Dead Man's Hand

Needless to say I didn’t believe Dempsey’s line about sparing my life simply because I was special, despite his claim. And the moral side of my mind calling me to spare Alexis' life gained a little bit of control, forcing me to turn the photo over in my hands. Could my abilities give me a little leeway with this? With the question fresh in my mind I went from studying the printed address to the man's face. And just like every other time, Alexis’ joyous eyes caught my attention. Even with the distortion from the enlargement I was able to plainly see the spark of happiness in those bluish-green eyes. Studying the face once more, I noted the same details of Alexis’ face again, and my self-preservation shouted that it wouldn’t make any difference. Other people like me existed, Dempsey would just find another to take my place.

Those cheerful eyes were framed with shoulder-length blackish brown curly hair that was loosely tied back. But it was the man’s smile that unsettled me almost as much as his eyes. Just like the joy I could sense from those eyes, I could see genuine happiness in that smile. Somehow I knew that happiness wasn’t fueled by a single instance, but rather it had been crafted over a lifetime of happy moments. And I knew that the majority of those moments were not ones that made him happy, rather they brought happiness to others. Alexis Rene LeBlanc was indeed a good man. That pesky side of my brain always kept coming back with this argument, I had been sent to take care of… No! I had been sent to assassinate a good man.

What does that make me? The question hammered at me every time my conscience brought this up. I knew what Dempsey was, he was a monster, but I couldn’t answer the question about myself. I had begun to wonder if perhaps Alexis deserved to live more than either Dempsey or myself. After all, I was the one hiding in the shadows, biding my time so I would be able to assassinate an apparently good man. Well scratch the apparent, I couldn’t keep using that qualifier. I have always believed that you could judge the value of a man based solely on the enemies they managed to collect. So if a man like Dempsey wanted a man like Alexis dead, then by that fact alone he was either a very good man at worst or a saint at best. Either way, it was clear that he didn’t deserve to die.

But yet here I was. I slid the photo back into its envelope and I let my eyes fall to the date, which had been printed on the upper right corner of the photo. Now it was bad enough that I needed to assassinate a good man, but what made this worse for me was that it needed to be done tonight. It was clear that Dempsey was intentionally making my life more challenging with that inane deadline. Yet, the more I thought about it, there was a certain amount of sense behind such pressure, perverse as it might be. He needed to know that he could trust me, and what better way to do that than by giving me a handful of hours to complete my first task.

At least, I was hoping that was what it was. It was either that, or he was placing way too much stock in what he considered, magic. And that was another thing I was having trouble reconciling, his belief in magic. It just didn’t mesh with the stories I had heard. But I was absolutely certain that had been the look I had seen in his eyes. Belief that magic was real and that it could accomplish anything for him.

Not that Dempsey's belief in magic was really all that pivotal to what I had to do at the moment. In the end my choice was as simple as it was difficult. Either execute a good man or allow myself to be executed. And as selfish as the decision was, I really didn’t feel like dying today. Thus, the price for my freedom was going to be an innocent life and my self-respect. And the last vestiges of that principled side of my mind asked the most troubling question. Are you going to be able to live with that?

I promptly squashed the question because it wasn’t something I was willing to think about. Instead, I busied myself with contemplating my “duty” to Dempsey and scanned the neighborhood again. It seemed like a relatively quiet night, at least I was unable to see anyone through any of the windows or on the street so it felt like a safe assumption. Especially when I needed to “take care of the problem” by the end of the night. I quickly and carefully dashed from shadow to shadow. Each time I reached a new pocket of darkness I waited for a moment to see if anyone had noticed me.

When I finally reached the exterior wall of Alexis’ home I searched for the deepest shadows and I tucked myself away there. I must have waited for only a few moments, but it felt like an eternity, and it only gave me another opportunity to think about the task ahead of me. Since I doubted Alexis would welcome me into his home through the front door, I quickly decided to create my own opening, once I was ready. I silently placed my hands upon the wall positioning them just wider than my shoulders. Now I technically didn’t need to do that, physical contact was all that mattered, but it did help me focus my body heat, so it was what I always did.

Closing my eyes I took a mental image of Alexis' wall, and slowly began to create a hole in the mental copy of the wall I was touching. Once there was a hole in my mental image, I began to make it wider bit by bit until the hole was wide enough for me to walk through. As soon as I had it firmly entrenched in my mind, I began to gather all of the body heat I would need in order to power the transformation. Once it was gathered, I channeled it all through the mental image in my mind, down my arms and into the wall through my fingers. And as I opened my eyes, I saw my round entrance there to greet me.

Poking my head through, I attempted to look around, but the room was too dark to see anything. Luckily, I had planned for such an eventuality. I quickly quashed the voice that was screaming for me to abandon this course of action and plucked the cheap pair of sun glasses that I had purchased earlier out of my coat pocket. I poured just enough heat through my mind and into those glasses to force my will upon the lenses.

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