Killing Sin

His Target: Locked

"Remember; His Majesty will be displeased if you fail this time..."

That taunt in Falan's voice was both playful and vapid as it struck against Jafar's ears. Everything about the woman felt almost like a blow to the stomach, or possibly inhaling something rancid – he could never decide. Regardless, that bitch wasn't someone he wanted to see. Yet she had been sent here, to keep an eye on him especially considering the times he had failed. And that woman, the Magical Bitch Counsellor from the failing empire he had been sold to many years ago, was here to torment him. As she felt this was his last chance, and seemed pleased at that. Simply, if Jafar failed now in killing Sinbad he would be killed too.

It's why the woman was so happy. She floated there, and like him was looking over the pillars and spires adorning Remona's skyline. Where Jafar had been for hours, a still and streamlined figure swathed in dark clothing and bandages concealing his unreadable features as he looked down. He was carefully scanned the wide, marble streets of Reim for that bastard. Because Falan said this was where he would be. That Sinbad, that bastard he had spent over ten years trying to kill, was here. And if he brought him back to Partevia, then he wouldn't be punished.

It was past embarrassing, not be able to kill one fucking person. Yet as Jafar had never failed to kill any other target, and perhaps because he had been the closest to killing Sinbad, he was still alive. But this time, if he failed, it wouldn't just be his life but everyone in Sham Lash. Yes, every one of those fucking useless trash he was stuck with in his assassin's guild would die, too. The people the twenty-year old had spent ten years of his fucking life training. Who he had finally made a little less than completely useless. For fuck sake... this wasn't his fault. Sinbad just somehow seemed good at eluding anyone Partevia sent after him. Not just once, but at every dungeon. Jafar scowled; if it hadn't been for that one fucking person he might have had a fairly profitable career. He might even have been promoted. But after all this, and when he succeeded, he still doubted that son of a fucking bitch of an Emperor he served would give him anything.

Luckily, he still had his reputation, which was why Jafar was convinced he was still alive. The pale man, passing like a ghost in the night, who always succeeded when it came to anyone else. He was good at what he did – in his mind, the best. Which made it more infuriating why it had taken ten fucking years to kill someone. And wasted a decade doing such a thing. No, fuck this. He wouldn't be bringing Sinbad alive after everything; he never had any intention to. He'd bring him back in bloody pieces. After taking any metallic vessels and power that bastard had for himself.

So no, he wasn't incompetent, despite what that magician bitch's smirk told him. The very notion made his eyes narrow in quiet fury. He was the very best of all those shitty, good for nothing pieces of trash he had been stuck with in his guild. Men like his underlings, like Vittel and Maher, wouldn't be able to assassinate their way out of a paper bag next to him. Not that such a thing was either practical or necessary, but that was hardly the point. The point was, after doing this, after fucking finally assassinating that man; they bad better recognise his skills.

For now, whilst he attempted in vain to ignore the unpleasant yet radiant woman hovering beside him in the late afternoon in Reim, the silver-haired man crept to the edge of the tower's roof. He had perched there so long his body ached, but it didn't matter. He had been waiting here, right from the moment Falan informed him that's where his target would be. And nothing would get in his way; he would enjoy this.

At the thought, a small smile curled from under his concealed features. To that, the Magical Bitch Councillor of the failing Partevia Empire laughed loudly. Her somewhat impressive chest wobbled dangerously in her mirth, as if ready to break free and unleash its terror upon the world. "You know, chief..." she didn't exactly pronounce that title with respect either. Bitch. "I've forgotten just how long you've tried to kill that man..."

"...No you haven't," he gritted his teeth. He just had to be stuck with her, and relying on her help. At least if he had Mahad, or Vittel or any of Sham Lash with him, least he could beat the fucking crap out of them if they pissed him off. Yet he doubted he could hit such a powerful magician without regretting it. And he was doing this not to die. So he endured those taunts. And all the while thought if he was so expendable, they'd have killed after he had failed that one time ten years ago. was too long to chasing him. It had to end, which was one reason why he had staked his life on this. He was done being mocked by her, and wanted to see the look on that stupid bitch's face when he won.

