The Compassionate Assassin

by Matt Cowper

  “Sorry, I'm immune to pickup lines,” she said. “I prefer to jump right into deep philosophical discussion.”

  “I see. Well, I admit philosophy isn't in my wheelhouse. Had to take a course on it in college. Barely escaped with a D.”

  “Oh, a college grad. Impressive.” Of course it wasn't impressive. Why did she say that? “Where'd you go?”

  “San Diego State. And I'm not, actually, a graduate. I'm a dropout, one of those statistics that bother sociologists, economists, eggheads like that.”

  “Well, I've only got a high school diploma myself, so....” Why was she commiserating with him? He was normal. She was a mercenary with a healing factor and a mind filled with harsh memories and perilous contradictions.

  But if felt natural. It felt good. And she needed some goodness in her life....

  “Oh, so you're a statistic just like me?” He flashed an admittedly great smile. “Two peas in a pod, ain't we?”

  “I wouldn't go that far. We just met.”

  This mild rebuff didn't diminish his enthusiasm. “True, but you seem like a cool chick. Vera did say you were...interesting. I have to agree with her.”

  “Interesting...how?”

  “Well...don't know how to word it, exactly. You seem...competent. And I don't think you put up with bullshit. It's almost like you're...older.” He held out his hands mollifyingly. “Not saying you look older. I know how touchy women are about their age.”

  “No offense taken. I am...well, different, I suppose.” She frowned and ran a hand through her spiky hair. This was dangerous territory. “Anyway – how do you know Vera?”

  “Met her at a party. She was with friends, I was with friends. My friends knew her friends. We've hung out a few times. She's got a great personality. Likes to have a good time, but always looks out for her buddies, too.”

  Deathrain glanced towards the kitchen, where Vera was still making a racket.

  “Yeah, I suppose she does,” she whispered.

  “Ah, not to be, ya know, too blunt or anything, but me and her aren't––”

  “She told me.” An understanding grin. “I admit I didn't know what to think when I saw you. The way she talked about her...romantic encounters, I almost expected her to want to start a three-way.”

  Nolan leaned back and laughed, a deep, infectious, uninhibited laugh. Deathrain found herself letting out a slight chuckle of her own.

  “Yeah, I can see why you'd think that,” he said. “But don't worry: I'm pretty conventional. One girl, missionary position, cuddles afterward.”

  So they were moving on to this now. But instead of shutting him down completely, she said: “Only missionary? Sounds unadventurous.”

  Nolan stared at the ceiling, pretending to ponder this. “Maybe if I found the right girl, someone who could shatter my inhibitions––”

  “So, how're things going?” Vera was standing at the kitchen entrance, beaming at them. “Just making sure you two aren't already engaging in unprotected sex.”

  “Vera––” Deathrain began.

  “Ah, I see things are going just fine. I'm almost done making snacks for us. Sorry that I'm taking so long. I'm totally not wasting time so you two can get to know each other.”

  She flitted back into the kitchen, and Nolan let out another infectious laugh.

  “She certainly keeps everyone on their toes, doesn't she?” he said.

  “Yeah, she does.”

  But Deathrain was no longer absorbed in the banter and zest of the moment. Vera's entrance had distracted her, sent her back into the dark corridors she'd been treading down.

  What was she thinking? Did she really believe she deserved friends or lovers like this, when her mind was practically fractured from past trauma? And while she was plotting to either kill a superhero or a shadowy villain, or both?

  “I'm sorry,” she said, “but I just realized I've got...some things to do.”

  “Things?” Nolan arched his eyebrows to the ceiling. “Such as?”

  “Work things. It's...fairly important. I'm sorry, but I, uh, forgot until just now.”

  “No worries.” He rose from the couch, his mouth set in a firm line. “I know when I'm being rejected.”

  “I'm not rejecting you,” she said. There was a pleading note in her voice she didn't like. “Really. It's just....”

  “Work things.”

  “Yeah.”

  His expression softened a little. “Well...if that's true, Vera knows how to get in touch with me.”

