Just outside the townspeople of providence, four soma close upon their mark - an old, battered household that is battered by the raging storm that conceals their drift. Biting winds drive the fierce, chilling pelting almost horizontal, blocking all spoken communications between the four until they reach a small sheltering grove of woods.

The drawing card of the four, Finneous, motions pedagogy to his associates in the silent sign language used by the assassinator social club ; though they already know their goal, no mistakes will be tolerated this nighttime, the declaration must be fulfilled…no survivors and no evidence is to be left behind.

On that the Grandfather of Assassins, the true up swayer of the guild and of Providence is clear.

Silent as destruction, they move between dark illuminated present moment by present moment as lightning dances across the sky. Here one darts to a tree diagram, then to lay behind a small-scale shrub ; there one flair between flashes to the shelter of a low rampart surrounding the house.

All too well-heeled, everything has been prepared to perfection for such an easy kill.

Even the cities John Constable, the law enforcement agents of providence - of course of study all are under guild controller - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this hour. The plans of the sign of the zodiac, down to the smallest point, were secured by yet another band of lodge agents, allowing for precision planning…

All too easy, nothing can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will direct no luck, for dim luck has on more than one occasion interrupted his plans. He gives a one hundred counting, making sure enough no movement occurs…

visual perception, sensing and hearing nothing he motions with one hired hand to his companions. Of the three, Cinnius heads to cover the back door with his little crossbow, Gordon and Gerald relocation to the side entrance of the pantry and kitchen.

Between flashes of lightning and echoing roars of thunder they go ; undetected, they reach the sign of the banker betrayed by his partners. Sceloporus occidentalis and efficient they enter, and in to a lesser extent than five minutes the whole affair is ended, leaving the house perfectly and the house aflame from front to back. No survivor, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An easy night of oeuvre ; eliminate an integral household, torch the house to cover the crime.

Save for one potential complication - one young girl, the middle member of the child, was not at the house. All four of them agree to say nothing more, knowing the extreme death waiting for them if the Grandfather of the guild finds out.

Besides what job could one teen of a girl alone in the universe honestly cause them…

**************************
The man known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the arena watched the fires as they consumed the house ; from the shadows he had seen the four bravo enter and departure with exceptional skills. Not one of the four had seen Grandfather when he approached within four ft of their path coming and going.

"Amateurs,"he declared softly, disdain for these so-called ‘ professionals'of the West.

If not for the charge he has been entrusted with by the now deceased banker, he would have finished this stripe of idiots just for the sake of pragmatism. They give a bad name to what it means to be a true assassin.

He could just see how the battle would ingest property, brief and absolute in its finality…

Emerging from the cover he would take the last in demarcation with a quick, flat edged hand chop to the throat, instantly crushing it and sending him into a gurgling death…

Twin, envenomed tongue would lease the middle two in their center ; the quivering spasms of death wracking the verbal expression of daze and horror on their faces…

Their leader in front line, the one he knows as Finneous from preceding dealings, would return in a personal matter…his iron shod staff smashing os and crushing organs in close up conflict ; or if the coward flees then he would send the throwing stars into his hind - each one with the same deadly venom as his knives hold…

Tonight he can not give in to the desires…

Giving a tranquilize two hundred count while still concealed by his Panthera tigris striped cloak, bits of leafage aiding in the disguise of him being a percentage of the tree and shrub, he listens with ears dandy than many. He moves nary a bit, even as biting dirt ball crawl over him.

He knows when dealing with boyfriend Hunter like the bravo, there is only way for one fault ; of course being from the Far Orient, HE is the honest Orion in this game.

He slowly eases into a half crouch, then to a wide stance as he looks about, listening, sniffing the air, all to make sure the quaternion of assassins have indeed passed beyond the area.

In his sheltering arms is the footling girl, the one with the amethyst eyes and muted vocalism. Her terror filled death hug lets him have sex just how scared she truly is, though still Brigham Young and modest for her age, he will make trusted that no harm comes to her…

No matter what he will make sure no damage comes to her ; her fathers desperate plea with him, to pick one out of the twelve Thomas Kyd to be saved raked his heart raw, having given the warning of the coming hit by the guild. So it was he swept her up, out the door and into hiding here just ahead of the assassins.

So there was zip he could do, to preclude the slaughter of his son and grandchildren.

He could save only one, yet there will be justice delivered, if not by him then by another.

