It was wonderfully expected. The lighting, the formation she and Bryant took as they rolled through the corridors, the line-ups of bodyguards with appropriately impression’ed firearms dressed in black and leather. There was a predictable green tint to the regular drip of a leaky tap or pipe and, when they finally arrived at the forceless base of the station, the centre was a thinning geek with sexy women draped over his hair. It was a kick in the teeth but they didn’t love him so it was okay. His eyes were black and smiling. Always smiling. She was in a foul mood, ‘though, and in no place of mind for balance.
He laughed first, hehe, and shouted a vague greeting before he was interrupted.
‘Where is she?’
‘Oh, Vixeny, such a beautifulcationary whoah’man – and you deliver the best murder! I love murder, murder death, death by murder. Isn’t it? Even with your stupid disease and coward pal. But I ain’t got answers for sows who come storm and got mannerismationary of feck bean! "Where is sow two!" she asks! Ha!’
His name was Captain Yes/ No and he was an informant. Obviously a successful one and a fond fan of films. But success was clearly getting to his head and he let too many people know about him. Everyone around him was in a purposeful position to kill him and he didn’t seem to realise, or mind. So he was a crazy one and somehow was useful enough to stay alive.
‘… what’s wrong with my dress?’
‘It’s a feckin’ gorgeous disease, disease it is but it ain’t what professional wanna have to look. Long red make you seen in the City and seen ain’t what murder whoah’man wants, is it? ‘sides, how you gonna find to carry your stuff with you? Least your cowardly pal’s got the mind to wear trousers with lorra pocks for his pills and drugs and guns and paper.’
Vixen VS was getting sparked, she wasn’t used to dealing with pearl sufferers, drug addicts who have developed an addiction and a lingo to cut the tone with. John the Musical Universe is going to drive her insane, when they meet. Bryant, on the other hand, was more than expecting this. He knew that the vast majority of residents in the city were pearl users, he even knew so far as to vaguely talk the Speak, a formal amalgamation of the Talk and the Chant used by non-users. It was a passable form of the language, some addicts let this bastardised version free, others tend to recoil. Vixen didn’t even realise it existed and was mildly surprised when he spoke.
‘Yeah, coward should him but I got smarts and I got a mind to kill without accounting a trigger. Pulling a trigger make boom in your face and you got it marked to face. I got a trigger and I no need be, because my pal will pull for me.’
‘Likes to hide a’hind a girl-murderer! Girl-murderer’s his hoxy, is she? So why’s she come storm ‘n and spark a quote for question ‘fore your fecked Speak got mentioning, eh?’
We’ve played this wrong from the start, he thinks and sudders, bloody woman’s gone and got him angry. You come in, courteous and offer a prize. Offer a prize with worth and he’ll worth something back.
‘Speak got culled because my pal is further sparked and stormed. And she is no one's hoxy. Mind? Chums? We come with direction and gifts of prize.’
Captain Yes/ No stroked his chin while the sexy left his head to sidle aside and his various bodyguards watched with perverse interest. He wore glasses but was entirely blind and was a successful informant because of another side-effect of the pearl. But he was going to die soon. Best encourage his know quickly.
‘Gifts? Prizes? Pull out, quicksharp and without toll, now now!’
As Bryant revealed a plan of one of his many plans for experimental weaponry as an offering, Vixen slowly inched towards the wall. She was clearly out of her league, not being used to dealing with informants or addicts and didn’t fully understand what the pearl was or what it did to a mind. Her red dress was starting to feel sticky in the green damp and her left arm was itching. Their discussion continued for several minutes, Bryant occasionally pausing for his mind to translate the excessive Talk Captain Yes/ No elaborated and to allow his own substandard control of the Speak to direct. It was difficult work, doing nothing when she knew she had a safe chance of handling the room. ‘course, she didn’t really, not when you put smarts to it but she was cocky and heated head and fingers flexing for a trigger. Eventually Captain Yes/ No beckoned her towards.
‘He’ll only speak to you, Vixen. He won’t share with me, you’re the client.’ She took casual steps, steadying her mind and hoping Bryant found some way of listening in. She didn’t trust herself to translate.
‘So your sow two’s gone in troub ‘cause she fecked up bad, real bad! That soul can she whacked out with for sow one’s location, back in the beginning, that is precious to so and some jazz doctor bastard’s got it and is gettin’ heated off’a it in a put-soup-can but he’s comin’ ta ya and your two, keep an eye is his job ‘cause he got the spill end of the bargain! Take pearl but ain’t got nothun’ but a mindless to show! Plus she’s deathly dyin’ a murder real slow and in mad but I ain’t gonna share more ‘cause it’s hilarious! Fun fun fun! You gotta meet, soon sow one! Meet sow two in your flash disease and wait ‘til you got her face in mind and listen to that sumptuous voice she’s acquired! Haha!’
Vixen clutched his face and pulled him towards hers, Captain Yes/ No’s guards raised their guns but he kept laughing, muffled and hateful.
‘Kill! Yes! Murder-girl! That’s all you got, got nothin’ but a mind to death, no soul or nothin’ and now no sow two! She’s fecked! So play! Go!’

