The Compassionate Assassin

by Matt Cowper

  Attacking his weak point had failed. He was still fighting like a berzerker, even though he'd just been shot.

  She needed a new plan.

  But first, she'd try to reason with him one more time.

  Finally she saw an opening, and feinted a jab to the throat. Auspice anticipated it – as he anticipated everything – but instead of fully striking, she pulled back her arm, then leapt backwards, putting a good ten feet between them.

  “Dammit, will you stop!” she yelled. “I don't want you dead!”

  “Shut up! I'm not falling for your lies!”

  “If I wanted to kill you, I would've used my pistols or grenades! Calm down, please, and hear me out!”

  “Not gonna happen, Deathrain.” He lumbered towards her, his eyes twin beams of rage and resolve. “You underestimated me, and now you're trying to trick me to save yourself. Not going to happen, witch. Today is the day you finally get served justice for the people you've killed.”

  “You goddamn idiot,” she snarled. “Fine. Just know that you made me do this.”

  She pulled out a grenade, but instead of tossing it at Auspice, she hurled it at the thief, who was still tied up and still shouting.

  Auspice's eyes went wide. “No!”

  He raced towards the grenade as it bounced towards the thief, then dove, laying full out and landing on the small but deadly object.

  It was a heroic sacrifice, one that would secure him a place in superhero lore. Auspice, the hero who gave his own life to save the life of a criminal. It would be an inspiration for millions.

  Only the grenade didn't go off. There was no explosion, no noise except the thief's heavy breathing, a far-off siren, and the rumble of a truck a few blocks over.

  “What?” Auspice said, getting up on all fours and staring at the grenade. “No. This...doesn't feel right.”

  “It's a dummy grenade,” Deathrain said. “Sorry for the duplicity. It was the only way I could think of to beat you quickly.”

  She swung her steel-toed boot as hard as she could into the superhero's cheek. There was a sickening crack, blood flew from his mouth, and Auspice thumped to the pavement, unconscious.

  “Thank god,” Deathrain muttered.

  “Oh shit! I thought I had a chance.” It was the thief, who shivered like he was in Siberia, instead of the mild climate of Z City. “Please, I beg you: make it quick. I don't deserve to be tortured. I'm just a––”

  “If you don't shut up, I will kill you,” Deathrain snapped.

  That silenced the man, even though it didn't stop his shivering.

  Deathrain stared down at the bleeding superhero. His white spandex, formerly so pure, was now splattered with blood, and his right shoulder looked ghastly.

  He no longer looked like an elite force for good. He looked like an average man who was in over his head.

  For a brief moment, she debated leaving him there. Someone would come along and save him. Though the people looking down from their apartments hadn't run down to the scene, someone had certainly called the authorities. An ambulance would arrive, and Auspice would be taken to the hospital and patched up.

  Meanwhile, she could leave Z City, leave Kain, forget about Auspice. She didn't need to involve herself in these matters – whatever they were – any more. Let Kain hire someone else to kill the superhero. Let him come after her if he was angered at what he perceived to be her betrayal. She could be halfway across the world by midday, and from there she could disappear within a jungle, a desert, the mountains, wherever she wanted.

  But she crouched down and slung the bloodied hero over her shoulder, then set off as fast as she could. Auspice was heavy, but then she was many times stronger than a normal woman.

  “I hope you appreciate this,” she muttered to the unconscious superhero. “If you don't, I'm going to be mighty pissed off.”

  Chapter Eight

  Auspice let out a pitiful groan, and his eyes opened slowly, like they had weights holding them down. When they were fully open, he gave his head a rough shake, trying to brush off his grogginess. Now slightly more alert, he glanced around the dim room, until he saw Deathrain standing a few feet in front of him.

  “You,” he growled.

  He began struggling, but could only wiggle a few inches. Deathrain had tied him down to a chair, and bound his hands tightly. He'd have to be the world's greatest escape artist to get free, especially since she planned on watching him like a hawk.

