The rafters in the church were deep in shadow, with cobwebs and dust gathering on the beams. The time was five in the morning; far earlier than the church service that would be held at nine. The city was still mostly asleep. Only guards and the occasional early bird would be awake at this time. There was a small creak of noise in the rafters.

Xerihan settled himself onto the narrow beam, absentmindedly rubbing his metal claws together. The sound was miniscule, but still unwarranted. 

“Xeri… your claws,” whispered the gryphon on the opposite rafter. Xerihan looked at the soldier accompanying him; his name was Ricket, an old friend of Xerihan’s. The soldier held a bow and arrow, the smooth wood ruffled against his white feathers. A normal looking gryphon, heavily built from being a soldier. He had a tough time sneaking around, but he learned quickly. Moreover, he was as loyal a friend as Xerihan could imagine; the assassin was glad his friend had defected from the gryphon army. Ricket pawed the beam, getting Xerihan’s attention again. 

“You good, boss?” Ricket whispered again. Xerihan nodded.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Just jittery is all.”

Ricket nodded in understanding; while this wouldn’t be a hard kill, it was necessary to perform it to perfection. Any mistake might bring the city watch on them, seeing as they were in the middle of the city inside one of the more popular churches. Xerihan sighed, then pulled out a small pouch. He opened it, and grabbed a pinch of the white substance within. Salt.

Xerihan lifted up his bronze Jester mask, and quickly sniffed up the illicit substance. The drug took effect almost immediately. The assassin felt himself calm down, and he grew focused on the task at hand. He wasn’t compromised by the drug, nor did he feel any high; he had long grown used to the substance. For now, it served to make him concentrate and observe the most minute detail.

[b]5:15 am[/b]

Xerihan glanced down below, looking at the darkened pews. A typical church, with oaken seating for the congregation, and an simple, golden altar where the priest would stand. Xerihan let his eyes wander, and he eventually found his gaze drifting to his fellow Jester below. 

The Jester was an earth pony. His coat was dark blue, his mane short and black. He stood behind a pillar, right next to the entrance. His name was Snap Freeze, and it fit him well. The assassin had a deep, grainy voice that came from infrequent use, and his focus on completing his missions was unmatched. Even better, he could slowly drain the warmth from an enemy’s body - too slow for combat, but excellent for interrogation and torture.

Xerihan mulled over what they were supposed to do. Two weeks ago, a priest started raising ponies’ hopes, and urged them to take up arms against the Cult that had infested the city. While he was no different from any of the other White Knights that had tried to not-so-subtly rid Trottingham of the Cult, he had been one of the most outspoken in recent years. Xerihan thought that he might have moved to Trottingham from elsewhere; he was a very brazen orator, and most residents of the city were not so keen on disturbing the proverbial sleeping bear that was the Cult of Laughter.

As for their objective: ambush and kill the priest when he walked in to the church. He would be preparing for the morning sermon, and he would be there early enough that there was very little chance of an interruption. After they killed him, they would make an example of him - as was Xerihan’s custom.

All they had to do was wait a little longer.

[b]5:30 am[/b]

Snap Freeze tapped on the pillar. Getting the attention of Xerihan and Ricket, he nodded once and pressed himself against the pillar. He was absolutely still.

Xerihan and Ricket tensed their muscles, ready to strike.

The door to the church unlocked, and in walked the priest. A pegasus of medium build, who was getting on in years. Then, in walked another two ponies - another pegasus and an earth pony. Xerihan mentally swore. Snap Freeze looked at the rafters, waiting for a signal or some order. Xerihan motioned with his claws to silently kill the last to walk in. Then, he motioned at Ricket to get ready to shoot at the second follower. He waited.

The priest and his pegasus follower walked in through the pews toward the altar. The priest called back to the earth pony, “Clear Cut, can you start opening the curtains? I’d like some light in here.”

The earth pony, who was in the process of locking the door, answered back, “Yes sir.” The door locked. The earth pony turned to walk to the window when he was forcefully dragged behind the pillar. Snap Freeze slit his throat with a dagger, then laid the body down silently. If one wasn’t listening for the slide of a blade or the soft gasps of a life fading away, one would never have known there was a murder.

The priest and his follower were still walking. Xerihan motioned to Ricket, who loosed an arrow at the follower. The target dropped instantly, the arrow sticking out of his eye. The priest heard the thud of a body collapsing, and when he saw the body he jumped in fright. Before he could scream or yell, Xerihan slammed him into the ground. The priest struggled for only a few moments before he lost consciousness.

* * * * *

When the priest reawakened, he was bound and gagged. He could see Snap Freeze cooling the bodies of his followers, and set them so that they appeared to be hunched over in prayer in the pews. Ricket was perched atop one of the statues in the room, a bow held loosely in his claws with an arrow ready to be drawn and released at a moment’s notice. And right in front of the priest stood Xerihan, the wiry gryphon absent mindedly sharpening his metal claws. The priest began to struggle against the rope, and he tried to scream. Xerihan heard and looked at the priest. The latter stopped, trembling in fear at the sight of the assassin in front of him.

