Heartbreaker

It is recommended that you read Stay Frosty and Time to Make the Donuts before you read this story, in that order. This story is part of the collection Tales from Universe 6.

Story
Frost’s induction as the new leader of the Peace Force sent a shock through the whole organization. Some doubted Frost for his lack of experience, while others insisted that someone as noble as Frigor must’ve done a fine job raising his son, and that he would be a perfect replacement.

A scant few members of the Force knew the truth about Frost, however. Dangyu, one of the high-ranking members, was suspicious of Frigor’s untimely death, and left the organization as soon as his son took power. Danyu was found dead in a bar a few months later. The official report insisted that he drank himself to death, but witnesses insisted that it’d been the legendary assassin Hit.

Pitaya was directly told that Frost had killed his father, by Frost himself. Pitaya was put in charge after Frigor’s death, as he was his closest friend. Frost contacted him immediately, telling him that he had “murdered the old fool,” and that he should be put in charge once he reached adulthood.

Pitaya wasn’t sure why the young boy had confessed his crime to him. He had no reason to believe that Pitaya would keep his secret. He had every reason to believe the opposite, as Pitaya was fiercely loyal to Frigor. Perhaps the boy was simply frightfully intelligent, and able to read Pitaya perfectly, as Pitaya never did exposed his crimes to the organization. Pitaya was a paranoid old soul, and if Frigor’s child could murder the indomitable warrior and get away with it, there was no telling what he could do to Pitaya himself if he got on his bad side.

Pitaya remained mum about the murder, and placed Frost on the line of succession. Once Frost was put in charge, Pitaya resumed his position of second-in-command. He remained the only member of the Force to know about his patricidal incident, and that he was playing both sides, and engineering disasters for the organization to fix.

Frost seemed comfortable confessing other things to him as well.

“I feel like I’ve crossed a threshold, Pitaya,” he said, unprovoked, as Pitaya walked into his chambers one day.

“What do you mean, Lord Frost?”

“The cruelty of living things no longer surprises me. I was raised to be repulsed by evil, and yet, atrocities now mean little more to me than purchasing a glass of wine, now that I’ve incited them myself so many times. Simply a financial transaction, nothing more, and nothing less. And like this wine, it’s beginning to lose its flavor.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

Frost sighed. “That’s my way of telling you to buy a new brand of wine, Pitaya.”

When the news of Dangyu’s death reached Pitaya, his body was immediately wracked with a wave of hot, spiky paranoia. He knew this wasn’t an accident. Although Dangyu didn’t know about Frost’s crimes exactly, he did suspect something when Frigor died, and as a former high-ranking Peace Force officer, he was the only one who posed a threat to Frost’s authority. Well, not the only one, Pitaya was a potential liability too, as he knew all of Frost’s secrets, and was still admired and respected by many Peace Force soldiers. If he wanted to, he could expose Frost, and attempt to take the Force back from him, although he never would. Just the thought of doing such a thing made him break out into a cold sweat.

Dangyu was dead. He couldn’t possibly be next, could he?

No, Dangyu was a rogue. He never listened to orders, not even when Frigor was in charge. And he was always open about his disdain for Frost too. Pitaya was loyal, and had proven himself unwavering in his trustworthiness.

Plus, Dangyu was a drunk, and a bounty hunter. His death could easily be swept under the rug, but Pitaya was still a part of the Force. He couldn’t get away with killing both of them, right?

Pitaya spent several sleepless nights, with variations on these thoughts churning away in his head. Eventually, it was too much for him. Pitaya was a fleshy, fatty alien with orange-yellow skin, and was generally unappealing looking, and going several nights without any rest made him look noticeably worse.

Frost noticed this almost immediately, as Pitaya entered his chambers to give him his daily report.

“Poor Pitaya,” Frost said, his voice venomously sweet. “You look like a mess. Perhaps you should take a day or two off, and get some rest.”

“Lord Frost, I’ll be fine.”

“No, I insist. I need all of my men at absolute peak performance. You’re a fan of the opera, are you not?”

“Very much so, sir.”

“Excellent. I hear there’s a lovely show on a nearby planet. Perhaps I could buy you some tickets?”

“I would be endlessly grateful for such a thing, sir.”

The theater was hushed for an instant, and then, awash with sound as the opera began. Pitaya settled into his seat, an extra-large and partially well-cushioned piece of furniture reserved for special guests only. Pitaya was granted an exclusive booth in the balcony, with a perfect view of the show, and all of the patrons below.

The booth was secure, and there was no chance of someone sneaking up on Pitaya from the front, or below.

Pitaya allowed himself to relax. He sunk into the soft, velvet padding of his seat. He took a sip from the foamy white drink he kept on his armrest, a devilishly sweet alcoholic concoction that was partially responsible for his obesity.

