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Description
The night is cold and full of terrors, but the light pushes it all away, so never be afraid.
A distant memory came to her, having her pause and look up from the picture in her hand. There was nothing in the rundown room she has set up her nest in that was a threat to her. The night in this city was cold and dry, she could almost feel the chill thru her suit. She glanced out the window to where her target will be tomorrow. She narrowed her eyes, this whole mission not feeling right. In the past missions, it made sense on why she was sent to kill a person or group of people, but this one, on the world of Gregory IV, nothing made sense to why he had to die.
Her target was nothing short of a saint. He was a loyal servant of the Emperor, who fought in the Guard for years with honor, and now retired on this planet, served the local community with soup kitchens and assisting in building better shelters in the slums for families living on the streets. He also fought against local government corruption and the gangs that plague the city ghettos. And yet, here she was, standing in a rundown hotel room, overlooking a square that might have once been a simple park, was now neglected with it overgrown and broken benches.
The assassin wrapped an arm around her body, not from the cold, even though it might look like it with her wearing a matte black skin tight suit and an urban camouflage cape. It showed a powerful body, train and forge to be a weapon. No, it wasn’t the cold, but in thought, and another memory. It was when she was a child, on a snow filled street where she cried over two bodies. She quickly shook her head, as if it was going to shake the memory from her head.
“It isn’t real,” she muttered to herself.
But was it real? She thought back to the mission to distract her, how it was only a couple of hours more till the target will be in her crosshairs, when he meets with an arbites investigator, both won’t be alone, the target and the investigator will be surrounded by their guards since some other gangs were out for blood. She found this out when she snuck into the target’s office and read it in the target’s planner two days before. Just as her mentor Leon taught her to do, learn as much as you can about the target’s movements in order to find the perfect shot.
She thought about Leon, the man, the Vindicare assassin that took her under his wing when she shuffled off the shuttle onto Holy Terra and the temple for the Vindicares. He taught her everything he knew, how to not rely on her spy mask like the others, how to better blend into crowds, and how to use anything at her disposal to survive. But most of all, Leon taught her how to think.
She glanced back at the photo, one of a young couple, the man had a little girl on his shoulders, the woman laughing with the other two. Leon gave it to her, a year ago, the last time they met. He said this was a key to her future, not much else, promising her that he will tell her more when they meet again. She wished she could ask what he meant by that, but he was killed on a mission to save a world from falling to the ruinous powers.
She sighed sadly as she put the photo back into a pouch on her hip. She brushed some of her black hair away from her blue eyes, waiting for the time to take the shot. For the assassin LVVI, it was just like her temple’s model says, Exitus Acta Probat; The outcome justifies the deed. But to Revy, she was worried if this was truly the right thing.

P.S: Commission for MarksmantheSTALKER . Idea and description belongs to him.

Description
The night is cold and full of terrors, but the light pushes it all away, so never be afraid.
A distant memory came to her, having her pause and look up from the picture in her hand. There was nothing in the rundown room she has set up her nest in that was a threat to her. The night in this city was cold and dry, she could almost feel the chill thru her suit. She glanced out the window to where her target will be tomorrow. She narrowed her eyes, this whole mission not feeling right. In the past missions, it made sense on why she was sent to kill a person or group of people, but this one, on the world of Gregory IV, nothing made sense to why he had to die.
Her target was nothing short of a saint. He was a loyal servant of the Emperor, who fought in the Guard for years with honor, and now retired on this planet, served the local community with soup kitchens and assisting in building better shelters in the slums for families living on the streets. He also fought against local government corruption and the gangs that plague the city ghettos. And yet, here she was, standing in a rundown hotel room, overlooking a square that might have once been a simple park, was now neglected with it overgrown and broken benches.
The assassin wrapped an arm around her body, not from the cold, even though it might look like it with her wearing a matte black skin tight suit and an urban camouflage cape. It showed a powerful body, train and forge to be a weapon. No, it wasn’t the cold, but in thought, and another memory. It was when she was a child, on a snow filled street where she cried over two bodies. She quickly shook her head, as if it was going to shake the memory from her head.
“It isn’t real,” she muttered to herself.
But was it real? She thought back to the mission to distract her, how it was only a couple of hours more till the target will be in her crosshairs, when he meets with an arbites investigator, both won’t be alone, the target and the investigator will be surrounded by their guards since some other gangs were out for blood. She found this out when she snuck into the target’s office and read it in the target’s planner two days before. Just as her mentor Leon taught her to do, learn as much as you can about the target’s movements in order to find the perfect shot.
She thought about Leon, the man, the Vindicare assassin that took her under his wing when she shuffled off the shuttle onto Holy Terra and the temple for the Vindicares. He taught her everything he knew, how to not rely on her spy mask like the others, how to better blend into crowds, and how to use anything at her disposal to survive. But most of all, Leon taught her how to think.
She glanced back at the photo, one of a young couple, the man had a little girl on his shoulders, the woman laughing with the other two. Leon gave it to her, a year ago, the last time they met. He said this was a key to her future, not much else, promising her that he will tell her more when they meet again. She wished she could ask what he meant by that, but he was killed on a mission to save a world from falling to the ruinous powers.
She sighed sadly as she put the photo back into a pouch on her hip. She brushed some of her black hair away from her blue eyes, waiting for the time to take the shot. For the assassin LVVI, it was just like her temple’s model says, Exitus Acta Probat; The outcome justifies the deed. But to Revy, she was worried if this was truly the right thing.

P.S: Commission for MarksmantheSTALKER . Idea and description belongs to him.