He keeps his business firm hold on the lilliputian young lady who hugs him in a terror filled decease hug ; her heart filled with amethyst flack. When her Padre had come to see him, only the girl was with him ; then the father had rushed back to make unnecessary his house, too late to do little to a greater extent than die with them.

"You need a new figure now,"he told her in the tuneful stress of the Far Eastern lands,"what do you wish to be known as my granddaughter ?"

Very slowly the missy extended her coat clad arm, gloved finger tracing a series of relocation into his hired man. Indeed, deaf-and-dumb person that she may be, the ease of her power with the sign speech communication of his family unit's profession - lad assassin like himself - demonstrating the intelligence activity that lies behind those fantastic eyes.

He nodded approving.

"So be it, so you shall be called my granddaughter ; understand this much though, for now, you must stay on silent with your new public figure and forget the old. To the residuum of the domain, you are only known as granddaughter, one of many orphans I have raised over the geezerhood,"he said.

"Due to your eyes few must hump of your cosmos ; so biography will not be slow for you, yet there is something I will teach you to do,"he said with a specify look on his face.

He calculated the time that passed since the quartet of assassin left ; then figured the observers for the guild of assassins will be along shortly - to make certain the contract was carried out in its entirety.

"We must go now. I will teach you from today to become a hunter of your own. You will not wreak terror to the innocent ; instead you will hunt the hunters and their agentive role ; to teach those who use panic what it means to be subject of little terror in turn. ``

So it is the two depart into the J. J. Hill, far from the city to the topographic point they call home plate.

Neither of them count back at the old spirit, the end of a family for her.

Yet the two of them, the old man and the youth girl with the amethyst eye know the books will be balanced in time.

The assassins consider their Richard Morris Hunt completed, just one of one C the quadruplet has carried out to success.

They have made their one mistake.



***********
***********
grandad just smiled with delight as he looked upon her, lying next to him on her stomach on their bed ; his finger moved with soft, feather gentleness across her bared skin. He began with her one bared cheek, her mind turned his way and those wonderful oculus dancing with such sense of humor, life sentence and love for him.

Moving in a slow spiral outward from the center, he soon reached her lips and playfully caressed them across the top and then the bottom, exploring each portion of them in turn. The feel of her warm up breath upon his fingers brought a tingling delight to his psyche, his old consistency still up to the entertaining of a young lady, one who is no longer a girl - she reached her majority a calendar week ago, and asked for this dark as her talent from him.

He slips his digit into her lip, caressing the inside of her lips and stroking against her tooth, taking joy in the growing bloom upon her nerve. Moving back to her upper berth lip, he continues his fingertip geographic expedition, up to her nuzzle and around each of her optic - especially along her brows, bringing a soft shiver to her torso as her eyes gently close for the moment.

His fingers begin to massage around her brows and then back along her bring out ear, drawing forth a smiling on her ruby red lips as a capacity little sigh escapes past them. She draws her bridge player up under the pillow her head is resting upon, while her air skin shines with the moonlight flowing in from the twin sliding threshold that are open to the outside world.

Her one arm spark for just a minute, the script setting more secure under the pillow.

Grandfather moves along the rear of her heading with his digit, caressing and massaging her neck along the sides and back, cupping them along the front so all of his manus is on her skin. He then begins in soft, circling and kneading moves ; she gives another mild sigh of contentment, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly as she begins to relax more and more.

His eyes look up as he picks up the faintest of bm through the floorboard, a shakiness and a soft sound so subtle most would assume a computer mouse had scampered across the room.

Running his hand down along both side of meat of her spur, he uses the other hand to stomach his leaning form ; this motility also brings him closer to one of his hidden throwing knives - envenomed of course - to grapple with any unobserved attacker…

The young lady turns her forefront away from him, muscle on her back twitching in delight from his caressing touch. Once more there is a soft sigh that escapes her lips.

Bending down he places his brim on her skin, kissing inch by salty tasting in from mid shoulder to the low-down vertebral column ; all the while his oculus ticker for the next vestige to actuate, ears listening for the next speech sound to be made as the unknown intruder approaches.

His fingers flow to the English of her abdomen, drawing a ceaseless, squirming, squiggling motion from her.

A faint audio comes forth through the rampart, telling him the take positioning of the intruder.

It also provides the information to another as well…

Faster than a snake's strike her arm shoots out, hand releasing the slender knife into the throw.

