Date: Sun, 28 Mar 2010 08:36:23 -0600
From: Katya_Dee <concertoind@gmail.com>
Subject: Specter's Gamble - chapter 18

This is a work of fiction; all the resemblances are completely accidental. I
am the one who owns all the ideas and characters in the story. Contains
violence and descriptive sexual scenes between two males. If you are not
supposed to read it, don't do so. Feel free to e-mail me with praises or
insults (former preferred).


- XVIII -

"You did *what?!" *Jason stared at him with wide eyes.

Desmond shifted on his feet uncomfortably. It's been seven years since
that fateful night when he decided to wait for the rain to pass on the
bench next to Jason's house. Seven years since Jason offered him to
become his teacher. Seven years since the nightmare has finally
stopped.

When Desmond learned what Jason did for a living, he was almost scared
at first. Killing people for money? The thought made him shiver. Then,
after a while, he realized that it didn't shock him anymore. People
had to make living somehow, he reasoned. And if someone is good at
something and can make a living off it, why not? Jason just happened
to be good at killing; it was his talent if you wish. Somebody could
paint breathtaking art; somebody could play the violin in such a way
you wouldn't mind selling your soul to them; somebody could build
amazing buildings... And somebody was a natural-born assassin. Jason
was the latter.

In the past seven years, he taught Desmond a lot. Sometimes he would
even say that he taught him everything he knew. Even if it was true
however, Desmond still felt like a complete amateur. Jason would just
snort at that and say that he simply needs experience, and that he has
no idea how good he actually is. "Seriously, kid," Desmond remembered
him saying once. "You pick up things faster than anyone I know. I only
have to show you something once, and I never have to repeat myself."

Maybe so, but Desmond still felt uneasy whenever he had to work on his
own, without Jason, who made sure that it happened more and more
often. "You don't need to be babysat," he said once. "You are
completely capable of working by yourself. Just remember everything I
told you, and you'll be fine."

Desmond's first kill (well, third, technically) was a pawnshop owner.
The guy was a pain in the ass for lots of people. He charged an
enormous interest, and he would use every single trick in the book to
rip someone off. Desmond thought that it was a miracle the guy stayed
alive for as long as he did. The entire case wasn't anything
difficult, and Jason simply handed him the file on the guy, and said
that Desmond was on his own. He would be the one to decide how he
wanted to dispose of the mark (that's what Jason called all those
people -- `marks'); he would be the one who decides how slow or painful
the disposal should be; he would be the one to decide where to conduct
the operation. The only thing he wasn't in charge of was the time
frame. The pawnshop owner had to be dead before the end of the week.

Desmond didn't get any sleep that week. By Friday night, he looked
like someone who is suffering from some bizarre illness -- he was pale,
nervous, and the circles under his eyes could put panda bears to
shame. Finally, he decided to go through with it on Saturday
afternoon. At first, he was thinking of using a gun. Then he decided
against it -- too noisy, even with a silencer. Then he thought of using
a knife. Decided against that one as well -- his hands would probably
shake so bad that the guy would end up wasting him instead. He finally
settled on poison. Jason made sure that he drilled Desmond like a
drill-sergeant from hell when it came to poisons. "You mess up the
poison once," he told him. "You are dead." By now, Desmond knew about
poisons everything that was in Jason's expertise, and that was a hell
of a lot.

Poison seemed like the lesser (and much easier) evil, so Desmond
decided to stick with that. On Saturday afternoon, he went into the
guy's pawnshop and asked him timidly if he could maybe sell his
Grandfather's watch to him. Desmond knew that he looked younger than
he really was (right then he was eighteen but he looked fifteen at the
most), and when the guy's eyes lit up the minute he saw an easy young
prey, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from
laughing.

"Of course, young man," the pawnshop owner told him in a soothing
voice. "Let me take a look at the watch."

Desmond handed him the watch he borrowed from Jason. He knew that the
damn thing cost a small fortune. Jason promised him that he'd rip his
heart out with his bare hands if he managed to lose the watch.

The guy looked at the watch with great intensity. Desmond saw the
hunger that flashed in his eyes almost immediately. The man, however,
managed to make a very bored and disappointed expression. He was good
at it too, Desmond thought with amusement. Of course, he is good at
it, he thought right away. He's been doing this for years.