‘He told me she’s heading back to your… ahem, “’neathground Hideyhidey.” He wanted to see your reaction when he refused to help more. It isn’t found business to refuse after a gift, even a pearl addict knows. If you wanna see her before ‘The Boss’, might be best if we start now. Vixen?’
It just reached her yet, beneath the nothing-prose and hollowness of the Talk. It’s possible she didn’t even realise what he said until she was outside, cradling an arm bleeding profusely and her dress ripped at the side. He said she was deathly dying a murder real slow. Siren was dying? Siren’s being murdered? What did it mean? Vixen was notably worried.
Siren, on the other hand, had reached their Underground Hideaway, and pulled a stop by the gates a’fore shouting Russian curses at a cat that tried to split her diaphragm but it was too chewy. She was fast running out of stomachstuff, the hole in her stomach becoming firm and secure, it’d stopped bleeding but she wasn’t sure what was left with her. Her mind was swimming and her eyes saw a recognise but nothing else. A sheer miracle, how she reached their Underground but many specialise in miracles.
She was lost and broken, crying nothing and wanting to see sow one fastquick. So she stepped inside real quiet and waited, leaving the cat with the Russian and chewy.

X sat in outside on the bench that lay across the street from the large office complex. This was indeed a lot more interesting than he had first imagined. He glanced back down the street to his car parked between two ram shackled hunks of metal…not out of place at all…he thought sarcastically. He pulled his jacket around him and checked the 9mm lodged deep in the recesses. He clicked the safety on and off rhythmically, he always did this when he was nervous. X looked down at his wrist watch, there was a lot more he’d have to find out before the night was over. He stood and looked to the office entrance, no point sitting out in the cold.

A moment later he was in the lobby of a quite average looking building. It was my no means remarkable, the faded paper and somewhat dim lights only just illuminating the hallways that led off of the ground floor. He checked himself, remembering the light that had switched on from the outside, fourth floor, East end of the building. He walked to a large desk that sat beside the elevators; no-one seemed to be around, not a security guard in sight. He leant over and looked at the surface, a few papers, an odd note scribbled on yellowing paper, but nothing more. At least he would get up there without anyone knowing. He stared around again and looked outside through the glass doors. A drunkard made his way home; no-one would see him here. He looked to the elevators and pressed the call button, the rhythmic hum of motors above him told him it was on the way down.

Half way up, on the second floor X stopped the elevator, the emergency alarm ringing for a second before dying, thank God for bad maintenance. He looked up and grabbed hold of the rim of the hatch that led above him. He pulled himself higher and pushed it open slowly, hearing it clang on the roof as it fell backwards. X pulled himself up through the hole and rested for a second, not too hard a climb now. A moment later he was clasping hold of the metal cables, hoisting himself up to the fourth floor doors. He reached it and hung below it, this was where it got tricky.

Suddenly, the doors started to grind above his head and slowly slid open, a mans head poked through a narrow slit and looked down into the shaft. X couldn’t believe his luck. In the second before the mans head turned to look to where he was, he slid the 9mm from his jacket and let of two whispering shots into the mans head. He heard the body collapse in the hallway outside. Grunting, X pulled himself onto the ledge and squeezed through the narrow gap, he panted for a second, and looked down at the body on the floor, it was an old janitor, a look of calm no on his face. X bent down and closed his eyes, he wasn’t a monster, or at least that’s what he told himself.

Meanwhile down the corridor, locked in his office, Shadow’s ears pricked. The thud of something falling in the corridor outside. He could hear the mans voice in his ear still, but something was telling him it was all wrong.

“Hold on” he said and placed the phone down on the tabletops and pulled his Smith & Wesson up into his hands.

Shadow checked it, and moved to the door. It could just be Jack, but there was no harm in taking precautions, especially in this line of work. He moved his hand to the doorknob and turned it slowly, making sure to cause as little noise as possible. He peered down the corridor through the crack in the doorway, there were two people by the elevator, one slouched against the wall, the other standing over the body a 9mm in hand, the other closed over the mans eyes.

Shadow had seen enough, he slammed through the door and pointed his revolver at the mans head. “Who the hell” – he paused as the man stood straight – “Are you?”

