“Did you know, that during World War Two, the Japanese soldiers were labeled the worst of them all because of their customs and traditions, which were deemed cruel and inhumane?”
“What does that have to do with this thing?” Desmond spat.
“Patience, Desmond. You need to learn why I’ve given you such a gift. You still hold a grudge against this man, correct?”
He nodded vigorously, clutching the gun tightly. Shaun pulled out another cigarette and lit it, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“One such practice, used on men from China when they invaded, was to teach the new recruits how to use a bayonet, such as the one on the end of the gun there.” The captive actually pissed his pants as Shaun took another drag. “However, the poor buggers were not that skilled, and the prisoners on the receiving end of the bayonet often died horrible deaths. This weapon is not like any knife or sword you’ve used before. Still care to learn?”
Rebecca looked agape at Desmond, who snarled a “Hell yes” and stepped forward to Shaun. Rebecca gagged and backed off.
“You don’t have to watch, Miss Crane,” Shaun said drily, showing Desmond how to properly hold the gun. “And it will be clean before you get it back.”
“Just keep it,” Rebecca said as she turned and fled inside.
Shaun took another drag and looked at Desmond’s scowling face.
“Cheer up, mate. This is your birthday present.”
Desmond looked confused, then glanced at Shaun, who had a smug smirk. He couldn’t help but grin.
“Thanks.”
“It was little problem to me. Send a thank you card to the New York team. Right, now, lower the gun to your hip. One hand goes on the neck, the other on the butt. No, here.”
He let Shaun adjust his grip.
“Like that, think you have the feel?”
The captive man whimpered.
“Yes, well, you should have thought twice about what you were doing. Thanks to Ezio, he holds grudges. Now,” he took the gun and held it, and slowly lunged forward. “This is how they did it. Lunge forward, in, turn, out.”
He ran through the motions several times slowly, letting Desmond watch him as he brushed the blade against the prisoner’s side.
“Think you’ve got it?”
Desmond nodded, greedily taking the gun from his “mentor” and holding it properly. Shaun took another drag, let it out, and put the cigarette between his lips as he took out a permanent marker from his pocket and opened the captive’s shirt.
“Here,” he marked a “20” on the heart, “is ideal. And here,” he marked a “10” on either lung, scowling at the man’s sweaty chest and heavy breathing, “is good, but it won’t kill him for a while. These spot,” he drew several fives over various organs on the torso, “are nice, but they won’t kill him.”
“I don’t want to kill him,” Desmond said, frowning.
Shaun rose and took another drag, flicking the ash off. “Aim to kill. I can guarantee you won’t. You’re learning, so you won’t be the best.”
Desmond nodded and adjusted his grip, listening to the quiet whimper of the man. With a cry, he lunged forward, feeling it sink into the gut of the man, who tried to scream, but was muffled by the gag.
As he pulled back, Shaun looked at it and shook his head, stepping to the side of the captive. “Not good enough. Again.”
Desmond repeated the action, scowling when he grazed the man’s shoulder.
“Failure is not an option, Desmond; do it again.”
He grinned when he sit solid flesh. “I think I’ve got a new stress reliever.”
“Yes, well, make sure you use a Templar,” Shaun said as he took another drag, looking at the wound. “You didn’t even come close to hitting the heart. Again. Try harder.”
He nodded and repeated the motions every time Shaun demanded it. When he finally hit the heart, the man was all ready dead. He grinned at Shaun, who smiled.
“Congratulations, Desmond. You killed him after he was dead. Looks like we’ll have to find you another target, hm?”
Desmond grinned widely. “Yeah, looks like you will.” ____________ Yeah, OP? Did this hit the spot?
Candy-Coated Hatred pt2/2
“What does that have to do with this thing?” Desmond spat.
“Patience, Desmond. You need to learn why I’ve given you such a gift. You still hold a grudge against this man, correct?”
He nodded vigorously, clutching the gun tightly. Shaun pulled out another cigarette and lit it, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“One such practice, used on men from China when they invaded, was to teach the new recruits how to use a bayonet, such as the one on the end of the gun there.” The captive actually pissed his pants as Shaun took another drag. “However, the poor buggers were not that skilled, and the prisoners on the receiving end of the bayonet often died horrible deaths. This weapon is not like any knife or sword you’ve used before. Still care to learn?”
Rebecca looked agape at Desmond, who snarled a “Hell yes” and stepped forward to Shaun. Rebecca gagged and backed off.
“You don’t have to watch, Miss Crane,” Shaun said drily, showing Desmond how to properly hold the gun. “And it will be clean before you get it back.”
“Just keep it,” Rebecca said as she turned and fled inside.
Shaun took another drag and looked at Desmond’s scowling face.
“Cheer up, mate. This is your birthday present.”
Desmond looked confused, then glanced at Shaun, who had a smug smirk. He couldn’t help but grin.
“Thanks.”
“It was little problem to me. Send a thank you card to the New York team. Right, now, lower the gun to your hip. One hand goes on the neck, the other on the butt. No, here.”
He let Shaun adjust his grip.
“Like that, think you have the feel?”
The captive man whimpered.
“Yes, well, you should have thought twice about what you were doing. Thanks to Ezio, he holds grudges. Now,” he took the gun and held it, and slowly lunged forward. “This is how they did it. Lunge forward, in, turn, out.”
He ran through the motions several times slowly, letting Desmond watch him as he brushed the blade against the prisoner’s side.
“Think you’ve got it?”
Desmond nodded, greedily taking the gun from his “mentor” and holding it properly. Shaun took another drag, let it out, and put the cigarette between his lips as he took out a permanent marker from his pocket and opened the captive’s shirt.
“Here,” he marked a “20” on the heart, “is ideal. And here,” he marked a “10” on either lung, scowling at the man’s sweaty chest and heavy breathing, “is good, but it won’t kill him for a while. These spot,” he drew several fives over various organs on the torso, “are nice, but they won’t kill him.”
“I don’t want to kill him,” Desmond said, frowning.
Shaun rose and took another drag, flicking the ash off. “Aim to kill. I can guarantee you won’t. You’re learning, so you won’t be the best.”
Desmond nodded and adjusted his grip, listening to the quiet whimper of the man. With a cry, he lunged forward, feeling it sink into the gut of the man, who tried to scream, but was muffled by the gag.
As he pulled back, Shaun looked at it and shook his head, stepping to the side of the captive. “Not good enough. Again.”
Desmond repeated the action, scowling when he grazed the man’s shoulder.
“Failure is not an option, Desmond; do it again.”
He grinned when he sit solid flesh. “I think I’ve got a new stress reliever.”
“Yes, well, make sure you use a Templar,” Shaun said as he took another drag, looking at the wound. “You didn’t even come close to hitting the heart. Again. Try harder.”
He nodded and repeated the motions every time Shaun demanded it. When he finally hit the heart, the man was all ready dead. He grinned at Shaun, who smiled.
“Congratulations, Desmond. You killed him after he was dead. Looks like we’ll have to find you another target, hm?”
Desmond grinned widely. “Yeah, looks like you will.”
____________
Yeah, OP? Did this hit the spot?