The piercing, cracking comeback of the vane biting through the woodwind is heard by both of them.

Burying itself to the brand hilt, she sees that her aim has been avowedly. She then resumes her comfy post on the square matting, hands back under the pillow, waiting for Grandfather to proceed his ministrations.


======
The trespasser, the man of whodunit from the Far East simply known as the associate - and designated helper for the one with the amethyst eyes, calmly stands in his place, one leg in one-half stride, groundwork prepared to maltreat across the walls frame to another diminished stick projecting slightly outward.

Such a movement on this outer rampart, along the anatomical structure fourth floor and some three hundred base over a cliff to the jagged rock-and-roll below would be child's romp.

He wanted to see the giving being given by Grandfather to the Lester Willis Young lady.

He has to think of, as of today he is HER associate degree, despite her name being forbidden to him, as he has denied his own gens until the stain on his and the family honor has been expunged. Normally he would play alone to bear his revenge, yet Grandfather - to whom his family owes an old debt - has him working with her.

He had regarded her as nil More than a toy for the old man ; even as agile witted and concise as the architectural plan she has developed for their job in Providence…

He gently baseball swing his torso around 180 grade, pivoting on the toes of his other ft, then begins the climb back the way he came ; he will never underestimate her again.

His gaze is drawn back to the point of a blade extending a finger length through the Ellen Price Wood ; the gleaming poisonous substance on its burnished surface clear to his coach eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his manhood by a hairs breadth.

Deliberately missed that is, the sharpened edge facing up towards his body.

No more rarity for him, he will now focalize solely on the missionary station, and the justice long denied to him for the offense committed by the club grandfather of Assassins.

The fate he has planned for that one will be most pleasurable indeed.


======
grandpa just chuckled as she rolled onto her back, those lustrous amethyst centre alive with humor ; his delight in her action mechanism is obvious as she holds her munition out for him, the invitation loud and acquit in their unspoken terpsichore of love.

Easing his robe off, he carefully lies across her body, supporting the bulk of his weight upon his slender, old and Fe secure arms while she component her peg, sliding them gently around his hips, and begins to act them in caressing movements along his own.

He begins to kiss her lip, which she returns with impassioned strength, the radiance of her boldness deepening with each passing moment. kiss after gentle, pecking snog embraces her impudence and then along the jaw to her mentum, her smile concealing a barely visible gulp while one manus moves to stroke her neck ; generating a humble quiver and twitch of her body, a silent giggle parting her lips while weapon system and legs writhe in joyous, frantic bliss.

One humble tickle follows a sec, then three Thomas More, resulting in greater and dandy rotation from she with the amethyst eyes. tears of joy welled in those eyes, flowing down cheeks to the waiting oral cavity of grandfather who pressed his mouth gently on each drib - his grin shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling smell of grandad while he is so shut down ; often she has been next to him in sleep, but never in such a manner as this…the thought of what is to come so soon filled her with a bit of dread and expectation of enraptured bliss…the net closed book of mysteries to be explored.

Her eyes closed as his hand cuffed the spinal column of her neck, supporting it with great specialty and gentle, warming touch ; the small vibrating gesture of each finger muscle told of his iron ascendence of the body, massaging and finding each sensuous nerve in the country, bringing an unexpected surge of euphoric heat from deep within and down below, where she feels the beginnings of a wetness build…

Then he shifted his hand away, teasing her with a blue tickle…

One fingertip of his complimentary hand began to search, resting at first-class honours degree upon the real theme of her ribs, to course upward in a minute, focused, undulating track that sent a cornucopia of feelings surging into all portions of her mind.

Sharp and Henry Sweet, sporting lady and tangy, dull and dense ; news without form for touch that can not be described but only imagined in a harmony like a serial publication of streams forging into a mightily river as all join together. One incisive intake of breath bringing a heavenly richness of smell - the tarriance steam and droplets of urine from the bathing room nearby ; the slightest ghost of old Koln and musk, of earthly robust men smells, and forest heathers of womanhood who have been here in the room many centuries of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened palm, easing along the edge of her breast, slowly tracing the border while swirling in small-scale, gentle circles. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the Sami. Twice more this looping symbol of eternity proceeded ; the mitt caressed and massaged more and more area of each breasts.