It starts with her feet, tiny steps as she caresses the walls. She sniffs the air and the warm, inviting stench of blood and bread compels her to stay but she knows she probably shouldn’t. Whoever shot her was most likely going to realise she was still alive soon enough and she tried to craft together some thoughtless memories; of tall handsome men and women standing over her unseen and of a burst of music in her eyes. Someone had obviously gone through her possessions but left enough to make sure she could safely walk out unnoticed. Well, kinda.
It starts with her feet, tiny steps as she gently lowers herself on the cold steps outside because they took her boots and her toes glow sundry pink in the shroud of the fading neon sign outside, labelled “carrion house! come for the food, stay for the service!” She doesn’t notice the lack of capitalised letters.
It starts with her feet, tiny steps as she dances across the still street with its still air and wonders where the sky’s at but her stomach starts leaking again. She casts a glance or two, peering for a bandage of sorts but there’s nothing but dry oil and flash cars lining the streets and the rain avoids her head. She can hear the bird songs.
It starts with her feet, tiny steps as she’s getting light-headed and starts looking for shelter or transport to her secret Underground Hideaway but the tube train’s on strike again and there isn’t a direct line anyway – she hates changing lines, she thinks.
It starts with her feet, tiny steps as she smashes the window of a GT but the siren sparks and she screams – its too loud – it infuriates her stomach and her pancreas shudders and falls. She tries to pick it back up but she isn’t used to the touch and repels. There isn’t any time to try again, the owner forces out and flees his way to his shiny baby, pulling a dusty gun and aiming square at her feet before noticing her broken body and flights away with a roar with his wee babe. She leaves it for dogs to eat.
It starts with her feet, tiny steps as she can’t quite grasp real or her thoughts, she thinks and worries. It ain’t normal, even for us, thinking like this and having a significant hole in your stomach but it’s happened. She sinks back to the grey and starts walking back to their Underground Hideaway instead.

Bryant was crying disturbingly loudly in the back of the Celica, Vixen was a vicious driver and steadily streamed through the traffic and gleefully lined the side of a copper with the backend, she hated the force of law, they just got in the way of her business. She wasn’t sure why she was driving so vibrantly; they sure as sure couldn’t use the attention for anything and with armed men waiting out for them it could quite be a mistake but she wanted to draw them out. She didn’t have any leads besides what Bryant had informed and had lost Siren for a shot in the blind and, business is business, had to start her next assignment.
‘Its like being back in school, but more patronising.’
‘Yeah but you couldn’t get away with wearing dresses like that back then.’
The car slipped through the alleyways like drunken fish and careened into a novel collection of cardboard boxes that split and cascaded. She turned back, eyes on fire and a mind set on some killing. She was angry, furious and lost.
‘… what now?’
‘Well, “The Boss” wanted to see both of you. Supposing either you go look for your partner in crime or you see him on your own. You need leads, you haven’t got none.’ He started sweating for some reason. He was either hiding something or deeply afraid of the torrential girl sat in front. She’s still so young, he thinks once in a time, so young to start a murder business.
You want leads, you go to an informant. Someone stupid or constantly drunk enough to sell information about other people. The only thing protecting them from men and women with grudges and guns is that their usefulness outweighs how impossibly dangerous they can be. They’re all crazy, like a lot of people in town, and they’re difficult to find. But there aren’t options for many people and for all her girl-power strength and explosive weaponry, she’d run square out of options.

John the Musical Universe, on the other hand, was box crazy but full of options. At the moment, he was untying the knots on Siren’s boots before peeling away at the sole and offering it to the oncoming train. He stands on the tracks and it impacts his face before crushing his nose and shattering his eyeballs. His skull remains intact, bizarrely but his brain has disintegrated and powdered down to a fine ooze. The train gleefully accepts the sole of the boot, however, and continues surging through the shallow shade with a slap of plastic’y leather strapped to the front. The Musical Universe’s top hat is ripped by the front and his coat is now dirty and broken.
He stands, right arm smashed into three and eyes not yet recovered but his arm is bleeding and the needle won’t leave. He wants to think he’s doped up and dying but he isn’t really, he’s in a cafe playing Spy and sights a meet ‘tween folk not long for the day and judges them. He’s angry because supposed to be doped on pearls by now!
‘Keep ta windows, pillock, you don’t wanna meet in unsight with stranger. Stranger could kill with thought and metal mind and he’s not trusted folk to say “let’s meet away from folk who see”, hic, street kid children playing games they ain’t got no metal mind to, gotta have metal mind, gotta have mind unfazed by stuff! Stuff’ll kill, if you know! Gotta know!’
He can’t hear what they’re saying but knows everything because he’s like that and follows them outside before discreetly groping for his trumpet, a sense of security because he saw the sniper he recognises as having no proper Secret and laughs loudly on drink and severe drugs. They look a business and move away on their lonesome in flash and noise, even X follows. ‘sides his trumpet, John the Musical Universe ain’t got no flash or noise, just a broke put-put to creep into the deep. He kicks the back and she purrs with a smoker’s cough ‘fore put-putting her readiness.
‘I ain’t followin’! I ain’t even a’pposed to be here! I gotta keep looksee out on the wee sweets, they’coulda be lost without John’s music. And I lost my music when I don’t got my pearls. Gotta take my pearls, gotta find the sweets, gotta make sure they don’t find ‘ch’other, gotta keep them from form work.’

