My Little Assassin

Realizing he was caught, he grins before reaching up into the cupboard, tossing the bottle of hot sauce to March. "Everything won't be a test when you finally become a full-fledged assassin. Until that time, everything you do can and probably will be some form of test. This is about your ability to withstand pain, even inside your mouth. If an enemy was using chemicals to harm you, like acid, you have to be prepared to hold your own."

Chuckling to himself, he said next, "You don't have to eat the rest if you don't want..."
 
March read the bottle and groaned a little. He pushed the plate away and looked up at Thane again. "Can I at least have a glass of water?" he asked. It wasn't like hot sauce was the worst thing imaginable, so he was glad that that was all it was. Had it been any other kind of hot sauce, March would've eaten through the eggs like a lion on a zebra. This was pretty hot though and he knew it would hurt like hell later.

He shrugged though and smiled a little. "Thanks for not poisoning me, I suppose," he said, laughing a little. "I mean, hot sauce is pretty good on eggs. This was a little too hot for my liking though."
 
Thane denied his apprentice water, instead moving to the living room and sitting down on the couch. He made sure to tell himself not to go anywhere that day, knowing that in a few hours, March would be running for the nearest bathroom. If anything got on his floors, he'd have to come up with a decent enough punishment for him. "Today we'll be training with your reflexes," Thane stated when March was in the same room again. "Of course, I don't have any clothes to aim for, so you better have damn good ones, otherwise we'll be making a run to the hospital."
 
He pouted a little and remained seated for a bit longer. He was still hungry... Did he really dare eat the rest... No. March stood up and went into the living room, listening to Thane. He paled a little, but nodded and took a deep breath. "Alright, I can do this," he said, more to himself than his mentor.

March stretched a little, finally looking a little relaxed with no clothes. Or rather... He was more accepting of his situation now. "How would you explain my injuries though?" he asked, a teasing tone to his voice.
 
Thane shook his head, not answering, and instead said, "I'm only going to tell you that I have never missed a stationary target, no matter what. And with moving targets I rarely miss. Where I aim, I hit." He grins slightly evilly, before saying, "There's an empty room at the end of the hall where your bedroom's at. Meet me there in five minutes." Going to his own room, which served as an armory as well, he gets out his throwing daggers and changes into looser clothes he liked to use for training. Then, he moved to the empty training room, and waited for March.
 
March crossed his arms, feeling a tinge of fear. Cat-like reflexes weren't on the top of his list of abilities, but he'd have to be fast if he wanted to avoid serious injury. Or death. It was like Thane knew all of his weaknesses, just by looking at him. Maybe he did, after all, he was supposed to help him improve.

Before heading to the room, March stretched a little. Gotta limber up, he though, pulling his arms and legs. Having his limbs loosened up might help in avoiding any attacks Thane thought up. He went into the room a bit later, seeing his mentor already there. "A-alright," he stuttered, "I'm ready."
 
As soon as March gave him the okay, Thane whipped his hand out, sending along a knife. He couldn't help but grin, even though he knew he wasn't aiming for him. He really was aiming for the wall just past his head, wanting to see how far he would jump. After the knife buried itself in his wall, he told March, "If it's obvious that you will not be hit by a projectile, don't dodge it. It will only lessen you energy and give your enemy time to prepare for another attack."

Without waiting for an answer, he threw the next knife, this time aiming for March's shoulder. If he didn't dodge well enough, he'd suffer only minor injuries.
 
March nodded as he listened to Thane's little lesson. He did jump a little when he threw the knife though, even though it didn't hit him. As he threw the next one, March didn't think twice in moving to the side. Definitely... The knife buried itself into the wall where his shoulder had been a few seconds before.

Sighing briefly with relief, he turned back to his mentor and waited the next attack.
 
