The rain poured, dripping down on Jack silently, his hood catching most of it as he peered over the rooftop, his dark blue yet mean eyes staring down, focused solely on his prey for tonight, he was the hunter and the usual hunter, the hunted.

He had set his sights on the target, an old man with mattered grey hair and a large, bushy beard as black as coal with small licks of grey weaved throughout it, only visible to a highly trained eye. He was hunched over as if he had a heavy weight on his back, as if it were crippling him as he struggled to walk but Jack was not convinced, it was all an act, to appear the weaker man to prevent hunters from going for him but Jack had a job to do.

He jumped down silently reaching the ground, his large black coat was heavy, thick from the weight added by the water, his hood stood proud over his chocolate brown curls and his dark blue eyes focused on the man but it was not his eyes that would be the focus of anyone else. His long, thin black shone as he slowly removed it from its hiding place.

"I knew you would come" the man whispered, his spine-chilling voice did not match the body until he stood up straight and drew his own sword.

"Then this is a fight to the death" Jack replied.

"How far you have sunk, how low you have become. Can you not see what you are? Nothing more than a mere puppet, once I kill you, you will be nothing to them"

"Perhaps, perhaps not but I know one thing you seem uncertain about" Jack replied coldly. He raised his blade but it was met with a slash of the old man's blade. Jack was quick, he jumped back and rolled in the ground, preventing the man's deathly blow but Jack was quick to counter-strike, his blade pierced through the man's stomach.

The man coughed his wrecked blood, plagued by sin as he stared into Jack's eyes, a haunting look one that made his blood run cold, sent a chill down his spine. The words after it, just as chilling as the man barely forced out the words "this war shall never... be over"

Jack shook his head; too sure of himself and his powers to protect, he removed his dagger from his belt, a gift from the brothers and sisters he served when he first joined. It seemed fitting, this man, the leader of those monsters who opposed them, would die with a blade made for the opposite side, the left hand if their enemy were the right, the oppressors. With that thought, he plunged the knife into the man's chest and through his heart. "Rest in peace, in freedom without being governed by a world of sin"

He closed the man's eyes and took the old man's bloody scarf, tearing it from his neck as he walked away from scene of the crime. It looked like the work of a butcher, how a butcher treats a carcass. He was treated without mercy, merely a prayer said over his dead body to try and hope God would welcome him into world of light, Heaven, not shun him, refuse him entry.

He walked down the streets, the smell of mud was nothing to him anymore because he was used to the smell of mud and piss. It was the stench of the lower classes and their desperation. In the morning, their sweat was the fresh scent in the air and every day, noon and night their tears soaked the earth as the rich stayed rich and the poor got even poorer, a day's work barely making enough money to buy a mouthful of stale bread not even suitable for the birds. Starving people sick of the way they were being treated, desperate to fight yet never seeming able to. This was what life had become, watching men and women fight over measly mouthfuls of bread, their children crying, their small bodies aching from starvation.

He walked into a large, over-crowded inn before walking down into the 'members only' area, down the large wooden steps. He opened the door slowly, watching people's eyes widen as he dumped the bloody scarf on the table. "The monster, Peter, is no more"

The leader smiled, grinning from ear to ear. His pale skin made him look frightening especially when his eyes were visible, brown eyes, almost black with a cruel look to them. He was a tall man, tall and muscular given his age, an acceptable man for a man who just happily celebrated his seventieth birthday. "Our enemy's leader is dead. Good, you have cut the main head off the main snake, I am impressed. This is good work, my brother; you did your duty and did it well. I trust there were no... problems?"

"None I could not handle. Thank you for giving me this assignment but I must know our deal has been kept, your promise fulfilled. I want to bring up Kahliah away from all this; this life is much too dangerous for her" Jack asked boldly, daringly as he looked into the eyes of the man, the cruel-looking eyes.

"It is as we agreed however I still cannot understand. Surely a lifestyle that was good enough for your grandfather and good to your grandfather, good enough for your father and good to your father and finally, for a time, good enough for you and still good to you is somehow not good enough for your daughter"

"It is not that I do not think it good enough, it is that I have seen the faces of evil and as a child, growing up into a man, saw true horrors no one, not a child nor man should have to see. I wish my daughter happiness, a life away from all that. She has her mother's hair and spirit, I believe she will be the greatest, the greatest of us all but I cannot allow her to be a sacrifice, not for me. With this life comes sourness I do not want her to bear the weight of, especially now the threat we once faced has ended in blood"

"How long before we face a new enemy. James de Balon shall be forgotten, an old man one day with secrets as long as his arm. Must you drag Kahliah down with you to suffer knowing nothing of her past, her birth and her destiny that you, her father has chosen to ignore?!"

"My mind has made up and your agreement, made in honour must be upheld"

"Very well" the man replied with regret singing in his voice. He took a long, deep breath before he said "you may leave. Of course you may if you wish, return but if not we shall bother you no more, your mind has been made up"

James pulled his hood down, for once feeling freedom as the wind brushed against his cheek. He walked home, his movements were silent as the grave he had once thought he would be in. Like his father and grandfather, they had all died on the job, not a single person lived past fifty, a rarity given their line of work but James was certain he would defy the odds. Forty eight with a single living child, his daughter and pride and joy, a seven year old little girl with golden hair like butter, like the sunshine. He could not wait to come home and cuddle his wife and sit down and read Kahliah a bedtime story. He had missed her and there was no denying that nor was there any point in it. He had thrown in the job he had done since his eighteenth birthday, celebrated by his first kill, his very first assassination contract, fulfilled successfully.