X swore as the man AT Ada drove away, he had wanted to finish what he started a few hours ago but now he wasn’t going to get a chance. He flicked the laser mic on his rifle off and the electronic data surged down the small cables into a waiting memory chip. He would listen to it again later, but this was getting more than he could handle. He slipped it into his pocket and looked back down into the street. The unidentified man was walking back to his suave DB9, something clutched in his hands. X focused the rifle and saw a gleaming handgun in his hands, what on earth was going on here?

He lined up a shot at his chest, but thought better of it. These people he was after seemed important to someone, maybe he could even pick up the reward if it came down to it. Little did X know how deep into this he had planted himself. He slung his rifle over his back and glanced back at the mans car, he stored the number of the registration in his head and jumped down the fire escape behind him, slamming onto the levels before he landed hard on the gravelled alley way below him. He heard the moan of tyres on the tarmac; he would need to act fast. He sprinted out and ducked behind the boot of the car as it revved, he slipped a small disc onto the underside and shrank back into the shadows of a nearby doorway. The tracker was planted; he’d know everywhere this guy was going now, that was…if he lost him.

He pulled a small key ring from his jean pocket and clicked it twice. Down the street a sleek sports car flashed its lights. X cast a look back at the disappearing car and sprinted to his own, slinging his rifle on the back seat and clicking the auto-start button. The engine revved and roared into life. He looked in the mirror and pulled out, tyres burning as he accelerated after his newest quarry, At Ada would have to wait. He looked down on the passenger seat at the mug shots he had been working from; he didn’t have names, save the one At Ada. He was sure he had taken out the one named Siren, but now he couldn’t be sure, he had had to escape the gunfire almost immediately, no time to check the kill.

He cricked his neck and looked down at the dashboard, the blinking light of the DB9 was tearing ahead of him, he put pedal to the metal and grimaced, he wasn’t giving up this easily.

Driving to the location with a growing feeling in his stomach, racing to the meet swerving in and out of traffic while doing 60 on a 40 knowing full well that he was breaking the law he had to get to the meet earlier to scout out the place for potential threats and routes.

As he pulled up to the location 10 minutes before the meet slowly looked around finding the faster way out of a fire-fight and were could they come from. Tacticly parking his car 10 feet away from the meet. 2 minutes to go shadow goes into the toilets of the allday cafe, making sure he is looking respectable and getting a drink of ice cold water to liven him up again then sits down in the corner of the cafe away from every window and near the fire exit.

As shadow looked up as the door shut saw a man walking towards him with his hand moving to his coat pocket, shadow started to move to his back reaching for his revolver.
"Stop, if you even try i will slit you'r throat were you sit and you wouldn't even know about it"
"Ok .............But how do you know who i am" Shadow said with a coll sounding voice
"Did you read in the news paper about the 'Ranzleberger Bridge Massacar" he said proudly
"Yes i read about it a bunch of low life scum gangs having a war"
"Correct but who killed all them low life scum"Smiling and pointing his fingure at himself
"But anyway back to business shadow, You need to find out about some people and i need to find them same people so how about you find them and i'll give you all the information you need"
"Ok but first your name?" Shadow stated
"My name...........Ada............AT Ada, just ring this number and i will be on my way "
Handing over a card with his number on it.
"Pleasure doing business with you"Gladly said Shadow
"Oh yer i almost forgot here take this, its a symbol of trust and loyalty you may use this item in any means nessacary but if you loose this special item i will kill you"
Handing over a very bright and shiny platinum handgun modified to the max every individual piece of the gun was put together by all different parts around the globe.

"Thank you" putting his hand out
Ada just walks away out of the door and into his Dodge Charger and roared it down the road until he vanished. Shadow slowly walked out to his car looking at this card while starting up his car and then just simply drove away...

It was 2am, Shadowsun stretched in his chair, he was so tired. He picked up his mug from the desk and took a long drink of the lukewarm liquid hoping the caffine would kick in sooner rather than later. He put the mug down and stared lazily at the papers strewn across his desk. All the papers described a team of two women and their known exploits, they were both described as 'dangerous' on more than one occasion. His client wanted Shadow to find out as much information as possible on the two of them and if possible contact them. He had no idea why he had to do this, apparantly it was 'need to know', but he was getting paid well for it so he wasn't complaining. All he had managed to find out so far was that they called themselves VS, whatever that meant, and were part of some larger organisation.

The phone in Shadow's pocket started to ring, 'Breath' by Breaking Benjamin cutting through the dark silence of the room and startling shadow. He picked the phone and slowly put it to his ear, "Hello?" A surprisingly upbeat voice came through the phone,
"I assume this is Shadowsun," they said knowingly, "I have information for you, meet me at the downtown cafe in twenty minutes." The phone went dead.

