Cole sighed and pulled his jacket on, not particularly thrilled about the task he'd been given. The task to go retrieve the reheated brat his fiance had been teaching. It wasn't that Cole disliked the brat, it was just that he didn't expect to recover the brat alive. The kid was only twelve and it was beyond Cole's understanding why Miria had decided to send him alone on an assignment in the first place. Twelve was young, very young. It was the age where apprentices then and only then began to go on real assignments with their mentors. Come to think of it, apprentices themselves were rare. The job was tough, too tough for normal adults and the brats usually died in training. Cole never had any apprentices, nor did he desire to take one on. He didn't like kids and he had no desire to bring any more of them into this kind of occupation.
Most of the elite numbers thought this job was something wonderful, something that they should be just damned proud to be apart of. It was ironic that the most elite of them all saw through this. Cole detested his position. He could handle the killing, he actually enjoyed it at one point though now he was mainly bored with it. It was Boss he hated, the treatment of a dog he despised. He was the prized pooch, always rewarded with the fanciest collars and the top brand treats; but he didn't care. He disliked the treatment, though not enough to do something about it. Miria was content with it and he was better off than most people, so why complain? Cole didn't. His opinions were kept to himself, for now. And he had the satisfaction of knowing Boss was frightened of him, if only a little. His employer trusted his dog and kept him close, but was the slightest bit wary. He had the vague knowledge that if he rubbed the pelt of his favorite canine the wrong way, his hand would be bitten off.
But at the moment, that had nothing to do with anything. Now Cole's duty was to go fetch the brat and to go take care of the brat's failure. The brat must have failed, he knew. He was much too young to handle assignments on his own after all. Especially one that originally belonged to Miria. Though Cole normally trusted his fiance's judgement, he thought it was ludicrous that she would sent the kid out to do her bidding. Not just an assignment, but an assignment that was assigned to someone as highly regarded as she was. As he slipped into the truck, Cole considered that maybe she'd given the brat the task with the intention of having him killed. Perhaps she had grown tired of him, wanted him gone, but didn't want to dirty her own hands with the betrayal. If that was true though, it would mean that she was also intentionally sending him out to eliminate what the brat wasn't capable of killing. And on one of the rare days that he wasn't bombarded with his own assignments. It would be unlike Miria to do that, but not impossible.
As Cole pulled into the driveway of the tall brick house that stood alone and surrounded by miles of its own property, he was not surprised to see one of the upper stories was broken or the redheaded child on the ground and laying among the shards. As he'd figured, the kid failed. Not surprising in the least, and not something that Cole particularly cared about. The only part he cared about, was that he would now have to erase what the brat could not. Oh well, no big deal there. As he parked, for the hell of it he decided to go see if the child was still alive. He slipped silently out of the truck and shut the door promptly, approaching the motionless twelve year old and crouching beside him. It wasn't pretty a pretty sight, blood seeped through the jacket so similar to Cole's own, and dribbled out from the corners of the boy's pale mouth. His chest had an unnaturally sunken look, but to Cole's surprise it was still rising and falling. "Hey," he said gruffly as he poked the kid in the cheek. "Hey kid, wake up."
The child did as commanded, his pale blue eyes strikingly alert when they opened. "C...Cole?"
"Yeah, where's the demon?"
"I killed it."
Cole blinked, surprised by the answer. He shook his head. "Don't bullshit me, where is it at?" The child swallowed down the crimson liquid rising in his throat. "No bullshit, I killed it while I was up there. I cut its head off," his voice came out in a thin whisper. The man frowned in disbelief. "If you killed it, how come you're down here and like this?"
"Its body when crazy after it died. Tail started whipping around and spasming. I wasn't fast enough…" the kid choked out. Cole was slightly surprised to find that he believed him. "Alright." He proceeded effortlessly pick up the brat and start back to the truck.
"Am I going to die?"
He considered the kid's question. He normally would have just said yes, but this child had already surprised him once by not failing the assignment. For the first time he actually stopped to think about the twelve year old bleeding in his arms and believed he could understand why Miria would want such a boy under her tutelage. So he peered at the child with interest and curiosity. "I believe your sternum is damaged beyond repair, that your ribs are broken and stabbing into your lungs. I believe you're drowning in your own blood. So you tell me, Silas. Are you going to die?"
Silas took a moment to evaluate this and then replied with no hesitation. "No. I'll live." Cole gave a slight nod of approval and continued to the truck. There was potential in the boy after all. He'd have to thank his fiance. Perhaps, he would even consider taking an an apprentice of his own.