Assassin's Gambit

Florian lurked in the shadows, his hand gripping the hilt of his dagger tightly from beneath the sleeve of his long shirt. The street before him was empty, barring the old newspapers blowing about in the wind and the homeless woman in rags feeding the birds beneath the clock tower at the train station. Night had come and the crowds had disappeared to their homes, leaving him in his hiding spot between two government buildings. Worn tracks made by the servants had turned the dirt into mud from the recent rains while they tried to make it to and from their positions in time. It was an excellent place for an assassin to hide.

He crouched in anticipation of his target’s arrival. They appeared from the train station door, down the steps, and crossed the road towards him. Their conversation was consumed with a discussion on politics; the minister and the young woman who was his target, Arianna, the adopted daughter of the man with her. His pride and joy and if she were gone, he would come to pieces and drop out of the race. He, along with many others of his group would receive a handsome payout, enough to pay for all their rent and food for a month. They stood before him, feet away waiting at the taxi stand just beyond the entrance to the alleyway.

The minister was a short, fat man in a dark suit with a cane and bowler hat. He blew his runny nose, wiggled his chin, and cleaned his mustache with a handkerchief. The woman beside him looked nothing like him. She was tall and elegant, dressed in a dress of varying shades of blue with Italian lace scattered about. Her dark hair piled up on her head, tied with intricate white ribbons and a flower-lined hat pinned to one side. In the dark street, she was by far the most vibrant thing in sight. A perfect doll covered in rainbows only money could afford.

It was people like this that had driven his kind to the slums - to the desperation of doing whatever they could to survive even if it meant stealing or killing to live. His mother and father had died during the plague from the poor hygiene leaving him and his siblings to starve out on the streets. They lived piled into small apartments in slums, sleeping on top of each other. He begged for food in the prominent areas of town, but they all laughed and drove him away with their canes and aristocratic sneers. In the rest of town, no one could afford to help. He had fallen in with a group of assassins. It brought him such pleasure to bring down people like the minister. They deserved it.

He crept from the shadows, carefully stepping towards the two, tightening his hold on the blade.

“…but father, you know the people on the eastern side of town need supplies. Why can’t you talk the other politicians into helping them?” the woman asked and she turned looking in his direction and frowned. There was a familiarity about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A memory from long past, buried somewhere deep inside.

Florian quickly shrunk back into the shadows, slowing his breathing. The best assassins were patient.

“I know they are dear to you, sweetheart, but there just isn’t enough to go around,” said the minister. “It’s not just me, the crops have failed and everyone is suffering.”

“There must be something we can do,” she begged, “I’ll…I’ll sell all my dresses and jewels.”

“No,” he said, “They are all family heirlooms and we must keep a certain dignity about us for the election. The people expect it.”

“The people expect you to take care of them,” his target argued causing feelings of shame to flood through Florian. This young woman was standing up for him and the people in the eastern side of town? It occurred to him this woman could bring about real change. Word had it that the minister would do anything for her. No, there was no time. People were depending on him.

He raced from the shadows, knocking the minister aside, and went for his target's throat with his knife. The wind was knocked from him as the minister cried out and beat him with his cane. Florian turned and caught the cane with his knife glaring at him while producing the second knife and holding it to his target's throat.

“Florian?” asked his target. “Florian, it's me, Sara.” Sara? His sister Sara was raped out on the street by a group of gang members and left to die. He had seen her body lying in the street.

“Sara?” he gasped and turned to look at her, but not before the minister swung at him and caught him on the jaw, knocking his face sideways. He fell back onto the pavement and the world spun. In the blur, he could see the movement, of the shadowy figure of the minister. He stepped forward and Florian knocked his feet from beneath him, sending him sprawling across the pavement, his arms and head hung out onto the road.

Florian glanced at his sister. “How?”

“They brought me to the hospital and the minister was there. His daughter and wife had died,” she said, “He needed someone to care for so he wouldn’t be alone.”

A mix of emotions filled him with confusion. If he were to carry out his mission, his sister would die. She was the last of his flesh and blood, but if he let her live they would come for him and those who were relying on him would die without food. He climbed to his feet and backed away, unable to process the choice.

“Florian, please…” cried his sister approaching him.

Florian scowled at her and towards the minister, groaning in pain on the sidewalk. He looked so broken and pathetic. It would be just as easy to take his life instead of hers and would accomplish the same thing. He strode towards the old man and picked him up, dagger in hand.

“No…” cried Sara taking hold of his elbow.

“One of you must die tonight,” he said.

“Please, no…” He looked back at her, his eyes softening remembering her as a child. Her cries of hunger and hollow cheekbones beneath sunken eyes and felt nothing but pity. She had always deserved more and now she was healthy.

He looked back at the minister. “What you were discussing tonight with your daughter. Make sure it happens. You have been warned or others will come for you and they don’t love my sister, Sara like I do.” The minister nodded and Florian threw him back towards the pavement, running for the shadows once more.