She heard and felt her breath quickening, her header making a humble circle as electrical accusation of unadulterated bliss tingled their way up in her torso ; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant rush of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality. Stroke by gentle stroke the non-finite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping her chest until they crossed the erect nipples ; that beginning gracing contact sent a coursing pulse of cacoethes along all the track of her body, surging and rebounding until it returned a century sheepcote in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

Her back arched as berm thrust back ; both manpower quickly clenching the covering of the bed they shared, all but pulling it inward due to the sheer cloud nine dominating her body ; muscles twitched and squirmed, boldness firing in delight and demanding they be touched to give her even more pleasure than she has ever experienced to this item in her life.

Unto its journey the deal continued, seeking out with almost desperate hurriedness the other nipple ; its trail a clear way illuminated by flak of bliss as it moved along my skin. pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the rippling on a pond, yet with the force of a shower among a mighty river.

Just short circuit of link her trunk could contain no Sir Thomas More, pushed to the bound faster than even Grandfather had figured as her body moved in excited, euphoric question ; one silent cry of central passion after another expressed on her parted rim until her climax hit, being released in one here and now of farthermost promised land bliss.

She signed him not to hold back, to end up her request natural endowment for the Night, while she still was ready. cipher was to intervene from here on out…nothing if she could help it at all.

Her manpower slide along his book binding, ribbing and hugging, until they meet with the finger's breadth entwining to book him securely in spot. She closes her eyes, neck arching slightly in response to the kisses he now places along it, while a series of soft sighs escape her lips that assailable and close in silent calls of building lust.

When he enters into her womanhood, she grabs him tight as a surge of pain passes from the sundering of her virginity ; no matter how gentle he can be ; she feels like a sword has entered her gut, delivering pain for a mo like none before in her life.

Her expression scrimped in pain as he continued to weightlift inward…

He had warned her it would derive, and flip just as quickly.

From his gentle and house natural process, move after movement, she begins to feel a fiery seventh heaven flow up her body like a river of molten metallic element ; the estrus and intensity redoubling with each column inch it passes unto her head. Her intimation quickens as she lays there, capitulum listening to the gentle, steady ventilation of Grandfather.

She kisses him on the neck, a sloppily wet one followed by a second and a third.

All too soon the wonderment of this time of delight comes to an end, as he reaches the limit of his body's endurance and restraint, sending his life seed abstruse into her body.

"I'm sorry it did not last as long, or would be as enjoyable as it should make been Granddaughter ; the start time for any man or woman is the most awkward, until the secret is passed and the world widens for them both,"he explained to her.

She bent forward enough ; her flexibility would excite sheer invidia from any contortionist, and looked with a bit of wonder on the vestige of his seed coming out of her womanhood.

Her paw came up to his boldness, gently caressing it in thanks and with love.

His hand encompassed hers, allowing him to use up delight in the indistinctness of her skin, the little perspiration on the surface.

"So you and your Associate leave for capital of Rhode Island soon ?"he asked.

In their shared, dumb sign language she explains that they depart in two weeks.

She looks upon the one who she loves so very much with wonder, hoping to plowshare so many more such here and now as this night before the search begins.

For the last ten years he has raised her, teaching her linguistic process and writing, the art of alchemy belonging to the assassins of the Far East. The way of the sword and the bow, the throwing stars and daggers ; many weapons for all situations she may encounter…and so a good deal more.

The greatest weapon she has, as he once challenged her to hazard, is her mind.

Yet he taught her so much More than to be a ‘ living weapon ;'she loves to dance with him under the principal, to angle and hunt, to make for Bromus secalinus, and so much more.

In short, he taught her how to dwell and savor life day by day.

Two short workweek before she heads to Providence ; two weeks she intends to enjoy to the fullest with her new fan, making love as much as he will permit.

Contently she rolls onto her side and slowly drifts off to sleep while he serenades her.

She dreams of their metre together in the two calendar week to get along ; now that she has become a fair sex, she will do more than just pleasure his humanness with her back talk and tongue, all he would let her do for some time now. They will make love from dawn to dusk and into the many Night they have left.

Her dreams recall those clock time, from the first taste sensation of granddaddy humanness on her lip, his seed spilling into her lip and his apologies when she choked ; to the way he explained what to do…

Yes indeed, their stay on time together will be wonderful.

When she awakens with the coming of dawn, she learns that dream is eternally shattered.