  She'd dragged the superhero to an abandoned store a few blocks from the site of their battle and set him up in the back room. Judging from the silent walk-in cooler and the glass display case up front, the place had been some sort of deli.

  The surrounding area was mostly deserted – perhaps a few hobos were sleeping in the decomposing buildings, but they shouldn't be an issue. If Auspice cried out for help, few people, if any, would hear him, and she could easily gag him or knock him out if he became too unruly.

  “What have you done to me, villainess?” he barked.

  “Oh, for fuck's sake...villainess? Are we in some 1940s comic book?”

  “What phrase do you want me to use? Shining light of hope?” Still he was struggling, though he was making zero progress.

  “Stop it,” she said, stepping closer and leaning over him. “You won't get out of those bonds, and those special powers of yours can't help you if you're tied up.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What special powers?”

  “Don't play stupid. I know you have some sixth sense type thing, or some innate fighting ability. No one is that good at close-range fighting, unless they're augmented in some way. But, as dangerous as you are, those powers of yours have a range, don't they? That's why I was able to shoot you.”

  In response, Auspice only glared.

  “Come on,” Deathrain said. “You call yourself Auspice! Surely you realize people will be able to figure out what you can do.”

  “You're not getting anything out me, Deathrain,” he said. “Once I break free, I'll––”

  “You're not breaking free.”

  “I will.” It was said with such conviction, such intensity, that Deathrain half-believed it herself. She glanced at the rope and knots, making sure everything was still secure.

  “Look, Auspice, if I wanted you dead, I could've killed you a hundred times already. Stop struggling and––”

  “You can blather all you want. Your words are pure poison. I have no idea what you have in store for me, but it's certainly not altruistic. Maybe you want to torture me, satisfy your sick urges, or maybe one of my nemeses wanted me captured alive.”

  “Listen, you thick-skulled wannabe saint: I'm trying to help you. I patched up your wound, I––”

  “If you want to help me, untie me.”

  “You think I'm an idiot? You'll just attack me again.”

  “You shot me first.”

  “It was an accident,” she whispered.

  “An accident? Did I hear that right? You call me thick-skulled, but your healing factor must not have healed a head wound, as ridiculous as you're acting.”

  “Dammit, you fucking––” Before she verbally lacerated Auspice, she took a few deep breaths, getting herself under control. Auspice looked at her curiously; he'd even stopped struggling.

  “I'll get to the point,” she said. “Do you know someone called Kain?”

  At the mention of the cold, mysterious man who'd hired her, Auspice frowned – and Deathrain thought the revealed portion of his face paled.

  “Yes,” he replied. “I've heard of him.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “He's a bad seed. Real bad. Why do you want to know?”

  “He's the one who hired me to kill you.”

  Auspice's look of grim determination returned. “I see. Makes sense. Both of you working together – two psychos, two peas in a pod.”

  “We're not working together – not anymore.” She leaned closer, so he could see into her gunmetal gray eyes.
“I've...decided to live my life a different way. I'll no longer work for people like Kain. In fact, I want him dead – and I'd like your help.”

  Auspice regarded her for a few moments, and she thought she'd finally gotten through to him. But then he leaned his head back and let out a sharp laugh.

  “This is too much, Deathrain,” he said. “The legendary executioner suddenly learns the error of her ways? Did you learn this before you shot me, or after?”

  “I had you in my crosshairs. I could've blown your brains out. I almost did. But at the last second, I stopped myself – or tried to. I'm sorry. You don't know how sorry. I....”

  She trailed off, unsure of how to continue. Auspice wasn't going to believe anything she said, not unless she did something extraordinary to garner his trust. Why should he? She had a reputation, one just about every superhero, even “newbies” like Auspice, knew about.

  Standing up, she reached behind her head and unzipped her black leather mask. Before she could change her mind, she pulled it off and tossed it to the floor.

  Auspice stared at her, his mouth forming a small 'o'. Deathrain ran her hands through her spiky hair and smiled down at him as benevolently as she could.