Shadow put down the phone, confused, he had been in this buisness long enough to know that no one gave away information that freely. He had a bad feeling about this but knew he would regret it if he didn't go. He got up and made sure he looked presentable, checking his dark shit and jeans were uncreased and that his mid-length brown hair was reasonably tidy and out of his eyes. He took his Smith & Wesson revolver out of the top drawer of his desk and put it in the back of his jeans and put on his long coat before leaving the office. He walked purposefully down the stairs, his coat billowing out behind him as he walked, his confidence returning after his brief moment of doubt.

He opened the door to the building car park, taking his keys out his pocket as he did so. He pressed a button on the keys and the lights of his DB9 flashed, briefly lighting the gloom of the dark car park. He got in and started the engine, it purred into life as always. He then drove out of the car park and sped towards his destination...

He stepped into the carrion house whistling a tune and clicking his fingers. He wore a lighting smile against the vomit-stained walls of the house and gently danced through the corridors, twirling his thin coat around him as often as opportunity would allow. It was new, which was unusual, and clean, which was equally bizarre, and his favourite colour, a resounding vibrant black. He adored his work; it was his and his alone. His box of treats for the Halloween children, his old father Time to the world and a half, his nothing when something wouldn’t do. It was necessary and without his work, he would be nothing. Whistling atop the stairs to the eleventh floor, he was so ecstatic he should have been impossible.
He burst through the doors, a trumpet to mouth and tooting a terrific solo before gasping for breathe and making strange, unidentifiable noises of wonderment. He breezed through the room with a tap routine he’d studied at his prime and stopped above Siren’s body, trumpet aimed squarely at her ears until he realised it’d have been wasted on her. So he sat down and stroked her dirty, tangled hair before peeling off the useless plaster and seeing her scratches had healed. He lifted her shirt just enough – enough to protect her privacy, John the Musical Universe isn’t some sick pervert who gawps at unconscious women – and saw that she still had that significant hole in her stomach. Her intestines were starting to leak and explore out and smell something vicious.
‘D’you like me top hat? ‘tis something fancy, no miss? “No luxuries!” my missus would cork and bound down the walls ‘til I drowned in noise but I passet’ed it and thought “there ain’t no such resisting of such beauty”, eh? I reckon that’s what your fancy man said to himself when he first glimpsed you. Still, gotta know when to shut the hell up, right? I’m jus’ here to wake your button nose up and nick your possessions ‘cause I got needs’n’all, like. Like this here ‘rrific top hat!
‘But you’res is a ‘ceptionally crazy one ‘cause someone blew this great big hole in you. Then you thought your mate was blown to stuff ‘cause you’re crazy! Crazier than self standing right here and that’s a big ball o’ crazy, I can warrant that! But you’re crazy and it’s real so we gotta be really careful with you.
‘But I know that X bloke, one of your people ain’t he? One without a proper Secret. I got a proper Secret, it’s John the Musical Universe! Pretty uncanny, no? My sweet amama gave me that and some foods afore she sent me off to start digging for my supper but I founds a trumpet and I been an assassin like almost everybody else ‘round here!… nah, I’m jus’ knocking your boots in a non-sexual way, I am. I ain’t no assassin, ain’t got the patience for that kinda rubbish. Jus’ a crazy musician. Anyways, I don’t get why your folk don’t choose no proper Secret. D’ya not wanna pay ya taxes or summi? Hehe, only jessin’ wit’ ya.’
It took a while for John the Musical Universe to realise that Siren, being unconscious, was not listening much. But he was right, she was crazy and just crazy enough to hear through nothing. He was loud enough. So he kept talking and she kept listening and he patched her up properly, readjusted the clock to display the correct time, which is of little importance, even washed her hair and said the word “eleven” eleven times because he was superstitious. Hopefully, because John the Musical Universe would have been a medical genius if he actually knew what he was doing or where he was, Siren would wake in eleven minutes – by which time, he would have introduced the magic of jazz to everybody else in the building and escaped – and she did.
Siren woke, her hair was clean and tangle-free but her hands hurt and there was this annoyingly large hole in her stomach. She tried to stand but her intestines felt unsteady so she swallowed her sense of fashion and tucked it further up to check her organs in check. She still had her gun but no magazine, still had her clothes but no wallet, still had her senses but no idea where she was. And, possibly most of all, she had lost the item she was sent to retrieve in exchange for Vixen VS’ location.
‘All this for nothing? Jesus Christ, for God’s sake!’

Vixen had never been so relieved to see someone in her life. The rain beat down upon her face, but through her blurred vision she saw her good friend and saviour Bryant who had skidded to a halt in his Silver pride and joy. There were no times for words to be exchanged, Bryant was assigned as her weapons specialist and creator, right now she was relying on him to provide some heavy duty artillery. The second that she was handed the grenade launcher she was loading it up and taking aim, she didn’t have a moment to mess around.

