A rose by another name
A dark clothed man walked slowly towards the edge of a wooden porch. The red sun was sending its last beams of light and warmth towards the mysterious figure as he came to a halt near the edge. There were no bars to hold him as a deep cliff greeted him only a couple of inches from his feet. Slowly he inhaled the cold mountain air, his lungs expanding, his suit tightening around his chest. The wind played vigorously with his long black hair as he gazed across the snow covered mountain tops. His mind wandered to places it had been before. Starting out as young boy, taken by the French government, his family murdered before his eyes, trained as a spy and an assassin.. Dead all of his life. Until the one day he found his true family amongst Les Assassins Silencieux. It was there under the tutoring of Esther Cotillard and Jean-Luc Lebeau that he grew into the man that stood here today. Their teachings had allowed him to build an empire of his own. His hand reached for the front pocket of his jacket, it held a single red rose. Almost invisible thanks to the red crimson sun shining upon it. Slowly he pullet it from his pocket, the sharp thorns slicing into the flesh of his fingers and tearing the black fabric of his jacket. His blood ran down the stalk of the rose, the green leafs releasing drops of blood one at a time into the ravine that laid before him. Before letting the wind grab hold of the rose and swirl it in a spiralling motion into the darkness below. His mind returned to the here and now as he heard the footsteps of assassins behind him preparing the mansion for its intended purpose, taking over the world. A new villain team had been born, The Crimson Rose. And now was their time to blossom.
Weeks before
A brown folder was spread out on a wooden Victorian style desk, a single desk light illuminated the pictures scattered around of his latest target. Slowly Emile picked up one of the pictures and leaned back in his comfortable brown fauteuil, it pictured a prince about to become the king of Belgium. Normally this would be a joyous occasion, but after a meeting with one of the younger brothers of the prince he found this ambitious young man to be a better candidate to become king, one that would be his puppet. The prince’s coronation would take place a couple of days from now. The assassination of a prince was an ordinary task to begin expanding his reach throughout the world. It seemed only fitting to take it upon himself to fulfil this task. He could not expect his subordinates to respect a leader who only seemed to hand out tasks, sometimes it was necessary to get his own hands drenched in blood.
Only a day later he arrived at his location, Brussels in Belgium. He was dressed in civilian clothes, a red rose in the front pocket of his jacket decorated the black suit. His long black hair flowed freely over his shoulders. Right here, the coronation would take place. They had constructed a single building especially for this occasion. It was a glorious building, made completely from glass. The sun seemed to shine directly behind it, the sunbeams were amplified by the glass, it was blinding if your eyesight hadn’t adjusted to it. It was completely made from thick bulletproof glass, only held in place by steel beams, almost impossible to see clearly through it, even harder for a bullet to penetrate. But there was one flaw in its design that would prove to be fatal, they had only constructed one large entrance in an attempt to make it easier to secure the building.
As Precise approached the heavily guarded building he was stopped and searched for any concealed weapons as was every spectator present at the scene. They took security very seriously, and they had every right to as the assassin was told to continue by the guards. He walked towards the entrance over a red carpet which would soon be walked over by the prince, The glass hall was beautifully decorated with glass statues of former heirs to the throne, red silk ribbons hang from the walls, it truly was a place fit for royalty. The hall was filled with people, politicians, celebrities, even normal citizens from the country were invited to honour the new king. A young girl walked besides Precise hand in hand with her mother. For a moment she looked at him and started to giggle. The little girl pulled on her mothers dress ‘Look mommy! That man has funny hair!’. The assassin smiled at the young girl and stroked her soft long blond hair, a smile appeared on her face reaching from ear to ear. Suddenly the sound of trumpets began to fill the hall. The sound reflected of the glass walls to make a beautiful echo. The prince had arrived with his full attire, only his younger brother wasn’t with him. On advice of Precise he had faked an illness. The heavily guarded prince and his family walked towards the altar on the other side of the hall where he would be coroneted.
The earth manipulator waited patiently until the prince was halfway. He inhaled deeply until every bit of his lungs was filled with air, his chest expanded, his heart slowed its pace. With one bouldering roar he let out one simple word. One word that would lead to the kings demise. ‘FIRE!!!’. Suddenly people around him began to panic, everyone began to shout and mass hysteria struck. Precise quickly raised his hand into the air, at the same the concrete floor below him began to crack and from it emerged half a dome around him. With a smile on his face he sensed the trembling in the earth, he heard people struggling to get to safety, all running towards one exit on the far side of the hall with the king in the middle. Children were being trampled, women pushed to their deaths against the glass, men striking furiously around them to get to safety. Shots were fired in vain to protect the king as he and his family were trampled by the mass of people. What sweet irony, a king loved by his people.. only to be killed by the people he loved. After a minute it was all over.. people ran outside on the courtyard while guards attempted to bring order into chaos. He lowered his hand and let the stone dome retract into the surface. Blood that was previously stopped by the stone now continued streaming towards his black Armani shoes. Bodies littered the floor, the red carpet had a completely different meaning. He walked past the bodies, on his left the corpse of a mother clenching on to her daughter to protect her in vain. On his right the corps of the heir of the throne lying on top of his own dead children. In front of him the young girl which smiled at him only a couple of minutes ago. Her long blond hair was now drenched in blood, her white dress torn.. her bones.. broken. He took the red rose from the front pocket of his black jacket and stretched his arm forward. Slowly letting go of the rose it twirled towards her heart. With a smile he turned his back on her and walked out of the hall, leaving the soft screams of people in agonizing pain behind him to echo in the hellish hall. A black Mercedes stood ready for him in front of the building, guards were not even paying attention to him anymore as he drove off. Sometimes a single word could do more damage then a thousand bullets could ever do, this was one thing that he learned in his life as an assassin. And that was one of the many things he would pass on to his associates.
The foundation had been laid for the rise of The Crimson Rose, finally this team would blossom. The only thing he needed were allies in his quest to ultimately recreate the world in such a manner so it would suit his desires. In time, this team would prove to be a force that would shake the very foundations of the world.
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