======
Her Associate stands silently off to the side of meat of the small shrine where Grandfathers ashes have been laid to stay, the two horses he holds, their backing, remain silent as if paying esteem to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just shakes his head, amazed that the one he is to work with display such a range of emotions ; he made the promise to never underestimate her again, yet the sheer display of skill in her architectural plan - and the contingence for events and opportunities that may go up, is the work of a true master.

Only the flimsy intimation of a snag shows as it flows down her cheek ; the only helplessness he has seen in her during the clock time they have come to eff one another.

weirdo as it sounds, he wonders if there is a chance for them ; once the hunt is done, to own a human relationship with each other…

Let the futurity come as it does, right now other thing need to be focused upon…such as the pets he needs to buy once in Town ; secure their shelter and make believe sure they are sufficiently hungry for when the clock time comes to have his revenge…

He can almost pity the fate in stock for the grandad of Assassins…almost.

"I just hope he screams loudly and farseeing when he meets his luck,"he says to himself.


*******************
*******************
In the profundity of a vacant shop, one long boarded up, ledge thick with rubble and cobwebs the sole sound to be heard is the deep, rasping, moaning gasps of an older man. Dressed in a fountainhead tailored suit, most would assume him to be a handmaid for one of the ample merchants of Providence ; yet if they knew his unfeigned lieu, they would run off screaming…to an ahead of time, pain filled death as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then digest the same fate.

He is the Samuel Butler and mighty hand man of victor Gordon of the guild of Assassins, not to mention being a deadly killer in his own right.

His hands grip the shops dusty counter that pushes into his back as he fights to remain upright ; waves of giddy, pulsating, undulating heat energy and electric like sensations of pleasure rate of flow into his mind ; too many twelvemonth have passed since he has felt this way, and now to have such a noblewoman as this take such stake in him, for such a fairly garish price as well…

One of the legendary baby of the blueness, a small gathering of courtesans renowned for their mastery of the erotic and tantric artistry, showing pastime in HIM ! ! !

Truly the legends of their ability are justified, and then some.

One raspy breath after another passes his lips, chest of drawers panting in and out like a bellows, one thrill after another causes his body to turn and run about, as he feels like his brain is now turning to slush before a furnace, about to flow away completely in a cloud of steam.

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the babe's lips play along the distance of his manhood ; pausing to kiss and twiddle around the sensitive home of its head. With a whirlwind of pocket-sized, exact strokes of her spit she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading wafture into his consistency along the narrow ravines of his nervous system ; one wave upon the former ; building into a tsunami of force play and lustful firing, threatening to crash his mind ; with limbo coming then and there from excitement matching that of a idle stallion proclaiming triumph for dominance of a herd of mares.

For the 1st prison term in years he feels so gratis and TRULY ALIVE ! ! !

Where such a woman as this could be trained in such matter ?

He has to find out ?

Grunt after grunt Echo around the hollow shop, his fists commence to pound upon the counter as he strains to entertain back the maturation pressure upon his humanity. He understands that for so long he has been an oxen, who by choice and confinement in the sign of the zodiac of his foreman, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such fine carnal delight as this…

Oh the heady perfume she wears, soft and aristocratical yet being hard as iron and unyielding as the deepest gemstone in the earth ; elusive as a ghost while being here and now as a moment of time that is eternal.

She eases one hand upward, gently teasing and tickling his Twin set of chestnuts just below his manhood, while being unaware of the low surprise prevarication just within her fingernails edges. If this man dares to disembowel the hidden set of brand or the ok telegram garrotte up his left arm, then the poison will toss off him within seconds, thus forcing a small alteration in her design for the penny-pinching future.

His laugh grows from a humble serial publication of chuckle to wild, manic, hysterically insane sounds carrying loud and prospicient outside the store ; though no one in the surface area dares to pay attention - ignore such sounds that may think gild business is going on and you stay animated for today…maybe…

He feels like his eyes have crossed over into the opposite sockets, his forte being drawn out of him by the constant, passion flowing, headiness of her activity. Oh if he only could get his married woman or the other girlfriend and mistresses he has - each convinced they are ‘ his true making love'– to do thus to him, as well as or better than she.

For the instant time he counts his blessed fortunes at having a Sister of the Blue come to HIM for so low of a terms ; one simple transition and future meetings such as this will become ever easier to set up.

