The Assassin's Killer

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Chapter 1

THE RAIN starts to drop faintly outside a grand mansion. A young Cyron Black stands with his head down, staring at a red linoleum to divert his utter shame. He shouldn't be here. He knows it more than anyone. But he has nowhere to go. It's raining hard. His stomach is empty. And his hands are shaking.

“You can't bring that bastard here!” yells a beautiful woman with a golden hair, it is curly and long down to her slim waist. Cyron never dares to glance at her. To him she is the scariest person. He hates to see her angry eyes, always wanting to scorn at him. Always taunting him. He is sure that she feels the same. Who likes a bastard son, anyway?

“Do I have a choice? The election is approaching, Reah. I can't compromise my reputation!” replies the tall man in his mid thirties. His brown hair is cleanly gelled to the right. His eyes are beautiful but deceiving.

Cyron is listening, grudging. He's only ten years old but he knows that they're arguing because of him. What else, anyway? He's smart for his age. He might be a prostitute's son but he's not stupid, as they always think he is.

“Send him away! That bastard is NOT welcome here, Michael!” her voice is angrier this time. Cyron sees her grabbing a flower vase, then she throws it madly on the wall, stressing that she's not going to accept him.

“If you insist this, I will file a divorce!”

The husband pauses for a moment, hesitations clipped to his face. He doesn't expect that his wife will resolve to that condition. A divorce? Huh.

Hiding behind his father's back, Cyron tightens his grip on the piece of paper, the sole evidence that can destroy a politician's career. Or maybe the entire family. He crumples the paper and brings it above his small chest, silently cursing his birth, his name, and his unfortunate mother.

“You can't be like this Reah, please understand.”

Reah covers her ears with both of her hands. Unwillingness devours her soul. She can't possibly accept her husband's bastard son, not in a million years. Looking at him reminds her of Michael's treachery ten years ago.

Michael goes to her and grabs her hands, they exchange angry stares for a moment, then he says, “This child will make us more miserable if we don't agree to his terms.”

“Don't you dare to convince me, Michael. It's your sin that he exists!”

“Come on, dearie, it's been ten years already!”

“And counting!”

“Stop it already!” Michael yells, shrugging her wife's shoulders. “Don't you think of our son's future? If we don't let Cyron in now, he will flaunt to the world that he's my bastard son! He is capable to do that—just like his mother! Media will make a feast out of it and then what, Xim suffers the burden of having a bastard brother? Do you want that now?”

Cyron clutches his chest, he feels like it's starting to ache. So, after all, his father only wants him for their sake, and not because he loves him as a son. This must be the feeling his deceased mother felt when Michael denied her. He expects it to be that way. But the truth is more painful when you hear it yourself.

Cyron knows. He cannot expect truth to be happy.

Reah blinks her blue eyes in anxiousness. She's finally silent. Tears start to fall on her cheeky face, her lips quiver as she bites the upper lip. She hates the boy. She hates him forever. Him and his prostitute mother is the reason of her misery.

“Then, he also must agree to my terms.” Reah gasps. She looks hatefully at Cyron. “He will not be allowed to go out. Put him in to the guest's house, only then I cannot see his foul face.” Reah surrenders, wiping her tears off her face. Michael sighs, releasing her shoulders from his hold.

“Thank you, dearie.” Michael says in relief.

Reah turns around, but before she leaves them, she says, “And one more thing, I don't want that bastard to be near my son. Ever.”

Michael is left with Cyron. The rain drops are starting to get louder, heavier, slapping all drops to the glass windows.

“I'm sorry about that, Cyron.” Michael starts, then he walks to him. Cyron is still looking down, hesitant to meet his father's eyes. “Look at me, boy.”

The child obeys, despite knowing there will be no compassion in his father's eyes. He is near yet so far, far away. “You can stay with us, Cyron. I will clothe you, feed you, and educate you. But you have to keep your promise.”

Cyron looks at him without a smile, not even a single hint of joy. His eyes are staring coldly. He knows what he will say next.

“Whether you are in this house or not, you cannot call me father. You are just a mere houseboy, do you understand?”

Do I have a choice? Cyron silently mutters, repeating what Michael said earlier to his wife.

“Can I call you Sire?”

“You must.” Michael nonchalantly replies. “And I have to get this,” he takes the DNA test result and his birth form from Cyron's hands. “Is this the only copy you have?”

Cyron nods.

“I'll take care of the hospital persons regarding this matter,” Michael says, tearing the piece of paper into pieces. “I can't let this out. You know what I mean.”

“What about my mother's funeral, Sire?” Cyron asks, looking up to his estranged father. No. In fact, this man standing in front of him is no longer his father. Since when did he call him son, anyway?

Always a bastard.

“I'll take care of that, too.” Michael says and he rings the bell on a nearby table. An old butler clad in a black suit momentarily enters the parlor room. “Please take this child to the guest house, Roy. Give everything what he wants from now on, but he is never to enter this mansion again.”

“Understood, sire.”


15 YEARS LATER

“Stop the car! Stop the car!” Cyron shouts in his mic while applying more pressure on the gas pedal, increasing more speed in his police car. “This is PO3 Cyron Black of LAPD, stop the car!”

“Stop the car, you punk?!” Zack Matthews, his police partner, smacks Cyron on his head causing the latter to cough loudly in his mic. Civilians walking in the streets who happen to hear him are stiffing their laughs.

“That's a criminal out there, of course he won't stop his car! Just drive.”

