The alarm woke her; its sound drowned out all else. Toren rolled out of the bed grabbing her belt with all her tools and sprinting out the door. Thankfully, no one had locked it. Toren repeatedly hit the button, impatient, but it was locked down. The whole place was going into lockdown. What the hell did that mean?
“Sean! Jared! Fared! Miguel! Hey, anybody! Damn.” Toren made sure her gun was loaded and loosened her sword in its scabbard. They had all left probably on a mission that was going badly. She couldn’t go through the vents because every few floors had a separate system for security reasons; there was no way she could make it all the way up to the command center. Her other choice was the stairs, but there was no guarantee she could get to the stairs or get all the way up. The locks were meant to keep even her out (Toren felt slightly wounded that they still didn’t trust her). So, her only other choice was the elevator shaft.
Toren groaned. She hated climbing up shafts. It was a pain and a waste of strength, but it had to be done. She popped the button panel off the wall and started rewiring. The elevators were locked on the floor below the one they occupied so it wouldn’t prove a problem if she could just get the outer doors open. Success. The doors dinged and slid open. Toren gauged the distance to the floor she needed and winced. Magic would make it easier, but she refused to use any magic that came from some sort of demon. With a sigh, Toren hooked her belt onto a cable and began the long ascent.
It didn’t take as long as she thought. She pried the doors open and jumped into the command center. A few of the newer technicians jumped, startled. She ignored them and went right to the main terminals assessing the situation. The Director was at the neighboring terminal shouting out orders.
“You sent them out without me,” Toren accused him.
“Yes, Ms. Night, I did. Despite what you believe, you are not always needed for a successful mission as was proven during your absence. Damn it all. What’s happening out there?”
“We don’t know sir,” replied a technician. “We’ve lost all contact.”
“If you haven’t noticed old man, the situation is different than what we’ve seen before. The Avengers are working together without a Queen to guide them. I’ve got a frickin’ Queen inside me. If that’s not enough, there is a serial killer on the loose that no one can catch and the Avengers have yet to kill. This batch is smarter than we’re used to and those guys need me.”
“Your argument is less than convincing. The Branch can not trust you for the simple fact that there is an Avenger Queen residing inside of you and for that reason I can not let you out into the field. Get communications back online!” The Director barked at the room in general.
“Just forget it. They’re compromised! Why were they sent out?”
“That’s confidential information, Ms. Night.”
“Never mind. I’ll look it up myself.” Toren typed in the Director’s password. She had learned it a while ago and had kept it in the back of her mind for something like this. The guys were investigating the latest victim in the string of murders and had been ambushed in the process. “Your first mistake was sending guardsmen to do a professional’s job.”
“I did not know you were a forensics expert.” The Director remarked sarcastically.
“Takes a killer to know one. What’s with the lock down?”
“An unknown number of Avengers is heading this way and, with the loss of communication, I have put us on high alert. We have teams on each floor and around the perimeter to stop them.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s a good way to get them killed. Avengers are stronger than humans—the spell made them that way in order to easily hunt down and kill the killer. Recall your teams; they’ll only get in my way.”
“Can I trust you, Ms. Night?”
“Can you afford not to? Unlock the doors on my route and I’ll get rid of them.”
“Very well, I…”
“Sir, the Avengers have breached the lobby.” It was an older technician and he looked as nervous and uncertain as an intern.
“Ms. Night, what would you have us do?” The Director turned to her assessing her every move and gathering information for later.
“Let them come up a few floors and then lock them in. Avengers don’t do well in tight spaces and they’ll do even worse with a group. I’ll take them out, no problem.” The Director nodded and Toren ran off to confront the group.
She met them on the sixth floor firing off two shots before they registered her presence. One of the Avengers dissolved into ash while the others attacked. Toren parried their blows with her short sword jabbing into what passed for their vitals when she had an opening. In no time, the whole group was nothing but dust on the floor. Toren steadied her breathing whispering, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
The phrase wasn’t really necessary, but the five of them always said it. It came from growing up in England during a time when the church was the main power and everyone attended Mass, even thieves.  They thought it was only proper that they send the departed souls on their way properly.
Toren couldn’t afford to relax yet. The feeling in the back of her mind hadn’t gone away, but she couldn’t locate the remaining foe. She turned just as the Avenger rammed into her. She flew down the hall. Trying to soften the impact, Toren twisted her body to roll coming up on her feet. She rolled her shoulders and crouched reading her opponent. This guy was huge like a football player. He clicked his scythes together—a move of intimidation—and bellowed at her. Toren swore. She wouldn’t be able to win in a one-on-one fight with this guy—she needed to gain the advantage somehow.
He charged. She fired off a couple shots then kicked out from the wall barely clearing his head as she flipped over him. She landed in a crouch and he was already on her again. She didn’t have time to draw her sword so she used the gun to block the blows her arm jarring painfully with each impact.
Let me help you.
“No!” Toren screamed. She kicked the Avenger in the stomach forcing him back a few steps. She flipped backwards and drew her short sword which the monster promptly knocked out of her hand. This one was fast, almost too fast. It pinned her against the wall.
