- you ruined everything, in the nicest way -

[Fenix Sole]

The fire crackled in the dark room, Fen sighed and rubbed his forehead, pinching the skin on the bridge of his nose. His anger had been taken out on a small stool that he used to put his feet up on, now it was missing all four legs, its soft lining was ripped and burning on the fire and the fluffy innards were thrown all around the room. His roars echoed through the halls of his oversized house only moments before, Anne was hiding in the kitchen he expected, he scared her sometimes, he felt bad most of the time. Not this time. This time he had too much on his mind. Thanks to a plucky upstart assassin fresh from training he had lost his chance to dispose of one of the spawn of the deceased mayor Kleos. Rooftops, following the unsuspecting fool from above, the newbie at his heels too. Not looking where he was going the kid tripped on a roof tile and skidded down the slope. Plunged off the building onto the pavements below. Made one hell of a mess. Panic flooded the streets. He looked down at the splattered remains smeared on the cobbles, sucked in air through his teeth and roared, this of course drew attention to his presence and he had too flee "home".

Fen stared deep into the fire. The Hands blamed him for the newbies death. He didn't care. Just another part of life, losing fools who don't pay attention. Thats the first thing you are taught as an assassin in the Hands, always pay attention and its last thing too. Ironically, it was the kids first mission. He sighed again, straightened himself from his slouched position and stood, stepped to the ornately carved marble fireplace. Crouched. Started piling more logs into the blaze. His mind wandered back the blood stained street, the look of horror on the face of his target. Sh!t, why are humans so damn careless?

As he placed the last log onto the pile the flames licked around his wrist, he didn't pay attention. A sudden burst of flame as a new flow of oxygen burst into the room, the door behind him had opened, his forearm was engulfed by flames. Screaming he lurched out of the flames and staggered backwards falling into his chair once again, still loudly cursing the inanimate logs for his pain. He struggled to look down at his arm, red raw, it still felt like it was on fire. "Fcuking knock next time!" he mumbled angrily at the new presence in the room. Only one person it could be. The only person who ever would dare interupt him. His wife. Anne.

[Anne Sole]

The moment Fenix arrived home, Anne knew something terrible had happened. He'd looked beyond p!ssed off and hadn't even acknowledged her before heading towards the study/library and slamming the door behind him. Anne was used to her husbands moodswings and knew him well enough to know when to stay away, today seemed like one of those times. She watched him go with curious eyes but decided to wait until he had calmed down before approaching and asking what had happened. Although Anne knew he would never hurt her she didn't want to risk it, so she chose to leave him alone and let him take his anger out on some poor piece of furniture instead. Sure enough, it didn't take him long and she could hear his furious yells and the sound of smashing furniture. It startled her, and she jumped, dropping the book she had been reading. Before his arrival, Anne had been curled up in the living room reading a book she had found by the fire - it had been calming and relaxing; at least, until Fenix lost his temper.

His yells and roars did not cease, and it started to scare the fifteen year old. Standing up she abandoned her book and quietly entered the kitchen, shutting the door behind her to try and block out some of the noise. It worked slightly - she could still hear the smashing of the furniture, but at least it was muffled. She pulled herself up onto a counter, and spent the next few minutes attempting to block out the sounds of distant furniture breaking. She was unsuccessful, and as time went on she began to feel rather nervous about being in the same house as Fenix. Especially as his roars were echoing along the many halls and corridors. Finally, it stopped, and she sighed in relief.

Anne waited a few more minutes, unsure if he would start up again. She didn't want to be in the same room as him if that happened. However, she felt rather idiotic at being afraid of her own husband - she was an assassin for crying out loud, and she'd been trained ruthlessly for most of her life. She had faced worse than an angry man. Rolling her eyes, she hopped off the counter and pulled the door open. There was no sound from the library, so she continued until she reached the closed door. Anne closed her eyes, wary of how angry he might still be. Oh well, she'd risk it - the worst that would happen was he'd end up hurting her, and she doubted that very much. She reached a hand out and pushed the door open, and was startled almost instantly from the scream that echoed out. Her eyes adjusted quickly and she saw Fenix stumble back from the fire, his arm red from the obvious burn marks he had just suffered.

