“That was the worst assassination attempt ever dude.” “I wasn’t actually trying to kill you!” “You seasoned the meat with baking soda!” “Well sorry for trying to do something nice for you!” “How is poisoning me with baking soda being nice?!” “I didn’t know! The recipe said to add some!” “Yeah, some! Not a cup! You know what? I appreciate the sentiment but how about we leave the cooking to me, yeah?” “Fine.” “I really do appreciate you.” “I know.” “I love you.” “I love you too.” “Even if you did try to kill me.” “Hey!”

 Just another day, yet another low class target. I am the world's finest assassin, trained from birth and genetically modified to be a super weapon of a man, and yet, I'm still constantly being sent after inconsequential people. I shouldn't complain, of course, it pays really well. I looked back at the mission information.
   "Miah Solis, It's a shame she has to die, she's easy on the eyes" I said. I continued to look at the information, noting the important stuff. Usually people want it to look like an accident, and sometimes suicide. But on this one, there is a more specific request.
 "She needs to go out quickly and quietly, and it needs to be obvious that it was murder. And leave the included item at the scene of the crime." The item in question was a metal badge of some sort, intricately designed and portraying what looked like a squirrel. Also included was her schedule and her address, it said she'd be home around this time, so I hopped into my light green Volkswagen beetle. I parked two blocks away and travelled by jumping from roof to roof until I got to her house. I dropped from her roof and picked the lock to her back door.
 "She should be home any minute now" I whispered to myself, pulling out my knife. Just then, the front door opened. I hid myself in a side room, and cautiously peeked out, watching my target. 
 "I know you're here," she said. There is no way she knows I'm here, but I put my knife in its sheath just in case. I pulled out my silenced pistol, it's better to get the paranoid ones from a distance. I aimed down the sights, and just as I was about to pull the trigger, my gun flew out of my hands and got pinned to the doorframe of the room I was hiding in. I stared at it in shock, then I noticed the knife thrown expertly through the trigger guard and into the doorframe. I looked back at where my target was, but she wasn't there.
 “That was the worst assassination attempt I’ve seen.” She said from behind me. I spun around, reaching for my knife, but it was gone.
 "Do you at least have the item?" she said, idly twirling my knife. I decided to go along with her, she was in the advantageous position, after all
 "The squirrel token?" I asked, reaching into my side bag for it
 "That's not just a token, it's the only way into my organization" she responded. I pulled it out and looked it over.
 "What's your organization, squirrel hunters?" I asked
 "It's an acronym" she responded "we are an elite group of specialized assassins that protect the happiness of all people from the shadows" She flipped my knife around and handed it to me.
 "I am the one who sent you this job" she said "It is our recruitment tactic. Although you need a lot more training" She reached a hand towards me,
 "now come, I'll take you to your new home"

I’m the Frog Prince.

Or, at least, I am, according to my childhood best friend, Eddie.

One fateful day back in the summer of 1986, little Eddie Kingsley from two houses down made a snide comment, telling me that my face resembled a frog, to which I responded, “Then pucker up and kiss me, Princess.”

Eddie didn’t like that very much, so he shoved me and jabbed his little finger in my chest, shouting about how he was fed up with my sarcasm and that he wasn’t about to kiss a 12-year-old screw-up such as myself.

It was amusing that Eddie could dish it out but never take it, so naturally, I stuck to my guns and capitalized on his frog insult. I crafted a beautifully average paper crown, then snuck a shawl from my mother’s closet and wrapped it over my shoulders, and voilà! Overnight, I became the charming and irresistible Frog Prince.

I even went as far as making a throne out of a cardboard box, sending out a decree that Eddie had to perform the leapfrog in my presence and even establishing my reign over Eddie’s front porch.

Eddie was so annoyed with me by the end of the summer that he quite literally yelled, “Down with your royal toadness,” before hurtling rocks at me with a handmade sling he made at a Boy Scouts camp a few years prior in Ohio.

After Eddie’s tragic sling attack and a well-practiced eyebrow raise, I scoffed, saying, “Princess—that was the worst assassination attempt I’ve seen.”

Eddie’s face heated into a bright shade of crimson, and he swore at me harshly before storming into his house and slamming the door behind him.

I apologized to Eddie a few days later, of course. He forgave me, and we quickly became the best of friends.