Toren, trust me.
“Leave me alone!” She couldn’t move. She was starting to get really pissed; magic bubbled up inside her responding to her emotions. Toren tried to push it back down, refusing to use anything from a monster, but to no avail.
You can not run from it. It is a part of you.
She screamed. The Avenger burst into flame and disintegrated. “Ashes to ashes…” Toren slid down the wall repeating the phrase as tears freely flowed down her cheeks and sobs wracked her body. Why? She thought, Why did you do this to me, Mother? Why did you make me a monster?
She didn’t mean to. She just wanted to know you were safe from all the evils in the world.
Evil to protect against evil. I guess it’s the same as using a killer to stop killers.
The air conditioning kicked on. Ash swirled around the Assassin like fine snow echoing the dark gloom of her thoughts.

“Ms. Night. Ms. Night. Ms. Night!” Her handler’s grating voice jarred her out of her reverie. Toren brushed the ash off of her as she listened to Ms. Tanen. “The Director is giving you permission to leave. The rest of the team is in dire need of help. The coordinates have been sent to your mobile phone. Time is of the essence.”
Toren half-smiled. “Isn’t it always?” She loaded a fresh clip and sprinted for the garage. A light snow had begun to fall giving the dirty city an almost surreal feel, but Toren had no time to admire it; the others were in trouble and she was the only one who could help them.
The latest victim had a house just on the outskirts. Toren supposed that it looked really nice when the owner had been alive. Now though, the front door hung on by only one hinge beaten down by some sharp weapon; the windows were blown out with the glass scattered about the yard. In the bushes laid the remains of a golden Labrador brutally slashed. Toren remembered the dogs that used to wander the streets of the city when she had been a true thief and mortal. She would always feed them when she could. The thing that truly bothered her though, despite all the destruction, the place was eerily quiet. There were no birds or insects; the neighbors weren’t even peering through the windows to catch a glimpse of what was happening—in Toren’s experience, all neighbors were nosy.
Toren drew her short sword and crossed the threshold. The inside of the house told the story of the struggle. There was little to nothing left of the furniture and ash covered almost every surface. Fared’s arrows were imbedded in the walls and some in the banister upstairs; he must have run out. Toren made her way down the upstairs hall careful to check in each room in case the Avengers had set up an ambush. The place appeared to be empty. She forced her tense muscles to relax; being wound up wouldn’t do her any good in a fight.
Finally, she reached the master bedroom. Already she could smell the sharp tang of blood. Toren nudged the door open gripping her short sword even tighter. There was blood everywhere. The killer had stabbed the victim several times and along major arteries. As a professional, Toren couldn’t condone it. Her targets never suffered, never even knew she was there. The victim herself lay slumped in the far corner barely recognizable through her own blood. Whoever this killer was wanted to create Avengers, wanted people to know he was there. Toren cursed. She didn’t have time to fully investigate the scene; she had to find her brothers. She checked everywhere else which only left the basement.
She couldn’t turn on a light because it might alert something to her presence so used magic to see in the dark. Sword at the ready, Toren cautiously crept down the wooden stairs all her senses straining to find any hint of life or undead. When she reached the bottom, she heard a dull thump. Was it an Avenger or one of her brothers? Toren moved to the center of the floor straining to see into the dark recesses.
Without warning, the lights were flipped on briefly blinding the Assassin. Someone was clapping off to her right—a slow clap almost mocking. Toren blinked several times to adjust her vision while she adjusted her stance ready to spring into action.
“Tsk, tsk. You must be rusty if someone like myself can catch the great Assassin off guard.” Toren lunged in the direction the voice was coming from. Her eyes weren’t adjusting fast enough. A large and strong hand clamped down on her wrist and twisted it behind her back. “My goodness, that’s not very nice.” Something pricked the back of her neck. She struggled, but only briefly; with each passing second Toren could feel her whole body becoming numb and unresponsive. The killer had hit her with a poisoned needle. He let her fall to the hard concrete as the lights dimmed allowing her to see again.
Since she couldn’t move, her field of vision was limited, but the killer had let her fall in a way she could just barely see her friends against the back wall. They were all unconscious and bloodied. There was a large gash along Fared’s side that was still bleeding freely—if he didn’t get care soon, he could bleed to death. She tried to call to them, but even her voice wouldn’t work.