"Fcuking knock next time!"

Anne's fear from seeing him in pain faded as he spoke and her eyes narrowed slightly. "Excuse me? We're married. I doubt it matters," she always used the marriage thing against him. She had a faint idea that Fenix still felt guilty about Anne having been forced into marriage with him, and when annoyed she mentioned something about their status as husband and wife. As quickly as it had came, her anger at him disappeared and she shut the door softly behind her as she entered the room. "Are you okay?" she asked him softly, making her way towards the chair he was sat in cautiously, scared of any further outbursts. Despite being focused on Fenix, she noticed the wreckage around the room and a small frown appeared on her face.

[Fenix Sole]

Fen knew how Anne would react and he instantly regretted saying what he did. Although she didn't look it, she was petite and very pretty, she was a deadly assassin. She would be better then him if she had his strange amount of luck, although it seemed to run out today. He rubbed his forehead again, sighed and apologized. Times had been hard, Anne had been forced into marriage with Fen because of the ever worried Hands of Time decided he was too much of a danger too them and himself, apparently she had loved him when he had trained her but when she was forced onto him she loathed the idea and Fen himself. She couldn't get over it for months on end, avoiding him, getting violent whenever he decided to try and patch things up. He knew she would be angry, blurting something about their marriage, fen didn't hear what. Too much pain. His moans broke into muttering as he tried to fix himself. Anne was standing behind him, asking how he was, Fen just felt like shouting "How do you think i am?!" but he knew that would provoke the breaking of even more furniture and some bones. His bones.
He looked up at her through painfully squinted eyes. The burning wouldn't stop, Her face was lined with concern, her eyes blankly staring at the patches of dark flesh forming on his forearm. He looked down, embarrassed that he let this happen and whispered, "I'm fine" in a irritated tone.

The day surely couldn't get any worse. Firstly he finally finds one of the illusive Mayor's children, no thanks to the idiot following him, stalks him through the streets waiting for the right moment. Decides that full frontal conflict wouldn't be advisable in such a crowded place and takes to the rooftops, good thing he had his rifle with him. Then the failure of an assassin falls off the roof, causes mass panic, and that bastard of a man gets away. Fen believed it was the eldest of the mayors kids, Blake, who was technically not in any contact with the mayor. He didn't share a mother with the rest of the kids. He isn't part of the deal, but an extra. If your going to do the job why not do it the best you can?

Now he had burnt his arm, his wife was angry and he wouldn't be able to work for at least a few days. By now that son of a bitch Blake could be out of the city and halfway to anywhere. He growled at the shadows cast in the room because of the infernal flames dancing inside the marble arch of the fireplace. Many tiny shadows were produced from the wreckage of the footstool, Anne hated it when he broke things, even if was the slightest thing or it could easily be replaced. She would be frowning right now, "Sorry" he was still staring at the patterns stretching from the flames. Fen rifled through his mind, searching for ideas, he hadn't managed to kill any of the children but he had managed to track them all down. Blake spent a lot of time in the lower districts with a girl whose name he hadn't learnt yet. And had scattered, never lingering in the same place for long enough for him to catch them.

He hadn't been the same since he woke up from whatever state he was in after the assassination, he was more violent, less friendly, more suspicious of people. He looked back at Anne finally. "Sorry" he whispered, looking down at her feet.