Taking a knife in both hands, he threw them both at the same time, one aiming for March's leg, the other for his arm. Getting two more knives in his possession, he threw them right after the first two, trying to judge how far he would dodge. Using that prediction, he aimed for what he hoped would be his arms, still grinning slightly. He wouldn't aim where it counted...yet. Eventually, after seeing how well he was able to dodge, he might, if he thought he was good enough. God, he couldn't imagine the punishments he would get for injuring his apprentice like that, nor could he imagine what his apprentice would say. Chuckling at the thought, he came back to reality, waiting to see the fruits of his labor.
 
March spun to one side, his eyes widening as both knives came at him. "Oh shi--" he muttered gently, taking a deep breath. His breath was cut short as, suddenly, another two knives were heading towards him.

Thinking quickly, he moved away. One of the knives, however, managed to clip his right arm, right above the elbow. He hadn't been stabbed, but it was still a bad scratch. March yelped a little in pain, quickly covering the wound with his other hand. In a slight panic, he tried feeling how deep it actually went. The blood wasn't flowing heavily, so it wasn't TOO deep at least. Still, there was more blood seeping under his hand than March was comfortable with.
 
Not even flinching as he saw the blood, Thane said, "Blood is a commonplace substance in our line of work; get used to it and you will be fine." Nodding grimly, he said, "There's bandages in the top cupboard," he pointed towards where he kept them. Of course, what he didn't tell his apprentice was that they were the especially tiny sort only used for blisters, and that he had only a couple left.

Glancing out a window, he saw a police cruiser rolling down the street, the next block down, and said, "You have five minutes. After that, I'm leaving. You can stay for whatever the police would like, if you're not fast enough." Standing up quickly, he said, "In the cupboard next to the sink, there's some spare clothes for you; put them on, we're going out." Moving around his house, he packed the necessary items as fast as he could, counting down the seconds in his mind. Stuffing a change of clothes as well as a few other things into a bag, he threw on his shoes, grabbing his emergency car's keys.
 
March felt a slight jolt of panic. "Cops?" he repeated, heading to the cupboard. If they found his blood on the floor... Who knew what could happen. They might hunt him down. They might think Thane killed him. They might think he was an accomplice to whatever Thane did (which was a pretty answerable question).

He found the bandages and felt his heart sink. Those weren't going to cover up the cut much... Nor would they stop the bleeding well. He'd take what he could get though, so March quickly applied a few of the remaining bandages onto his wound.

He hurriedly went to the other cupboard, where there were clothes. March pulled them on quickly and hurried back to his mentor. "Alright, I'm all set. How do we get out of here?" he asked in a low voice.
 
Thane slung his bag over his shoulder, finding March in the clothing and looking ready to go. "I've a car...few blocks away. We're going to my house in the country." Making sure the front door was locked, he grabbed a hold of his apprentice's wrist, dragging him towards the back door. Without waiting to see if he could follow, he ran up one of the walls of the alley, swinging himself over it. Landing heavier than he would have licked, he climbed up the wall of a nearby building, keeping low to the roofing. Jumping down into the house's swimming pool, he swam to the opposite edge, pulling himself up and out of the water, dripping wet. Shaking his head briefly to get some of the water out of his hair, he jumped the wall, quickly finding himself in an empty lot.

Running across it, he ran out onto the sidewalk of the nearby street, making his way through the afternoon crowd. Most of them were schoolchildren, given that a nearby middle school had just gotten out for the day, and more than a few gave him odd looks. In the few seconds it took him to get out of the throng, Thane was sure that the next time a kid asked about his appearance, which many of the middle schoolers did, he would punch them. Finally, he ran into a long-term parking garage.

Running to the basement level, he unlocked an older-looking vehicle, hopping into the driver's seat. Looking around for his apprentice, he slid the key into the ignition.
 
He followed him out the door and watched him go over the wall. "Oh god..." March muttered, already feeling pain in his arm as if he'd climbed up the wall.