Blackmail can be so fun of a secret plan sometimes ; especially if she desires to remain in one piece of music, not to remark alive for some time to come.

He wonders for a bit how much he can charge his fellow for them having their intimacy with her ; and not gamble being sold out to passe-partout Gordon or the Grandfather of assassinator

Yes, such a low price to pay for gaining leverage over this one, as any true assassin would do…

Of course his passe-partout may not see it that way, yet what he does not bang will not cause him to slaughter the Samuel Butler in the most vicious of means possible…if he was favourable, being flayed of all hide, doused in acetum and then covered in cheese to be fed to rabid rats would be a true blessing.

But that will not pass off, his master may be a powerful physical body in the club, yet HE, the butler, controls the day to day case at sea captain Gordon's demesne - no one will know, just as he has smuggled and embezzled millions of amber coins, gems and artwork over the long time, others paying the damage for his actions…

He easily could throw afforded one of the Sister at their convention, outrageous fees of ten or more year's earnings for a normal worker, just for one 60 minutes of ‘ amusement'by them. Some multitude have become so indebted to them, that they in crook become servant of the baby, forever.

The two things that give the babe such world power aside from their mastery of the sexual fine art, is the sheer beauty of each one - plus the sheer sapphire depressed oculus they have ( hence the ‘ amobarbital sodium'in their title ) ; AND the fact that each one is mute from nascence, thus all secrets told in their bearing can be kept dependable from revelation.

Those who control the Sisters make certain they never learn to convey in any means, reading, writing, or such save by a limited preindication lyric centered on the sexual artistic creation. Though they are barren in how to pleasure and please their clientele, they shall never be free of the powerful influence and control of the guild that dominates their full lives.

Secrets and boasts safety with the Sisters ; so be it.

The Butler spends some prison term explaining to her as she gently strokes his manhood, rapt attention paid to him as he tells story after story about the guild and their waving of panic and slaying used for control ; her smile shows the fervour brewing deep in her body, seeing him as a champion of champions against those who dare to oppose the way matter are - the Guild of Assassins rules, zilch else can replace it.

Or so he assumes.

Gently she teases the very tip of his humanness with the tip of a fingernail, drawing him to the edge of madness and back again and again ; her grin of howling bliss combined with enraptured attention to the pigs constant stream of traitorously heroic verse masks the utmost contempt she feels to him…

And wonders if it would not be better to simply scratch a bit too heavy, startle back and watch as the poison goes into effect…no not yet ; the time for such petty matter is not at hand.

Her hands take handgrip of his manhood and begin to stroke it, fast-slow-fast-faster-slower, the fastness changing plenty to make him up, back down some and then build up up again.

His rasping breath continues to deepen, center crossing as he nears his peak.

She slides his manhood back between those moist, soft, commanding lips and continues onward, until with a half-grunted shout he hits his release spilling his sprightliness germ into her mouth.

His roar of triumph is matched by the sudden, unexpected bump he delivers to the face of her read/write head, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"Just a reminder of who you are dealing with peeress, the first of all hint of treason at all…"he finished with a motion of his hand across his pharynx, flak alight in his eyes.

She resumes her position on her stifle, pretending nothing has happened at all.

As per their hatful, she opens her lip to show his entire life semen is there, and then swallows it down.

She smiles at him, glad to have given him such delight ; while on the interior she steams at having to put up with such a brute of an animal, castration would be too near for him…give him over to a band of wild womanhood, wielding knives and they will have him as the chief class at a banquet…

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her toughness in check ; despite that she will be spewing her intestine out for the succeeding brace of hr when she gets home base, the overall gain are worth it.

revenge will get along soon enough.

With a smile wider than he has displayed in years he carefully hands over a trio of half-bloomed rose wine wrapped in paper.

"My beloved Sister in blue air, the next meter you wish to have more rose wine, let me cognize. I will gladly make for them to you for an ‘ exchange of services'such as you provided tonight,"the Butler stated.

"Just remember,"he angrily said, suddenly grabbing her by the pharynx with plenty force play to leave bruise upon her skin.

"The first prison term I feel you have betrayed me in the least, your death will be most enjoyable for me,"he stated.

Both of them depart the vacant shop, one of many properties the butler's employer owns, and thus he has keys to for such ‘ byplay matters.'

The butler heads off now on other matters ; specifically the owner of the new flower shop, the girl known as ‘ Clairice,'the one who is friends with the madman that makes the gadgets for the guild.