"I am sorry," the owner sighed a few minutes later. "It's nothing
special, really. And it's not in the best condition..."

Desmond bit his tongue so hard that the pain made him slightly dizzy.
Not in the best condition? Jason kept the damn watch in immaculate
condition for the past seven years.

"The best offer I could give you..." the owner hesitated for several
seconds. "Maybe fifty talons," he finished finally, and Desmond stared
at him in disbelief. Fifty talons?! The goddamn watch cost at least
five thousand! Now he could see why someone desired so much to see
this guy dead. He took the watch out of owner's hand quicker than the
guy anticipated.

"I am sorry," Desmond said regretfully and put the watch in his
pocket. "I need more than fifty talons... Sorry to waste your time."

He turned around as if he was about to leave, knowing that the guy
would never let a deal like this one to slip through his short, fat,
grabbing fingers. He was right. The owner of the shop all but latched
onto Desmond's sleeve to stop him from leaving.

"I am sure," he said in the same soothing voice. "I am sure that if I
take another look at the watch..." he shrugged. "I didn't *really*
look at it... Let me look at it under the lights; let me see if I
missed something."

"Under the lights," Desmond thought with a silent snort. "Right... As
if you need the lights to tell you that this watch costs more than
your entire shop!"

He hesitantly handed the guy his watch back, and the owner immediately
clipped a pair of glasses onto his nose and turned a lamp on. He
looked at the watch much longer this time, his lips moving in the
silent prayer. Finally, he turned the lamp off and got rid of his
glasses.

"I see that I was mistaken before," he said in apologetic tone of
voice. "I am so sorry for that!"

Huh, Desmond thought. The sincerity wasn't so hard to fake after all.

"I am offering you a hundred... No, two hundred talons," the owner
said quickly. "To be honest, two hundred is a bit more than it really
costs but what the heck! You seem like a nice young man."

Desmond grabbed the watch back.

"I'll shop around some more," he said firmly. "See if I can find a better deal."

The owner's eyes were almost desperate right now. He noticed Desmond
throw a longing glance at the coffee shop across the street.

"Tell you what," he said as quickly as before. "Let me buy you a cup
of coffee and see if we could come to a deal both of us could find
fitting."

Desmond hesitated for a few seconds.

"Fine," he finally said with a small sigh.

The shop owner quickly walked out from behind his counter, hung
`Closed' sign on the door, and turned off the lights. Desmond couldn't
believe how easy this was. At first, he couldn't figure out how in the
world he was supposed to poison the man. "I mean," he thought back
then. "It's not like I can just walk up to him and offer him an apple
or something... I am a perfect stranger!" Poisoning someone you never
even talked to was trickier than he thought.

Soon enough they were sitting outside the coffee shop, Desmond
stirring his drink with a small spoon absent-mindedly, the shop owner
studying the watch under the sunlight.

"Okay," the owner said suddenly and Desmond jerked in surprise, his
spoon flying out of his fingers and landing next to the shop owner's
feet.

"Oh!" Desmond exclaimed.

"I startled you," the owner said. "My bad..."

He bent down to pick up the spoon and that was the move Desmond was
waiting for. By the time the guy emerged from underneath the table, he
didn't know that he just signed his own death warrant. Desmond
listened to his chatter with fake seriousness, waiting for the guy to
finish his coffee (he had to make sure it happened). Finally, his cup
was empty and Desmond grabbed the watch out of those fat, grabby
fingers, and got up.

"The last offer sounded quite intriguing," he said. "Five hundred
talons sounds like a good deal... I'll come back on Monday; I have to
check with my mother if it's all right with her."

The guy looked disappointed and hopeful at the same time.

"Let me give you my card..." he started saying but Desmond interrupted him.

"No need," he said. "I'll be at your shop first thing Monday morning."

The guy would be dead before the sunset tonight, he thought. He walked
away after a brief `Good-bye' and he felt as if an enormous load was
just lifted off his shoulders.

Later that day, after he told Jason about the entire thing, the older
man just hemmed and said that Desmond put on too big of a show. "Next
time," he said. "Try something less noticeable. You risked being
seeing in public with your mark; someone could've remembered you
talking to him. That's a risk you want to avoid. Was good thinking,
good strategy, but it involved unnecessary risk."