Taking a deep breath, he ran up the wall and pulled himself over. March landed on the other side just in time to his mentor climbing up to the roof. He followed after him, holding his breath as he kept low to the roof, as if breathing would give them away. He stopped as he watched Thane jump into a pool. He didn't have time to think about the risk though, not unless he wanted to lose sight of him. Another deep breath and March launched himself off the roof and into the water. He swam as quickly as he could, leaving a drop or two of blood, and pulled himself out on the other side.

March jumped over the last wall, not really caring that he was soaked to the bone and already shivering. He followed his mentor again, who was going at a slower, but still quick, pace. He ignored the kids and parents in the crowd, who eyed them. He could hear the kids whispering, but it didn't really bother him. It wasn't like he'd see them everyday. (Unless, of course, this was some sort of drill and he would see them everyday.

He sighed with relief when they were finally in the parking lot and he saw Thane getting into a car. Before getting in, March wrung out his hair and his clothes, though it didn't do much to dry him off. When he finally did get in, he couldn't help but smile a little. "Nice car," he commented, "Anyway, how do you know the police won't find out about your country house?"
 
"I don't," March answered cryptically. Remembering something, he got out of his car, opening the trunk. He opened a small cardboard box, pulling out two disposable phones. Returning to the driver's seat, he handed March the phone before pulling out of the parking space, tearing off the parking receipt from the rear-view mirror.

"The phone's already got my number in it. Only use it for emergencies." Without another word, he turned the radio on, finding a particular station. The host was talking about Thane's last job. The assassin couldn't help but grin when they mentioned the target. However, the smile left his face completely when they said his assumed name, Alex Jones. That last job had been messy. The target had been a fighter, and nearly got him with a gun before Thane had been able to finally kill him. He must have gotten something wrong, or the organization must not have cleaned up the scene properly.

Still driving down a long road in the city, he awkwardly reached into his back pocket, taking out his wallet. "March, glove box, ID and license, Mark Anderson." As he was saying that, he was taking out Alex Jones' ID, setting it on his knee for the moment. If March looked in the glove box, he would find two stacks of cards, held together with rubber bands. One was IDs, the other was licenses. They were all for different people, but with Thane's picture on each of them. He decided that once they got to his country home, he would need to make some for March. Holding out his hand for the new ID and license, he kept his eyes on the road, searching for the right road out of the city.
 
March nodded and took the phone, sliding it into his pocket. The adrenaline rush that had hit him was starting to subside and he sank down in the seat, leaning his head back.

As they drove and listened to the radio, it didn't take him long to make connections between this Alex Jones and his mentor. Which was very odd, seeing as things like assassinations were supposed to be secretive. Who'd gotten his (fake) name?

He sat up when Thane asked him for the Mark Anderson ID and driver's license. "Mark Anderson? Alex Jones?" March murmured, pulling out the two stacks from the glove box. "Where do you come up with these names? I'd have fun and name myself... Max Powers." As he spoke, he slipped out the two cards his mentor had asked for.

Handing them over, March caught a glimpse of the now blood-soaked bandages on his arm. He didn't say anything though, instead, he turned to look out the window. After all, what would Thane think if he kept complaining about a little blood?
 
Thane wasn't sure if his apprentice was just stupid or he was trying to be funny when he commented on naming himself. Deciding to deal with that later, when he made March a few IDs, he said, "From now on, especially in the presence of others, refer to me as Mark Anderson. I'm thinking on being either an uncle or some sort of foster parent, but I think an uncle is more believable. Most foster families have two parents..." Replacing the ID and license in his wallet, he focused on the road again, driving as if he was just a normal commuter. "If we get pulled over, and the cops see the bandages, tell them that you had a kitchen accident. Something about a blender and fruit." Instinctively, he checked the mirrors again, checking for any signs of pursuit.