"But...he has gotten very handsome now," she confided in him. Gushing somewhat spectacularly in fact. Jafar froze, and slowly looked back. And from her gleaming expression, it was a look she enjoyed. "So tall and're lucky I didn't give into his charms and fight him myself. But you better be quick if you want to catch him."

"...What? Where?"

"Headed south."

Yes; if this was one of his men, he'd be happily murdering the living crap out of them right now. Yet it wasn't. "Why the fuck didn't you say that sooner?"

"Oh my; do I have to do your job for you? Did you think staying here all day was the best plan?"

It was, as theoretically he could see everything from here. He cursed, again, and loudly. But he didn't hesitate. He was already racing against the wind, that promise of a fresh kill bright in his eyes. Quickly he leapt from arch, to spiralling tower, to another arch, before finally rounding the coliseum. Given his lithe, graceful frame such was fairly effortless. The mosaics adorning Reim's streets ran like a pale river of tiles below him; and he could have laughed. This was it. He came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the aqueducts which overlooked the significantly lower buildings to the south of the capital. Simply put, it was the less reputable side to the city. Where the slums, the beggars and the whores all resided; where they were all carefully confined to best spare the capital of their stench and voices.

He glanced around eagerly and sure enough the bitch was right. There he was. After not being able to track him for the best part of a year – there that bastard was. And so blissfully unaware of the oceans of red death Jafar was about to make gush from his corpse. The powerful yet slim frame was picking its way gracefully through the crowds and mass of dappled horses below, violet and white robes sweeping about him. It was as though that idiot really was just taking a leisurely stroll, and quite unaware it would be his last. Wires tightened at Jafar's wrists, somewhat painfully, as he felt his body heat up. Every fibre of his murderous self wanted to kill him; so, so badly. Daggers ready, he was poised to leap down. His whole body was just waiting for his unspoken command to –

"I'd not do that out in the open. We were in enemy territory."

Fucking magician bitch from hell...

"I wasn't going to!" he made the mistake of facing her, and breaking his lock in his target. That most basic rule, and it was forgotten in his anger. Looking back, Sinbad had already vanished from his sights. And it was her fault. "...You stupid bitch! Of course I wasn't going to attack him in the streets! I was going to –"

"You shouldn't use such language in front of a lady," Jafar didn't see how that mattered. And she was sure as hell no lady. More like a hovering, mocking nightmare he wanted to gut like a fucking pig right now. "You still lost him though. Have you even got a plan?" kill him. "Forget that. Did you see where he went?"

"Heh...I wonder~"

The bitch magician was far too amused, and that was never a good sign. She was considering him, as if he was stupid for not knowing where Sinbad had fled to. As he gave her a vacant, yet furious look, her index finger pointed to the building opposite where he was crouched. Certainly it was one that stood out, and not exactly for its striking architecture. No, it was more for those vibrant yet badly dyed strips of linen hanging over its windows and doors in various shades of red, as if the brothel was trying to seem more high-class than it actually was. Yet the material was draped tantalisingly, as if daring men to enter, and to seek a release to their discounted desires within. Even from where he was, Jafar could smell the cheap, unappealing perfume its hostesses slathered on their barely clothed bodies to draw attention to their trade.

"Your target has a weakness you overlooked. A weakness all men have; for pretty girls with a body like mine," she announced proudly. And with those low cut and tight robes, the vastness of her exposed chest was provocative enough. At least, to those finding such a thing appealing. Jafar however just looked blankly at her. "...Hm? Well, most men. A certain type is immune to my charms~"

"One who values his life..." even so, Jafar thought about that. If it was a weakness, he'd expose it. "So he's going to see a hostess in there?"

"Oh I'd imagine so. And it's a good place to get information from. Or, say, for an assassin to pose as one of the girls, and kill their target..."

That seemed a better plan than anything he had. Jafar nodded slowly. "Go make yourself useful then."

"Me?" it seemed to be a certain type of woman who would feel flattered rather than insulted at such an insinuation. Yet she didn't even scald Jafar on speaking to a superior in such a way. Instead she laughed, those oversized breasts of hers again threatening to tumble out from her clothing in another bid for freedom. But then, the vain bitch met him with a vindictive smile. And one that made even his murderous blood run cold. "Oh my~! I'd want to – but I am here to advise you. Or did you forget about that? After you begged his majesty for a last chance, too." ...Begging was an exaggeration. Really he had just glared a lot. "I'm sure a pretty thing like you can manage just fine."

