The rain hit violently against the blood-stained window. A man in a black cloak walked through the hallway, showing no concern for the lifeless bodies that littered the ground.
Scrubbing sounds could be heard as he dragged an unconscious, injured boy through the bloodied hall. He glanced at the boy's face, still wet with tears. The man stood in front of a large door. He stepped through the door, which was covered with blood and bodies, revealing an office that was different from the others—clean and untouched.
A man sat in the middle of the room. From the door, the cloaked man could hear his heavy breathing as he held onto his injured stomach, clinging to the small life he had left. He was in his early fifties and didn't look his age at all; the only sign was the grey spots on his hair and beard. His face still shone with youth.
The cloaked man walked toward the table and gently laid the child on it. The man looked up at the child, and a weak smile crept onto his face. "Th-the-an-ks," he gave a weak and broken response. The man caressed the boy's head, almost shedding a tear. "Take- care -of -him," he said, sounding weaker than he was.
A sign of displeasure crossed the cloaked man's face. "NO," he said firmly. "That wasn't the deal." The old man let out a forced laugh. "You are as sharp as ever." He looked at his son one last time, kissed him on the head, and spoke into his ear—words he wouldn't hear. "I love you. We all love you. Even in death, we will love you." He kissed his son once more before nodding at the cloaked man.
The cloaked man carried the boy gently on his shoulders. He looked at the old man, who smiled and said jokingly, "I guess I will see you in hell, Cassian," as he closed his eyes and took his last breath.
Cassian said his name several times in his head, as if recalling a distant memory. He looked at the boy hanging on his shoulders, tears hanging on his eyelashes. Cassian could only feel pity for the boy.
As he exited the mansion, five other cloaked individuals waited for him. When they sighted the boy, they took defensive positions, ready to kill the boy at any time. Cassian raised his hands, gesturing for them to calm down. "Any questions or objections can wait till we get back," he said, his voice sounding stern. As he walked through them and departed, confusion and doubt were evident on their faces. They followed him, blending into the shadows.
As Cassian arrived, his head throbbed with pain. He rubbed his temples. Before he could go inside, a voice called out to him.
"Captain," a girl came out, trying to voice the others' concerns and doubts. "Why are you with the boy?"
"I am going to train him to be one of us," he said flatly, showing no interest in continuing the conversation.
Before the girl could respond, one of the cloaked men spoke up, anger clear in his voice. "This boy killed our man, and we are just going to teach him to kill the rest of us?"
He made valid points, and Cassian saw the others nodding in agreement.
"That is why I am training him," he said, looking at all of them with confusion clear on their faces. "This boy killed one of our men, so what will we gain if we kill him? We lose both valuable assets."
Cassian glared at the man, his eyes almost devoid of life. "Never question my authority again," he said, his voice low but stern. He looked at the group one last time before departing into the building.
As Cassian walked through the dark hallway, only lit by small candles, he could feel it—(regret). He felt regret consume him. He wished things could have been different. He wished he could go back in time to reset everything, but he couldn't, and that's what hurt him the most.
He looked at the boy on his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look. He reached a metal door, opened it, and laid the boy gently on the ground, rubbing his head. "From now on, you are on your own," he said, looking at the boy one last time before closing the door.
As he stepped out, a girl waited for him. "Anna, can I help you?" he said, increasing his pace.
"Sir, you need to clear the air," she said, trying to match his pace. "We understand your intentions, but not everyone agrees with the decision you have made."
He stopped and looked at her, anger and annoyance clear in his voice. "Tell them that if they have a problem with my decision, they can become the captain," he said as he strode out of the building.
Cassian felt his heart ache as he sat down at the abandoned, empty bar. As he chugged his fifth bottle of alcohol, his heart flooded with different emotions: anger, hatred, despair, and depression.
"It isn't fair. How is it that all you do is paperwork and you die before me?" He raised the bottle to his mouth, but only a small drop fell in. Slowly, tears streamed down his face. This felt worse than any injury he had ever had; unlike them, this didn't heal. He sat down and mourned his friend and rival, Moroal li Ludovico.