The Fatima Curse

The mission was what mattered.



It didn’t matter that ten years ago his mother had been shot like a rabid dog in front of him, her blood and brains splashing against their cozy little apartment walls. It didn’t matter that the man who had murdered her had stood over her torn, bleeding body and laughing, kicking her and spitting on her.



No, it was the mission. The goddamn motherfucking piece of shit mission. Abel had reminded him of this, had drilled it into him that morning. The dead little girls, the shame, the tears they had cried, the way they had begged, the way he had mutilated them. Shuuichi was used to the meetings, they were a way to boost morale, a way to inspire and strike disgust in the heart. A way to fill an assassin with fury and unbridled lust for blood and vengeance.



But he was tired. He wanted to sleep, preferably forever. And then Uri had been there, standing in his doorway with those impossibly icy blue eyes, and that impossibly pitying smile. “The first rule.”



“Always complete the mission,” Shu had responded dutifully, but his eyes had been burning and his voice had trembled.



“I’ll be there,” Uri told him, “Right beside you, Shuuichi.”



So he had said, but Master Abel had other plans. He had taken them both into his office and informed them that Shu was to complete the mission on his own. That he was to offer himself to the sweaty tub of lard and kill him discreetly, behind closed doors.



“Master,” Uri began, “I do not think---”



“No,” Abel had interrupted coldly, “You don’t. You’re nothing but a big dumb pile of muscles. Let me do the thinking, Uriel.”



Shu had opened his mouth, about to make a very large mistake, when Uri’s hand rested itself on his shoulder and squeezed gently. He snapped his lips closed, but favored their master with a cold, piercing glare.



“Fletcher has bodyguards, you’ve seen them I’m sure. If you treated this as you would any other mission, unnecessary blood would have to be shed.”



“Have you seen ‘im?,” Shu asked, “That walkin’ blubber factory? I bet he ain’t seen his willie in about five years.”



Abel’s eyes flicked to Uri, and the faint smile that had twitched at the corners of his lips dropped immediately. Those eyes were hard, but worse than that, they held absolutely no love or mercy in them. Uri realized that Abel would kill him if he became too much of a liability, and the thought filled him with a dull sorrow.



“You’ll do what I tell you to do, isn’t that right, Shuuichi? Because you’re a good boy.” Abel had reached over and brushed his fingers down Shu’s cheek. Shu had tried to recoil, and Abel had gripped his hair and twisted it around his fingers, forcing the boy to utter a small little yip of pain.



“Let him go,” Uri commanded, gripping Abel’s hand and squeezing it. His eyes, usually a cool blue, had blazed with hellish fire. “Let him go this instant. If you wish to punish someone, punish me. Let Shuuichi go.”



Fury had danced in Abel’s eyes - but beneath that? Fear? Surprise?



“Get your hand off of me,” Abel had hissed, “Before I do something I regret.”



Uri had released the man’s hand, but he noted with some smug satisfaction, Abel also released Shu’s hair. Almost without thinking, Uri’s hands were on Shu’s shoulders, before draping across his partner’s chest in a protective cocoon.



“That was very foolish of you,” Abel growled at his veteran assassin, but that brief moment of wary fear returned to his eyes. “If I didn’t have much more pressing business to attend to this morning, I would lash the flesh from your back for that you insolent bastard.”



Uri had had no time for the man’s bluff, nor for his injured pride. “Pressing business?”



“I have to attend the funeral of Joseph Kiernan.”



“The baby killer,” Shu whispered, cocking an eyebrow. “Why master?” His heart had been pounding in his chest. He had never seen Uri stand up to their master before.



“Because if I am not in attendance, it will be seen as a slap in the face to all of his many faithful followers,” Abel explained, still looking balefully at Uri.



“So while we are out there risking our lives to murder another of your little friends, you are going to be sitting in a pew, mourning over a man who raped, defiled and mutilated twelve little girls? Is this your sense of bureaucracy? Or are you just trying to piss me off?” God, how his head had been aching. He had no idea what he was saying, but deep down, he knew he did. He wanted to rock the man, to put some fear into him. For the first time in twenty years, Uri did not see the man as an infallible being. He did not see him as a Master, nor a leader. He saw him as a horrible old man who had, for years, been treating him like trash.



