[Story] The Assassin Ch.2

2
Denzel was a man of skill, an expert in his field. It was no wonder then, that instead of sleeping that night, he stayed up wondering how he managed to miss Teuril from such close quarters. "It was just a bad shot," he reassured himself over and over, until the sun finally began to splinter across the earth, and Denzel Avens was yet again made to get up and see his boss. To most people, this would be a chore. To Denzel, it was a blessing. His job was his life. He had chosen this lifestyle for many reasons, and his employer was one of them.

Skipping breakfast, he proceeded to get dressed hurriedly, throwing on a brand new jacket and grabbing the nearest watch to him. He headed down to his sleek silver Audi R8, making sure he wasn't being watched or followed; in his line of work, it was particularly easy to make enemies, so Denzel was always cautious of his surroundings. He couldn't help but recall the countless times that he had been veered off the road by a well hidden landmine, and how common it was for a round of ammunition to be sprayed through his windscreen.
"Just another day on the job." He joked to himself.

After 20 minutes of driving through some of the most covert routes Denzel had ever known, he reached his bosses headquarters, and as he rolled up near silently to the door, he could have sworn he had seen a glimpse of someone run away into the nearby woods.
Someone or something. Something familiar.
Snapping out of his daze, he moved swiftly to the door and knocked three times, slowly and exactly, always striking the same position. The door swung open and a tall, bold, executive looking man stepped out and grabbed Denzel's hand, pulling him into the rather violent handshake Denzel had grown accustomed to every time he met with this man. The man of course, was his boss, a Mr O'Neil. Originally from Ireland, he moved to London after the murder of his wife and children and began a business in assassination. Denzel had always been fond of Mr O'Neil. Everyone always expected him to be some crazy bloodthirsty man, but really he was just a human being with a terrible, corrupted past.

Finally releasing his grip, he looked at Denzel and said peacefully
"Lets go for a walk. We need to talk." He began to pace away slowly, staying just close enough to Denzel so they could talk face to face.
"How did it go?" Asked O'Neil slowly and quietly, looking rather far off.
"Fine, Mensuta is gone, nobody is left to bring back the Celands." Replied Denzel, a light grin forming on his face, only to be shattered by O'Neil's next words.
"They are already back."

For the next 7 minutes or so, Denzel found it almost impossible to form a complete sentence. "Bu..Wha..Whe.." he stuttered repetitively, eventually stopped by O'Neil, who slowly raised a finger to Denzel's lips in a quietening manner.
"Yes, they are back. Mensuta, it would seem, was but a distraction to lure us away from the real culprit." Denzel, who was finding this information hard to digest, decided to sit down on a nearby stump due to the fact he felt as if he was about to collapse.
"How the hell did this happen, who could have possibly resurrected them?" He asked, terrified. His heart was racing and his vision was blurring by the second, but he made a point of carrying on. He needed to know everything. O'Neil patted him gently on the arm. His touch was reassuring, but it was all fake; Denzel could see clearly that he was equally as terrified.
"We don't know who could done it, but right now, that is of little importance. What we do need to focus on is keeping them at bay long enough to find something to finish them off for good. This time, there is no redemption." O'Neil added, unable to stop his face from flushing with anger.
Denzel was in shock. Why would anyone ever want to bring back the Celands? There was never any reward promised, no reason to help. Mensuta had clearly been lied to. He certainly wasn't the kind of person to work for free, especially considering the huge risk of death. After a solid five minutes of silence, O'Neil stood.
"Listen, I'm going to leave you to let it sink in. I'll send an assistant along to look after you." He said, patting Denzel on the shoulder and walking away. Approximately 1 minute later, a tall, cheery looking girl strode across the compound towards Denzel. He stood to greet her, when suddenly his eyes blanked and Denzel's legs gave way. It felt as if he was falling for days, although the deep, pulsating colours managed to distract him from his lack of motor or sensory ability. Red faded into blue, orange pierced the corners of his vision and as he regained consciousness, the symphony of colour became a singular white light.

He awoke with a start, flinging his upper body forwards violently.
"Calm down, you have suffered some form of mental breakdown and shaking around like a mad man isn't going to help." Said a soft, girlish voice. Denzel swung around to see the assistant from before, who passed him a glass of freezing cold water.
"Thanks" He coughed out, downing the glass of water quickly.
"Mr Avens?" Said the assistant, looking intent but nervous.
"Yes?" Replied Denzel, wiping a small bit of blood from his forehead
"I..I was wondering if you could tell me about the Celands." She questioned, sounding almost ashamed to ask. Anyone that had ever heard of him knew of his deep hatred of the Celands, a hatred that had been spurred at a young age. Denzel cracked his neck violently and rested his head on his knuckles.
"Where to begin" he said with a resentful twinge to his voice.