(This is my take on Sarlovèze’ life as an assassin before he retired, mentioned in his dialogue. Also for simplicity I will be calling him Sarlo from now on.)
Whitesummit was as cold as ever. The harsh climate was unsuitable for any normal human being to live in, and that’s exactly what drove the criminals, outcasts from society, to settle here in Blackwater Grotto. No sane person will come to this place. The weather here is always extremely cold, and so are the people’s hearts – a criminal must be cold-blooded and cunning.
Deep within Blackwater Grotto however was an even sinister chamber: the red corner, a small but vital location, for it is the headquarters of the dreaded Assassin Syndicate. It is divided into two layers: the outer layer, where the somewhat nervous receptionist John Vasquez offers the Syndicate’s service and is guarded by Journeymen; and the inner layer reserved for the higher ups of the Syndicate, including Architect Merlot, the waltz of death himself. There is also a storage room and a board displaying the world’s most famed heroes – the prey of the assassin lions.
In the inner layer, Assassin Sarlo stands guard, protecting his boss Merlot. He sits by on the bench, his right leg emitting a gray color – the color of iron. Sarlo has mastered a technique known as Iron Leg, in which his legs are trained to have extreme durability like iron, and use it to kick with extreme velocity. Not every Syndicate member used martial arts – many prefered blades to do the killing job quickly, but Sarlo was certainly a powerful user of his leg. Many years in the Syndicate trained him to be a cold-blooded killer, an expert in taking another person’s life, as the Syndicate had done to so many others.
As the sponsors in the room were selecting their targets, Sarlo chewed on an apple. He was fond of having a healthy diet, and he was particularly fond of pumpkins, unfortunately the harsh climate of Whitesummit was no place for a pumpkin farmer, or any farmer at all.
Suddenly the doors burst open and Silver, the Journeymen guarding the receptionist, flew across the room and landed next to the contract board. He was heavily wounded, with burn marks in his body.
Sarlo quickly got into a combat position, his hands balled into fists and his leg raised. Then a man entered the room, he had fiery red hair and was clearly upset about the Syndicate. His clothes were torn and he had a few minor cuts on his body and blood flowed down his face. His hands emitted an orange color that was burning hot. His eyes were filled with rage.
Merlot reached for his Sanguine, but Sarlo nodded and confidently told him, “Let me handle this.” The man lept at Sarlo and attempted to punch him, but Sarlo dodged and kicked the man’s leg, causing him to trip, and then he kicked the man in the stomach, sending him flying across the red corner. Undaunted, the man coughed out a puddle of blood, then rose up and attacked again. The man launched several punches that forced Sarlo back, then the man hit Sarlo in the face, to which Sarlo responded by kicking the man in the face with great weight, and while he was dazed Sarlo kicked the man even harder again, forcing him outside of the office. The sponsors and Merlot sat down and watched the fight with enjoyment. Sarlo continued, kicking the man in the stomach, but the man barely blocked it with his fists. The man fought back, punching Sarlo in the stomach, briefly knocking him back before Sarlo concentrated all his might and-
Boom! Sarlo stamps his leg into the ground, creating a shockwave that devastates the man, knocking him to the wall and severely damaging his head. The man struggles to get up, his feet wobbling, his hands emitting way less heat than before and his face covered with blood.
“Finish him,” Merlot orders coldly. The assassin nods and as the man gets up Sarlo kicks him towards the wall, smashing his head against the wall and knocking him down once and for all.
Merlot approaches the man and thrusts his claws into his neck, but he does not respond. “He’s dead for sure,” Merlot sighed, as he pulled his claws out, now painted with crimson.
Sarlo drags the body out of the red corner, and hastily tossed it to the bottom of the ocean. “Ah, we just can’t let people find this place, can’t we?” Merlot laughed menacingly. Sarlo could tell, even behind that mask Merlot was smiling sinisterly.
Sarlo grabbed a small vial from his pocket and chugged it down, healing his minor wounds sustained in the battle. He sits on the bench next to the sponsor and grabs a towel and rubs away his sweat. Another day in the life of an assassin.
(I’ll do part 2 if people like it)