Vixen was both an assassin and a target at this moment in time, in her scope she tried to locate her prey but her vision was cruelly obscured by the rain that was lashing down. There was no sign of Siren but Vixen knew that she couldn’t waste time concerning herself over that right now, she was working, even friendship couldn’t come in the way of what she had to do.

Bryant watched as Vixen opened fire on the men standing far below, he didn’t know who they were or why VS had been assigned to carry our their immediate termination, as always he just played his part and collected his reward. His stomach surged and he fought back a wave of pain an nausia, he disgreatly pulled a small needle from out of his jacket pocket, injected himself quickly in the arm and allowed the medication to kick in. He had avoided throwing up, for now no questions would be raised.
“Don’t ever allow me to piss you off Vix” he said dryly as Vixen emptied all of her ammo in to the corpses of the targets bellow.
“Don’t ever do anything to piss me off then” she replied, smiling. “Any news from ‘The Boss’ regarding Siren’s present location?” she questioned, annoyance outweighing any concern. She packed up her guns and slowly undressed out of her black leather outfit revealing a blood red evening-dress underneath.
“Woah! How did you hide an outfit like that under there?” he smirked, she ignored him and repeated the question.
“No-one has heard anything of Siren since she went off to collect something for her previous mission, she was meant to be meeting up with you afterwards, ‘The Boss’ has something he needed to tell you both and wanted you both in the same place at the same time”. Bryant looked concerned “I’m sure that she is fine Vixen, both of you girls know how to take care of yourself”.
Vixen was un-easy, she didn’t like not knowing what was going on, she also didn’t like the feeling of worry that was building up inside her stomach. She thanked Bryant for helping her out but had to get moving as her next operation was about to commence. She double checked her reflection in the reflection of Bryant’s Celica and prepared herself to get going.

X concentrated and focused on the image through his rifle scope. He felt the chill of the night air press against his skin, and shivered slightly. He shook the feeling away and concentrated, he couldn’t lose his shot. X was of medium build, hunched over in a large black jacket and dark jeans. His hair was long, tied back behind his head; he didn’t need his hair in the way when he was ready for a hit. He took his eyes from the scope and picked up the radio from the gravelled roof of the high rise apartment. He clicked it on and tuned it to the right frequency.

“Target 1 is at the location, permission to act.” He pulled a pair of binoculars from the floor and gazed down into the lit office that lay across from his position.

The radio crackled back into life. “No go X, orders are to watch only.” The voice disappeared in a haze of static.

X swore under his breath and dropped the radio to the floor. This wasn’t what he signed up for when he left the military. The life of a sniper was a lonely one, but all he wanted was to pull the trigger again. He let the binoculars drop back around his neck and bent down to the scope again, adjusting the sights to get a better view. The electronic zoom whirred and the scene became clearer, damn thing had reset itself when he moved away. He hated these new rifles, but they did the job. The scene revealed two men, one sitting at a large old fashioned desk while the other handed something over to him in a large baggy. He zoomed in on it, and saw what unmistakably was blood seeping out of the bottom of the brown bag. Something was very wrong; this was meant to be a routine money drop.

He decided, there was no way he was going to let his target get away this time. He’d dealt with the previous target professionally and skilfully, if only the second shot had killed. He hadn’t wanted to stick around to see if the other woman had survived. Now, however he had a more important matter to attend to.

“Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight...” He whispered as he lined up the shot. He kissed the crucifix around his neck and waited until the man stopped moving.

But, just as he was about to pull the trigger, the man started moving too quick, shouting at the larger man behind the desk and slamming what looked like ancient katan blades into the wood surface.. ‘Screw this’ he thought. He looked down at the side of the rifle and clicked the fire mode to burst fire. He looked back into the scope…and pulled the trigger.

Meanwhile on the otherside of town all of the gangs where fighting for the rights to run the city in a all out war under the ranzleberger bridge, you had the Insiders, Rockville Riders, Baycity Bruisers and the Zanarkand Mafia. Bang a bullet out of one of the Bruisers colt straight into the head of one of the Rockville Riders, everybody hunting down everyone the smell of dirt, musk and smoke sourrounded the battlefield. Dead bodies hitting the ground, the lake nearby turn from murky brown to dark red in a matter of minutes.

That's when it happened a shadow filled person jumped off the bridge down to the thick of the brawl, still bent down on one knee all of the gangs looked scared and startled.
"It's him" said one of the leaders of Zanarkand
the remaining gang memebers formed a massive cirlce around this figure.