“Yes, your friends proved to be quite troublesome, but not nearly as much as you’ve been. Quite like your mother in that aspect. Ah yes, I knew your mother, but how you ask? Simple. I. Killed. Her.” If Toren could’ve screamed, she would have. “You see, you’re little group of Avenger hunters are not the only ones who know the secret to immortality. I’ve been killing since the day the spell to create these monsters was cast. In fact, I helped cast it. Isn’t that a surprise?” He laughed a laugh of one who had gone truly mad. “We didn’t foresee a little side effect though. We were immune to the Avengers—they wouldn’t come after us no matter what we did; that side effect has allowed me to kill without a care in the world over the years. Only recently have I been able to adjust the spell to create my own army of Avengers. No longer are they the dumb, slow, instinct-driven creatures of the past. They are true killers under my command.” He used his foot to turn her over. He was a large man and heavily scarred. A short thick beard covered the lower half of his beard and matched his blonde mop of hair perfectly. His eyes were black and held no warmth, only determination and hunger. He held a dagger in his right hand. It was old-fashioned, from before even Toren was born, so it was probably from his days as a mage. The hilt was stained with blood—so much blood that the leather was dyed a permanent red. “I have tried several times in the past to create an army such as I have, but only met failure. Your mother was part of that experiment if an unwillingly participant. She put up quite a fight; kept whining about how she had a child coming, begged me to spare her. This scar here,” he pointed with his blade to a long white line running down the side of his face, “is from her. I managed to cause enough damage that I knew she would die, but I came back later just to make sure. I saw the Healer holding you and your mother dead. Imagine my surprise and outrage to find a perfectly happy family if only a little saddened at the death of the mother. By then, the Avenger should have been created and all of you dead! I killed the rest of your family then. Infants don’t make good Avengers so I let you live. I hoped you would starve to death or freeze before anyone found you, but you have quite good luck. However, perhaps it is my good luck that you survived. No one could predict that a person could have a Queen residing inside of them.” He laughed again. “A Queen is just what I need to round out my little army. So now I’ll just kill you and bring her out.” He kneeled down and lifted the dagger to stab her in the heart. “Nothing personal.”
Toren convulsed, but not from the sharp steel entering her heart. The killer jumped back in surprise as the Queen, Mary, revealed herself to him. “I’m afraid I can not let you take this child quite yet. Her mother would be disappointed.”
“Avengers! Protect your maker!” The lesser monsters surrounded Mary. She hissed a warning. They wavered, but didn’t back down.
“Very well. Die!” The Queen slashed with her claws taking out her frustration at losing her prey. After only a few seconds, the ones still left fled. Mary rummaged through Toren’s pockets pulling out the much abused cell. “Now, how does she do this again? Ah.” She carefully hit the numbers and waited. The line connected and the girl’s annoying handler picked up.
“Ms. Night?”
“Send a team to the latest victim’s home. Everyone here is unconscious or unable to respond. Oh, and you might want to pull the old files on the mages who cast the spell. It could be very enlightening.” Mary pressed the End button and put the phone back examining the sorry state the boys were in. “Whatever would they do without you, my girl?” The Queen sighed and receded back into Toren who fell to the floor still a little weak from the effects of the poison.
“Guys?” she whispered.
Try and stop the bleeding. People will be here soon.
“Ri—right.” Toren found the bandages in Jared’s pack, propped Fared up against her and put pressure against the gash while wrapping the gauze around his abdomen. She willed her hands to stop shaking. They had never been in this much trouble before not even when they first started out.
Back then, they had trust issues. Mostly, they didn’t trust her and she didn’t trust any of them. They all represented a part of society that had turned its back on her and she represented the chaos they wanted to stop. She hadn’t started thinking of them as even comrades until the day she was put on trial. She had disobeyed orders, so the Captain of the Guard at the time figured her pardon was null and void. The boys had stood up for her and threatened to stop hunting Avengers if they sentenced her to anything more than a lifetime of hunting Avengers. Toren vividly remembered yelling at all of them before finally getting around to thanking them.
By the time Toren had finished bandaging Fared, her hands were stained with blood. She moved to Sean who had taken a blow to the head. She quickly bandaged it too. How many people had she killed? She had been raised as an assassin and had taken pleasure in it, but only because she was helping people who were otherwise ignored by the city guard who were more content with padding their pockets than truly ridding the city of crime. Or did she take pleasure in it because she was really part-Avenger? When did everything get so complicated?
It has always been complicated. You just ignored the complications before.
The basement door banged open. Combat boots thudded down the stairs and a special force team surrounded them guns pointed outward searching for any threat. Toren ignored them all. She had become lost in her memories for some reason.
Her mother’s death had always haunted her. No one killed a peasant for no reason. Toren always believed that her mother had seen something she wasn’t supposed to, at least that she could understand, but the truth? No, the truth was too cruel. The killer had been a mage too one of the ones who cast the original spell. Her memories flashed to the Grand Mage that had created their group. She couldn’t imagine someone like that turning into a serial killer; he had been the only one that trusted her, had even taken care of her paying for her new gear and teaching her to read and write (although she had questioned the necessity for it at the time). But then…he had also known all about her: her parents, her magic—everything. How could someone know that much about someone who wasn’t supposed to exist?
No one is as they appear.
Not even me, Toren thought. If there was a god, he must surely have a grudge against her.
The snow was falling faster now coating the roads and roofs giving the house an even more dilapidated look. Toren looked over at the cityscape—the steel skyscrapers and bright lights—it held no magic for her. To her, the whole city was dying and they were the only ones who could save it.