  “OK. That is...great.”

  God, what a fucking train wreck. How the hell could she refocus on Auspice after all this?

  She rose as well, and they moved to the kitchen, where Vera had finally prepared the complex dish of chips and salsa, with soda to drink.

  “Food's up!” she warbled. “Oh. You two look glum. What's up?”

  “Emily says she has 'work things' to do,” Nolan said.

  “Yeah,” Deathrain said. “Sorry, you two, but––”

  “Uh huh,” Vera said, frowning at Deathrain. But her frown slowly faded and her constant smile returned. “Well, we all know what that means.”

  “It's not what you think.” Why was she still pleading?

  “Don't worry,” Vera said. “Really. Nolan's a big boy. He can handle it.”

  Nolan tried to look stalwart, but obviously he'd rather be anywhere else in the world except this apartment.

  Again, Deathrain felt she had to say something. Why, though? Why didn't she just shove these two normal humans out of her apartment – out of her life – and be done with it?

  “Look, I'm really not trying to be a bitch,” she said. “I really do have things to do, things I just remembered. Why don't you both come back tomorrow, same time? I promise I'll be here, and that I won't be busy.”

  Nolan and Vera glanced at each other. Nolan looked skeptical, Vera hopeful.

  Before Nolan could say something pessimistic, Vera said: “Sounds like a plan.”

  She grabbed Nolan by the arm and half-dragged him to the door, much like Deathrain had dragged Vera to the kitchen.

  When they were out in the hall, Vera turned and cocked her head at Deathrain.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said.

  “OK,” Deathrain replied lamely.

  “Later,” Nolan said, throwing out a small wave as the duo headed towards the stairwell.

  After watching them for a few seconds, Deathrain shut the door and leaned against it, letting out a deep breath.

  “This is like that bad rom-com,” she muttered.

  Thinking about the movie that had been playing when she'd fought – killed – Metalhead, and the movie she'd been watching last night, caused her self-loathing to return – along with the black fury that said to hell with guilt, to hell with morals, just kill anyone who gets in your way....

  She already wished she hadn't kicked out Vera and Nolan. Awkward situation or not, at least they connected her with normal human affairs.

  But they were gone, so it was time to get back to work. She booted up her laptop and resumed her research on Auspice.

  Sand was running through the hourglass. Kain would be displeased if she hadn't killed the superhero soon.

  Chapter Seven

  She'd been following Auspice all night, and she still didn't know exactly how his powers worked.

  It had been easy enough to find him. Most of the news reports detailed feats that had been accomplished in the western section of Bootheel. Putting on her gear and leather mask, Deathrain had headed in that direction, setting up a recon point in a tall building that used to be a semi-respectable hotel. Now it was an apartment complex, mainly tenanted by transients, drug dealers, and pensioners.

  After about an hour, she'd seen the superhero through her binoculars: a streak of white several blocks away, pummeling some schmuck who'd been trying to hack an ATM. From there, she'd tracked him all across Bootheel, watching as he taught the riff-raff of the area a lesson.

 
; She thought it'd be harder to follow him, but Auspice was as unskilled at confusing trackers as he was adept at fisticuffs.

  If he did have a sixth sense, perhaps it only worked at short range. That was definitely advantageous to Deathrain. She could set up a few blocks away, snipe him in the skull, and that would be that.

  But if it was that easy, Kain's people would've already done it. There had to be something she was missing, some defenses Auspice had that prevented him from being harmed from long-range.

  Then again, Kain could've been lying to her. Maybe she was the first person he'd hired for the job, and was pushing her buttons. It would be completely in character for him.

  “Kain,” she muttered. “Damn him.”

  She punched the concrete rooftop, and her hand make a crunching noise, and pain sliced through her arm. It wasn't healthy to hurt oneself to let out anger, but Deathrain figured with her healing factor, damaging oneself didn't really matter.

  “Time to figure out what to do with this jackass,” she said – though she didn't know if she was talking about Auspice or Kain.

  Nonetheless, she set up the tripod on her sniper rifle and peered through the scope, getting a bead on the white-spandexed hero.

