated for several seconds. "Maybe fifty talons," he finished finally, and Desmond stared at him in disbelief. Fifty talons?! The goddamn watch cost at least five thousand! Now he could see why someone desired so much to see this guy dead. He took the watch out of owner's hand quicker than the guy anticipated.
"I am sorry," Desmond said regretfully and put the watch in his pocket. "I need more than fifty talons... Sorry to waste your time."
He turned around as if he was about to leave, knowing that the guy would never let a deal like this one to slip through his short, fat, grabbing fingers. He was right. The owner of the shop all but latched onto Desmond's sleeve to stop him from leaving.
"I am sure," he said in the same soothing voice. "I am sure that if I take another look at the watch..." he shrugged. "I didn't really look at it... Let me look at it under the lights; let me see if I missed something."
"Under the lights," Desmond thought with a silent snort. "Right... As if you need the lights to tell you that this watch costs more than your entire shop!"
He hesitantly handed the guy his watch back, and the owner immediately clipped a pair of glasses onto his nose and turned a lamp on. He looked at the watch much longer this time, his lips moving in the silent prayer. Finally, he turned the lamp off and got rid of his glasses.
"I see that I was mistaken before," he said in apologetic tone of voice. "I am so sorry for that!"
Huh, Desmond thought. The sincerity wasn't so hard to fake after all.
"I am offering you a hundred... No, two hundred talons," the owner said quickly. "To be honest, two hundred is a bit more than it really costs but what the heck! You seem like a nice young man."
Desmond grabbed the watch back.
"I'll shop around some more," he said firmly. "See if I can find a better deal."
The owner's eyes were almost desperate right now. He noticed Desmond throw a longing glance at the coffee shop across the street.
"Tell you what," he said as quickly as before. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee and see if we could come to a deal both of us could find fitting."
Desmond hesitated for a few seconds.
"Fine," he finally said with a small sigh.
The shop owner quickly walked out from behind his counter, hung `Closed' sign on the door, and turned off the lights. Desmond couldn't believe how easy this was. At first, he couldn't figure out how in the world he was supposed to poison the man. "I mean," he thought back then. "It's not like I can just walk up to him and offer him an apple or something... I am a perfect stranger!" Poisoning someone you never even talked to was trickier than he thought.
Soon enough they were sitting outside the coffee shop, Desmond stirring his drink with a small spoon absent-mindedly, the shop owner studying the watch under the sunlight.
"Okay," the owner said suddenly and Desmond jerked in surprise, his spoon flying out of his fingers and landing next to the shop owner's feet.
"Oh!" Desmond exclaimed.
"I startled you," the owner said. "My bad..."
He bent down to pick up the spoon and that was the move Desmond was waiting for. By the time the guy emerged from underneath the table, he didn't know that he just signed his own death warrant. Desmond listened to his chatter with fake seriousness, waiting for the guy to finish his coffee (he had to make sure it happened). Finally, his cup was empty and Desmond grabbed the watch out of those fat, grabby fingers, and got up.
"The last offer sounded quite intriguing," he said. "Five hundred talons sounds like a good deal... I'll come back on Monday; I have to check with my mother if it's all right with her."
The guy looked disappointed and hopeful at the same time.
"Let me give you my card..." he started saying but Desmond interrupted him.
"No need," he said. "I'll be at your shop first thing Monday morning."
The guy would be dead before the sunset tonight, he thought. He walked away after a brief `Good-bye' and he felt as if an enormous load was just lifted off his shoulders.
Later that day, after he told Jason about the entire thing, the older man just hemmed and said that Desmond put on too big of a show. "Next time," he said. "Try something less noticeable. You risked being seeing in public with your mark; someone could've remembered you talking to him. That's a risk you want to avoid. Was good thinking, good strategy, but it involved unnecessary risk."
Desmond agreed with him reluctantly. He didn't even think about the fact that someone could've seen him with the man (*"the mark"). *All right, he thought, next time he'll make sure he doesn't get into a spotlight.