Cyron shakes his head to get back to his senses, then he makes a comeback with a sudden fast speed, causing Zack to hit his head on the car windows. The two men are currently on a car chase with a reported thief who stole expensive items in a nearby jewelry store.

Zack turns the siren on just in time the traffic lights turn red—UH OH. He hits his head again when Cyron makes a sudden stop.

“Can't you drive carefully?” Zack complains.

The thief's car is only four cars away from them, making Cyron and Zack to stare each other for quick seconds.

Quickly then, with having the same thoughts in mind, the two policemen get out from the car and hurries their way to the criminal's vehicle. Knowing this himself, the thief gets out from his vehicle and in the next minute the three of them are soon engaged in a street chase.

“Out of the way, out of the way!” Zack shouts to the crowd, warning them ahead. He's already pulling out his 45 caliber from his gun belt.

Cyron detours his way in hope to corner the thief by taking the shortcut. He succeeds in doing so and without further ado, he jumps to the surprised thief, making them both fall to the ground, “Got yah!”

The thief wrestles with him but he manages to pull out his chain. Smiling triumphantly, Cyron binds the criminal with the metal chains.

“People like you make us miserable, you know that?” Cyron tells the thief.

Zack comes in with a gun on his hand. He sighs in relief upon seeing that Cyron did well on his part. He walks to them and helps his partner by taking over the chained criminal.

“I'll take over from here. Just drive the car, Cyron.”

Cyron just nods. Then Zack forces the thief to move forward while aiming a gun on his back. Cyron follows them behind.

Zack and the thief are already steps away when Cyron trips over his police cap that he forgot to pick up. Cyron twists his steps and make a great fall to the ground, face front—causing him to lost consciousness. Or maybe. Since he didn’t get up.

“You know what, you can be careless most of the time Cyron, but you're improving at least,” Zack says in compliment to his partner's achievement. “I just praised you, didn't you know?"

When Cyron didn't reply, he turns to glance back, only to find his unconscious partner on the ground. He widens his eyes in shock.

“Cyron Black?! Seriously, dude!”


“YOU LET the criminal escaped!” Arnold Swiss yells at them, he's the Deputy Chief of LAPD. His wrinkles are visible on his forehead, making him look older. Zack and Cyron stand in front of his desk, heads down in embarrassment.

“Sorry, Chief. I passed out.” Cyron explains, a bandage is wrapped on his head. There is also a band-aid on his nose-bridge.

“Sorry, Chief. As his partner I couldn't let him die just like that.” Zack says. When Cyron passed out earlier, he helped him up, but it became an opportunity for the the criminal to run away with the chains on his hands.

“He won't die just by tripping over, Zack!” Chief Arnold hisses. “And you, Cyron, when will you ever change, huh? There is limit to stupidity!”

“Sorry, Chief.”

“It will never happen again.” Zack adds.

“But it happens almost every month!”

“Two months actually, Chief,” Cyron corrects which earned him a scorn.

“I'm done with it. I think it's time to separate the two of you.”

“Chief!” Zack and Cyron exclaims. But realizing it deeper, Zack blinks his eyes and adds, “Oh, I think that's better.” Cyron shoots him a glare.

“It's done. Zack, you will be paired up with Simon starting tomorrow.” Zack rolls his eyes in disappointment. Sure, Cyron is careless at times, but Simon talks a lot and it annoys him more than Cyron does to him.

“Cyron, you'll be paired up with PO1 Coreen Gonjales.”

“Who's that? I don't even know her.” Cyron complains.

“Isn't she the new recruit?” Zack asks.

“She's from another division.” Arnold confirms. “She might be new, but she's more reliable than you are, Cyron Black.”

“This is a harsh reality,” Cyron sighs as they exit the Deputy's office. “The Chief can't do this to me!”

“I heard that, Cyron!” Chief Arnold yells from the inside of his office. Cyron makes a comical face in return, although the chief can't see it anymore.

“You got paired up with a woman, that's something you must be thankful for.” Zack says.

“I don't like women,” Cyron replies as he finds his way to his seat.

“Easy to say. What if she has the curves? You'll eat your word.”

“And?” Cyron looks up to him who is still standing.

Zack sighs deeply. His shoulders drop in dismay. “You're really hopeless.”

Cyron just stretches his eyes up and down to annoy his former partner. Zack shakes his head, then pulls something out from his pants pocket. It's a strawberry lollipop. He throws it to Cyron who perfectly catches it on one hand.

“That's my separation gift, dude. The last one, okay.”

“Whoa, thanks!” Cyron peels the plastic off and puts the sweet lollipop in his mouth like a craving child.

“Seriously, look at you.” Zack shakes his head again. He's about to walk away but he remembers something, so he adds, “By the way, Cyron, how about you go with me after duty? I'll introduce you to some pretty girls I know.”

“No, thanks.”

“It's a beer party. With girls.”

“I have a duty tomorrow. I can't endure hangovers.”

“I have, too. Come on, dude, you're not a teenager.”

Cyron looks up to him, seriously at first, but he smiles anyway. “Still no.”

“Okay, no beer. Just a girl.”

“Still no.”

“Why?”

Cyron gives him a cunning smile, and replies with a lollipop in his lips, “Because I have bad manners when I sleep. Girls will not like it. Besides, night is the only time on earth that I can be with myself.”

“Dude, you're lunatic.” Zack shakes his head. Then he leaves Cyron alone.

Zack didn't see the frosty smirk on Cyron's lips.

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