  Just to get a look....

  The superhero had just trounced a would-be car thief and tied him up to a street light. He appeared to be lecturing him on the importance of choosing a just and righteous path, instead of a path of sin and violence.

  The thug wasn't moved by the speech; she could see an obvious string of expletives erupt from his lips. He even spit on Auspice's immaculate spandex. Deathrain knew plenty of so-called heroes who would've broken the guy's jaw for such impertinence, but Auspice just continued on like nothing had happened.

  Maybe he was the real deal: a kind, motivated superhero, not yet jaded by a ruthless press corps, superhero politics, or the deaths of friends and loved ones.

  Or he could be a brutal fraud, like other superheroes she'd encountered....

  She had Auspice's lecturing mouth in her crosshairs, and her hand was depressing the trigger of the rifle.

  She tried to pull back her finger and remove the rifle from her shoulder, but it was like someone else was in control. Some dark presence looking over her shoulder, laughing silently and uttering unheard taunts.

  But no. There was no one else. Only her. It was that black fury, the force that had persuaded her to cut deep into Metalhead, to imagine agony and ecstasy with Kain, to desire the death of Auspice....

  “No!” she shouted.

  She jerked, trying to halt her shot, but it was too late. She'd pulled the trigger, and sent a fifty cal round hurtling towards the superhero.

  She tossed the rifle aside, cursing both the weapon and herself, and whipped out her binoculars.

  Auspice was down, but still moving. The thief gawked at the fallen superhero, then began struggling against his bonds. Deathrain thought he was trying to escape, but then he began yelling, twisting his head so his shouts – inaudible from this range – traveled up and down the street. He was evidently calling for help for Auspice.

  Deathrain watched as the hero writhed on the pavement. He was clutching his right shoulder, and there was a good deal of blood, but the wound didn't appear mortal. Finally, Auspice got himself in a sitting position and, with a lot of grimacing, began crawling towards cover.

  Her last-second jerk had been enough to prevent the bullet from sailing clean through his skull. She'd still hit him, but he'd live.

  That is, if she didn't finish the job.

  She stared at the sniper rifle for a long moment. If she was quick, she could chamber another round and blow Auspice's brains out before he found cover.

  One more bullet. Ten times her normal fee. Enough money to live as Emily Bell – or whoever else she wished to be – for a very long time.

  Kain would be satisfied, and perhaps they could then move on to the next stage of their relationship....

  She stood up and sent a steel-toed boot into the sniper rifle. The first stomp cracked the scope. The next dozen stomps shattered the trigger guard, bent the barrel, and ruined the bolt action.

  With one last glance at the now-useless weapon, she jumped over the side of the building, landing on the rusted fire escape. She half sprinted, half fell down the steel steps, until she reached the ground. Then she ran towards the man she'd just shot.

  The thief saw her before Auspice. Though he'd continued to holler, no one had come to the scene; a few people had poked their heads tentatively out of their windows, but that was it.

  “Holy shit!” the thief said. “That mask...it's Deathrain!”

  He renewed his struggle against the ropes holding him to the street light, his neck veins bulging with the effort.

  Deathrain stopped by the man. “Stop struggling. I'm not here to harm anyone.”

  The thief looked at her like she'd said she wanted to go snuggle with puppies and blow soap bubbles. “You? Not harm anyone? You think I'm dumb?”

  “No, I don't. But you don't know the whole story––”

  “Yeah, I do. You shot Auspice here, but ya didn't kill him, so now you're here to finish 'im off.”

  “That is not––”

  “And then you're gonna kill me, since I witnessed ya do it. Hell, you'll probably kill everyone on the block, just to cover yer tracks. Kill 'em like you killed that kid.”

  “Listen––”

  “Do me a small favor, would ya?” He looked at her with pathetic, pleading eyes, like a kid begging his mommy to buy him some candy. “If you gotta kill me, do it quick. I know I gotta die, but you ain't gotta make it painful, do ya?”