[Anne Sole]

Anne acknowledged his apology, staying silent and keeping her eyes focused on Fenix. She wasn't entirely sure that he had heard her words on their marital status, but now hoped that he hadn't. What she didn't need right now was to make matters worse and anger him further: his day had obviously been horrid, and bringing up their arranged marriage would probably antagonize him. Despite having fancied him - bordering on the edge of loving him - before he was assigned to train her, her reaction to their marriage was shocking. She had loathed everything about Fenix and marriage during those months, and failed to see that it wasn't actually his fault, instead blaming him for all that she'd been forced into. Looking back she could see now that Fen had actually attempted to sort out their relationship and start afresh, but her anger at the situation had overshadowed all rational thoughts. She felt silly, felt like an immature child. Being only fourteen hadn't helped matters.

Concern was the more prominent emotion on her face, and the moans and incoherent muttering coming from Fenix wasn't helping her keep calm. She hated seeing people she loved in pain, and Fenix's obvious distress made her own worry grow. "No, you're not," she replied, ignoring the irritant tone he had. She wasn't sure what to do, and she hesitated before swiftly kissing him on the cheek. "What were you doing anyway?" she asked, much closer to him before. Anne hoped he was calming down - she didn't want an argument. The burnt flesh on his arm was obvious, and she flinched slightly at how much it had darkened already, worried for how much pain he was in. "Why were you so close to the fire?" she added, her words much quieter, more for herself to hear than him.

Anne listened to his next two apologizes, again unsure to react. Since waking up from that coma-like state, he hadn't been the same. He wasn't the same person that Anne had married (even if it had been an arranged one) and that simply scared her. His actions were more violent, he was less friendly than he had been before. Even though Anne had been the anti-social and violent one before the assassination, Fenix was no longer attempting to be as nice and loving towards her like he'd been before. It was like his whole personality had altered: his obsession with finding the remaining mayors children and finishing the job was now bordering the point of madness. She could understand his need to want to complete the job he'd been set months previously, but it was becoming ridiculous. It was damaging his health, not to mention affecting him as a person. If he was still the same Fenix from before the assassination, she would of attempted to tell him the major, life-altering news that she'd been keeping secret for months. The possible new addition to the family ... she bit her lip in a desperate attempt to change her thoughts.

Instead her eyes travelled around the room, taking in the damage he'd inflicted to the furniture. Luckily it only seemed to be one footstool, but it would cost money to replace, and it was a pet hate of hers when he took his anger out on the chairs. She'd lost track of how many different items they'd had to replace over the months. "Always the furniture," Anne muttered under her breath. She sighed, moving around to crouch down in front of him, resting her arms on top of his knees. "What happened?" she questioned, eyes searching his face for an answer.

[Fenix Sole]

Whilst Anne looked at him Fen could tell she was thinking of otherwise unrelated things. Her face blank, pale at the sight of his scolded arm, staring. They of course had been going through rough times recently. Fen could always sense Anne’s tensions, when she was worried it showed on her fragile face. And she was showing all the signs she usually did, but this time he knew why. She was worried about his arm, of course (as soon as he thought of this Anne said that he wasn’t OK and asked him what he was doing so close to the flames), but also she was worried about his mind. He knew he had changed since the assassination, although he hadn’t noticed himself, she had said before. One thing he had noticed was his increased violence and extreme emotional outbursts. Anne was flinching at the sight of his arm, he was half expecting her to fuss over him like she did before, like the time he was shot, or when he fell off a low roof and broke a leg. She used to rush around and tend to him, she had amazing hands. She could fix him like no other, because no other would fix him, he was a wanted man, albeit no one knew who he was there was no need to tempt fate. Fen and Anne were the typical higher class marriage to everyone in the district. They were well known for their secretive nature but large amount of participation in the community. Every few weeks one of the richer families would hold a party; whether it be for occasion or recreation. Every so often, although unspoken, it came to Fen and Anne’s turn they would hold an extravagant ball, or celebration. Usually it was held on the bottom floor of the mansion, which was basically one large ballroom, a few bathrooms and a kitchen. In the summer sometimes they would hold one or two out in the garden, which wasn’t large but big enough for them to grow their plants and have space for recreation. No-one suspected them of anything they were young, too preoccupied with each other to notice anyone else. But Fen knew what they thought of Anne even though they never spoke it. She was young, so was he, but she was TOO young. Upon their marriage she was only 14, she was 15 now. Fen was 17. No-one suspected anything.