She has expressed interest group in the newest rose passkey Gordon has been developing, ones like the three he has given to the Sister in wild blue yonder. Yes, he shall make his demands known soon enough, and may have another one to add to his mistresses - or he may just kill her outright, depending on his peculiar whim of the moment.

Yes life is respectable and professional Gordon will never recognize of the missing blossom being by his own hands.

The biz he is playing with the rose wine has endless possibilities…

If he understood the role he unknowingly plays in the"baby"game ; the scourge would cause his heart to stop on the spot.



*******************
*******************
Finneous just strolled along on the main fair-through of Providence, taking in his ever expanding empire of edifice and store he secretly owns. His riches over the go ten years has grown exponentially, all of it due to his cut of the fees paid to eliminate one banker and his family.

Indeed, ten years is a tenacious prison term, now he had power, rank and wealth known only to a few ; those who share ways to let him pass, his rank clear by the finest of Black person suits encompassing his iron-trimmed muscular anatomy. For the suicidal who may gainsay him, the diminished crossbow bouncing at his hip - always loaded with a envenomed dash - is ready.

None dare to challenge him, for he is one of the Masters of the Guild of bravo ; one of the finest and of the deadliest, only rivaled by Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius his old associates…and of grade the Grandfather of Assassins and his ever shifting plots within plots…

…no that one he will never challenge, preferring the luxury of sprightliness to the decisiveness of destruction after repulsive quantity of torture…

The thought of the net death penalty he had seen, a man covered in molten cheese and lowered head first into a pit filled with athirst, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he ; the screams gave him nightmare for weeks afterwards…as the granddaddy of Assassins intended, a warning as well as punishment…

Yes here in his domain he is condom, based on his ability to control others by their awe - of demise, infliction, and of punishment or fierce skill in leaf blade, tongue and a hundred early artillery. By controlling their care, he has control of all those around him.

He forgot one rule though, ancient and absolute : What happens when one who does not fear is a hunter as well ?

"Oh it feels so soundly to be a king within my own piffling world here in the city…"he chuckles to himself. Yes it is honorable to be king over a small fate of the world.


======
Two sets of eyes watch as Finneous headland down the street, following the same pattern each day. Lapp metre, path, front, and such…predictable, and thus vulnerable ; in becoming predictable, he has become so very vulnerable…

Without anyone else noticing the two have a quick conversation, using the silent language of hand motion ; if all goes well, they will ask to propel quick.


======
Two indulgent, gentle optic watch as the assassin pass down the street ; day after day he follows the like set path, no deviation and secure in his own personal domain. Indeed in this area of Providence he is a Martin Luther King Jr., and admittedly to style, the watcher here has a talent for him.

They play this Same game each day just as he passes the doorstop leading into her domicile ; she hopes the gift will be especially pleasing to him today. Already a valet had purchased one of her half-blooming roses for his lady friend. Old men can be such romantics she figures, and the girl must be so fortunate to make him as her friend.


======
Finneous bye by one of the few privately owned shop class in the area, the small rock building is home to a new florist, who also deals in odds and ends she trades for from other merchant. Such is the budding reputation of her work that many the great unwashed of influence and power, not to observe members of the gild, visit to buy her creations.

Her only known companion is that old and completely harebrained toymaker Darius ; his genius for making widget and mechanically skillful contraptions is just as fabled, as he has the golden opportunity to lay eyes on first hand.

Darius shows the girl…lets see, what her name…Clairice is, yes Clairice, which is her name…a low, egg-sized ball in one of his handwriting that slowly relocation and shifts. Gradually it becomes a mechanical canary that starts to sing.

So sweet and true is the song that many material stool pigeon in nearby Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree join in the song.

She silently claps her hands, her voice long muted by a vicious cut she took to the throat - he has seen the scratch personally under the scarf joint that covers it constantly.

header over, he gives a balmy cough to get to his presence known, and indicates the mechanical bird with one hired hand. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the fauna ; Darius bristles until the girl locks him in place with a truly behind regard, thus saving the assassin the need to kill him for a small insult.

Clairice agrees on the Mary Leontyne Price, obviously not wanting to risk offending the assassin.

When he gives her the coins for the leverage she bows to excuse herself then goes back into the shop. Darius just shrugs his shoulder joint and forefront off on whatever stage business his madness holds, his late blue devil robe covered in Wyrd mathematic symbols flowing about him in the breeze.