“You watch your mouth,” Abel had roared, standing up so quickly that Shu had rocked back in his chair, steadied by Uri’s arms. “Or I’ll chop out that tongue of yours.”



“Then what would I suck your off with Master?,” Uri had asked bitterly. A thought had entered his mind, fleeting and horribly attractive, I could kill the wily old bastard right now. I could brain him with his own goddamn name plaque. A dark feeling unlike nothing he had ever known swam through his mind and emptied down into his heart, and while he was dangerously lustful for the idea and the sensation, both left him feeling cold and dirty.



Shu had been thunderstruck by what Uri was saying. He found himself shivering in fear, unable to look up from his own sneakers. A cold sweat had broken out on his forehead and down the middle of his back, and he prayed that Uri would stop. That whatever the hell had gotten into him would go away.



“One more word,” Abel had whispered viciously, “One. More. Goddamn. Word, and I’ll kill you myself. It would be a waste, but you’re leaving me no other option.” He seemed to calm visibly, smiling almost jovially at the man. A spark entered his eyes, as though he knew a secret the other two never would. “Listen to me, Uriel.”



Miraculously, Uriel did. Whatever darkness had filled his eyes departed, and he looked into Abel’s own with terror and disbelief. “Master… I…”



“Quiet. I don’t want to hear it. I believe you both know what your mission is.”



“Yes Master,” they responded in unison, even their little trembling cadence echoed perfectly.



“Then get out of my sight, both of you.”



They had left him alone, Uri having to lean against his much smaller partner for support. The boy seemed to be too weak and disoriented to walk under his own power. This only made Abel’s smile widen, that hard gleam in his eyes shining bright.



Just a little longer, he told himself, just a little longer and it would be ready. And then Uriel would no longer be a concern.



Just a little longer.







It was a smaller turn-out than he had expected. Philanthropist that he had been, Abel had expected an entire mob to be gathered around the son of a bitches coffin. But it was nothing but a small cluster of softly crying people, holding one another and touching the polished wood almost disbelievingly.



Abel watched them as they filed into the pews and sat down. He listened to the preacher talk about God’s glory, all the while imagining himself strutting over to that damn box, lifting the lid, and pissing on the man’s eternally peaceful face. He smiled to himself and let the others cry around him. They would never know, and that was probably for the best. They would never know what the man in that box had done.



Joseph had been careless, that was all. He had loved little girls, a little too roughly judging by their brutalized little bodies. But that had not concerned Abel. What had ruffled his feathers was the born again lunatics proclamations that he would weed out organized crime and dismantle it entirely. Surprising, considering Abel had been paying the man for years, lining his pocket with filthy money. He only wished Uriel had not been so precise, he would have liked to imagine the man choking on his own blood for a good long while.



He thought he would see the man’s boy somewhere around. He knew they hadn’t been very close over the past few years, but Abel had been hoping he would attend his father’s funeral. It would save him the trouble of hunting him down later. He knew just what Tatsuya was planning with his little partner; why else would Leon latch on to Uriel instead of Shu? Shu was the one he spent the most time with, the one that he had interviewed and employed. But it had been Uri that he had gravitated towards. And then those pictures he had received…



A note had been attached to them. Two simple words, but they had made Abel’s blood boil and he had seen red. Got ya.



Uri had been careless, had fallen prey to a man with pretty green eyes and soft blonde hair. He wasn’t the first man to be taken in by a person’s beauty and charm, nor would he be the first man who paid the price for that mistake. But Abel needed Uriel, had always needed him, and he wasn’t about to let some punk kid and some sly old fox take him away.



