Broad-Spectrum Assassin

Memory 1: The First Memory

It is uncommon for one to recall the memories of their own birth, though I have heard that the Psyren Frog is one such creature that can, at least the sounds of it. As an assassin, I of course had two births, but my memory only goes so far.

My oldest memory was of me as a boy of around four years of age.

There is no killer or predator with a larger track record than time itself. And no slower form of death than aging. There was a time when I aged. I forgot what that was like. Change itself is something I witness but never feel.

The memory playing right now was one I couldn't even recall. I suppose that Flash Powder knows more about me than I do.

Mother and Father are hiding behind couches. Only the tops of their heads are visible. I asses the situation and toss my weapon their way.

Wait. It's not a weapon. It's soft. A pillow? Can one even kill with a pillow?

Father uses the weapon he's holding to protect mother and then races after me.

Fear pumps blood in my heart but it's a sort of warm fear, or perhaps that's just the dose of nostalgia giving it that feeling.

I slide into my bedroom, tossing my weapon, and only means of defense, to block father's attack.

"Hiding only limits your escape options," said Father with a smile on his face.

I close my door to dodge mother's pillow and find myself momentarily calmed by the sanctuary of my room.

This is my land now. I have the upper-hand.

I grab the pillows from my bed and then open my closet. I climb into a basket of plushies that my parent's gift me weekly.

Using their own gifts to protect myself. He was indeed a clever boy.

I open my door just enough. My closet door has a mirror attached to it, which allows me to watch the entrance to my room.

He was a rather short fellow. Soft pale skin, white hair like a creature at the end of its life...it's a surprise I ever became so skilled at killing. Or perhaps his weak frame was my motivation to perfect our craft.

My indigo eyes shine in the mirror like blades as I watch the door.

I waited inside the basket till nighttime.

They were patient but patience dulls vigilance. Then again so does hunger and I can feel the rumbling of his stomach. Such an odd sensation.

Unable to silence my hunger, I slowly open the door and head to the kitchen.

I'm suddenly lifted up from behind.

Amateur! He should have sensed her presence. I apologize you have to see me in such a pitiful stage in my life.

Mother tickles me, and I drop my pillows in reaction.

Father then walks up, taking his time while spinning the pillow around.

Arrogance has no place on a mission.

I catch the pillow as it comes down and twist it out of his grip. A sense of pride wells up inside me.

Foolish boy. He allowed you to rend it from his grip. But for what purpose?

Mother drops me, yanks the pillow from my head and drops it on me.

I giggle and roll around with joy.

How failure brought about such joy in me is something I cannot fathom.

"I win so I decide your fate." Mom leans down and grins at me but without a threatening aura somehow. "You're going to help me make cookies in the kitchen."