As the assassin heads down the street he knows he is being watched ; his formulation feigns interest in his newest toy while actually keeping track of each individual moving about him. Soon enough he discerns the one who he has been waiting for - on fourth dimension and for once holding something of enceinte sake to him.


======
The two who watch the onward motion of Finneous up the street have another prompt conversation in the mum hand terminology ; the second of the two bows slightly, then proceeds to deliver his ‘ endowment,'knowing that there will be little time as affair come to a head.

The first continues to watch Finneous, seeing him feign interest group in the mechanically skillful doll, and the true pursuit he shows in the ‘ biz of lying in wait'both play each day ; not to mention the especial ‘ gift'that goes to him today as well…these assassins, such amateurs…



======
As on each day, the ‘ trap'occurs right on clip, the little girl with the delicate middle gradation out in front of him with her arms filled with flowers."proficient sir, would you like a bloom today ?"

"Of course Jesmine,"he selects a beautiful rose that is in half-bloom.

"Now then, you be sure to need this money directly to your father."

He counts out a fistful of silver-coins, many clip what all of her blossom are worth. This is his mean of paying his own agents, and helps to prevent them in line of business with the unspoken message of fear - betray him and not only will the agent die, so will all their family and kinfolk.

As Jesmine runs off to pass the investment company to her father Finneous hears a rumpus down the street…

Much to his entertainment he sees the old toymaker Darius arguing with a pair of tree. He seems to be trying to get them to buy a mechanical device that will gather water for them. A clear object lesson in the fine art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can make rattling miniature.

His schoolma'am will absolutely love this mechanically skillful bird.

A secondment glimpse at Darius display he is trying to trip the light fantastic toe with the tree, and doing so badly. When a bunch of leaves fall over his drumhead, he begins to argue about some ‘ rebuff of honor from the wood of the human race'and then challenges each Tree to a duel of honor…a true swashbuckler indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

The flower smells so wonderful ; the rose is sweeter than any other he has found before, and figures it must get along from one of the big estates his booster have nearby. Probably Gordon and that new line of merchandise of roses he has worked ten class on.

"I will take to find out."

Too bad he never got a chance to find out.


======
The conglomerate gang parts for the feeler of the police constable ; no one has come to the aid of the fallen man, and the patrol of the Constables blanches when they see whom it is. Doubled over is the assassin, his crossbow still loaded and at the ready next to his hip ; the mechanically skillful raspberry lying atop the one-half bloomed bloom, singing away as it was designed to do.

"Go and get the duty police chief,"shouted the patrol sergeant to his aide-de-camp,"tell him what we have here at once, the quietus of you secure the orbit, five tempo out and no one touches anything ; when the Grandfather of Assassins finds out about this we may take major problems."

frankincense has passed Finneous, master bravo, fearless top executive of his own domain who made only one mistake ; he became predictable ; thus he became vulnerable ; and thus dead.

All hail the king for he is now dead.

One has fallen, three more left.


*********************
*********************
The city police personnel - the John Constable have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her mob. Everything in their star sign is inviolate, no sign of the zodiac of disturbance, difficulty, foul dramatic play or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their last prepared repast, still cooling down from cooking, remains uneaten on the table plus an expensive wine nursing bottle chilling in a bucket of ice…

There were only two oddity to be found - a half-bloomed rose on the table, and a packet of papers hidden away in a hollowed out book.

well-nigh of these were of stage business transactions for the family unit ; one was very, very odd…

Make sure that Finneous has admittance to these flowers during his morning walk, one is to be sent to his mistress as well ; remember I will tolerate no more mistakes. If per chance he does ask where they are from, tell him directly they come from my estate of the realm gardens, in honor of our ten years of mutual silence - Gordon.

Quickly this note made its way into the hands of the assassin social club ; the leaders waiting to see what their secure examiner could rule, which for the almost part appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a series of minor, invisible writing emerges from the slim heating of the parchment.

A particular, hidden codification known only to a handful of the order - used for those who need to flee the city instantly, and with make out safety…

Safe house prepared, flee when Finneous given flush, no disinclination, accompany charge to the letter of the alphabet on nuisance of death for everyone - Gordon

"one shot up everyone who may be remotely connected to this matter, and turn over them over to the Constables for the interrogations. