CHAPTER 3

The symphony of the old man's violin woke him up. Sunlight streamed in through the single window in the cottage.

The pain had subdued considerably but a constant layer of it still persisted beneath the surface.

"Return my gun and I'll get going," said the Reaper in his cold voice. The old man stopped, "A good morning to you as well!"

Reaper returned silence. He couldn't even get up, let alone walk. But he wanted to test the old man. "There's some tea there. If you can get up, you're welcome to leave."

"Why are you doing this?" asked Reaper.

The old man stopped to give a short laugh, before replying "For reasons you won't understand yet." Saying so he resumed playing his violin. Reaper spent the rest of the day observing the man's routine.

It was fairly simple, he went out for hunting once, chopped a little wood before returning to the cottage. The lunch was a simple vegetable broth, after which he asked Reaper to do his dishes once he was in improved health. "I am not doing anyone else's dishes except mine old man. Do your own bit." Despite that the old man left the dishes in the sink. A similar routine followed night. They barely talked, but what Reaper understood as a certainty was that the man was no amateur. The way he held his rifle and his physique confirmed that that he was skilled.

Reaper tried to recall if he could place the old man from any of the old assassins he knew. Nothing came.

At night, the old man started of his own accord, "You remind me of my younger self, Reaper." He didn't reply. "They gave me bullets and a revolver, and that was all it took to rule Tegna. I shot people left and right, anyone in my path became a victim."

"Then why do you spend your time here? Found a bullet faster than yours."

A distant look developed in the old man's eyes. "No, rather all I found at the top was bullets and more bullets. All going in circles, never stopping. It's weary life and it never leaves you" The Reaper failed to understand what the man referred to. The rest of the night passed in circles.

At the end of second day he was already restless to leave. He could not afford to linger in one place for long. He knew his employer would eventually try to hunt him down. Assuming he had eloped with the object.

That wouldn't have bothered him much on a usual day, but given the situation that could prove fatal.

***

"I hate trees."

Reaper awoke, his senses alert. He could see the old man chopping wood from the window. But the source of the sound was entirely different.

"Never liked them since I was a child." A man in an expensive coat and circular glasses sat on the stool and looked straight at the Reaper. Reaper knew him as the Company man. He handled finances for his employer, that included retrieving cash and goods from reluctant debtors.

The Company man continued, "How they protrude from the ground with their snaky limbs and try in vain to cover the infinite sky. How they loom over you as if portraying how superior they stand."

"But those aren't the only reasons I hate trees," his eyes caught an inhuman gleam, and the morning sunlight reflected on his glasses. Reaper knew immediately that the employer had sent him.

"It is because these trees help humanity survive. And I have lesser love for humans than I have for trees that I can assure you. But if it weren't for these trees, there would be no humans! Ah, look around you, a world, full of hope. Just put a human in the scene and he entirely messes everything up, hungry for power and glory, making up illusionary systems to maintain his ever-waning sanity. His ignorance to everything not related to him makes for a hilarious display of all that the word 'humanity' stands for. I despise the whole idea." The man got up.

"What I despise more, is that I am one of those humans." He looked out of the window, "Yes, it's these trees that made it finding you so difficult. You cover your tracks well, Reaper! I will give you that."

Reaper spoke, "I have your object, tell your boss it will be delivered on time."

The assassin removed his glasses and wiped them neatly and slowly, "It was never just about the object Reaper. He knew only you could retrieve the object but also that you couldn't be trusted with it. Killing you was always the part of the plan."

The Reaper already knew that. It was always the same. In Tegna, trust did not exist.

"So you have come to kill me?"

A slightly morose look passed the man's face, "Reaper it pains me to see you in such a state." He placed his glasses back on, "You are ahead of the flock, and in the same line as I am. I admire your work."

He got up. A constant sound of the axe chopping wood could be heard in the distance. Reaper weighed his options. He knew there was no gun on him. He was defenceless; offense remained his last option, but his hands had a limited reach. He was not sure if he could get up.

"Truly what an irony it is, to kill one of the humans I hate less, and that too when he is in such a deteriorated state. There is no honour in this I assure you, I find no pleasure." The man remained safely out of Reaper's reach and steadied his pistol towards his head. "It will be quick, my assurance. Any last words? I don't usually give that liberty to my targets, but I respect you."

Reaper's eyes still searched for ways to escape the predicament, but he was slowly coming to the conclusion that there was none.