The next time (and all the times that came after) went smoother, and Desmond never repeated the same mistake twice. He was a good learner. His latest assignment was a woman named Lorena May. Jason hesitated before handing him the file, and Desmond didn't know why. Jason never said anything, except, "Be very careful with this one."
Desmond considered simple strangling in this case. Everything was planned; everything was ready to fly in the usual smooth manner. Yes, everything was ready except for Desmond himself. He did not expect Lorena May to be as stunning as she was. Oh sure, he saw the photograph of her in the file, but that photograph didn't even come close to the original. The woman radiated sensuality and the photograph never captured that, of course. Desmond couldn't help himself but start talking to her. He knew it was a mistake, but he simply couldn't help himself.
One thing led to another, and before Desmond knew it, Lorena was stripping him in some motel room. That entire night Desmond was riding in and out of Cloud Nine. In the morning, he felt goofy smile stretching his mouth and there was nothing he could do about it. Of course, he couldn't even think of strangling her anymore, so he just kissed her `good-bye' instead and went home.
He told Jason about it (stuttering pretty much on every single word; his face flashing deep burgundy) and that was when Jason said:
"You did what?!"
"Errr..." Desmond said, his ears burning hot.
"You didn't finish the assignment?" Jason looked almost murderous right now. "Bloody hell on wheels, Desmond!" He rubbed his temples as if trying to get rid of a headache. "Sleeping with your mark is not the most brilliant decision to make!"
"Amoral...?" Desmond offered in a small voice and Jason just snorted impatiently.
"I don't give a damn about your morals," he said. "You are the one who is in charge of that. It's not the most brilliant decision because there is always a chance that you'll become emotionally attached! And emotional attachment is a very bad thing when it comes to this line of work. It can get you killed! In fact, I am surprised right now that you *didn't *get killed... I guess she never even considered the possibility of you being after her, otherwise you'd be dead right now."
Desmond blinked rapidly at that. Dead? Lorena didn't look like someone who'd be capable of that...
"That woman is extremely intuitive," Jason continued. "And she is ruthless. If she'd even suspected you being more than just a young fresh lay, she wouldn't even think twice before sending you to hell. The reason I handed the case to you is the fact that she knows my face; we've had several quite unpleasant encounters in the past. I didn't want to risk it. I should've told you..." he rubbed his temples again. "It didn't even occur to me that you might end up jumping her. Crap..."
"I am sorry," Desmond said in the same small voice. "I could go back and finish..."
"No," Jason interrupted him immediately. "If you show up there again, she'll know something is off. As I said, it's a pure miracle that she didn't read you. Bloody hell... Desmond, don't let your hormones or emotions to get in the way, otherwise you won't live to celebrate your twenty-fifth birthday. And if possible, keep it in your pants. At least, when it comes to your marks."
"Sorry," Desmond said again.
He *did *keep it in his pants, ever since that hateful night on the docks. He kept it in his pants for four years. Of course, he would feel wild urges quite often (hell, more than that!), but the minute he would even imagine himself being with another person, his entire body would immediately lock up to the point that he couldn't even breathe right.
Finally, when he turned eighteen, Jason said to him one of those evenings:
"So you are going to avoid sex for the rest of your life?"
Desmond tensed up immediately.
"Don't tell me that your hormones don't drive you insane," Jason continued.
"Yeah, well..." Desmond shrugged uncomfortably. "That's what my hands are for, right?"
"Hands can only get you that far," Jason replied without even a hint of a smile. "Look..." he sighed. "If you feel like you want to tell me to go to hell, feel free... But I just wanna help you, that's all."
"Help..." Desmond muttered, not quite sure where this conversation was heading.
"I wanna help you to realize that the whole thing can actually feel pretty damn good," Jason nodded. "Don't worry," he laughed when Desmond gave him an astonished look. "I am not secretly in love with you. As I said before, you are not my type. But at least now, you have your driver's license," and he winked.
Desmond couldn't help but laugh at that.
"Take your time," Jason said. "If you think you would like my help, let me know."