  “Does this persuade you?” she asked. “You know few people have ever seen my face. Those that have usually ended up dead.” Again, she leaned in. “I want you to see me, not Deathrain.”

  Auspice chewed his bottom lip.

  “Look, I promise I'm not trying to kill you, torture you, or hand you over to Kain or any other psychopath. I really have...really have changed. Or I'm trying to....”

  “Does this have something to do with Metalhead?”

  An image of blood gushing from the teenager's wound flashed across her consciousness. “It has everything to do with Metalhead.”

  “I saw those videos of you,” he said. “You tried to help him, there at the end. I thought it was maybe a sick game on your part, but now....”

  Deathrain tried to speak, but her words caught in her throat, and she was surprised to feel tears running down her cheeks. With a half-angry, half-sad swipe of her hand, she wiped them away.

  “You do...appear to be in earnest,” Auspice said. “Untie me, and we can talk about this Kain person.”

  “No way.”

  “You can leave my hands tied if you wish. But sitting here completely helpless and in pain isn't going to work. You want my help, you have to earn my cooperation.”

  Deathrain glared at him, and he glared back just as stubbornly. Finally she sighed and began undoing the knots.

  “Fine, I'll untie you from the chair,” she said. “But your hands stay bound. Unless you're more skilled without your powers than I suspect, I can easily subdue you if you try anything. Don't be an idiot and force me to knock you out again.”

  “Don't worry, I'll behave – for now.”

  In a few minutes, Deathrain had undone the knots and removed the ropes from the superhero. He stood up from the chair slowly, evidently not quite believing he was free. After a few grunts and stretches, he looked around the small back room. Deathrain thought he was plotting an escape, or looking for some way to remove the rope around his hands, but he only stood there.

  “So,” he said. “This Kain...you said you want to kill him?”

  “Yes. He's...well, to be blunt, he reminds me of myself. How I used to be, before...everything that's happened. Like you said, he's a bad seed. I don't know exactly what he's involved in, but none of it's good.”

  “No, it's not.” Auspice bowed his head, and again his face turned pale. “He's...he's the worse I've ever seen. Sure, I'm new to this gig, but....”

  “Can you be specific? He has resources, that much is evident. He offered me a handsome fee to kill you. But how did he acquire this money? What are his goals? Who are his associates?”

  “You didn't do any digging on him?” Auspice asked.

  “I was going to, but then...this happened.”

  “Yes. This.” He glanced down at his wounded shoulder, and a small smile appeared. “Not half bad. Patched me up nicely. Doesn't even sting.”

  “Thanks,” Deathrain said, a smile of her own appearing. “I gave you some painkillers while you were sleeping.”

  “So that's why I feel a bit...off.”

  “Probably feels similar to that poison you hit me with.”

  “I had to do that. You were––”

  “I know,” Deathrain interrupted. “So...Kain.”

  “Yes. Kain.” Auspice spent a few moments searching for words. “He's a new player in Z City's underworld. Appears to want to be a crimelord, a big shot, but there's more to it than that. He...does things that don't make sense, according to the old guard.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, there appear to be rules to all this gangster nonsense. I don't know them all, since I'm fairly new. But, for example, no one wants to mess with the feds or the superheroes – doing so persuades them to come in and do a big cleanup. Everyone gets caught in the net. But Kain, he doesn't care. Anyone who crosses him, he just tortures them and then kills them. Sadistic torture, too...I know, all torture is sadistic, but the things he does....”

  “Sounds like he's too much of a wild card,” Deathrain said. “Why hasn't anyone moved against him?”

  “They have, and he's taken some heavy losses. Always bounces back, though. And he pays his guys well. This induces plenty of thugs to switch allegiances.”

  “Where does this money come from? Drugs? Sex trafficking?”

  “That and more. He's got his vile fingers in every type of sin, including some the old guard hasn't even thought of. Deep-diving into the Net, sexbots, demented theme parks – all the freaks and sadists have flocked to him.”

