AN: This is an outtake from my mafia series AU on A03 called BLOOD.
—000—
Bright (Viper)
A murderer.
He knew his fate was sealed the moment Blue Krait announced that this assignment would be Viper’s first.
Bright was Viper. And he’s going to have his first kill as a snake. His first intended kill. He wasn’t going to take a life because he needed to survive, he was going to take someone’s life because he was tasked to.
The assignment was easy—make sure the senator would forever stop from sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. The power figure has been such a pain in Coral’s turf, threatening the exposure of the Colubra Family’s business in the area, going so far as to threaten to frame the drug operations on the Family.
Colubra blood loathed threats. Revenge became twice as ruthless when the threat was the basis for the retaliation.
Twice as ruthless. The Colubra would send the most ruthless retaliation the Family could offer— their assassins.
Bright finally pulled himself together upon hearing his first task, he had cast a look at his companions and had suddenly felt a strange kind of belongingness.
In their eyes, he saw sympathy. Deep inside their cold, uncaring hearts, they understood how he felt at least during that particular moment when he needed some sort of reassurance.
It made him feel better.
The journey to the execution place wasn’t the typical arrangement.
Generally, the assassins preferred to work alone, save the Black Mamba who’s always with Blue Krait. However this time, all members of the Death 6 came with him, riding in pairs behind him and the Black Mamba in two black Ducatis.
That had been another surprise—the Black Mamba riding with him. He never rode with anyone, even with Blue Krait. But he didn’t dare question Blue Krait when he had quietly asked Bright to get in behind Black Mamba.
Contradictory to what he had expected to feel, Bright felt more relaxed. There was surprisingly some sort of strength and calmness gradually pouring through him just by touching the Black Mamba. Getting that close to the Family’s most ruthless assassin, holding on to his waist as he drove his Kawasaki Ninja to the destination, had made him feel relieved and comfortable in the oddest of ways.
The cold air helped as well.
When they finally arrived at the scene, the fear he felt was surprisingly replaced by an emotion he didn’t expect to feel when he was ordered to take a life.
Excitement. Gone was the fear and anxiety. They were replaced by a much more positive emotion.
The excitement suddenly enveloped him, pouring through him in waves, drowning him in an unmistakable pleasure, as if killing was the one moment he’d been waiting for all his life.
Was this how each of them felt? Every time they went on a mission?
The senator’s mansion was heavily guarded as expected, cameras and guards alike were everywhere.
They weren’t a problem for Death 6. They never were.
The moment the Colubra assassins entered the grounds through a high wall, Copperhead had killed all the guards with his favorite Glock 17, its silencer muffling any noise that could’ve alerted the senator’s higher guards. The higher guards were skilled gunmen, known to follow the senator anywhere to protect him. They didn’t sleep, always guarding the senator and his family even when they slept at night.
They stood no chance against Death 6.
Garter immediately sensed the first two who were hiding behind windows. She managed to shoot them before Bright could even blink. Copperhead took care of the next ones, his sarcastic grin wide on his face as his victims fell one by one in fast succession.
Soon, there was an exchange of silent shots between the two groups of professional killers.
And Bright—he was in awe.
Regardless of his nerves, he couldn’t help but admire his fellow assassins. If there was such a thing as teamwork among killers, he had just witnessed it.
Leading the group, Garter and Copperhead served as the front armors, walking calmly but shooting anyone in sight. Garter’s shots were more calm, calculated. Copperhead’s were aggressive but he never missed.
Blue Krait and Ball brought up the rear end, ready to help when needed. They took care of anyone who might emerge from behind.
Bright was at the center, walking alongside Black Mamba. But while Bright’s eyes were everywhere, looking at any possible stray bullets, Black Mamba, with his eyes solely in front, was strutting calmly, almost bored, as if they’re taking a stroll in a park instead of walking in dangerous grounds.
Trust, Blue Krait had once said to him. They do attack each other playfully once in a while, with real guns and knives (much to Bright’s horror), but during missions, they always had each other’s backs.
Always.
Ironically, trust has been the foundation for the seemingly indestructible Death 5, now 6.
Bright finally understood what kind of trust Blue Krait had meant during that moment when they had entered the senator’s courtyard.