The small drink he took was enough to make his heart rate spike almost immediately, but that was to be expected from something so saccharine and sugary.

The swelling music seemed to fill every square inch of the theater, and Pitaya was positively enraptured. The narrative was, fittingly enough, about a young prince who murdered his father to take his place on the throne. Pitaya wondered if this was simply coincidence, or if Frost had a twisted sense of humor.

His bliss was momentary, as he was taken out of his euphoria by a frightful sight.

For a moment, a single purple figure appeared in the sea of opera patrons beneath him. Now, Pitaya had no grudge against purple aliens, he wasn’t a space racist, certainly. But, there was a particular alien that he feared, that happened to be purple, and that alien was Hit.

He couldn’t possibly be here, could he? No, Frost was far too smart, he would never send an assassin to such a public place. The spot of Dangyu’s death was technically public too, but there was a world of difference between a shitty bar for criminals and an elegant, packed theater like this.

Perhaps he was just seeing things. His drink was strong, after all. He took another sip, to ease his nerves.

A final note was sung, and the curtains fell, as intermission was called. The attendees rushed out of their seats, presumably to empty their overly filled bladders. That was Pitaya’s purpose for leaving, at least, as he had finished his entire glass, and it seemed to go right through him.

His booth came with its own private bathroom, with a single toilet and a single urinal. The walls were painted a shade of soft pink, and the entire room smelled of berries. Pitaya took a piss that lasted for nearly an entire minute. Once he was done, he felt as though he had lost ten pounds.

He noticed that his heart was still pounding in his chest, more forcefully than ever.

“You need to calm down, Pitaya,” he said, as he washed his hands, staring at his own droopy visage in the mirror.

For a moment, another face appeared beside his. This time, the image was unmistakable. The stern expression, the purple skin, the dome-like face, those eyes filled with unfathomable determination...this was undoubtedly the face of the assassin, Hit.

And, just as soon as it had appeared, the face was gone.

“Leave me alone!” Pitaya said, whipping his body around, to face the hitman head-on. And yet, nobody was there.

“D-damn,” Pitaya said, panting. His face was drenched in sweat, and his heart continued to pulse within him like a furious war drum.

“You’re seeing things, Pitaya,” he said, splashing his face with water, and wiping away the sweat with a towel.

Pitaya returned to his seat, just as the show resumed. His heartbeat didn’t seem to be slowing down, no matter how much he leaned back in his chair, and tried to empty his mind.

The second act started with the prince killing off his father’s former associates, and any witnesses to the murder of his father, one by one.

“This...it’s just a coincidence,” Pitaya wheezed to himself.

“You’re going crazy...Frost was right, you need a break, you need to relax.”

Pitaya promised himself that he would remain fixated on the opera. He wouldn’t go to the bathroom, or look at the audience below, not once.

The second act drew to a close. The last of the prince’s enemies were dead, and his rule was unopposed.

For a split-second, the actors on the stage were joined by another member, in a long trench coat. He turned his steely gaze upwards, and Pitaya was certain that he was looking directly at him.

“No-no!” Pitaya said weakly. His chest tightened around his rampaging heart, that was now beating out of control. The prince was in the middle of his song, a high-tempo melody that seemed to sync-up perfectly with Pitaya’s pulse.

“Leave me alone! You can’t kill me, not here!”

Pitaya’s eyes darted around the theater. Everywhere he looked, Hit would appear for a flash, before vanishing, only to reappear back in his line of site.

“I don’t deserve this! I was loyal to you! I didn’t question you, not once!”

The prince finally reached the end of his song, with a high note powerful enough to shake the ceiling. The curtain fell, and the audience sprung up in uproarious applause.

All except Pitaya, who fell out of his seat, his heart pounding a few more times before it stopped completely.

“You did an excellent job once again,” Frost said, as the tall being entered his chambers.

“Thank you,” Hit replied flatly.

“I know I asked for an unconventional assassination this time, but I couldn’t make it obvious that you killed both of them, otherwise people would start to get suspicious. But Pitaya, well, he was old, overweight, and tragically paranoid. It was only a matter of time before he had a heart attack, wouldn’t you say?”

Hit was silent.

“And I’m sorry that I had to poison him beforehand. I wasn’t doubting your talent, I simply wanted to make sure that Pitaya’s heart was as strained as possible, just to ensure that everything went smoothly.”

“Where’s my money?” Hit asked.

“Right here,” Frost said, handing him a suitcase. Hit popped it open, and shuffled through it. The staggering amount that Frost had promised him was all there, it seemed.

“Thank you,” Hit said.

“You know, I’ve always heard that you defeat all of your targets with only one hit. This is the first time you’ve killed them with zero, is it not?”

Hit was silent once again, as he left with the suitcase tucked underneath his arm.

“Tsk, no fun,” Frost said as the door closed behind him.