The revolver hammer clicked reminding him of his limited time. His figure stood in full view of the early morning sunlight. Reaper's breathing quickened.

"You will remain an insp..." An axe to the back of his head was what it took to stop his monologue. It split the back of his skull in two. His eyes bulged and blood oozed out freely and fast, his cleaned circular spectacles turned a tint of crimson. Blood flowed from his nose as his mouth remained open. He started to fall face first on the Reaper, but with one heave, the old man retrieved the axe causing the dead assassin to fall behind.

The old man was panting, shirt and face sprayed with blood, his eyes lit with a hellish gleam, "The kid thought he could pass by me undetected. Arrogant bastard."

He dropped the axe on the floor with a thud. "This mess is going to take a while to clear," he sighed.

Reaper said, "This isn't the end old man. The Wing of Death is coming."

The old man nodded his head as he let out another sigh, "I know. It simply never ends."

Chapter 4

The Wing of Death had become a part of mythology in Tegna. Such was their repute that most people didn't believe in their existence. How could they? A group of four people that could eliminate the president of a country and still pass undetected and very much alive? That seemed too surreal to be true. All that hit the Wing of Death turned to ash.

Even Reaper would think twice before facing such a group. But he wasn't disillusioned like the masses. The reputation was far greater than their skill level. Much of their methods relied on cheap theatrics, building an unprecedented reputation being the biggest one of them. They were better than most assassin groups, but they weren't immortal either. And Reaper knew about each of the four members that came under The Wing.

And as long as you weren't an immortal in Tegna, Reaper could kill you.

They were funded by Reaper's employer and he knew for sure that the Company man's apparent failure in his mission would summon The Wing of Death. Reaper was cornered, but so was his employer, if he had to send The Wing to kill a single man. In all honesty, the old man's behaviour intrigued Reaper the most. He was unlike anyone he'd ever seen in Tegna, anyone he could hope to meet.

He sat beside the fireplace with the object Reaper had taken a bullet to retrieve. Reaper sat up on his bed, "Give that back to me old man! When did you steal it anyways?"

"When you were half dead, along with your guns." Only now did the Reaper realise that it had been four days since he asked about the object let alone look for it. What the object actually was still remained the least of his interests.

Examining the cloth covered object the old man said, "So this is what all the fuss is about?"

Reaper said, "Give it back old man, it doesn't belong to you."

The old man laughed, "I claim it to be mine now." Reaper couldn't even argue, that was the truth in Tegna. He slowly unwrapped the cloth to look at the contents inside. It was a piece of paper, with a code in it. The old man stared at it for a while and held it up for Reaper to see.

"So this is supposed to be important! Hmm," saying so, he threw the paper in the fire. The old man then turned to look at Reaper. Both of them erupted in sudden laughter. The old man started preparing dinner of broth.

After a long bout of silence Reaper asked again, "Why are you doing this? What do you get out of it?"

The old man didn't reply, "Why do you kill Reaper?"

Reaper flinched. No one had ever asked him that.

"Why do you kill?"

Silence was his reply.

"Hmm...Think about it. You aren't a psycho like the Company man, who loves murder for the sake of it. Nor do you care in the least for money. You have enough of that. So why do you kill?"

A simple question had shaken Reaper. He wasn't one to contemplate his actions, after the deed was done. He had never stopped and asked. He enjoyed the fights but he got no real pleasure out of killing. He wasn't looking for the 'right opponent', or nemesis either. Reaper thought that was too perfect for the real world.

As the old man handed him his bowl of broth, he asked again, "So why do you kill Reaper?"

Chapter 5

A week had elapsed since the Company man had shown up. Reaper could feel their presence. Eyes boring into the dilapidated cottage. The Wing of Death was upon them. They waited and waited for the opportune moment.

"It's time," declared the old man as he flung a revolver towards Reaper. He picked up the violin and started playing a melancholic tune. Both of them were out of range of the window, for Eagle stalked there.

Eagle was a sharpshooter. He claimed to have the sharpest eye, and best aim among the four.

Reaper waited patiently as the Old man, while still playing, let the neck of the violin be visible out of the window. A bullet rang through the night air and bore a hole in the neck marking the cottage wall opposite. Reaper only had a split second; he briefly saw the mark left by the bullet on the wall. Eagle used a sniper rifle that took a full one and a half seconds to reload. Reaper peeked out of the window and aimed his pistol at the angle of the bullet and shot. A scream was heard as the sniper of The Wing lay dead.

