by Noah Porter
Paige still didn’t understand. “What difference does it make where he found it?”
Andrew shook his head while Mason laughed. “Found it! Aren’t you precious…”
Dylan was racking his brain trying to figure out how someone like Mason could have gotten something that powerful, that highly specialized.
It was Andrew who answered, “You have never been in the military, which really only leaves one other occupation that would give you the resources and the need for this.”
Mason grinned at him and waited.
“It would certainly explain a lot about you. Except your age. I still say you don’t look a day over 20.”
Mason laughed, “Let’s see if you can work that into your analysis of my former occupation. And you know if you figure it out, I’ll have to kill you.” He dropped his smile and was looking at Andrew in a menacing way, but Andrew could see the entertainment in Mason’s eyes.
Dylan looked at them. Andrew was right; he wasn’t a bright man, but what he knew, he knew very, very well. Dylan could not imagine any other job that would use something like that.
Andrew gave him a rye grin, “You certainly could, and no doubt a few months ago you would have, but really, what need is there now?”
Mason waved a hand, “It would be more about the pleasure of it than anything.”
Andrew laughed. The other two looked on as if it were a horror movie. Was Mason serious? And what the hell was Andrew doing?
Andrew smirked again, “Pleasure, huh? You would take pleasure in killing one of the few people here who has a clue how to handle the cattle downstairs?”
Mason grinned, “Fair point. And absolutely an odd admission for you, my dear Andrew. Fine, fine, you called my bluff. So let’s have the explanation.”
Andrew rubbed the back of his head with both hands and chuckled, “Hmm, your age is the toughest part. Clearly you are really ridiculously good at your job, which means you can’t be younger than your mid-twenties.”
“Actually mid to late thirties,” Mason said holding his gaze. They heard the gasp from the pair of onlookers. Mason enjoyed watching the momentary shock on Andrew’s face and the instinctive,
“No way!” Then Andrew shook his head and said, “Well, I would say that it goes beyond ridiculously good genetics. Honestly, that part I can’t explain.”
“So you give up? Oh, too bad. It was a great, although very short lived, game.”
Andrew returned the steady gaze, “Oh no, I can’t explain the age, but obviously you were an assassin before this started!”
Mason bowed as Paige and Dylan exclaimed in unison, “What?!”
Mason leaned back against the wall, “Hmm, I really wasn’t expecting you to be the next person to figure it out. Honestly, I thought Dylan would be next.”
Andrew was startled, “What do you mean the next person?” The others no longer knew how to respond and just sat there, mouths slightly open trying to process this new information.
“Oh please. Lily knew before we left Portland.” Mason had a bored look on his face as he stared out over the grounds.
“Lily knew?! And she didn’t tell anyone!” Paige couldn’t believe it.
Mason turned back, a serious look on his face, “And why would she? She’s very open about her own life, but she’s an absolute gem when it comes to others. She knows how to draw conclusions and understands things faster than anyone else here. Her knowledge of the history of everyone in this group is second only to my own. If not for her unfortunate inability to keep her clothes on around men, she would be a perfect woman.”
Dylan frowned, “What makes you think you know more than her?”
Mason was momentarily shocked by this defensive reaction on something so trivial. “Well, professional thieves learn very different things than professional assassins. They learn how to work people, while we learn how people work. It isn’t a flaw on her part. She’s learned what she needs and can use it to help manipulate anyone here.”
“Except you,” Andrew interjected.
“No, including me,” Mason responded, not a trace of shame or annoyance on his face.
“You can’t be serious,” Dylan said.
“Do you want to know why I really helped you in the brewery? It was because I knew she was there. If she had been downstairs I would have seriously considered going down to get her.” He titled his head and looked up, “Of course, that would have been quite the mental debate. Her usefulness is limited, although her personality makes her almost as much of an asset as any of my other women.” He patted his bag for emphasis.
This was an admission none of them had expected. Stunned into silence, they were all lost in thought.
“That is actually to a certain degree about the three of you as well. I’ve no doubt that I would be just fine surviving by myself in the wilds, but it lacks something that you have been able to offer. I’ve never needed anyone before, and that certainly hasn’t changed just because the undead roam the Earth; however, there is something to be said for being entertained with a minimal amount of danger. It’s … nice.”
Andrew finally spoke up, “It’s not like assassins really have friends, so yeah, I can see your point. Knowing what you used to do, I’m actually really surprised you stayed with us. Of course, there were way too many people in Portland for your tastes, I’m sure.”
Mason grinned and raised his hands as he gave them an exaggerated shrug. “I suppose you actually have known a few assassins, especially with some of the missions you’ve been on.”
“How would you know what I’ve done?” Andrew asked.
