Story Notes



Syndicate: Part I

There is an art to shuriken. Not just the concealment but the throw or the kill itself. Even though his heart would always be with his katana, Hikaru was the best at the shuriken in his gang, perhaps in the whole syndicate. There were all sorts of tricks they used to amuse themselves. Slipping the stars through their fingers, spinning them around atop their palms but only Hikaru could make them dance.

To watch him with his stars, whether it was the first time or fiftieth, you would have sworn that they had sprung to life and were engaged in an elaborate joyful ritual around his hands. It never failed to mesmerise the viewer.

Hikaru much preferred the quick clean kills to the long drawn out ones or tortures; but when he had to perform one he made sure that the dangerously beautiful dance of his stars was the last thing his victims saw before he put out their eyes.


***

The first time Pavel killed a man he was ten years old.

They'd been holed up in an apartment for two weeks hiding from his grandfather's ‘business rivals’, when said rivals had shown up.

'Be quiet,' his mother had hissed as they watched from the safety of the bedroom. 'Maybe they won't see us.'

His father had clutched his gun tightly and shook his head. 'There's no chance. Maybe I could get off a shot but they’re so many and without a sharpshooter there is no chance.'

Pavel had peered through his mother's embrace to examine the scene. 'I can do that,' he said.

Normally this would have been ridiculous, but they were desperate. Dedushka had made sure all the children knew how to fire a gun so there was no issue there.

It was just a matter of getting the angles right.

Ten minutes later Pavel's gun was empty, there were eight fresh corpses on the ground and the Chekov Bratva had just found the deadliest assassin in Moscow.

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