Tales of the Fallen Book I: Awakenings Read Free Page B

your true talents come to the surface. You are weak and sloppy and my patience is growing weary. So, please, Mr. Branch, save your ‘shtick’ for the whores and scum with which you choose to surround yourself when not in my presence.” Desmond finally stopped looking at the school, yet maintained his cool demeanor, which Mal was sure was even more threatening than if he was being yelled at. “Every time you decide to be funny with me I will hit you. And believe me when I tell you, Mr. Branch, I will hit you harder each time. I will break you of this need to push me. You will learn discipline…or you will be disciplined.”
    Mal stared into Desmond’s eyes and tried with all his might not to piss in his pants.
    “Are we perfectly clear, Mr. Branch?”
    “Crystal.”
    Desmond leaned down and put his face only inches from Mal’s. “And what is my name, Mr. Branch?”
    Mal slumped, not able to look into Desmond’s cold black eyes anymore. “Desmond. Your name is Desmond, not Desi.”
    “Very good, Mr. Branch.” Desmond straightened to his full height again and returned his gaze to the school. “Now, what exactly are you going to do, Mr. Branch?”
    Mal pushed himself up the wall until he was standing. He tried hard not to shake. “I… I will go into the school. Find room 315. Enter. Then dispense with the teacher. A Mrs. Sally Burnsfield.”
    “Very good, Mr. Branch. And from now on when I give you an order what will you not do?” Desmond asked flatly.
    “Ask why,” Mal said softly.
    “Excellent, Mr. Branch. Now, if you would, please go about your task. And make sure the classroom has children in it. Do not hurt them though. We would like for them all to remember this for a very long time.”
    Mal wanted to turn around and walk away. He had been training for what seemed like years. Desmond showed him how to use an arsenal of various weapons. Other men were brought in to teach him how to fight. He was taught the differences between dozens of poisons. He had been taught munitions and explosives. Some Asian guys were brought in to teach Mal what he called “all that Grasshopper bullshit” and they had trained him well. He learned quickly because it was all in him already. It just needed to be extracted. And now it was time for Mal to start using all the skills he had honed, all the knowledge he had attained. He knew he would have to kill. They told him that up front. But he thought it would be someone bad: a crime lord, a dictator or something like that. Not a teacher. And why kill her in front of kids? What the fuck? he thought. Can I do this? Then Mal thought about his old life: the drugs, the alcohol, laying in a gutter covered in his own piss and vomit, people ignoring him like he was nothing more than a fire hydrant. That’s when he remembered that he hated people. People sucked. So fuck it. Why worry about this one bitch? She must have done something bad. Everybody has something bad they’ve done, right? This chick must have some scary skeletons in her closet. So… If they wanted her dead, then she dies. After all, they had saved him. They pulled him from the gutter and washed the filth off of him and trained him to be a killer. And he had never felt more alive. He felt like he finally had a purpose—too late to try and have a conscience now. He had made the deal. He couldn’t question, he couldn’t doubt— not with what they were offering in the end. He just had to believe.   
     
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    “We’re concerned with how long it is taking you to complete your final assignment, Mr. Branch.”
    Mal was a little worried. They had never said anything to him before about his assignments. They just gave them to him and let him go. But he supposed that they were right this time. It had taken him a while so far. He still wasn’t sure how to get to this guy. And for some reason he didn’t know why. He’d gone after people just as big, just as protected. Yet, this was different. He had a bad