  “Yeah, I met him, briefly, and I felt...I felt like he didn't care that I was an assassin. Like he held all the cards.”

  “Yes, he's supremely confident. Perhaps he's a superhuman – that would account for him surviving this long, when many of his men have fallen. But I don't know what powers he has.”

  “Speaking of: what about your powers? Usually I can handle myself in a scrap, but against you....”

  “You were perceptive about my abilities,” Auspice said. “I do have a sort of sixth sense that helps me avoid danger.”

  “But I still landed some hits. And I did shoot you.”

  “Knowing something and acting on it are two different things. I've trained my body to peak condition, but it's still flesh-and-blood. Someone who's faster or smarter – like you were – can cause me some trouble. And my power does have a range limit.”

  “How did you get your powers? And––”

  “Enough about me. I've told you too much already.”

  “OK, uh, then Kain...why does he want you dead? You've been trying to dismantle his organization, right?”

  “Yes. Trying – and failing.” His shoulders slumped, and he looked so pitiful Deathrain felt an urge to hug him. “It's like cutting off the head of a hydra – no matter how much you cut, it always regenerates. If I could just get to him, take him out personally...but he's slippery as an eel. And I...I hate to admit it, but I got frustrated at my failures. I decided to take a break, draw up some plans, so I could really hit him hard. But in that brief time, he only got stronger, crazier, more confident – and then he hired you.”

  Deathrain winced, forgetting that she wasn't wearing her mask. “I'm sorry. I didn't...ah, forget it.”

  “No, I need more than that. You want me to trust you? So talk. Tell me why and how you've changed.”

  Deathrain sat down in the chair and put her head in her hands. She knew that doing this put her at a disadvantage, but she didn't think Auspice was planning to attack her or run away.

  “It's been a long time coming,” she said. “Metalhead was the...the real catalyst, though. I didn't mean to kill him – but at the same time, I did. There's something within me...something dark. Something like what you and I see in Kain. I used to enjoy unleashing that dar
kness. But now...I guess it's caught up to me: the things I've done, and the things that have been done to me. I can't be the Deathrain everyone fears anymore. I don't want to be the Deathrain everyone fears. I want...something. To redeem myself, I guess. To bury that darkness, that fury, for good. Maybe it's impossible....”

  “It's not.” Again, Auspice's conviction snapped her to attention. “People can change, Deathrain. It won't be quick, nor will it be easy, but it can be done. Up until this point, I've doubted you, but hearing you just now...if you want to team up against Kain, I'm all for it.”

  Suddenly her arms were wrapped around him. She squeezed tightly, feeling his muscles, inhaling his sweaty, coppery scent, feeling his warm breath on her neck.

  She needed this hug, needed someone to comfort her...shit! She was hugging him?!

  She pushed him away, feeling her cheeks flush. Though Auspice's face was still mostly covered, his shock practically exploded from under his mask.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. “Dunno what came over me. Stress, I guess.”

  “No problem,” he replied, “though that hug may have been premature.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You are helping me now, Deathrain, but....”

  “But what?”

  “You did kill Metalhead,” Auspice said, frowning, “and you've killed others. After this is over, I want you to turn yourself in.”

  Deathrain stared at him until Auspice shifted on his feet uncertainly. “Turn myself in?”

  “Yes. Justice needs to be served. If you want, I'll testify on your behalf, I'll help you in any way I can. But I can't let you go free.”

  “You just said people can change!”

  “They can, but the sins of the past must be accounted for. I'm sorry, Deathrain.”

  Deathrain wanted to scream at him, wanted to fight him again. The fucking hypocrite! He'd accept her help when it suited him, then he'd toss her into MegaMax Prison after she'd outlived her usefulness. Typical bastard superhero....

  But the more she glared at Auspice, the more she realized how uncomfortable he was. He wasn't the self-righteous lecturer, but rather the embarrassed fraud.