Mr. Stephen Harlan looked to the casual observor as the type who enjoyed checkers in the park with old war buddies; something about him made one imagine the smiling faces of grand children walking with him in the toy department. This is why it became incredibly surreal to see this gentle looking older man break a man's fingers with the butt of his pistol.

Stephen's hand was like a vice, pinning the younger man's hand to the table; the other pistol whipped the man across the face for struggling. The man spat blood and, Stephen noticed, some teeth; he also stopped struggling and collapsed to his knees, sobbing. The old assassin sighed, twisting the man's wrist and lifting him up to his feet with practiced ease, his eyes settling on the face of the man before him.

"So why did you think that was smart?" he asked calmly, as the man's eyes opened again. He stared back at Stephen, as if he didn't understand.
"I'll ask you again; why do you think it was smart to do that." Harlan had leaned in this time, whispering the question into the man's ear.
"Y-you told me to-" he began, but nearly screamed as pressure was increased in his arm.

"No, I told you to get her to let you into her apartment. That was all; get invited in. What you took it upon yourself to do is tackle her into here and try and get your sick jollies." Harlan sighed, placing the pistol back on the table; he used his now free hand to adjust his glasses.

"Come on, man! I'm an assas-" He began, only to be cut off.
"In training." Harlan reminded him, catching him with a cuff behind the ear.
"I heard we could have anything! Just go out and TAKE it, man!" The man whined, as his arm was surpisingly released.

"Being a... member is not all about greed and what you want." Harlan grew weary of the conversation, turning his back on his protege; his eyes fell on the prone and trembling form of the innocent girl in the corner, terrified and unbelieving. The sound of his Colt being unsafetied sounded behind him, cold steel pressed against the back of his head.

"Ah screw you man, they all said you was soft!" the man growled.
"Soft...? Is that what they say now?" Harlan asked quietly.
"Yeah man, can't even kill a little girl!" He laughed aloud, spitting blood.
"That makes me soft, or human?" Stephen responded.
"Friggin wuss. Hell, I'll kill this girl right now!" He yelled triumphantly, the gun traversing to the whimpering young woman.

The weapon was no longer in the man's hand; in fact, it was in Harlan's hand, coming cross ways of his face. His training brought up his forearm to block the blow, but his eyes could only widen as his mouth filled with steel, the second .45 cocking back.

"I really hate it when kids like you wash out of the program." Harlan said calmly, walking the man back as he mouthed protest and pleas. His back came against the window, but the balcony sliding door; and Stephen took a step back, the gun coming free of the man's mouth.

"Come on, MAN!" he nearly screamed, as Stephen Harlan looked to the girl.
"Close your eyes." He said simply, and the girl did so; and Stephen's ex-protege did the opposite, his eyes wide and white.
"COME ON MAN!" He screamed, before both Colts thundered .45 rounds into him. He rocked back with each shot, crashing back through the glass sliding door and tumbling over the side of the balcony. It was with practiced detachment that Harlan stepped through the broken glass door, looking over the edge to confirm the kill.

"Come on, man." Harlan said with a sigh, holstering his pistols. He turned, walking past the trembling girl; his hand drew a blanket off of her couch, the assassin placing it around her comfortingly.

"Are you okay?" He asked, turning on the fraternal charm.
"Y-yeah..." She whispered, a consoling hand placed on her shoulder.
"This guy was trying to rob you... and a good samaritin, who you can't really remember, it was such a blur... he saved your life." He recounted, pulling out a roll of bills equivalent to $10,000 american dollars.
"Oh... okay, yeah..." She smiled weakly up at him.
"Good girl. The cops will be here soon." He ruffled her hair slightly, before stepping out.

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It was thus that Harlan found himself in a small diner in his native New York, watching the news report unfold just like he'd coached her; good girl. He pulled out his cell phone, thumbing the call button for Assassin King himself.
"Hey Kid, this is Harlan. That boy you guys suggested me? He washed out, just like the last two... I think you better let me choose my own recruits again, because these guys are a bunch of brainless thugs."

__________________
"When they ask how I died, tell them; Still Angry." -Quellcrist Falconer
"It was Kovacs who said "Mother" then, muffled under latex.
It was Kovacs who closed his eyes.
It was Rorschach who opened them again." -Rorschach