Regarded as the best, Black Mamba didn’t even pull his gun out of its holster, knowing that the two assassins in front of the unusual squad would never get him killed unnecessarily.
Bright didn’t know what Garter and Copperhead felt regarding the display of trust the Black Mamba had shown, but he knew that they had the same trust in their leader.
That trust was manifested that same moment when the Black Mamba shot a higher guard, who was unseen by the other five, right before they reached the stone steps leading to the double doors of the mansion. Bright realized that they did not only trust the Black Mamba to kill missed and unseen foes—they trusted him with their lives and he would always protect that trust.
The group had reached the mansion’s double doors without so much. The assassins separated when they got inside the house. Garter, Ball, and Copperhead left to make sure that no unwanted eyes lived to see the daylight. They still needed to be discreet after all. If a witness lived, it would be doom and gloom. King Cobra wouldn’t want unnecessary probing from the authorities.
Bright knew the massacre outside couldn’t have woken up anyone else. As brutal as the exchange of shots might’ve been, both sets of modern warriors had used silencers on their guns—a fact that Blue Krait had researched about or else they would have been more discreet in their attack. Bright suspected that the Black Mamba’s right hand even knew what type of guns the higher guards were using and who had sold it to them.
By the time they reached the senator’s bedroom, Bright’s excitement had grown out of proportion much to his disgust. He went inside, followed by the Black Mamba, while Blue Krait waited outside.
The senator was deeply asleep. He looked untroubled and content with no trace of a looming nightmare. He had learned from Blue Krait that the senator and his overbearing wife had recently divorced, taking away one of the senator’s problems—a nagging spouse. Bright thought it was probably the reason why the senator seemed so peaceful in his sleep.
So he wasted no time.
Invading the floor in a soft, quick stride, he reached the bed of the authority figure. Without so much as a blink of an eye, he locked an arm around the senator’s neck, instantly waking him up.
Senator Phawat was a huge man, but his strength was nothing against the Death 6’s newest member. Bright swiftly slid the dagger across the senator’s neck, the blade sliding smoothly along the skin, cutting his throat effortlessly.
Bright closed his eyes in the process, a temporary moment of weakness. He heard the gasp, then the gurgling, then finally the last breath, before he felt the body convulse.
Senator Phawat was gone just like that.
Bright opened his eyes and immediately sought the Black Mamba’s eyes. He wanted to see his reaction. He needed to see his reaction.
For a brief second, Bright had seen something in the leader’s usually guarded eyes—pride—before they were back to their usual cold expression.
And then without another word, the assassin turned on his feet and started walking away from the scene. Bright followed his back with his gaze as he left the room.
It was a job well done, the simple gesture had said. Bright didn’t know whether to smile or cry at the irony of it being a job well done when he had to take a life.
His first real kill. It hadn’t completely sunk in yet, but it was his first real kill.
Bright gazed at the lifeless body in front of him. He had never killed on purpose. While he had killed his fellow participants during the battle royale, it was because he needed to not because he wanted to. He was a survivor and he needed to survive. He needed to take another’s life because his life had been at stake.
This kill was different. He needed to want it. He needed to force himself to want to end the senator’s life otherwise he couldn’t do it. And he needed to do it. The consequence of failing wasn’t worth it.
It could be torture.
Or death.
Bight knew he would die if he failed a mission—whether it be a slit on the throat or a bullet to the heart or brain—and in the hands of his fellow assassins. No member of Death 5, now 6, had failed any mission. The assassins trained for precision—they couldn’t fail. They were not allowed to fail. Failure equated to shame. Shame equated to death. Failure to execute a mission was unforgivable.
At least in the handbook of the Colubra Family.
Bright knelt down beside the bed, pulled his dagger from the almost severed neck, and closed the eyes of the senator. He whispered a prayer for the peace of the senator’s soul before getting to his feet. He wasn’t an overly religious guy, but he believed in the existence of a heavenly being. He knew a divinity would save the souls of those he…they had mercilessly murdered tonight.
After one last look at the body, he followed his fellow assassins to the blackness of the night.
