His Assassin and His Creator

The Good Old Days

Published

60 Years Later
Percy's POV:

The man trembles before me, shooting pleading glances at the guard backed against a wall, her sword shaking in her hands.

"No, he will not help you. And if he tries...well, his death will be much more unpleasant than I had originally intended."

The king's swarthy face gains an almost unnatural pallor as he eyes the dagger I carelessly spin around my knuckles. "Do you wanna know the problem I have with people like you?"

The king blinks, looking at me unsurely, and I roll my eyes behind my mask. "Yes, that was a rhetorical question. But your stupidity is not the issue. The issue," I slam my dagger into the meaty flesh of his hand, which had been creeping towards an almost undetectable switch on the underside of his desk.

And as blood pools around the dagger and the king's face contorts in pain, I shoot him a malicious smile to reflect the poison of my next words, "is people like you. People who don't care about others. People who use other people for their own sick amusement. People who abuse the power they have."

"And how, pray tell, am I abusing my power? I am the king of this planet, of these people, and therefore I can do as I see fit."

"Wrong," I hum as I twist my dagger before yanking it out. Crimson drops flow onto the rich rug beneath my feet, and the king watches me, his face getting increasingly angrier.

"You have no right-"

"Oh, so now it's about morals and what's right and wrong, is it? I don't remember seeing any morals as you pummeled the kids here simply for your own entertainment. I don't remember seeing the good in you when you used women for your own pleasure. So maybe I shouldn't be the one who gets the honor of killing you, and maybe I shouldn't be here killing you in the first place, but if these people cannot shield themselves from the corruption of this government then I must be their sword."

The king scowls darkly, clutching a piece of cloth against his hand. "And how do you propose you'll free my people? Because even if you kill me...even if you kill me I still have an entire army on my side."

I bark out a peal of laughter, turning to spare a glance at the guard leaning against the wall to share in my incredulity. "Can't you see? Even your own personal guards spare no love for you. And they certainly won't care when I kill you and place a new, rightful, ruler."

"That's not...that's not..." the king pauses, his mouth going slack when he notices the guard refusing to meet his eyes.

"Well, as much fun as this hasn't been, I grow tired of your presence. Have fun in Hell. Tata!"

Blood spatters the wall behind the man, my dagger now embedded deep into the king's skull. "And for you," I say, grinning as I turn to see the guard with her sword raised. "Unfortunately, you went along with this man's terror and I really can't have that."

I take a step forward, drawing another dagger out, but pause when she cries, "Wait, please! You don't understand! I had no choice!"

I regard her coldly, unmoving as I say, "You always have a choice."

"But he had my family," she whispers miserably and my shoulders tense. "Please," she begs, throwing herself on her knees before me. "I have a wife. And two little boys. I...I don't want them growing up without me. Please," she whispers, holding her hands up to me pleadingly.

I stare down at the woman before me and nod after a moment of contemplation. "Fine. I will let you go. But on two conditions."

"Yes, anything!"