He ducked below the window and started crawling out of the cottage.

***

The next piece of the puzzle was Wonder. She was a master of illusion. Wonder used to camp at the roof of buildings. The loud footsteps heard made the victim shoot for the roof, while the silent Hobbit rushed in to kill the distracted opponent. Sure as daylight, Reaper found her lurking on the slanted roof of the cottage. He waited up in the trees till she was directly below him.

This is gonna hurt.

Knife hand outstretched, he jumped down from the branch and launched the knife into Wonder's neck. As the roof gave way to their combined weight, both dropped on the cottage floor. As soon as a shocked Hobbit opened the door, a bullet found its way through his head and an axe his neck. As the shotgun dropped from his hand, Reaper saw his dying face. He did look a little Hobbit-y, whoever had named him had done it rightly so. Then the pain shot up from his stomach, he bit to hold back a scream. Blood had started oozing out of the bandages. The white was now soaked in red. His pistol hand had started trembling.

And that's how three members from The Wing of Death tasted their own medicine in the first three minutes of confronting the Reaper.

***

The old man came in to check on Reaper who lay on the floor, in a pool of blood, some of it his own. He looked up at the hole in the ceiling, "Now that's gonna take time to fix. Get up! There's still Grossman."

Reaper steadied his revolver as a large shadow loomed up behind old man, "Look out!" The old man swung his axe behind and at Grossman's seven foot frame. Despite his height he was thin as a stick and agile. He ducked behind the door and disappeared in the woods. A knife came swooping at Reaper from the window. As he was in no position to duck, he reflexively moved his revolver in the way. The knife dug in his hands, and he let out a scream. The revolver dropped.

Grossman's voice resonated through the cottage, "I can't beat you in a gun fight, I know that Reaper." The old man moved his axe in a defensive position as he moved out.

Reaper slowly got up to find his footing, a thousand fires burning through his systems. And then the moon got blocked out. Reaper felt his senses tingling.

So that's where you are.

Reaper moved out of the way in time. Down came Grossman from the hole in the roof. The old man lashed at him with his axe, Grossman ducked and managed to land a cut on his right. The old man tried to grab his knife hand with his bleeding arm, but he got intercepted as a knife dug its way through his right palm. He sought the opportunity to disarm Grossman by retracing his arm. He swiftly extracted the knife. While Grossman was still distracted by Reaper, he dug the knife in Grossman's knee. The assassin knelt and screamed as the old man's knife stabbed his arm multiple times. Reaper went to retrieve his revolver with trembling hands.

He took a deep breath as his aim steadied. "You came close. More than anyone ever has."

Grossman laughed lightly through the bouts of pain, "You did good for an injured man." He coughed blood as he tried to conjure a smile again, "So what was the Object?"

"Just what it always is. More bullets and more guns," said the old man.

"Do it then, Reaper. It was an honour," said Grossman.

Reaper pressed the trigger. A violent boom resonated for a final time in that cottage. Reaper fell to the ground and passed out.

Chapter 6

Reaper woke up in a dried pool of blood. To his right lay the dead body of Wonder and Grossman.

The old man apparently hasn't moved it yet.

He tried to get up using his right palm, but pain shot through it. He retraced it and saw a knife puncture through it. His right had another knife cut running to the elbow. The old man was nowhere in sight. He got up with support from his left arm and walked around the cottage. He moved to the kitchen. The sink where the old man piled up his soiled bowls was empty.

How can that be?

Near the cupboard a violin lay with multiple layers of dust and cobwebs, a single clean spot of the shape of finger around its neck and a gunshot hole, indicating it had been held recently.

That cannot be!

He limped out of the cottage. Hobbit's dead body lay at the door. There was a gunshot on his head but no axe hit on his neck. He limped towards where the Company man's body had been buried. He dug and dug till he found his rotting corpse. The morning sky turned a shade darker as rain clouds obscured the view of the sun.

There was no cut from the axe behind his skull, but on the front.

He sat there for a second, shock gripping him. The stench from the dead body did not faze him. Rain began to fall lightly on the open grave. Reaper got up and started closing the grave back.

And as for who I am, just a man who doesn't like eyes of the world on him.

He stood beside the Company man's grave, leaning on his shovel. Light and rain played around his slender frame.

I finally understand.

He now realised what had hit him so much about the old man's eyes. They were his own.

So why do you kill, Reaper?