Standing up with such power.
"So why wern't i invited"he said in a very amusing voice
The masses of people ran at him. Pulling out his twin golden desert eagles shooting two people in the heart. As quick as it started is was finish even faster, He left one man alive he was the leader of the Zanarkand Mafia known only as Tyr.
"So AT Ada its down to us two again remember what hapened last time"Tyr said while chuckling.
"I rember you killing my family and leaving me in a pool of my own blood but can you finish the job"
"JOB, ha your father was the job the rest of your family was just fun and you.....I wont even have to break a sweat"
"HA, lets make it intresting no guns just blades" he said full of confidence
Tyr pulled out his trademark weapon of choice to long spikes straped to his wrists.
"Do you remeber when i slaughtered you family with these beauties" Tyr said ammused
"I remember you sick and twisted Son of a" intrupted by the clash of his weapon against my twin katan's, hand crafted by my father.

Every attack i done he defended it which such anticipation, like he knew what i was going to do and when i was going to do it. But as i struck his blades he swept my leg and i went down on the floor with my blade next to me.
"You fought well but not well enough my apprentice" lunging his blade towards my throat.
As i pulled out my diamond crusted switch-blade and empaled it into his heart and rolled away from the blade. But he didnt die then before he died i made sure he had what was coming to him, i picked up my twin katan's then cut his body up in to delicatley selected ways so it spelt out AT Ada on the floor with his body parts. Then hack his head off this is what they were after the head of Tyr.

as i handed over the head to my employer
"This is not Tyr this was his twin brother Ghost"......

Bryant leaned out of the window and adjusted the mirror of his Silver Celica. He caught a quick glance at his reflection, he had seen better days.
"Time to floor it" he said aloud and stepped hard on the accelerator, the scenery soon became a blur as he negociated the twisted landscape at a breakneck speed.

Bryant had been called in by 'The Boss' under the orders that agent 'Vixen' would soon be requiring his services, he knew that as with all of his previous missions, it was likely to be very urgent and every second would count. Bryant was exceptional at his job and had worked for more underground agencies than he cared to remember. The way he viewed the job was to get it done, get it done well and under no circumstances ask any questions. It worked outn just fine for him.

Pulling into a lay-by at the roadside, he opened his car door and vomitted. A comman problem that plagued him through most of his recent years, something he both accepted and pushed aside in his mind. "You wont get me that easily" he cursed, as he often did, his frequent sickness was the result of being the victim of poisoning many years before, something that he had under control but left him with this disscomfort.

The radio in his ear vibrated and he was quick to answer.
"Agent Bryant?" the voice was familiar, a voice that had no face, a face that would never be seen, atleast not by the likes of him.
"Fire away" he replied casually, wiping the acidic liquid from his lips and retreating back to his car seat.
"The target is in possition" the voice informed him "you have one hour".
Bryant allowed the radio to dissconnect and without delay he was back on the road, blasting out some Japanese rock music as he drove.

The room is damp, sodden and grimy, the only light grimly persisting from the half-eaten bedside table and maggots are sprouting underneath the bed. Siren doesn't notice, her eyes clamped shut and mumbling in his sleep. There isn't any natural light despite the room being on the eleventh floor and the window spread open but no one watching her minds. No one even minds the gentle patter of rain drops fluttering in or the unusually dry fell wind. There are eleven other people in the room watching her. Old. Young. Some of indiscriminate sex or, at least, constantly changing. Some have clipboards and some came naked but they will all be gone by the time Siren wakes up and she will never know they were there. An irritated voice cuts.
'Does she have a Secret?'
'... what's wrong with "Siren"?'
'There's nothing wrong with "Siren", I just want to know whether she's got a proper Secret. A real one rather than nonsense gibberish.'
'Would it change anything?'
The naked women smiled collectively. The naked men resonate with the murmurs in the air and scowl.
'"What is in a name?" Yeah, I do think it matters.'
The woman is called Reni, she's twenty nine and five foot four. She isn't naked, comfortable with her white lab coat and is the second person holding a clipboard. She jots down her companion's reactions, as well as his emotional gauge - the naked men - with those of Siren's. She's handsome rather than pretty and has an uncomfortably deep voice but nothing unnatural and she had been happily married for three years. Her companion, the first with a clipboard, is called Simons and is also noting the reaction of the naked women according to Siren's mental state. He is thirty nine and also five foot four and is in a very bad mood. He is also handsome rather than pretty but has a lighter voice and pale skin, has been with his girlfriend for eleven years but neither believe in marriage. Neither will live further than two more days as a result of Siren and Vixen's unwitting actions. Reni's husband will kill himself after suffering an increased bout of depression and Simons' girlfriend will eventually marry a successful businessman after eleven years.
But, for the time being, they busy themselves by noting down anything they believe relevant, unclip the mask protecting Siren’s face, wheel the heavy and unnecessarily expensive equipment out of the window which lands with a muted crash and, one by one, slowly leave the room. The naked peoeple disappear into the air. Reni and Simons go home.
The eleventh person in the room, who is not attached with Reni, Simons or the naked people, stays and slowly strokes her hair. It’s thick and matted with dandruff and sweat, she's been running, the ends are split but clumped together with dried blood which spreads through the dry moist air. He leaves a clock incorrectly timed at 0900 and tried to clean some cuts on her cheek before giving up and lazily spitting a healing plaster down. He checked her stomach, her clothes still damp with blood and her stomach literally empty. He is unsure how she is still alive. As he leaves and shuts the door, the alarm sparks.
9 a.m... the alarm clock struck as the eyes of Siren shot up. In despair Siren shaking and remembering flickers of images of someone being shot, as lots of emotions and thoughts flew around in her head.
Was this a dream?...