Mason leaned forward and gave a stage whisper as he said, “Can you keep a secret?” Then he leaned back and returned to a normal voice, “Obviously not, because you are about to tell us everything.”
Andrew rolled his eyes, “Yeah, ok, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve worked with four people who I knew were assassins. A guy named Hank, one named Dillinger, one named Fortesque, and a lady name Diva.”
“One of the guys wasn’t named Dillinger,” Mason said playing with part of his coat, trying to get some imaginary dirt out of it.
“Oh, I remember his name. We discussed how he came up with it.”
“I’m not disputing the name. I’ve no doubt you guys discussed how she came up with it. I’m telling you Dillinger was a woman.” Mason looked a bit bored by the topic.
Andrew’s eyes widened for a second, “Well, that certainly explains a good bit. Hmm, you assassins are pretty sneaky and very private. Anyway, she was just fine when I saw her last, what, about three years ago I think.”
“Yeah, she wasn’t ok the last time I saw her.” Mason said. “Most people aren’t without their heads firmly attached to their shoulders.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. She was decent enough, certainly made us laugh.” Andrew looked at the sky, “Of course we all used to be better off. Did you know any of the others?”
Mason was still messing with his coat, “Probably. It’s not a common area of expertise, and knowing those worth knowing is how you live long enough to consider retirement.”
“It’s why you name your weapons too, isn’t it? Like soldiers. It kind of makes you more attached to them,” Andrew took out his own handgun and started looking at it.
“Mine are mostly named after famous dead women, so kind of hard to feel too attached,” Mason said watching Andrew.
Dylan looked at the sniper rifle, “I’ve never heard of a dead Dolly.”
Mason looked at Dylan out of the corner of his eye, “She’s named after the sheep.”
Andrew scowled at Mason, “What sheep?”
Paige laughed, “Ah, and that sheep was named after-“
Mason grinned, “Yes.”
It took Dylan a little longer, but he caught on, and it was the first time any of them had heard an honest, long laugh out of him in a long time.
Andrew frowned and shook his head.
Mason stood up and patted Andrew on the s
houlder, “Don’t hurt yourself.”
He stared at the ground pondering that while the conversation continued. Since Mason was talking freely for the first time, well, ever, Paige wanted to press on, “So, how come you look so young?”
“My last client was very … eager to see someone killed and spared no expense to make it easier. He had already gone through a number of assassins and failed, so he wanted to find the most effective method of infiltration to gain the contract’s trust.”
“Who was your target? Some king with teenage kids you could use to get close?” Paige wasn’t sure how any of this worked. Her knowledge of assassinations was limited by the few famous ones most people had heard of, and big-budget Hollywood movies.
“No, not quite.” was his response.
“Aw, come on, Mason, that’s not much to go on.” Andrew was definitely eager to hear stories. “Why did he decide you needed to be so young?”
“He didn’t. It was my idea and he went along with it. He was one of the few clients I’ve had in the past few years that I did not test to see if they were worth working for simply because I knew that he would pay for this procedure.”
Dylan looked confused, “What do you mean test? Don’t clients test the assassins or something, to make sure you can do what they need?”
Mason briefly frowned, “Not when you get to my level. I always got to choose my clients, and I required that they have brains, not just money. It is also useful to understand how they think so that you know if you should be watching your own back during a job. There are the rare exceptions where the client’s ability to provide unique benefits are more important than the client’s intellect. Very rare occasions, but they do occur. This was one of those.”
“Did he want you because of this special gun or something?” Paige was way behind the men in the conversation. She had no knowledge of killing the living, and had only acquired the knack for taking down the human body after the apocalypse. Before that, saving lives had been her only real dealings with people at work.
Mason laughed, “What? No. Nobody even knew I had Dolly, and I’ve certainly never used her for work.”
“You mean, you killed for fun?” the look of horror on Paige’s face was almost laughable.
“Of course, in the same way that Dylan and Andrew have killed for fun. Or you chop down trees on your days off. Or Karen heals people to make herself feel better.” Mason was entirely amused by this turn of the conversation.
Andrew looked Paige, saying, “Honestly, I think that assassins are far better at this sort of thing than anyone else.” The big lug tried to think through how he wanted to phrase his next few sentences, as the others looked on. “They don’t kill for fun, and for the most part they don’t take pleasure in it. They may have killed a lot of people, but they aren’t serial killers. It is their career, nothing more. I’ve known good men, soldiers who under pressure were incapable of understanding when to stop once they started. Most people don’t have the ability to focus on just the target. It resulted in the loss of so many innocent lives. Women, children, old people, babies. It was horrific. This is not something you typically get if you have an assassin. It is all business. Strike down the people you are paid to kill and then walk away. End of story.”