He walked into his large home, his happy home only to be met by the hand of his wife, whipping his face. "What was that for, Elizabeth?"

"What was that for?! Do you really have to ask me?! You were supposed to stay tonight, stay with me tonight but instead you go out, take your uniform and force me to once again stay up all night, waiting for you, praying to God, hoping he shall bring you home to me!" she yelled tearfully, bursting into tears as he hugged her gently, clinging onto her.

"I am here now and I promise that this is the last time I shall ever ride out as Jack. My two lives have always been separated and now on, Jack shall be a memory for us both and a secret from our daughter" James promised as he stroked her golden hair, tied back in a sweet bun with a string of pearls holding it together.

"I hope that is true, James. I know I agreed to marry both parts of you but I cannot be widow with a daughter, the same child who shall wonder why her father is not coming home, do not make me a widow!"

"I will never make you such a thing, my love. The promise has been kept, I am no longer as I was" he replied, hoping she understood and hoping Kahliah was not too close by, at least not close enough to hear him. "Where is she?" he asked Elizabeth gently, his voice soothing as she let him go.

"Upstairs, asleep, I did not let her wait for you to come home. No more lonely nights praying you are ok, please, my love" Elizabeth begged.

"I promised and I will always keep my promises, whether I do the job or not" he replied. He walked down the glittering hall, past his study into his large secret room. He dumped his armour and got changed before he cleaned himself up, shaved and walked up the stairs to find his daughter, Kahliah, asleep in her bed. Her golden hair in her doll curls as she snuggled up to her blankets. He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear "goodnight, my princess, may tomorrow bring more adventures for you"

He went to sleep, next to his wife of over twenty years. He was an eighteen year old when he married her and let her know his secrets. They stayed together, him faithful and her the same and had only one child, one little girl brought into the world, at first silent as the grave with her mother weeping tearfully over her, tears of sadness and joy as she screamed as loud as she could, waking up the neighbours no doubt. He looked at her that night, smiling as he saw her, his little girl. She had her mother's fighting spirit, later in life her stubbornness too but James did not want to lose either of them.

As time passed, he forgot himself, who he was and what he was like. The memories faded, Kahliah, a thirteen year old girl who looked mistakably gentle and innocent was more like a rose with hidden thorns if she detested someone. If someone tested her patience or she did not approve of something, she was first to voice her opinions, loudly voice them and perhaps even scream it from the rooftops.

"She has your lungs" James complained as a teenage Kahliah yelled.

"I have heard" Elizabeth snapped as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Go and see what it is about this time"

"Fine but next time, it is your turn" James replied sincerely as he got up, kicking his blanket off him. He got dressed quickly and walked slowly, like a zombie into Kahliah's room. She stood, a thin, athletic teenager, at the tender age of thirteen with a screwed up pink dress on the floor next to her.

"I TOLD HER, NO!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

"What is it now? It is so early in the morning" James asked sleepily.

"Why do I have to attend some stupid ball and why do I have to wear pink?! I hate pink"

"Because you must have chosen pink" James replied in a calming, soothing manner.

"No I did not, I hate pink. I ordered crème and the dressmaker made me a pink dress that I am now going to have to wear!" she cried, almost upset. Pink admittedly did not look good, not with her hair the colour it was. Crème was her chosen colour, it usually was, crème or a blood red, burgundy perhaps but not pink.

"I shall tell Nathaniel to have a word with the tailor, I am sure we can dye it before the ball" James replied, hoping he had at least calmed her down. She could be a fiery one, especially when one looked and saw she was no redhead, not at all. She was intelligent but opinionated, not afraid to share her beliefs with the world.

The ball came and went quickly; Kahliah as usual sat talking to a couple of women, women she said she could 'tolerate'. These women were those in society that 'dared' to be a little bit bolder than the rest. They dressed in darker colours, flaunted their tanned skin and smiled at boys. James did not mind as long as his daughter seemed happy within herself even though others were quick to state he was wrong, it was wrong of him to dare act like that.

The day finally arrived and she flaunted her red dress, twirling around in it as her maids finished lacing it up. She looked as pretty as a picture, pretty enough for her father to keep an eye on the many men around her who would perhaps try to break her heart. Perhaps it was because he was once the heart breaker, the one who stole the hearts of many and left before the light of day could strike the window.

Kahliah stood in front of her mirror, an excited child as she called for her parents. "Mother, father, come in, I am ready!"

Her mother was first to hurry in, in her lilac dress. She smiled at her daughter, the prettiest of them in the room in her opinion, definitely the prettiest at the ball. She was smiling from ear to ear as her father walked in, half covering his eyes until Elizabeth moved his hand, holding it.

"Our daughter is all grown up" he commented as he looked at her practically dancing around.

"She has indeed. Just look at what we have, look at what you and I have raised"

"A fine young woman, a jewel on a crown if I do not watch out for her"

"Perhaps, yes but she has your intelligence, I trust her to make the right decisions in life especially where men are concerned" Elizabeth whispered, perhaps half-joking but James did not want to ask. He wanted his daughter to be happy, to have a husband who loved her, not one who was frightened of her father so had to keep his pants on.