Eventually, they left the city, and the towering buildings turned into a countryside, full of empty fields and small houses. When the host on the radio got onto topics besides Thane, he would change the station to someone who was. He was never deprived of hearing about his endeavor, either, because it seemed that everyone in the city had heard about it. On one particular station, someone had called in and nearly hit the answer on the head. He had said, "I think it's really part of an organized group of trained mercenaries. They go around--" Thane didn't hear any more because he had changed the station, enraged that they had called the organization 'mercenaries'.

About two hours had passed when they got out of range of most of the radio stations in the city. Turning the radio off, thinking he was safe enough, he kept on driving for another half hour, before turning onto a three-mile long dirt road. The road led up to a two-story white colonial-style home. Though Thane would never admit it, it was the house he had grown up in. It had sat empty for many years now, but there probably were still the marks on the wall in the kitchen, where his mother had marked how tall he and his siblings had gotten. Coming to a stop in front of the house, he turned to March before saying, "Here we are."
 
"Alright, Mark Anderson," March repeated, "Uncle." He smiled again and turned to look back out the window. "A blender and a fruit? They're going to think I'm some kind of dumbass," he muttered, pouting a little bit. Honestly, you'd think an assassin could come up with cooler stories than that. Though, they did want to keep a low profile. Saying March had gotten into a knife fight with forty thieves, which sounded good to him, probably wouldn't be the way to go.

He sat quietly as they drove, listening to each radio station as Thane changed it. He smirked and snorted a little when the guy said 'mercenaries.' He got close, but no cigar. Of course, police would probably look into all sorts of different matters. Thane would probably get his own segment in America's Most Wanted. They would probably give him one of those cheesy names that sounds like a Batman villain. Then give him a random description that a supposed 'eye-witness' gives him.

March's train of thought went all over the place from that point on. He didn't even notice when they'd left the city behind or drove onto the dirt road. Finally, his mentor's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. March looked up at the house. "Looks pretty cozy," he said, getting out of the car, "I wish I had a house like this. It was always apartments for me and my dad though."
 
Thane had muttered, "That's not too far from the mark," when March muttered about the cover story for his wound. Still, it brought a slight smile to his face, and he was in a slightly better mood for the rest of the drive. Turning off the car when they arrived, he went around to the trunk, getting a plastic bag from the back. It had been in there for many months, and he was slightly surprised that nothing had gotten broken or damaged during its stay in the trunk. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he held the plastic one in his hand as he walked up the steps of the porch, taking out his keys and finding the right one.

"Sorry if it's kind of dusty," he said to March, unlocking the door. Opening it, he stepped inside, setting down his things by the door. "I'll go turn on the power," he muttered, ignoring the marks on the wall. The tallest, he noticed, was still his, from when he was ten. Frowning at it, he walked towards the door to the basement, wishing he had brought a flashlight. He wasn't afraid of the dark, but he didn't fancy tripping down the stairs and ending up with a broken arm. Opening the door, he braced himself on the wall next to the stairs, walking down into the darkness. In a few minutes, he was back upstairs, a spiderweb caught in his hair. He had gone down there and turned the power back on.

Once in the kitchen again, he turned on the lights. Calling out to March, he said, "There's a few bedrooms upstairs. Take what you want, except for the one to the left of the stairs."
 
He followed Thane inside and nodded, looking around. It was pretty nice but, like his mentor said, dusty. While Thane went down the stairs, March took the liberty of looking around that first floor. He smiled when he spotted the marks, kneeling down to look at them. There were different colours, which he assumed was one for each child. Standing back up, March wondered why they'd stopped. He'd kept measuring himself until he was about 16, but they looked like they stopped when the kids were young.

He followed Thane into the kitchen, scrunching up his nose when he saw the spider-web in his hair. Without a word, March walked over and pulled it out, taking a few moments to make sure there were no pieces left in Thane's hair.

"You're going to get spiders in your hair. Spiders are creepy," he told him, turning away and going to the stairs. Except the one to the left, he reminded himself, looking around at the rooms.
 
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