The one think he could not understand was how Uriel had gotten caught in such a compromising situation. It wasn’t the sex that had shocked him, Uriel was human and had his carnal needs, what had surprised him was that the man had not known he was being watched, that he hadn’t found Tatsuya and snapped his neck. His senses were beginning to dull, Abel feared, and if that were the case, things were not going according to plan. Not at all.



But he found comfort in remembering how Uriel had behaved that morning. How that brief flicker of rage and murder had flashed in his steely eyes. He had always felt protective over Shuuichi, but he had never raised his hand nor his voice to Abel. Everything was beginning to lurch into motion. Abel had been waiting nearly twenty years for the cycle to begin.



A hand rested on his shoulder. Abel assumed it was some bereaved loved one, seeking comfort. He rested his hand over it gently, stroking the knuckles soothingly. A chuckle came from behind him, the thin fingers beneath his petting hand drumming against his shoulder. “How sweet,” a deep voice purred, “I didn’t know you felt that way about me, Price.”



Abel dug his nails into the man’s knuckles, upper lip trembling with a sneer before he remembered where he was. “Tatsuya,” he hissed beneath his breath, “What the hell are you doing here?”



“I came to extend my condolences,” Tatsuya said dryly. “A true hero was brutally murdered. An old friend, as well. I am deeply saddened.” His words were smiling, however, and when he slipped around the pew and took a seat next to Abel, his lips were as well.



“Yes, a true hero,” Abel returned sourly, “If you ask me, he’s a great testament to what’s wrong with this world. A man so blinded by greed he becomes desperate.”



“You would know,” Tatsuya murmured, eyes bright and intent on Abel’s weathered face.



“Why are you really here, Tatsuya. Surely it’s not just to taunt me.”



“No, as fun as that is. If you’ve forgotten, you and I are enemies. Now, I could have slit your throat several times by now, and disappeared into the shadows. But you’ve always been a worthy opponent, and when I kill you, I want to be looking in your eyes. I think you deserve that much.”



“So you’ve come to kill me.”



“No, just to chat. I think one dead monster is enough for one week. Let the city grieve and forget. Then I’ll be coming for you.”



“You think I’m afraid of you?” Abel was sneering viciously, he cared very little who saw.



“Of course not,” Tatsuya dismissed, “But you realize that I have you in a corner. Uriel is falling in love with my boy, you see, and that weakens him terribly. One word from me and your kid is history. I’ve got you by the balls.” Tatsuya showed his teeth in a grin.



“Uriel won’t be done in by some snot-nosed little rookie,” Abel hissed. “You mark my words, Tatsuya. Your boy is the one in trouble.”



“You’re forgetting that Uriel is human. Leon is a beautiful man, and quite the little charmer. He’s got him wrapped around his finger. And the second that Uriel’s guard slips…” Tatsuya made a sawing motion with one finger across his throat.



“Are you blackmailing me? Is there something you want?”



“I want to watch you squirm,” Tatsuya growled, eyes flashing murder. “For twenty years you and your little band of brats have been pissing in my territory. But it’s more than that, and you know it. You know what this is all about.”



“The Seki.”



“Yes. It has to be stopped.”



Abel chuckled, emerald eyes shining merrily. “You think you can stop it, Tatsuya? That you are strong enough to stand against it? It has been around since the beginning of time, but you and your little whore can end it?”



“Yes, essentially. Because I know what it takes to stop the Seki.”



“I’ve had enough,” Abel roared, standing and pointing angrily at the man. “If you believe that you possess the talent to halt the most powerful evil in the known universe, feel free to get yourself killed. I will attend your funeral as well, Tatsuya, only I will not be able to mask my delight.”



“You have to realize that that power must be stopped,” Tatsuya almost begged. “It has to be stopped. If it is not---”



“Goodbye, Tatsuya.”



Tatsuya thought briefly about burying a knife between the wily old man’s shoulder-blades, but ultimately let him leave. There were more pressing things to think about than Abel, after all. He thought of the Seki, of its immense power. Of its insipid macabre.



It had to be stopped. If it wasn’t…



Tatsuya broke out in a shiver.



He couldn’t imagine it.