Endzone: Simulated Apocalypse

Within the CEO room of the corporate building of a massive company, a man sat. He looked to be quite aged, having white hair and a mustache, but his skin was actually quite young. He sat within his large leather chair, seemingly quite comfortable, but his expression was anything but. His eyes held worry in them, and a slight sadness that was usually never found in this ingenious and crafty assassin's gaze.

His name was Anthrax—or rather, that was his alias. The number one assassin of the underground at the time, and despite his usually gentlemanly and almost playful manner of executing targets, his skill in assassination was unparalleled… mostly. His real name was Giovanni Vittori, but no one knew that except his one and only student—and also the only person who he believed would be able to succeed him as the world's best assassin.

Soon, the sound of knocking could be heard on the door, and Anthrax responded with a simple 'Come in'. It was weak, dispassionate. It was the voice of a man who had already accepted his fate.

The door opened with a click, and entered a young man with teal hair plus light turquoise highlights. His face was emotionless as it always was, but that did not mean he did not feel emotions. He was just always calculating, and thus that makes his brain forget about extravagant emotions, much less showing them on his face. He still looked to be in his teenage years at the time, about 16 at most.

Bowing down slightly out of respect, the boy spoke.

"You called for me, teacher. Is it a new job?"

"… You could call it that, yes," Anthrax replied after some hesitation, sighing.

The boy did not miss Anthrax's unusual attitude. He's been this way for a week now. It was not his usual way of conduct, that was for sure. As someone who has worked by his side for ten years now, the boy knew that much. However, it was not his position to ask, so he didn't. Rule number seven of survival—do not ask pointless, meaningless questions. Why his teacher was feeling this way had nothing to do with the job that he had to do. It was just another assassination target, like another patient for a doctor. The boy needed only to focus on that and that alone.

"Who is the target?" The boy asked, ready to memorize every single detail about the target that was provid-

"… Me," the man across from him said quietly. "I… am the target."

Silence.

"…" The boy was quiet, utterly stunned by this response. But of course, his expression showed no change, and instead, he simply closed his eyes.

"… I see."

"This is not a joke," Anthrax said warily.

"I know."

"I know I mess around with you all the time, but… I am not kidding around this time, Cyanide. I…"

"I am aware."

Anthrax blinked, then took a deep breath. "Ya know… while it's true, emotions are weaknesses, ya can at least show some consideration for your teacher, maybe? Just a little bit? I taught ya for ten years, kid! And now I'm about to die, the hunter turned prey. Are ya really just going to sit there emotionlessly even after hearing that?!"

"Yes."

"… Heh," Anthrax chuckled softly, a glimpse of his former self leaking through the empty shell of a man that he was now. "Good. Wouldn't want my dear student cryin' over my corpse, right? Doesn't suit ya. Can't even imagine it. Ya didn't even cry when your father died. No way you'll cry for me."

"When will the mission be carried out?" The boy asked, ignoring the emotional comments, and Anthrax turned serious as well.

"Tonight. Right now."

"… I see."

Cyanide pulled out a gun from the holster on his waist and pointed it at his teacher coldly, before tapping on the trigger without any hesitation.

BANG!

"…"

As smoke rose out of the gun's tip, the man on the receiving end gave a chuckle, eying the bullet hole in his leather chair that appeared right next to where his ear was.

"… Heh. Knew ya weren't going to do it just like that."

"…" The boy—Cyanide—remained silent, still not moving his gun. His expression showed no change, but Anthrax, who's raised him for the past ten years, could see something change in his eyes. Something that needed to be refined. This kid was already the perfect assassin and had long surpassed Anthrax in terms of raw skill, but all assassins, in the end, were still humans. There was one valuable life lesson that Anthrax needed to teach him still.

Just one, and only one.

With a smirk, Anthrax rose from his chair, and cracked his knuckles before pulling out a knife and gun combo of his own from his clothing, and adjusting his monocles and top hat to set the perfect stage.

"Now… I said I was the target, but I never said I wouldn't fight back."

"… Hmph. So in order to complete the job, I need to defeat you?" Cyanide asked calmly, pulling out his own knife as Anthrax gave a warm, familial grin.

"Quite so. Isn't it fitting? You've faced many, many tough targets in the past few years. But now, lies the biggest challenge yet—your teacher himself. I think this will make a great final test to seal our relationship off once and for all, no?"

"… So be it."

The two moved to the roof for better space. Up here, they could duel to their heart's content, without worrying about anyone else in the building interfering. The cold night wind blew harshly against their cheeks, but compared to the showdown that was to come between teacher and student, that was nothing.

"Whew, the wind's feelin' nice today," Anthrax breathed, letting out a sigh of relief and spinning his weapons around in his hands much like the habit Cyanide has.. "If I'm going out, I'm going out with a bang! What better way to do that than to get beaten by my own student? Bring it on, kid. Show me what you've learned in the past ten years, and the result of my education!"