She looked over her shoulder while her heart was still pumping like a AK-47, getting slower and slower as the seconds passed looked at the mystery persons face. As she was moving up the face with her eyes she noticed a bright red dot in between the eyes of the one she calls Vixen. As Siren forced her head to the ground
"Get down now!" She shouted as the sniper bullet penetrated Siren's chest.

Siren squirming in pain was slowly pulled behind some cover by her saviour whilst the sniper was reloading.
"Get us out of here now we have a critical" Pleaded a very loud and worried voice.
"Stay with me come on your not gone yet you'r still here" Cried Vixen
"Cold so cold"whilst blood splurting out of her mouth her voice getting fainter and fainter
"Come close" Demanded Siren.
Closer and closer Vixen moved to her mouth
"Leave me just get out of here"
"No your coming with me" as screeching tires waited at the bottom of the alley.
"That's our ticket out of here now lets move it"Vixen grabbing Siren's arm and flung her arm over her neck.

Moving as fast as they could shuffled to the car at the bottom of the alley making sure the sniper couldn't see them. Finally made it to the car, Vixen chucked Siren in the back seat of the car.

Then BANG!. Siren saw Vixens brain explode by one of the bullets of the sniper, As parts of Vixen's brain splattered of Siren's face. The world of Siren was slowly coming to a end as she passed out in the back of the seat.

9 a.m... the alarm clock struck as the eye's of Siren shot up. In dispear Siren shaking and remembering flickers of images of someone being shot, As lots of emotions and thoughts flew around in her head.
Was this a dream................

The motorbike kicked into fifth gear, Siren sped up on the bike, she was late.. And had far to travel. Time seemed to moving quicker than usual, the day rapidly transforming into night. The low life of the city soon found their way to the crippled and cracked streets. Ladies of the night paraded around the street corners looking for business, drug dealers lurked in the shadows. Siren was not afraid, she felt more at home in this environment, it was what she was used to.

She pulled into a small lane, Ubuntu Lane, there she was to meet Vixen. However when she arrived she found herself alone. Fearlessly she got of her bike and started to strut back and forth, growing impatient from the wait. The Lane was small and narrow, not a pleasant place to be, even in that hell hole of a city, but there she waited. Then suddenly she heard a roar of an engine behind her, as she turned she met with the high beams of a car. Blinded she stumbled forward, only to feel someone grab her from behind. She naturally reacted and made a reach for the item she was given, it just the perfect device to defend herself. But it wasn't there... Now she wasn't so confident, and starting to panic she thrashed around in the arms that constricted her. the she saw them, glancing down at her attackers arms, the sock gloves.

"Relax." Said a reassuring voice
"it's me..."

"Are you nearly ready with that?" the girl asked without looking up, failing to see the wry smile form on his lips.
"Were you not blessed with patience by any chance then?" he asked under his breath.
"More important places to be be right now" she said, slipping a long glove onto her fingers and rolling it slowly up her arm. "My friend needs me" she looked at him, they locked eye contact.
"I know, and you can't tell me what this is about either" his words were a statement rather than a question, he looked away and she smiled
"you've got it" she told him, her gaze never flinching.
The girl had no real name, known only to those who met her as Siren. It was unclear who had chosen that name for her but it couldn't be more fitting. Like her namesake she was both a beautiful mysterious woman but also had a catastrophically deadly side which she knew how to use to her own advantage.
The man took the object that he had been busy working on, embraced it delicately as he studied it then very quickly grabbed a rag and feverishly wiped away any traces of his finger prints. He looked concerned about what he was giving to her yet at the same time Siren detected a hint of excitment in his eyes. "You didn't get this from me" he said agressively, "if I even hear anything, even one God damn thing about what this gets used for..So help me girl I'll have you killed" He passed it to her and started to walk away. "My men recieved your payment, that will be all" and then he was off.
Siren watched him leave, watched as he was reaquainted with his associates and then watched until they had driven away and were far out of site. "Oh no my friend" she said quietly, starting up her motorbike "it is me that would have you killed". The bike roared into life and before she allowed it to move from it's spot, she unhooked a tiny microphone from behind her ear, held it closer to her mouth and spoke into it. "This is Siren VS, I have completed my first objective now tell me where I can find Vixen?" A smile reached her lips as a familiar voice sounded on the other end, she listened, nodded and understood what she had to do next...