Fen’s eyes shifted from the again flitting shadows, pupils growing and shrinking in the light. Anne was at his knees, elbows rested on him. She stared into his eyes, he stared back.
An image scuttled through his mind, stirred by Anne’s words. He was breaking the footstool again, anger on his face, rage in his veins. He was imagining the carved wood and cloth stool to be that goddamn Blake’s head. “I couldn’t contain it Anne” he sighed moving his hand from the arm rest of his chair to her cheek and stroked softly, calmly, the emotions had flooded out.

“You know what would happen if I did. Remember last ti...” he stopped and moved his hand away. Painful memories racing through his skull, the time he contained his rage and in the end almost hurt Anne, he knew she was still scared of him slightly and Fen would much prefer to break a rather useless and rejected piece of furniture then his young bride. “...no forget it. I’ll get one tomorrow, a new one, I was meaning to get one anyway.” The same old stream of quickly spoken words he always used when he broke something, somehow trying to apologise again with a nervous smile. Both his hands moved to hers and held them gently. But when he looked closer at her, he could tell something was wrong, something new or old, something she hadn’t told him yet.

Another image of Blake flashed in his mind when his eyes wandered and found the mangled wreckage again. “Anne....” He squirmed, eyes screwed up, his grip strengthening. Boiling water poured on his burning arm, he looked to it and found it was only his mind, but the pain was real, something ripping away at the skin. “What happened?” he repeated the line a couple of times more over when he had recovered from the roaring welts on his skin. “That kid, Ben, you know? The trainee.” He stuttered over words and phrases in his head. Anne didn’t like the death of colleagues, especially someone the same age as her. He highlighted how good Anne was at her job, he was only in training, only just given his first mission, whereas Anne had been contracting a lot younger than him.

“He died when we were trailing that Blake guy...” He frowned, “He got cocky, forgot his surroundings, slipped on his tiles on the rooftops, fell to his death.” He wouldn’t say anymore about Blake, he knew it pissed her off if he went on about his missions too much.
Blake was a child of the mayor, but his mother was the mayor’s first wife, not the second (who all the other kids came from). He was rejected by his father at an early age and grew up in London for a while but when his mother died of “mysterious” circumstances he moved to Bullet cove with his uncle. For some reason he was back, maybe the death of his father attracted him back, the allure of industry fresh in the sky or a particular girl who he had seen him talking to, following and hugging. Ah, young love.

Mysterious circumstances namely Fen’s mentor; the late, Hawk. The mayor contracted the kill. But Fen cast the memories off and thought of a new face. The boy named Emmet Grady, the bastard who killed Hawk just because he did his job and killed Grady’s father. Fen scoffed in his mind, then sighed, assassination was a dark business and sometimes, but rarely, the victims get their own back. But he got the feeling the Grady kid hadn’t had his fill of revenge yet.

He turned his thoughts back too Anne. Her beautiful face still lined with amber light and worry.

[Anne Sole]

