â€œAlan, you have to leave soon!â€<br/><br/>Alan heard his father yelling though the noise of his shower. He cursed foully and turned off the water. Once he was dressed and ready to go he padded downstairs soundlessly, entering the main room of his parents house.<br/><br/>â€œThere you are Alan. You ready to go?â€ His father asked rising from a chair.<br/><br/>â€œNo. Iâ€™ve no desire to even leave your house much less go babysit some princess. This is so not worth it.â€ Alan growled his anger rolling off of him. Heâ€™d been seething silently for days; heâ€™d grudgingly accepted the mission at the request of his father. For once he wanted Alan to take it easy, his mother was worried about him and his brother was sure that he was going to bury Alan one of these days.<br/><br/>â€œBoy, for once in your life canâ€™t you just do as youâ€™re told?â€ His father asked walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. â€œWe all need easy missions at some point, you need a break.â€<br/><br/>â€œI do not. Father, the last thing I want to do is watch some princess and get have to deal with the looks of terror and disgust that roll off the noble bastards that live there.â€ Alan said even though he knew it was pointless, heâ€™d accepted the contract, the King had requested him by name, His Majesty had gone so far as to complement his skills as an assassin and stating there was no one else he could to turn too. He could imagine the King grinding his teeth as he swallowed his pride to write up or dictate that one. He also doubted that the King knew how young he was. Most royalty wouldnâ€™t hire a 19-year-old to guard their daughter no matter how good of an assassin that 19-year-old was. The only name they knew would be his code name: Alexander Everday, there were almost no existing descriptions of him and even fewer accurate ones. The whole reason he had a code name was to have a name to sign contracts with, and all of those were electronic. The only people who knew what he looked like and his real name were his family and his few close friends.<br/><br/>â€œStop your moaning, this job pays well and you get to spend time with us before you leave.â€ His father said stepping away from him and towards the door.<br/><br/>â€œYour house is to crowded dad, to noisy. I miss my nice, quiet, somewhat expansive house.â€ Alan muttered as he grabbed toast out of his younger brotherâ€™s hand.<br/><br/>â€œHey!â€ Remon shouted lunging at Alan, who sidestepped and smirked at the 16-year-old. â€œDad!â€ he whined.<br/><br/>â€œNo tattling Remon, havenâ€™t we taught you that by now?â€ His dad asked. â€œAlan you better go, youâ€™re due there soon.â€ Alan nodded and grabbed his pack striding out the door without looking back at his family. He jogged to the docking station and passed all the commercial vehicles for the sleek black fighter in the very back. Custom made by him three years ago. Nothing had ever beaten him in a race or a shootout; it was sensitive and easy to maneuver.<br/><br/>Alan jumped into the fighterâ€™s one seat and started his takeoff sequences. In a matter of ten seconds he was out of the docking station and on his way to Roissha. The absolute last place in this universe he wanted to be.<br/><br/>As he approached Roisshas atmosphere, one of his screens flashed red and a beep rang out letting him know heâ€™d been detected and was targeted by a defense system.<br/><br/>â€œGâ€™morning everyone. Rise and shine.â€â€™ He murmured a smirk crossing his face as he flipped open communication lines and secured a pair of opaque sunglasses over his face. He saw the sun rising on the horizon, as his lines crackled to life.<br/><br/>â€œIdentify yourself!â€ A shrill somewhat groggy voice demanded of him.<br/><br/>â€œSorry did I wake you?â€ Alan asked amusing himself at her expense.<br/><br/>â€œI.D. yourself now or we will shoot you down.â€ Her voice hissed and Alan rolled his eyes. None of these people could take a joke; it was going to be a long protection detail.<br/><br/>â€œAlexander Evergreen. New protection detail for Princess Elisa Marie. Now take your damn targets off of me.â€ He snarled as screen went from red back to its typical color.<br/><br/>â€œYouâ€™re cleared for landing<span style="font-style: italic">assassin </span>.â€ The woman snarled the last word and if she had packed anymore venom into the word he might have died from it. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping at the woman he snapped his communication lines shut and guided his fighter to the royal docking station.<br/><br/>He jumped out of his fighter; pack slung over one shoulder and one hand resting on his blaster. There was no welcoming committee but he had no doubt the King was waiting for him just beyond those doors at the other end of the docking area.  He took a deep breath and pushed his way through the doors and into the main hall of the palace.<br/><br/>Instantly he was flanked by security grabbing his arms and slamming him into the nearest wall, both his arms yanked behind his back. He had to force himself to relax and endure what was happening as they frisked him. Though as one of them attempted to start removing his weapons he snapped. Alan head butted the guard holding him against the wall. Then flipped the one trying to take his weapons slamming him roughly against the ground. The last one with the gun trained on him went last; Alan darted forward and slammed his shoulder into him. The whole thing lasted 5 seconds not enough time for any of them to get a shot off. Assassin genetics at work.<br/><br/>â€œEnough!â€ the Kings voice roared.<br/><br/>â€œAlittle late considering itâ€™s already over. Perhaps you should train up your guards your majesty.â€ Alan responded calmly.<br/><br/>â€œYou are not who I sent for. I sent for-â€ Alan cut him off<br/><br/>â€œAlexander Everday. Youâ€™re looking at him.â€<br/><br/>â€œI did not send for a child!â€  The ire in the Kings voice amused Alan<br/><br/>â€œI can assure you sir, I am not a child.â€Alan stared at him then gestured to the groaning guards. â€œCan you explain to me why they tried to strip me of my weapons?â€  He asked<br/>â€œYou will be supplied with our weapons.â€ The Kings voice was smug.<br/><br/>â€œI donâ€™t want your weapons. Iâ€™ll keep mine, thank you.â€ Alan muttered smirking slightly.<br/><br/>â€œIâ€™m afraid I must insist.â€<br/><br/>â€œSir, if you take my weapons from me, Iâ€™ll have to revoke my name from the contract. I carry my own weapons for a reason.â€ Alan was prepared to do so and finally the King relented.<br/><br/>â€œFine. Keep your damn weapons.â€<br/><br/>â€œGreat, now where is your daughter? Iâ€™d like to get started.â€ Alan said leaning against the wall one hand still on his blaster as he observed the King. The disgust that shone in the manâ€™s eyes drove Alanâ€™s anger though the roof. He couldnâ€™t stand the sick prejudice that he saw in the eyes of everyone who saw his weapons or the tattoos that marked him as an assassin. The tattoo on his left wrist was the dead giveaway; a gun crossed with a dagger over the hilt of the dagger was a blood red star in the center of which was a black rose. It was a sign that an assassin had completed his or her training and as prepared to start signing hit contracts. It was a mark of pride for assassins. But to outsiders it was what branded them for ridicule and prejudice. Alan raised his left hand clearly showing his tattoo and waving at the King.  The fury that touched his eyes satisfied Alan even though he shouldnâ€™t give into such emotions, sometimes he just couldnâ€™t keep his emotions in check.