“Very well put, Andrew. Very nicely done. Of course, we do have our bad days too. And many of our targets could be called innocents.”
Andrew waved his hand, “Yeah, but it’s not like you walk into a building and blow up everything, every time you do a job. You guys were always more precise.”
“Agreed. And yet, I would say that I have killed far more living people than I have taken down of the undead.”
The three looked out over the grounds and knew that well over half of the corpses on their journey so far had been downed by Mason, single-handedly. Paige shuddered at the thought and wondered if he regretted his life now. This thought was quickly dismissed because it was like trying to figure out if she regretted going to the party or her first marriage. That life was no longer relevant. It helped to make her who she was, just as his past life had trained Mason to survive under any circumstance, no matter how unlikely.
Dylan mistook her shudder as a sign of being cold and wrapped his arm around her. Paige leaned into him trying to process everything they were learning. She looked at Mason and couldn’t help but ask, “Why haven’t you used that for killing people if it is such a great weapon?”
Mason leaned back, rocking his feet off of the ground and he looked at the sky, “ The last really famous assassination that was obviously done by an assassin started two massive wars. People learned from that. It is better to make it look like a mistake, or use a crazy person to get the job done. If you want to control the situation though, you want a real assassin who can disguise the truth.”
“But why have that kind of gun at all if you aren’t going to use it?” It was a question all three had been wondering.
“For the same reason that Paige kept extra hatchets in her vehicle, why Andrew has a pump action shotgun he hasn’t used in battle, or why Dylan kept up with his target practice after leaving the military, even though he isn’t a hunter. Just because you don’t need something right now doesn’t mean you won’t need it at some point. Seriously, take two seconds to think about your questions before you ask. What I did was just like any other job, it’s just a lot easier to evaluate the success of my work.”
The others paused. Andrew stroked his chin, “So, that’s why you carry swords, a machete, and all kinds of weird stuff too, right? You never know when you might need them?”
“Actually, no. Blades are my preferred weapons. They are cleaner, less noisy, and require more skill, more of a challenge. If there is one thing I’ve always hated, it is being bored.”
“That seems a little, um, harsh,” Paige was not sure how to react anymore. “I would think it would be messier and harder to look like an accident.”
“It isn’t any messier than a gun if you know what you are doing. And it is much easier to make it look accidental than a gunshot. Although, I admit it is usually best to improvise with what is on hand.” Mason sighed. He was getting bored with the conversation now. While he may not have owed them an explanation, it was best to get their reactions on certain aspects; otherwise there was no point in staying. If they were going to resent him, it would be best to read it in their faces now. Initial reactions were best when complete, and they had not had time to think about this yet. This was the best time to see their honest opinions of him and see just how well he could trust them going forward.
“Everything in this bag is what I carry for my own protection, and I have only used two of them on the job. My profession is one of the few where paranoia is an asset.”
Andrew nodded, “Yeah, Hank and Dillinger had some stories to tell about attempts people had made on their lives. When I thought about it later, it was kind of sad. Is that why you killed Ruth?”
Mason shrugged, “I don’t know what you mean.” It was an area he was not going to invite further conversation. He had not acted alone and none of the people on the roof were likely to have heard Ruth’s plans.
Dylan smacked Andrew’s leg, “Haven’t we been over that enough? What are you, Karen now?”
Andrew laughed and gave Mason a look, “Yeah, ok. That was a little far fetched. Still, I thought she was really horrible, and it was a fitting end.” Andrew knew enough to know that Ruth’s death had been planned, but he also knew enough about the woman to know she was plotting something. Maybe at some point he would even be able to tell Mason thanks, but clearly now was not that time.
Paige giggled, then quickly covered her mouth. It was horrible to agree, but it was also impossible not to. “So, you skillfully dodged answering why you look a couple of decades younger than you are,” she said, trying to smooth over her embarrassment.
“Ah, the perk that made the job worth accepting. Yes, we’ll go with it simply made me look younger,” Mason rocked back on his heels an
d grinned at the sky. No point in going into detail about the procedure; it was lost knowledge now that the world was in total disarray.
“So, who was your target?” Andrew was not shy about being blunt.
“Not a father,” Mason said, continuing to evade a real answer.
“Not what he meant and you know it,” Dylan said leaning forward. He was interested despite himself. They all were.
Mason made a few noises, huffed, and then said, “He is a teenager.”
“What?” was the joint response from the two men.
Paige held up her hand, “Guys, his contract is a teenager.”
“Oh,” Dylan said. Andrew shook his head not comprehending the distinction. “Is Andrew, so Mason didn’t kill him.”
“Ah, change of heart huh?”