...Pretty? Him? "I'm an assassin, not a whore. That's more the kind of place you'd fit in." Plus, it was an excuse to get the fuck away from her.

"Hm...the two professions can be the same, you know. Men are so easy to kill when caught in the thralls of passion."

Something he was fairly sure she had experience in. "...I'll take your word for it."

"Perhaps you should see for yourself."

That comment was just confusing, so he ignored it. He felt Falan land soundlessly from where she hovered and drew close, yet paid her no mind. Initially he thought a breeze whipped through his wild, silvery hair; yet realised soon after it was her. He froze. That fucking bitch was touching his hair. Not just that, but her palms slipped down over his shoulders. "...What the fuck are you doing, woman?"

"This~? It's just a little test~"

As her perfect nails reached down to unbutton his shirt, he had enough. He snapped back to face her. "Get the fuck off me you stupid-"

It was then that a cold flash of pain ripped through him like fire. Her nails had dug in, a fleeting tattoo of dark magic left on his exposed chest that vanished instantly. As if it was soaked into his skin. That same chilling anguish running through him, he felt himself collapse. Breathing heavily, he clutched at the roof as the streams of cramping pain ran through his body. The dark, chilling flames of her magoi took root in him, even if he had no idea what this was for. The next moment, the waves of pain had abruptly subsided. And he was left, eyes watering, to glare up at her as he caught his breath.

She was smiling, and looking over his body as if in admiration. "Such a pretty girl shouldn't use such coarse language~"

"...How many fucking times do I have to tell you, you crazy ass bitch? Whatever damned experiment you're working on, keep it away from me!" somehow, Jafar noted his voice sounded different. Somewhat softer.

"But this one is just for you. I worked hard on it."

"...Like I give a shit! Use someone else!"

There was no one else, but that was hardly the point. Falan arched a reddish eyebrow as she continued to glance over him slowly. As he sat up, it was as worrying an expression as always. "You should be thanking me. You look so much better like this; better than that scrawny, unmanly body of yours."

He'd never thank her – that would mean encouraging her. Still feeling a little nauseous and lightheaded from the magic poured into him, he looked down. And paused. That...wasn't right. Where she had left his shirt unbuttoned moments before, now a significant swelling of cleavage was peeking out. He reached up, gripping slightly at the soft yet weighty mounds now adorning his otherwise slim body. "...What the fuck did you do to me!?"

"Oh, this is nothing," hell it was. "I just used my magic to turn your body into a copy of mine. Not as nice as the real thing, but close enough~"

"...Why?" Jafar at this point was still a little too shocked at the sudden changes to his body to really think straight. Well, aside from really wanting to kill her right now. Despite how powerful she was, right now he almost wanted that bitch dead as much as he wanted to kill Sinbad.

"Because your target has a weakness for beautiful, well endowed women. Which you weren't," she told him. Tired of the lewd glances she was giving him, as if always wanted to be presented with a copy of her own voluptuous body, Jafar fumbled with his shirt. And quickly gave up, aware that whatever clothing he wore couldn't really cover such an impressive pair of breasts. "And you'll want to do this alone, won't you? As you think everyone aside from you is useless. Well, use this to your advantage at least."

Resorting to crossing his arms over his body defensively, he glared back. "I don't need your help. Change me back."

"I will. Once you kill that man, you'll go back to normal. That is, if you still want to."

"...Of course I'll want to, you stupid bitch," he glared at her. But then, her potent magic would be useful here. He began wondering if he could pose as a hostess long enough to persuade Sinbad to leave with him. It was better than any idea he had. But then, after failing to kill that man for so long, he sure as fuck wouldn't have expected to do as much whilst trapped in the body of a woman. And a copy of Falan's ample frame, no less. "I'll fucking kill you if this doesn't work. Got that?"

"Hm?" luckily, she seemed too amused to take the threat upon her life seriously. "Let's get started then, shall we?"