The Ace and the 4 Kings

ASSASSIN. MERCILESS. HEARTLESS. RESPECTS NO ONE. AND ABOVE ALL, A KILLER. Perhaps this is how most people see an assassin like us. Well... WE ARE FAR WORSE THAN THEY THINK. XJ's POV "NOOOOOOO!" "Shit." I covered my right ear with my hand. "P-please, have mercy..." he begged as his voice quivered with raw desperation. His entire body trembled, his knees barely holding him upright as cold sweat dripped down his brow. "Whoever you are, p-please let me live! I swear, I'll change—I'll turn my life around! If it's money you want, I'll give it all away! I'll donate every last coin to charity, to the poor, to the helpless—just, please, don't kill me!" His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling in frantic gasps, the weight of impending doom crushing down on him. "You are too loud." I interrupted his desperate monologue with a cold finality. "It's annoying." "P-please, let me —" "What did I say?" I asked again, this time, my finger already poised on the trigger of my gun. In the oppressive silence that surrounded us, I could almost hear the sound of him swallowing hard, each gulp echoing like a countdown in the stillness. "How old was the one you r*ped?" "I-I didn't r*pe anyone. Please! Believe me. I didn't!" His protests spilled out in a frantic rush as I aimed my revolver at his left leg and pulled the trigger. "Ahhhh! Fvckkk!" he screamed as pain erupted. I shook my head as blood splattered on my cheek. "How old?" I asked in a firm tone. "F-five years old," he stammered as his body shaking uncontrollably. A searing rage ignited within me at his confession. I gripped my gun tighter and pointed it at his temple. "Why?" "W-why?" he asked back. I pulled the trigger and pointed the gun toward the sky. "Next time you ask again, my bullet will go through your head next." I grit my teeth. I felt liquid pooling at his feet after what I said. "P-please... have mercy," he swallowed several times. "L-let me live." A cruel smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Mercy?" I repeated his word, a bitter taste in my tongue as I studied his face, wondering if he truly understood the weight of what he had just said. "I have something to ask you. How did you feel while r*ping that ch!ld?" My gaze bore into him. "Did you feel any mercy?" He sobbed at my words but then, to my shock, he suddenly burst into laughter as if the gravity of the situation had slipped away from him. "Yes! I admit it! It felt good! It was different having s*x with a child! There's nothing quite like —" s***h! I didn't wait for him to finish his sentence, as my vision blurred with rage. I dropped my revolver and threw the katana from my back into the air, catching it effortlessly in one fluid motion before swiftly slicing off his head. "Demon." I wiped the blood off that splattered on my face. "What a show." "What are you doing here?" I asked the man who had just arrived, while sheathing my katana with a deliberate motion. "Watching how the youngest assassin of Black Brother kills?" he replied in amused tone as if he were watching a show. "Is there any difference in how you guys kill?" I asked in a flat, emotionless tone. "Well, compared to the heartless assassins of BBO, your killings have a trace of emotion," he answered, his brow furrowing as he assessed me. "Why did you kill this one? He wasn't part of our mission, right? Why didn't you just hand him over to the cops?" I pulled my katana from its sheath again, the blade glinting ominously as I pointed it at his neck. "You wanna know something?" I said, my voice low and steady. In one swift motion, I pressed the katana into his neck, just deep enough for a thin trickle of blood to seep from the cut. "There's justice that can't be served in prison because some justice is better done with your own hands." I swiftly withdrew my katana, the blade slick with blood, and slid it back into its sheath with a quiet, controlled motion. "Hey, Chill. You're too high-strung for a 19-year-old. When did you come back to the country?" He asked, trying to shift the conversation, as he awkwardly wiped the blood from his neck. "Earlier at dawn. The old man wanted me here," I replied, my voice flat as I tried to dismiss him. "Oohh, why? I thought he assigned you permanently internationally?" "I don't know," I said lazily, my patience wearing thin. "Let's just meet later at the headquarters," I added, hoping to end the conversation. "Wait a second." I shot him an irritated glance, bracing myself for whatever nonsense he would say next. He grinned as his eyes glinted with mischief. "It seems you've gotten even prettier." He laughed like a madman. "What nonsense," I muttered under my breath, and turned to walk away. I had no time to waste on him. There were more pressing matters at hand. It was time to face hell. ****** I stood before the massive door, feeling the weight of its dark presence. The door to hell itself. The headquarters of the Black Brother Assassination Group. I drew in a deep breath as my chest rose and fell with the tension. "I missed this," I whispered to myself. The moment my fingers brushed the cold metal handle, I could feel the shift in the air. As soon as the door creaked open, a wave of dark, suffocating energy hit me. It was as if the very walls of this place were alive, soaked with the blood of past missions, drenched in the terror of its inhabitants. What else could you expect from the headquarters of notorious people like us? I hadn't even blinked when I felt a presence, a shift in the shadows creeping up behind me. "Psh! They've become more cautious now," a grin spreading across my face. I wiped the blood from my cheek, savoring the familiar metallic taste of it. Before I could fully straighten up, something sharp and cold pressed against my neck. I froze, feeling the bite of the steel as a voice whispered from behind me, "How are you, XJ?" The words barely left his lips when the double-blade plunged into my flesh. I frowned at the familiar sting of blood, the warmth spreading quickly under my skin. "It seems you didn't like the