  “You don't – no, I'm going to waste time with you. You don't understand what I'm...what I'm going through.”

  She continued towards Auspice as the thief blinked at her in confusion. The superhero had struggled to his feet, and was leaning against the car the man had tried to steal. He clutched his wounded shoulder tightly, and he was panting, but he'd shaken off the shock, and was staring at her intently.

  “Auspice,” she said. “I know this will sound strange, but hear me out.”

  “You shot me, didn't you? You're Deathrain, like the man said. I'm new to this game, but I've still heard of you. You're a mercenary, a killer.”

  “I am. I mean, I was – it's complicated.” She advanced slowly, her hands held high. “Look, I'm not trying to hurt you––”

  “The bullet that sliced through my shoulder says otherwise.”

  “That was...a mistake. I'm sorry.”

  “Sorry?” The hero grunted. “Sure you are. I know what you're doing. Trying to get in close, finish me off. Don't know why you didn't just shoot me again. Maybe you like to kill people up close, so you can watch them suffer? Well, if so, you have made a mistake. Close-in fighting is my forte.”

  A knee crashed into her stomach, driving the air from her lungs and breaking at least two ribs. Her healing factor revved up, and Deathrain knew her body would be back to normal shortly. But her healing factor couldn't do anything about the shock – and the fear – she now felt.

  She'd thought she'd watched enough of Auspice's fights to have a good handle on him. But now it was clear he'd been holding back, so as to not critically injure weak opponents.

  Now, having just been shot, and fighting an infamous assassin, he was going all out.

  Two punches connected to her head in rapid succession. Deathrain felt the brief wooziness of a concussion before her healing abilities fixed her up. Auspice's foot shot out, a kick likely meant to shatter more ribs, but Deathrain dodged aside, then jumped up onto the car's hood.

  “Stop it!” she shouted. “This is unnecessary!”

  “If you think your mind games will work on me, you're a bigger idiot than I thought.”

  With a dexterity that stunned her even more, he pulled out two objects from his red belt and flung them at her. Even if she'd been fighting her hardest, it would've been hard to evade them. The obje
cts lodged in her stomach, and she felt a wooziness similar to that concussion return.

  Throwing knives, poisoned with some unknown substance.

  She yanked out the knives and tossed them to the ground. “These are useless against me. I have a healing factor.”

  “I know,” Auspice said, “and they're not useless. They won't stop you, but they'll slow you down.”

  Again, he pulled out something and shot it at her. This time, though, she slid off the hood just in time. A metal line crackling with energy sailed past her. A taser of some sort.

  He'd never used these weapons before. Even against Spider Monkey and Wrapper, he'd only used his fists and feet.

  Auspice was getting deadlier by the second. Not only did this increase the likelihood of him beating her, but the longer this fight dragged out, the more likely some other superheroes would show up and join in on the fun.

  She needed to shut down Auspice, and fast – but how?

  Attack his weak point. His right shoulder was injured, and he'd been leading with his left-hand side. Deathrain lunged at him, sending a flurry of blows at his right side.

  But even though he was surely in a great deal of pain, Auspice moved like an Olympic-level fencer. Deathrain connected with a few kicks, but those only made it past Auspice's defenses because they were quick and relatively harmless. Auspice only grunted and kept backpedaling and parrying.

  Next she tried a leg sweep. If she could get him off his feet...but the superhero had jumped over her sweep almost before she'd started it. When he landed, he sent a savage kick of his own to her forehead, and again she felt her brain rattle in her skull.

  Now she was the one backpedaling. Luckily, her healing factor was keeping up...or was it? Something felt...odd. Tiredness had settled over her like a suffocating blanket.

  The poison! What the hell was it?! If it could cause her healing factor this much trouble....

  “You look a little peaked, Deathrain,” Auspice said.

  “Yet I'm still standing,” she said, though it came out meeker than she'd wanted.

  “I told you, that poison was only meant to slow you down.”

  With a growl, he renewed his assault. Though she moved as fast as she was able, more and more rocking blows hit her. A normal human would've been out cold by now.