Three large figures stood perched on the rooftop, their black silhouettes outlined against the cloudy, gray sky. They stood there, staring through the windows of the house. Another figure flew to the rooftop, its large black wings propelling it through the air. The other three were unfazed by its arrival, their eyes still focusing inside the windows of the house.
"Vultures," Clary said, looking through the window at the large birds. "Something, or someone must have died last night." Oh, how wrong she was. Though vultures usually gathered to feast upon a carcass of rotting flesh, this was not the case. These particular vultures were being called here, for one purpose only; assassination. Their sharp beaks and talons were ideal for tearing the flesh of a human to shreds, and as scavengers, they would always pick the bones of their prey clean, leaving absolutely no evidence; the perfect animals for this job.
Clary led me down the clean and heavily furnished halls of the large mansion. I was sent here to deal with a very important politician. Who he was or why he was being targeted, I could care less about. To me, he was just another man, another statistic, another obstacle in the way of my paycheck. The halls were filled with numerous antiquities, from exotic vases decorated in strange markings, to the 16th century carpet embroidered with symbols of ancient yore. The walls were covered in many paintings held inside intricate gold frames. They were all portraits of the same man. Whoever this man was, he was deeply in love with himself.
“This is it,” Clary said, stopping in front of a large set of double doors carved with elegant designs. “Please try not to take too long. Mr. Ross is a very busy man.”
“Don’t worry,” I smiled reassuringly, “He won’t be very busy when I’m done.” I waved my hand in dismissal and watched as the maid headed back down the hall to finish her chores. Once she was out of sight, I turned back to the double doors and knocked on the thick wood. I heard a quiet Come in, and twisted one of the gilded doorknobs. The door swung open to reveal a large office decorated with more antiques than the hall. Bookshelves stuffed with old and dusty volumes surrounded the room. Exotic and expensive looking furniture filled the area with a sense of regality. In the center of the room stood a large mahogany desk, a bunch of important looking papers piled on one side. Seated behind the desk in a leather chair was Mr. Ross himself.
“Good evening sir,” he greeted, motioning to one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk. “Please, sit.” I took a seat, my eyes fixated on the window behind the old man. Perfect I thought to myself, turning my attention back to my target. “So,” he continued, “What brings you down to my humble abode?”
“If I may say so, sir, your home is anything but humble,” I stated, gazing at the expensively furnished office. The man chuckled, leaning forward in his chair.
“A man with a sense of humor,” he said, “I like that. Times are far too bleak nowadays. We need a good laugh every once in a while.”
“Yes, by the way, it’s a bit stuffy in here. Would you mind opening the window?” I asked, pretending to wipe the sweat off my forehead, which wasn’t that hard since it was a bit humid. He stood from his chair and turned to open the window.
As the cool breeze entered the room, he stated, “You still have not answered my question as of why you are here.” I sat back in the chair, a small smile forming on my face.
“It’s quite simple really,” I replied, “I’m here to relieve you of your duty.”
The man raised an eyebrow slightly and turned to face me, “What do you mean by that?” He demanded in a steady tone. Just when the words rolled off his tongue, the light from the window was suddenly obscured. Mr. Ross whipped his head in the direction of the window in time to let out a half gasp as a speeding vulture plunged towards him. Its talons ripped through the air, locking firmly on Mr. Ross, and tackling the helpless man to the floor with a loud thud. Quick as a flash its talons were at his throat, threatening to slash his life to the bin if he dared make even the slightest of protests. Huffing, I casually stood up from my seat, glancing out at the window as three more of the large birds flew in with great force. Their strong wings beating to a stop as two landed firmly beside Mr. Ross, who was breaking into a cold sweat, while the last gently perched on my shoulder. I didn't flinch once.
“You see,” I continued with a different tone, “The organization I work for thinks that you are becoming too much to handle.” I slowly walked over to where his head lay sticking out from under the talon and pressed my foot against his cheek, scraping the skin. “They think you are acting too freely and out of control. Now, we can’t have that, can we?” I pressed my foot harder as he suppressed a small groan. “After all, what would this country be if we allowed our political leaders to run about freely without any control over them?”
A sharp pain surged its way through my body as sharp talons began to split their way out from within my toes, tearing through my black leather shoes with a crackling sound. The skin on my arms began to spring up in many individual bumps. Long black feathers slowly peeled their way out, growing long enough to touch the floor. I could feel my face molding, the skin and bones cracking and shifting, contorting into that of a bird’s. My lips push out, taking the shape of a long sharp beak. The old man stared in endless horror. I had become his every nightmare.
“You know, it’s funny,” I said to no one in particular, gazing at the ceiling, “When I first got this power, I thought I would never find a use for it.” I crouched down in front of the old man, my beak just inches from his face, ready to pluck out his eyes. “Now, you may be wondering what exactly this power is. Well… let’s just say I come from a long line of freaks. I would go into more detail, but you’re a very busy man, aren’t you? Besides, it is a rather boring tale.”
We stared at each other for a brief moment. I motioned to the vultures with my left wing. Their heads perked up and squawked with excitement. In a flash they crowded around Mr. Ross and violently began to tear chunks away from his exposed flesh, bouncing, flapping and shoving each other as they feasted. Mr. Ross let out frantic yells and began to flail his limbs in absolute agonizing pain, but it soon turned to gurgles and stiffness. The scent of fresh blood rose and filled the room, suffocating the air with a sweet aroma. For a moment I pondered what it would be like to be eaten alive. The thought didn’t last, as the vultures finished eating. In a very short time, his body was stripped bare. All that was left was a mass of blood and bone. I stared coldly at the pile of bones scattered on the floor with a blank gaze, smiling grimly, my only regret being that I didn’t tell the birds to save some meat for myself.