welcoming—" THUD! I didn't give him a chance to finish. With one swift motion, I slammed him to the ground, the air thick with the scent of adrenaline. "XJ!" Just as I turned, another double-blade whistled through the air toward me. I grinned, feeling the rush as the blade sliced through the air, another drop of blood trickling down my cheek. "Long time no see, Princess." I chuckled darkly, wiping the blood from my face. "It seems all of you here are not getting rusty." "Of course." They answered in unison, their arrogance almost palpable. "Well, let's see." In a blur of movement, I slid a nearby pipe up my leg, kicked it into the air, and caught it without breaking stride. Without hesitation, I sprinted toward Lee, but Justin and Ranz blocked my path, faces set with determination. I didn't know why, but I just smiled in excitement. "Fools!" I sneered. "All of you, die!" I was already running toward them when, suddenly, the black door behind us creaked open. "Everyone. Stop!" I froze mid-step, my instincts screaming at me to keep moving, but the voice that rang out was enough to halt us all. A man, in his mid-50s, stepped into the doorway. The room grew still as all eyes turned toward him. The founder of the Black Brother Assassination. Julio Guevara. "XJ, follow me," he commanded, his voice was icy, and his expression was still unreadable. With a resigned sigh, I followed him, leaving behind the foolish members of the BBO who still hadn't learned their place. "What happened in the US?" His voice cut through the silence as soon as we reached the office. "I failed," I replied, my words dripping with defiance. "Hah. What happened to the most notorious and youngest female assassin of my brotherhood?" I didn't flinch, my face stoic. "I was caught by a damn Blue Eagle agent. But don't worry, I'll make it up again." "Make it up again?" His tone grew darker, more serious, and he fixed me with a cold stare. "Or maybe you need a break?" His words hung heavy in the air, forcing me to look him in the eye. "It's been 13 years since you've been part of this organization," he continued, puffing on a cigarette. "You were just six years old back then. I think it's time for you to have a break." The weight of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. 13 years? I realized it had been that long since I was thrust into this life. I'd been an assassin since I was six, and now, here I was—thirteen years later, still bound to this blood-soaked path. "What do you mean?" I finally asked in confusion. "Quit the assassination business and get enrolled this year at Montreal University." I looked at him in disbelief. My jaw almost hit the floor. "W-what?!" Is he joking? I thought. After all these years of being his assassin, he suddenly says this? Is he out of his mind? And Montreal? That's insane. "Why Montreal?" I blurted out. "You know he owns that school, right? Are you messing with me? Are you punishing me for something? Okay, suspend me if you have to, but don't joke about something like that." "Why does it look like you're still bothered by his name?" Julio raised an eyebrow, lighting a cigarette again. "It doesn't matter to me if he owns the university. All I want is for you to experience a normal life again." "To make it clear, I don't care about him!" I snapped, lowering my head in frustration. "It's just... it's too late now." And normal life? what is that? I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Uncle, please, change your decision." Julio exhaled a cloud of smoke as his gaze hard. "Hah. You only call me 'uncle' at times like this." "Okay, let's make a deal," he puffed a smoke again. "If a year passes, and you'll survive, I'll accept your decision." His voice hardened. "That is, if you still want to be an assassin." I threw my hands up in frustration. "This is ridiculous!" "It's final," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Someone will pick you up later, and I want you to go with them." "But, Uncle––" "You may leave," he commanded with full authority. I had no choice but to follow him and leave the office. An assassin get enrolled? Montreal University? Am I dreaming or what? As I walked out of the office, my mind was in turmoil. The thought of leaving the life I had known for 13 years felt surreal, almost like a cruel joke. I wandered down the dimly lit hallway of the Black Brother Assassination Group's headquarters, my footsteps echoing in the silence. The familiar scent of gunpowder and metal lingered in the air, a reminder of the life I was supposedly leaving behind. "Montreal University..." I muttered under my breath. The name sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't just any school; it was his school. The man who owned it had a past entwined with mine in ways I wished I could forget. "XJ!" I turned to see one of my comrades, Lee, rushing toward me. His expression was a mix of confusion and concern. "What's going on? Why did the old man call you in?" he asked, panting slightly. I sighed, "Nothing." Lee placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. "Whatever happens, just remember, we're your family. We're here for you." Brotherhood, they say. I nodded, appreciating the sentiment, even though it felt like I was being exiled from the only family I had ever known. Later that evening, I stood outside the headquarters, waiting for my supposed escort. The cool night air did little to calm my restless mind. A sleek black car pulled up, and a man in a suit stepped out, his expression impassive. "Miss XJ," he addressed me with a slight bow. "I am here to escort you." I hesitated for a moment, my instincts screaming at me to turn and run back inside. But I knew there was no turning back now. With a resigned sigh, I nodded and stepped into the car, the door closing behind me with a soft thud. As the car drove away from the headquarters, I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. This was just the beginning of a new chapter, one that I wasn't sure I was ready for. But one thing was certain—life as I knew it was about to change forever.