Be more like your brother, wimp. || Sergius

Azazel walked into the arena waiting for his youngest son, Sergius. They would take up their training once again, even thought he strongly believed the wimp never would be a assassin. Sicarius ancestors were looking at them from hell, sighting from disappointment. And Azazel was as well. He had done everything in his power and a tad more to make his sons assassins. But Sergius, he never reached out to him. That boy would rather jump around and play, rather than to kill. Not understandable, nor tolerable.

Impatiently he waited for his son. Not too sure he would show up.

Sergius was surprised when he recieved an owl from his father, telling him to come to the Alumminati Arena. It had been some time since the two saw each other. What was the ma doing in Russia? He had no clue. Still, he took himself away from the library where he was found most of the time and made his way to the destination.

"Father," he greeted the older wizard with a slight nod as he came into the Arena.

''Wimp, you are late.'' He proclaimed irritated. ''If you are late to a kill, you will be killed.'' Azazel sighted.

''Now today you will learn the basics within torturing.'' He waved towards the end of the arena and a young girl walked out from the shadows. She was shaking her her gaze showed how terrified she was, but she did as told. Thanks to a little unforgivable curse. A prisoner in her own body, knowing her destiny. He spat on her, worthless half blood. ''I found one of your little friends on my way here. It's always fun when you know the victim.''

''The easiest way to torture someone is by, of course, using magic. But the fun is when you do it yourself. Without magic.'' He chuckled deviously. ''Begin with hitting and kicking her, the ways you have been learned. Avoid her head.''

"It's good to see you too, Father," Sergius grumbled to himself as he turned to face the direction where the girl was coming from. That's they kind of greeting he got from his father after several months of being away from home.

The boy froze as he recognized the frightened girl walking towards them. He knew her. She was one of the few children he had been able to talk to and play with while was younger back in Italy. "I am not going to hit her!" he hissed angrily. All his life he had been taught to respect women like Queens, especially the ones in his family. The idea of torturing any girl did not sound appealing to him. Especially this one who he knew.

''You either hit her, or I hit you. It is simple like that.'' He shook his head at his so called son. His own blood and flesh. The youngest heir of the Sicarius blood line, and he couldn't even do one simple task. Not.Even.One.Single.Task.

''Knowing her will make you learn better. Now start. Or I will show on you. And I promise you, that will not be very nice.'' He made a chair appear with a flick of his wand and he sat down. Waiting for a response.

Sergius turned to face his father. He knew very well that he had very little choice in that matter, the man wouldn't hesitate to hit him. "Was I not supposed to protect her?" he said, his voice low as he felt the pressure of the order pressing down on his shoulders.

''It's a dummy, wimp. She only looks like that. Now hit her before i hit you.'' He was running out of patient. A few hits, that was all he asked for. For now. Sergius were going to kill the dummy later. Not that it mattered. It was only a dummy, but the facial expressions were matched to real ones. Which made it all more realistic.

"If it's a bloody dummy why did you have to use her!" Sergius snapped, his anger rising. He could see no reason why that girl he knew before had to be used as target practice. His father could have picked any random person out there, yet he chose to pick her.

He scowled to himself. He was not a wimp. It wasn't his fault that he was not given as much training as his brother. He was not the her. Why did the great assassin come all the way to Russia to train him now?

''Do not use that tone against me Sergius Sicarius.'' Azazel said on the edge to screaming. He would make an assassin out of his son. It would only take time. ''Seeing as you can't listen to me, we'll have to do this the hard way.'' His eyes turned black as he stood up and walked towards his son. He raised his hand threatening.

''Now hit before your face hits my fist.''

Sergius felt traces of fear running though his body as his father stood over him with his raised hand. He was not afraid of the pain itself, he had been hurt too many times before that, but when it was his father threatening him like that he felt truly powerless.

Srgius turned to face the girl and took a few step towards her. He did not look at her face. Instead he concentrated his attention on her body. He clenched his fist and swung it hard into the girl's stomach causing her to double over in pain.

He took down his hand and sat back down on the chair. ''Now that's the Sicarius spirit.'' Azazel watched, calmed down as his son beat the dummy. Maybe there was hope after all. ''Look the victim in the eyes. Feel how their life spark slowly dies out.'' That was after all, the best part of the kill. Sergius were tortured by this, he could tell. But the kid needed to learn to push away those silly emotions and become a coldblooded assassin.

"She is my friend," Sergius said, his voice low and quiet. He didn't look at the dummy's face. "Why did you have to pick her of all people?" he asked, turning to face his father as the girl lay on the ground in pain. He understood that he needed to learn to torture. He didn't mind that fact. But his father had made starting so much more difficult.

''What if the person you need to kill is your friend. Put those emotions away.'' He raised his voice, it was a dummy who happened to look like one he knew. ''Stand up and walk over there and take one of the weapons to kill off the dummy.'' He pointed with his hand towards a table where tons of different weapons laid.

Sergius looked down at the girl once again. He knew his father was right. But that didn't make killing her anymore easier. Of course he had killed before. It was part of his training as a Sicarius son. He walked over to the table, his mind only focusing on the weapons, and not on anything else. He didn't think of the girl, he didn't think of his father as he selected a simple dagger. His expression was chilling as he turned to walk towards his victim. He did not look at her ace, did not hear her begging as he knelt down beside her. His eyes focused on her neck as he yanked her head back and slit her throat quickly. The girl was dead.

The boy rose to his slowly, not before cleaning the dagger of the blood by sliding it against the girl's clothes. "Can I go now?" he asked his father, his voice distant and cool.

Azazel followed every move he made. From the glance on the dummy to his steps towards the table. He got a flashback from his young days, when he was in the same age and trained. Though he had loved it of course, and his father had been a wimp. He had treated Azazel way to kind. A mistake Azazel was not to make. His child's would be raised with a firm hand and he thought he had done a pretty good job.

He's son was kneeing and Zaz smirked as he sliced the dummy's throat. ''Next time slice slower and cut it deeper.''

He nodded. ''You may leave.''

Sergius turned, not saying another word, as he exited the Arena. The meeting had come unexpectedly, that was sure, but that is the way thing worked with his father.