Roses bloom red in spring.

They are snipped halfway up, the ends of their stems hollowed out, and a gas-powered syringe placed inside.

One drop of the venom causes permanent paralysis, two mean almost certain death.

Every year, only six such roses are procured. Every year, all six of the needles find their mark.

For most, spring brings love. For us, spring brings death.

Because roses bloom red in spring.

But ours more so than others.

*****

Two guards stood at the door, their helmets shining and their halberds gleaming.

They’re good guards, probably better than most, well-trained and well-armed, with tailor-made armor and expensive weapons. Still, they’re easy prey for the assassins of Rose.

He watched from the side of the quiet street, in a place unlit by the hanging lanterns, the broad hood of his raincoat drooped over his face, a brilliant red rose in his breast pocket, as two shadows leaped towards the guards.

Two darts glinted in the yellow light as they plunged into the necks of the two guards, sliding between the gaps in the armor.

Of course, they reacted, swinging their halberds at the two assailants. But the anesthetic acts fast.

Before they could bring their halberds back around, both guards crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The two shadows gently pushed open the wide door to the mansion, and once sure there was no one inside, beckoned for him to come over.

“Scouts reported two more guards in front of the master bedroom,” one of the shadows whispered as he walked past, the broad rim of the shadow’s hood covering her face. “You'll probably need to use force. Everything else is as planned.”

“Are you two not going to come inside?” He asked the two shadows.

“You know perfectly well you’re overqualified for this, Izzy.”

“But it’s raining and it’s cold.”

“Fine.”

The two shadows stepped inside with him, gently closing the doors behind them.

Their dirty shoes left muddy marks on the pristine floor, so he took off his own as a sign of respect.

One of the shadows noticed the marks, so she stuck a finger out towards the ground. The mud collected itself into a ball, before neatly depositing itself into a flower pot in the corner.

He made his way up the stairs, the usually creaky steps completely soundless under his footsteps. On the second floor are the maids and guards, sound asleep in their rooms under the blanket of sleeping potions. Then on the third is the master bedroom, where the owner of the Great Eastern Plains Mining Company is snoring away.

As he stepped onto the hallway leading to the bedroom, the guards standing outside shouted to him.

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“Who goes there!”

He ignored them.

“Intruder! Stand still!”

Slowly he drew his slim dagger from his belt, keeping it out of view.

“Hey! Stand back!” The guards shouted, pointing their halberds forward.

So he stood still, dagger hidden behind his back.

The guards came forward slowly, the pointed ends of their halberds straight at his neck.

He slowed his breathing, letting his senses sharpen in anticipation for the approaching conflict. Through the thick, soundproofed door, he could hear the breathing of the owner, labored and ragged from bad health.

Honestly, if they had left this contract for a few more months, the owner’s health would have done it for them.

The halberds were almost at his neck, their blades an arm’s length away from taking off his head.

He breathed in and breathed out, then he locked eyes with the guards.

“How's your night?” He asked.

The guards raised their eyebrows. “No funny business. Get on the ground.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely with just the two of you?”

The guards looked at each other. Though their faces were stern, he could tell the unease.

Backup should have arrived a long time ago. But of course, they were all sleeping too soundly to notice.

“You know, if I were you, I definitely wouldn’t be using a halberd indoors.”

“Shut up!”

He smiled, before darting forwards.

“Hey!” The guards called out in surprise.

The halberds swung at him from both sides, one coming for his head, the other for his legs. He leaped and rolled his body sideways, slipping between the two blades.

The guards brought their halberds back for another swing, but their long reach made them too unwieldy.

He dropped to the ground and swiped his leg towards one of the guards. The blade of a halberd came at his head again, but a little twist of the neck made it burry itself harmlessly into the wooden floor as his shin connected with the guard’s ankle.

In a cry of pain, the guard’s body went airborne, flipping head over heel before crashing back down to the ground, the fragile wooden flooring shattering under the impact of the metal armor.

The other guard thrust his halberd at him, far too slowly to be of any danger, as he used the momentum of his leg to swing himself back to his feet.

He arched his back to let the halberd pass harmlessly by, the axe blade slicing off a few threads from his belt. Then he grabbed the wooden shaft and tugged it backward, pulling the guard towards him. Unwilling to release his weapon, the guard stumbled forward, flailing his arms to regain his balance.

The guard’s cry of terror was met by the razor tip of the slender dagger, sliding effortlessly into his neck and straight out of the back. Immediately the guard went limp, his lifeless eyes frozen in shock.

With a gentle shove, he withdrew the dagger, flicking off the blood in one smooth motion as the body hit the floor. Then he swung the guard’s halberd over his head, the axe blade circling end over end, before slicing down upon the other guard, still winded from his fall.

With a thunk the heavy blade slammed into the wooden floor, having cleanly severed the guard’s neck.

Blood sprayed from the exposed arteries in pulses, growing weaker with each dying beat of the heart, pooling on the floor and soaking into the wood, dyeing it a deep color of red. Red like roses in full bloom.

Slowly he got to his feet, sheathing his dagger and wiping the blood off of his hands.

Then he quietly entered the room, the old owner still sound asleep in his bed.

The same man had, just months prior, been discovered enslaving kidnapped children in his mines, and it didn't take long for the contracts to come in.

Gently he removed the rose from his breast pocket, snapping off a bit of the stem to reveal the hair-like needle.

It plunged into the old man’s neck without resistance, the deadly poison injected with a light puff from the gas piston.

The old man barely stirred in his sleep, the needle prick probably felt no different from a mosquito bite.

He stood there as the labored breathing grew quiet, the old man’s chest rising and falling one last time before falling into eternal slumber.

That’ll be the final contract of the year, once again, completed without a hitch.