InsaneJournal

"Do it, boy!"

"No!"

"DO IT!"

"NO!"

"Do it now or so help me I'll kill you both!"

"NO!" screamed Walker as he flailed upright in bed, gasping for air.  After a moment he realized that he was safely alone in his tiny apartment and relaxed his rigid spine.  As he sank back against his sweat stained sheets and pillow, he breathed a sigh of relief.

There was safety here.

He was safe here, more importantly.  Far far away from his father who wanted him to follow in his very blood footsteps and become a killer.  An assassin.

But he hadn't been about to become something he hated with every fiber of his being.

Oh, he'd listened to his old man and learned how to fight but that was it.  And he'd only learned that in the hope that he might be able to kill the crazy codger if he turned on him for refusing to join in the legendary family "business".

He didn't want to kill people.

But he most particularly didn't want to follow anyone's orders.

Sighing, Walker scrubbed his hands across his face, feeling the stubble of two days scratching against his palms.  After a moment of laying there and realizing he wasn't about to go back to sleep, he sat up again and swung his legs off the bed.  There was a twinge of pain from his left leg as he stood and he rubbed at the familiar scar tissue that graced the side of it, grimacing as the ache momentarily became stronger before fading away.  That wound was his father's little going-away present; the man had ripped open his thigh to the bone in an attempt to keep him from getting away.  He should have known, though, that his only son wasn't about to let that stop him from getting away.

Limping across his tiny apartment to the small cubbyhole that hid his toilet from view, he relieved himself then went to scrounge through the cupboards for something to cook.  Grunting as he came up with only old eggs that looked like a few had hatched and walked away along with some moldy bread, Walker sighed.  It looked like he was going to have to go out for breakfast if he wanted any before work.

By the time he'd sifted through the clothes piled on his floor and found some that didn't reek too bad, the ache in his leg was a memory.  Shoving on his heavy boots, he grabbed the belt that held his leather money pouch and sheathed knife and headed out the door, buckling the belt on as he tromped down the steps from his apartment.  Luckily the heavyset old matron that ran the building he lived in wasn't at the desk positioned in front of the door so he didn't have to hear her bitch at him about paying the rent.

It wasn't his fault that his boss was screwing him over for money just because he'd found out who his father was.

Blinking against the daylight as he stepped into the dusty streets, he oriented himself and headed towards the bar across the way, which really he knew wasn't the best of ideas in the first place.  Because bar's in the morning were where people like his father met their contacts about taking a contract.  He always said that no one suspected anything as anyone still in the bar early was too drunk to see straight.

But he was starving, so he wasn't really thinking too clearly.

As he pushed aside the beaded curtain the woman that ran the bar had hung over her door, he heard a drunk voice crow, "Well if it ain't the killer's son!"

Walker froze in his tracks and stared across the room to where his boss sat, half turned on a bar stool with his whiskey glass lifted in a toast.  The man grinned drunkenly and crowed to the room, "Give him a toast, boys.  Kid's a real piece of work!"

From the behind the bar came an imperious sniff then a bottle crashed down over the drunk's head, causing him to spill from his stool onto the floor.  Walker smiled a little and walked forward, noticing but ignoring the fact that everyone leaned away from him like he had a sickness.  "Thanks, Marie," he said softly, nodding with appreciation at the bar owner.

She sniffed again and brushed back her crimson hair, giving him a wry smile as she tossed the bottle into the rubbish bin.  "You're a good kid, Walker.  I know better than to believe that sort of shit."

He frowned at that and sank onto the abandoned bar stool, ignoring the now snoring form of his boss.

"Sorry, Marie, it wasn't..."

"Like I said, you're a good kid."  She glared at him over her shoulder as she started working with the her wood-burning stove.  "You want your usual?"

"Please.  But..."

"You keep flappin' them gums, Walker, and I'm gonna smash this frying pan against your face."

That made him shut up and he shrugged.  It would figure that Marie wasn't about to believe anything wrong about him 'cause to her he was a nice kid who could do no wrong.  Well that wasn't true.  She just knew people and she could tell he was a good guy at heart.

At least that was what she always said.  He never really believed her since, really, how good could you be after being raised to be an assassin?

After a few minutes, she slid a plate of scrambled eggs and fried bacon in front of him along with a beer.  As he smiled gratefully, she strode around the bar and dumped a whole pitcher of ice water on his boss then kicked him in the ribs when he sputtered upright.  She dragged him up onto his feet with all the fury of a mother wolf and gave him a good piece of her mind about telling lies.  Then she kicked him out of her bar and shouted that anyone else that thought bad of Walker could get the hell out too.

A dozen or so left but that's didn't bother Marie any - they'd be back before the moon rose to get drunk and forget their day.  But as she slid back behind the counter, she commented, "That man's going to fire you."

"I know," said Walker.  He shook his head and poked a few eggs with his fork before looking up at her.  "Folks just don't understand that I'm not my father."

"I get it."

"Yeah but you can tell a murderer on sight, Marie.  Not everyone has your skill."

Marie snorted at that and dragged her stool over to him, sitting down on it with a beer in her hand.  "You're a good kid, Walker," she said.  "Anyone that's not blind can see that."

"Most folks are unfortunately."

"Unfortunately," she agreed, wrinkling her nose.  She then cocked her head to the side and asked, "So why?"

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth.  "Why what?" he inquired before continuing the journey and chewing on the eggs.

"Why aren't you the same as your father?"

Walker looked down at the plate for a moment then met her gaze, holding it for a long moment before he spoke in a very soft voice.  "Because," he said, "I didn't want to become a thing I hate."