Desmond agreed with him reluctantly. He didn't even think about the
fact that someone could've seen him with the man (*"the mark"). *All
right, he thought, next time he'll make sure he doesn't get into a
spotlight.

The next time (and all the times that came after) went smoother, and
Desmond never repeated the same mistake twice. He was a good learner.
His latest assignment was a woman named Lorena May. Jason hesitated
before handing him the file, and Desmond didn't know why. Jason never
said anything, except, "Be very careful with this one."

Desmond considered simple strangling in this case. Everything was
planned; everything was ready to fly in the usual smooth manner. Yes,
everything was ready except for Desmond himself. He did not expect
Lorena May to be as stunning as she was. Oh sure, he saw the
photograph of her in the file, but that photograph didn't even come
close to the original. The woman radiated sensuality and the
photograph never captured that, of course. Desmond couldn't help
himself but start talking to her. He knew it was a mistake, but he
simply couldn't help himself.

One thing led to another, and before Desmond knew it, Lorena was
stripping him in some motel room. That entire night Desmond was riding
in and out of Cloud Nine. In the morning, he felt goofy smile
stretching his mouth and there was nothing he could do about it. Of
course, he couldn't even think of strangling her anymore, so he just
kissed her `good-bye' instead and went home.

He told Jason about it (stuttering pretty much on every single word;
his face flashing deep burgundy) and that was when Jason said:

"You did *what?!"*

"Errr..." Desmond said, his ears burning hot.

"You didn't finish the assignment?" Jason looked almost murderous
right now. "Bloody hell on wheels, Desmond!" He rubbed his temples as
if trying to get rid of a headache. "Sleeping with your mark is not
the most brilliant decision to make!"

"Amoral...?" Desmond offered in a small voice and Jason just snorted
impatiently.

"I don't give a damn about your morals," he said. "You are the one who
is in charge of that. It's not the most brilliant decision because
there is always a chance that you'll become emotionally attached! And
emotional attachment is a very bad thing when it comes to this line of
work. It can get you killed! In fact, I am surprised right now that
you *didn't *get killed... I guess she never even considered the
possibility of you being after her, otherwise you'd be dead right
now."

Desmond blinked rapidly at that. Dead? Lorena didn't look like someone
who'd be capable of that...

"That woman is extremely intuitive," Jason continued. "And she is
ruthless. If she'd even suspected you being more than just a young
fresh lay, she wouldn't even think twice before sending you to hell.
The reason I handed the case to you is the fact that she knows my
face; we've had several quite unpleasant encounters in the past. I
didn't want to risk it. I should've told you..." he rubbed his temples
again. "It didn't even occur to me that you might end up jumping her.
Crap..."

"I am sorry," Desmond said in the same small voice. "I could go back
and finish..."

"No," Jason interrupted him immediately. "If you show up there again,
she'll know something is off. As I said, it's a pure miracle that she
didn't read you. Bloody hell... Desmond, don't let your hormones or
emotions to get in the way, otherwise you won't live to celebrate your
twenty-fifth birthday. And if possible, keep it in your pants. At
least, when it comes to your marks."

"Sorry," Desmond said again.

He *did *keep it in his pants, ever since that hateful night on the
docks. He kept it in his pants for four years. Of course, he would
feel wild urges quite often (hell, more than that!), but the minute he
would even imagine himself being with another person, his entire body
would immediately lock up to the point that he couldn't even breathe
right.

Finally, when he turned eighteen, Jason said to him one of those evenings:

"So you are going to avoid sex for the rest of your life?"

Desmond tensed up immediately.

"Don't tell me that your hormones don't drive you insane," Jason continued.

"Yeah, well..." Desmond shrugged uncomfortably. "That's what my hands
are for, right?"

"Hands can only get you that far," Jason replied without even a hint
of a smile. "Look..." he sighed. "If you feel like you want to tell me
to go to hell, feel free... But I just wanna help you, that's all."

"Help..." Desmond muttered, not quite sure where this conversation was heading.

"I wanna help you to realize that the whole thing can actually feel
pretty damn good," Jason nodded. "Don't worry," he laughed when
Desmond gave him an astonished look. "I am not secretly in love with
you. As I said before, you are not my type. But at least now, you have
your driver's license," and he winked.

Desmond couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Take your time," Jason said. "If you think you would like my help,
let me know."