He still hated being called Princess, though.

But I loved it when he called me the Frog Prince.

The sting of a dagger against my cheek caused my back to stiffen if only for a moment. Harsh winds rushed through my hair as the weapon lodged itself in the tree to my left. I reached up to grab the hilt with my left hand as my right moved my cloak behind my shoulder. With the dagger in hand, I spun around and swiftly sent it back in the direction it came from.

A few words played on my lips as they upturned, “That was the worst assassination attempt I’ve seen.”

The darkness seethed, and my smile grew. Before I could utter another word, a voice traveled through the shadows.

“If I intended to strike your heart, I would’ve.”

I took a daring step forward, a familiar pair of green eyes catching in the light of the moon. I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders to fend off the wind before quipping back.

“Don’t tell me you’ve grown to liking me,” I kept a smug grin on my pale face for the assassin to see. This wasn’t their first song and dance, and his excuses for missing became impossible to believe.

A snicker left his lips as he turned his head, hood hiding his entire face like usual. I hadn’t seen him up close, but his eyes were impossible to miss.

“Lady Evelyn,” his condescending tone sent a rush through her, “You’ve not swayed me even a little. What fun is it to simply kill your prey when you could taunt them first?” I raised my eyebrows and took a couple steps forward. He didn’t move away from the tree he used as cover. “Mm. So even assassins feel bored on the hunt? Interesting.”

“Nothing wrong with keeping things fresh, lady.”

Another step forward. He still didn’t move. “You’re well mannered considering your profession.”

“Manners won’t kill anyone.”

His eyes were visible again, as was the scar that sliced over his thin lips. He was a perfect stranger, armed and threatening, but I continued to close the distance. He didn’t move away.

“What should I expect when you actually finish the job, hm?” I taunted. The man in the shadows shifted, but I didn’t flinch.

“That’s for me to know,” he took a step forward this time, face fully visible. He was covered in scars, his dark clothes were torn and tattered under his cloak, and that familiar dagger rested comfortably in his bloodstained fist. “…and for you to find out.”

When my hand reached out between the two of us, he didn’t move away. My forefinger ran along his stubbly chin, and an air of confidence surrounded me. “Well, stranger, I’ll look forward to it.”

His free hand swiftly reached out and snatched mine before I properly registered his movements. A smirk played on his scarred lips, and his eyes shone in the moonlight. “Me too, Lady Evelyn.”

Casey looked out the window, watching as the sun set beyond the city walls. She had sent for Kendall hours ago, but he was taking his sweet time. She knew he was worried about this meeting. She didn’t summon people often.

She turned toward the fireplace and sent a small burst of flames toward the stacked wood. She was getting impatient when a firm knock sounded at the door.

“Enter,” she said as she turned back to the window.

“Sorry for the delay. I was…”

“Delaying being scolded,” Casey finished for him.

“No, I was trying to get information from Enforcement,” Kendall said defiantly.

“Same difference,” Casey replied. “Tell me what happened with the girl today. Keep in mind, I’ve already received word from Marshall and Owen.”

Kendall mumbled something, and her lip twitched up. He wasn’t happy to be reporting to her. He’d wanted her job as a second to Brennor, but had been pushed aside, relegated to lackey instead.

“It was a measured attempt to eliminate a threat, or, at the very least, discourage that witch from getting involved,” Kendall said confidently.

Casey turned to face him and raised her eyebrow. His spine lengthened as he tried to brace her stare.

“That was the worst assassination attempt I’ve ever seen,” Casey said with a snort. “If you’d done any proper research on Vanessa, you’d know she doesn’t abide threats or intimidation. All you’ve done is make things worse.”

“That is unfounded! She’s not as capable as you think! Just a lowly witch seeking protections from a shadow world that would have no qualms about tossing her aside!” Kendall fired back.

“No. She’s much more capable than you realize,” Casey said, not giving him the chance to continue. “You’re dismissed. Make no decisions without contacting me first.”

“You don’t have that authority!”

“Mr. Heath, I have the power to send you back to Vale at my whim. Brennor is losing favor. Who do you think will help pick up the pieces of this mess? Get out of my office before I hand you over to the Houle for prison sentencing.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me, Mr. Heath. Vanessa won’t be the only one you’ve underestimated.”