—000—
Death 6
The group of cold-blooded killers decided to stop at a rocky terrain a few miles away from headquarters.
The view from their resting place was picturesque, a peaceful painting of subtle emotions. It was overlooking the city, the city that was surrounded by a hodgepodge of brightly colored lights.
It was a flawless yet satirical epilogue to a tragic ending.
Bright was standing at the edge of a cliff, his gaze far away.
It felt strange. Yes, he knew he had finally killed someone with the intent to kill, but the reality behind those words hadn’t sunk in yet. He felt numb. Cold. Uncaring. Soulless. He wondered if these feelings would backfire when he was in his room and finally had the quiet environment suited for reflection.
He’d find out later.
“You did well.”
Bright closed his eyes and didn’t look back at the owner of the voice. The relief he felt when he heard it though—it was something he had yet to look into.
“There’ll be more like this from now on, Viper,” the Black Mamba said. “Today was a test. If you did not survive it, it meant you didn’t belong beside me.”
Bright wanted to laugh. So he did. He also didn’t know where he found the confidence to do so, but he snatched the other man’s hand from the front and intertwined their fingers together.
His senses and reflexes really did improve. He did this with his eyes closed.
“Let go of my hands,” came the cool reply from the Black Mamba. “You know I can kill you in an instant, Viper.”
“But you won’t,” Bright replied, finally opening his eyes. He gazed straight at the eyes of the deadliest killer he had ever known.
He received no reply, but Bright already knew. He leaned in to kiss the Black Mamba. To his relief, the kiss was answered without hesitations.
He’d savor this peace for now.
With this demon by his side.
—
“He is taking this better than I thought he would,” Blue Krait declared, sounding amused at the sight in front of them. He was addressing no one in particular.
He was sitting in the space between Copperhead and Garter, the three of them sprawled under a protruding tree from the rocky walls. Ball was sleeping a few feet away from them.
Their eyes were all on the newbie, who seemed to be taking it more calmly than how they expected him to.
Garter, whose head was resting on the Copperhead’s left shoulder, hummed her agreement.
“I actually thought he would break down. I was expecting a scene. Ball was ready to pacify him. I saw him pocketing an extra shot.” They always carried a death shot whenever they were on missions. They’re small injections with lethal poison that dissolve the organs in less than three minutes. It’s their way out if they’re captured.
If.
Blue Krait chuckled humorlessly. “Well, this one keeps on surprising us.”
Garter turned her head slightly to face him. “We’re Death live in the flesh, Blue Krait. We live a monotonous dark life. I don’t mind surprises.”
“It’s because Black Mamba likes him,” Copperhead scoffs. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? They’re banging each other!”
They suddenly heard a shot, but Copperhead managed to evade it. They all grinned at the cold expression on the Black Mamba’s face who was the one who
“It’s true!” Copperhead shouted. “You can shoot all you want, but it’s true! You’re banging him!”
Black Mamba fired another shot. And another. Until he didn’t.
Because Viper had held his free hand as well.
“SEE!”
But they could see how Viper gently forced their usually stubborn leader to face the other way.
“You don’t value your life, do you?” Garter asked Copperhead, who just shrugged.
“Things really just got more interesting with the greenhorn,” he admitted. “Boss is less rigid. It irritates me that he seems to have developed a soul suddenly, but—I don’t hate it.”
It was his way of saying he liked Viper.
“I don’t have a great feeling about this though,” Copperhead added. “It was… too easy.”
The silence meant everyone agreed. It was too easy for King Cobra to surrender Viper to them. Usually, they expected more blood. But he didn’t ask for it.
King Cobra was blood. There would always be blood spilled whenever he was involved.
“I’m on it,” Blue Krait said. “But if you three can look out for unusual things, it’ll be better.”
“Got it.”
“We protect family,” Garter replied. “No one could hurt MY family as long as I’m alive to protect it.”
As if the Black Mamba sensed what they were talking about, he subtly inclined his head until they could see his expression. Viper had his eyes closed again, but he hadn’t let go of the Black Mamba’s hand.
He gave them a nod.
Death 6 was their family. And if they need to spill every drop of their blood to protect it, they would.
##
I Refuse to Say Things That I Can Write Better 