Xerihan grinned cruelly underneath his mask, sitting right in front of the priest. He grabbed the pony’s face and forced him to look straight at him. When Xerihan spoke, his voice was dark and malicious, partially muffled by his bronze mask.

“Do you know who I am, priest?” Xerihan asked. The priest shook his head slowly, as much as he could while being gripped. Xerihan chuckled, and he removed the priest's gag.

“Like I thought. You’re an outsider here. Well, I am known as the Guidon of Joy… the assassin employed by this city’s branch of the Cult of Laughter. That you’ve heard of, I’m sure?” The priest’s eyes widened. Xerihan continued.

“Yes, of course you have. You’ve been trying to rouse the citizens, have them take arms against us. You didn’t really think there would be no consequences, hmm?”

The priest shuddered heavily, then finally spoke. “These people deserve better than this! There is war in this country, and they don’t need some two-bit thugs terrorizing them even more! If I could, I would-” he was cut off by Xerihan clenching his claws on the priest’s neck. The assassin leaned in so his mask was inches away from the pastor’s face.

“That’s where you’re wrong, priest. They don’t deserve better. In fact, I’d say we’re doing them a favor. The Cult offers eternal happiness, after all. A way to become immortal. A gift that we are about to bestow on you. You will be… an example.” Xerihan loosened his grip and stepped back. The priest gulped, his throat constricting in terror. 

Xerihan flexed his prosthetic claws, inspecting them with an unnatural amount of attention. “Just like an artist who paints his days away, or a writer who slaves away with his pens, I desire to make a masterpiece.” 

He drew close, putting all of the talons on his right arm onto the priest’s chest. He pressed in hard enough to draw blood. 

“And you, my dear pastor? You will be my canvas.”

The priest yelled. “No! Please, don’t do this, I won’t do anything again, please let me go! Please, don’t-!”

* * * * *

[b]6:00 am[/b]

The door was unlocked. When the first ponies to arrive for the morning’s congregation arrived, they would find the priest and his two assistants dead. The assistants would be in the pews, their heads bowed down and their throats slit. They would have smiles cut into their mouths. As for the priest, he would be suspended right above the altar. His wings would be pierced through, rope stretching them out and attached to the wall so that his body would be hung by those extra appendages. His chest and legs would be marred by dozens upon dozens of cuts, each bleeding slowly and painting him in red. And on his face would be his last scream. 

The end result resembled an angel in torment.

Xerihan and Ricket flew low over the rooftops, with Snap Freeze keeping pace right below them. They picked a path that would allow Snap to follow with relative ease while heading back to their hideout. Ricket grumbled. “You didn’t have to take that long scaring and torturing him, Xeri.”

Xerihan shrugged while he flew. “It’s fine, Ricket. We got away before anyone saw. Besides, I needed to set an example. A target that defies the Cult isn’t allowed a clean death. And with the way we set that up - priceless, haha!” he laughed.

Ricket huffed in annoyance. “Doesn’t seem professional, is all.”

Beneath them, Snap Freeze answered for Xerihan. “We performed the first part of that assignment perfectly. If the boss wanted to, we could have been out of there in a minute. But the mark of a true professional is one who can get the job done right and still make a statement. We did well with this target,” he said dispassionately.

Xerihan didn’t say anything else; Snap had answered for him perfectly. He simply flew along, following the route offered by the rooftops. Ahead, he saw a shooting star. He chuckled. “Hey fellas, shooting star. Make a wish.”

Ricket laughed humorlessly. “I wish that we’ll be able to sleep in today. We stayed up too long for that target, if you ask me.”

Snap Freeze answered in his typical no-nonsense manner. “I wish that we will have the opportunity to prove the Cult is the dominant force in Equestria.”

Xerihan hummed, keeping his thoughts to himself. [i]Both good answers. Let me see… I wish that I can keep living this life forever. Easy assassinations, praise from my superiors and fear from the commoners below. Yeah, that sounds just about right…[/i]

Ricket interrupted his thoughts. “How about you, Xeri? You gotta wish?” 

Xerihan nodded, and smiled underneath his mask. “Just that we can keep doing this for as long as we live. It’s a good life.”

Ahead, the shooting star was accompanied by several others. Each went lower and lower, not disappearing. Xerihan looked on with curiosity. That’s odd. Shouldn’t they be disappearing already...?

Snap Freeze spoke up. “Boss? Ricket? Need a hand here.”

The trio had almost reached their hideout. All they had to do was get across the street. Xerihan and Ricket grunted as they grabbed Snap Freeze and quickly flew across the street. They reached their hideout, and subsequently their beds. 

It was another successful hit in a string of almost one hundred targeted murders in five years. In less than three months, that streak would be ruined. But by then, their success rate wouldn’t really matter anymore.