“Sir do you know why we are stopping you?” PC Oberon asked by the side of the road. “I’ve done nothing wrong, Officer. I don’t know why I’m being detained. I wasn’t speeding.” Grinning broadly, Jack drummed his fingers on his steering wheel to the beat of the music playing on the radio. Wiry and young, the driver had a mop of inky black hair topped with a cap at a rakish angle. “Can I see your license, registration, and proof of insurance?” The cop kept his tone neutral but his eyes sharp. He took in the cluttered car complete with empty food wrappers and opened cans of chili. The driver rooted through a gym bag and pulled out a few cards. “Here you go officer. May I ask what’s the hold up? I have to see a guy about a horse.” “Sir, it says here your name is Tom,” the cop spoke carefully. “Sure sure you can call me Thomas, you can call me Tommy, but just don’t call me late to dinner.” Forced laughter blared from the station wagon. Oberon walked around the vehicle. “Step out of the vehicle, sir.” The driver spluttered. “Sir this license says you are a 47 year old ginger and 6 inches tall.” “I grew.” PC Oberon sighed heavily. “Also we have been getting reports all night about someone matching your description prowling around around the Fairy Hill district.” “Prowling me, I spent the whole night with my best mates, Spratt and Be Nimble, eating buffalo wings and watching the big game. Honest to God, Officer.” “Dispatch also got a call regarding a breakin at the FeeFiFoFums’ house. Something about golden eggs, and a big golden egg laying goose. A goose very similar to the bird you have duck-taped in that gym bag.” “Won’t that be goose taped?” the driver chortled. “That gander came with the car, hand to heart.” “I can also see a beanstalk stained axe on your backseat that appears to be related to the cut marks on the giants’ beanstalk.” PC Oberon made notes in his book. “Well who are you going to believe me or your lying eyes,” The driver said. “That was the worst assassination attempt I’ve seen. Have you ever even cut down a giant magical beanstalk? You have use a magic chainsaw. Eveyone know that.” The driver shrugged. The goose wiggled out of the gym bag and hopped on to the passenger seat. She laid a golden egg. “Step out the vehicle, sir.”

The streetlights pour into her room. Her tan body sprawled across the bed, a duvet barely covering her body. A woman sitting at the foot of the bed, her hands covering her face. Malva perks up to look over at him.

“What’s the matter, Azazel ?” Malva uttered.

Azazel shook her head, as she leaned over to stroke the other’s curls.

“Don’t worry about it. . . .”

Malva gently rubs Azazel’s hip, pulling out a knife.

“That was the worst assassination attempt I’ve ever seen

“Bring that idiot in,” the King grumbled.

The king’s royal jester giggled and tap danced. “Oh this is getting good,” he laughed.

“He’s being tortured at the moment, Sir.” Reminded one of the King’s aides.

“Well stop it and bring him up here! Am I surrounded by dolts?”

The Royal Assassin, a little worse for wear, was carried up to the King’s chambers.

“Look, I’m sorry, your Highness,” the exhausted servant started.

“Silence! I asked you to kill off my rival, not his wife! That was the worst assassination attempt I’ve seen!”

“Who do you think gave him the idea to oppose you?”

“That was the worst assassination attempt I’ve seen”

“I couldn’t bring myself to die”

They smile bitterly at each other, those words meaning more to the pair than they could ever speak aloud.

“What the hell was that Cal?” Jeremy had reset himself from a ducking position returning his hands to his side. His ears still ringing from the the gun shot.
“I don’t know, I thought shooting him in the stomach would have killed him instantly” Cal lowers the shotgun.
“Really, please tell me you’re joking?” Jeremy looks at Cal with a puzzle expression. “Don’t you watch any action movies?” A groan comes from man in the hotdog costume, “Uuuuuuggggggghhhhhhh!!!” Cal scratches his head, “not that I can remember” “Are you high right now?”, Jeremy became exasperated. “I’m sorry, but you know I get doing jobs like this,” Cal loads one more in the chamber. B-A-A-M-M-M-M-M!!!!!!!! “STOP FUCKING SHOOTING HIM!!!!” Jeremy shouts at Cal taking the shotgun from him as the hotdog man takes his finally breath. “Sorry!” Jeremy scratches his head and sighs, “this is the worst assassination attempt I’ve seen”