Having to treat Fenix for his injuries was like a second-nature for Anne. She was used to having to tend to him for multiple reasons: firstly, he was wanted by many people. And even if they weren't aware that it was him she could see no reason for risking it and for him to be caught, and more than likely to be killed. The second reason was more of a personal one, one that she had never really told Fenix before. To be quite honest she would be pretty jealous if Fenix was treated by anyone other than her. Despite being only fifteen she felt incredibly protective over him, and if another women ever touched him - even if they were not flirting or such - her murderous side would probably appear. Anne was slightly unstable; the years of hard training and ruthless killing had molded her into a harsh person. So if there was any chance of someone other than her touching her husband she wouldn't be responsible for her actions. Besides, the amount of times Fenix had broken bones or injured himself in some way was ridiculous. There would be no reasonable excuse for him seeking medical help so many times, so Anne was the only other option. Anne and Fenix kept to themselves a lot - being in the Upper Class society required them to be active in the community occasionally: throwing parties or balls every odd month, and attending those that others had organized. It was a part of life, and even if Anne hated it and the patronizing she received, she had no choice but to go along with it to keep up the facade. As she had only been fourteen when married to Fenix, their 'friendly neighbours' obviously thought it was a scandal, and she had heard rumors that it was only because she was pregnant. Fortunately those were proved false after a year of their marriage and no sighting of a pregnant Anne or a baby. Funny how things changed so quickly ...

His soft touch calmed some of her worries, and she relaxed slightly, although still anxious about his burns. Even though her mind was focused on him, she was already starting to plan what she would need to treat his injury. And whilst doing that she'd also sneakily check him for any new injuries from todays outing of hunt the mayors children. Anne wouldn't be happy if he had hid any pain from her, a habit he had developed due to her constant fussing. "It's not your fault," she replied back just as quietly. In her eyes, it was better that he broke a chair rather than try and break a window and hurt himself even more. His next words made her flinch; his hand moving away at the same time she recoiled slightly. She couldn't help it, it was a natural reaction to the previous events which had scared her so much. Anne could remember it so clearly. He had been keeping his anger bottled up, refusing to talk to her or mention anything about what had happened. And like a naive girl she was, she had just bugged him and bugged him until he had snapped. All the rage had just come flooding out, and he had been mere centimeters away from hurting her before coming to his senses and backing away. Despite being an assassin, she had been scared out of her wits and had avoided him for weeks on end, terrified of another outburst. Even now she was still more reserved around him than she used to be, and the secret which she would have to tell him sooner or later would probably have disastrous consequences. Anne was stuck, and had no idea what to do.

"Okay, just let me pick one with you." she spoke, he held her hands, and she could feel the warmth clearly. Anne was determined to change the subject from the near-beating she had received many months before. Her eyes would not look up to his, afraid that he would see that she was hiding something, and demand that she tell him. Anne wasn't a very good liar to her husband, and he would be able to see straight through her own little facade she had put up to hide the truth from him. His grip on her hands tightened, and she was broken from her thoughts by the pressure. Anne watched him, worried slightly as her turned to look at his arm, pain lining his face. She waited patiently for him to reveal to her exactly what had occurred, although quite anxious still for his temper. "The one you've been working with?" she asked him, unsure of whom he was talking about. Anne herself rarely dealt with new assassins anymore: she was too preoccupied with her own 'career' to help those new to the job. Despite this, Anne was still upset when one was hurt or killed. She knew the risks - she knew that one day herself or Fenix may be killed, and leave the other alone. However she still participated in the jobs she was assigned.

Anne gasped slightly, shocked at the reason for his horrific death. "Oh that poor boy," she said sympathetically, saddened by the news. The boy was only around the same age as her, but that was a mistake he'd never be able to fix now. The mention of Blake made her frown, scowling slightly at her husband. She hesitated, unsure of whether he would be up to a nag from her but decided to continue anyway. She kneeled down properly and grabbed Fenix's cheeks softly between her hands. "Fenix," she paused, sighing, her gaze slipping towards the floor before moving back up to look at him, "Promise me that you'll try and spend less time hunting for them. Please. For me." A low blow and she knew it - it would of worked before he was hurt, but now she wasn't entirely sure if he'd fall for it. "You're hurting yourself constantly with this insane job," she muttered, struggling to keep the tears at bay. She despised seeing him come back night after night; angry at his failure and occasionally suffering an injury. She shook her head, vibrant red hair falling in front of her eyes, before reaching forward - avoiding his burnt arm - and hugging him tightly.