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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Deep within the alleys, sewers, and hidden passageways of an american metroplis, darkness consumes the day and a Brotherhood is born.

Submitted: October 16, 2013

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Submitted: October 16, 2013












By: M.D. Kennedy







Part 1: Growing Shadows

The assassin watched from the shadows of the woods that occupied the rear end of the target's house. One by one the lights were being clicked off and soon the entirety of the house would be drenched in darkness. The assassin clenched the hilt of the dagger that was hidden within their clothing.

"I won't fail you, Night Mother." the assassin whispered as the last light in the house went off.

The assassin crept forward, their footsteps silently crushing blades of grass. Somewhere behind them an owl hooted and the assassin spun around in a crouch, blade bared, eyes narrowed to a slit, staring back into the woods as if waiting for some unknown enemy to appear from the trees.

"Damn animal." the assassin spat through clenched teeth as they turned back towards the house.

A light flicking on caused the assassin to stop dead in their tracks and watch as a shadow passed in front of the back sliding door. Nothing about the shadow revealed that the assassin had been discovered, but the assassin still lowered their body to the ground and waited for the light to extinguish.

Once the house went dark for a second time the assassin rose from their flat position on the ground and resumed their advance. A quick glance skyward at the dark sky filled with the void of a new moon caused the asassin to smile deviously.

"Watch over your faithful child, Night Mother, as I perform the deed." the assassin mouthed as they crouched next to the back sliding door and felt for the keyhole.

The Keeper had taught them much in the means of lockpicking and now, as they inserted the pick, it all came back to them with the natural simplicity shared with breathing and the beating of their black heart. Seconds later the keyhole turned and the gratifying click of the lock being undone could be faintly heard. The assassin could feel their heart pounding in their chest and took several deep breaths before beginning the excruciating task of silently sliding the door open. After many moments of inching it open, there was enough of a gap for them to enter and attempt to close it just as silently. The only problem was that it closed with a resonating echo of a click and several breathless seconds later, the assassin heard the footsteps of the target clattering above him, heading for the stairs.

The assassin clicked the lock, securing the door, providing a false sense of visual security as the target began their descent down the stairs. The assassin searched for a hiding place and as the kitchen light came on several rooms over, they crouched behind a dark brown couch. They heard the target enter the room and approach the sliding door, the target's breath heavy with paranoia.

"Must be hearing things... Need to stop drinking so much damn coffee." the target said as they turned and began to walk away, their shadow filled with the glint of a blade.


Rays of violently brilliant light from the rising sun shone through the woods into the clear windshield of the blue Dodge Ram that sped down the gravel road. Behind the wheel sat a slender, well-built man with his brow furrowed, his face stretched into a scowl, his knuckles white with grip. His bright green eyes revealing dual emotions: sorrow and hatred, as they stared straight ahead of the road at the clearing that was fast approachimg. As he pulled up into the clearing he could see the ambulances and police cruisers flashing their lights around the all-too-familiar house.

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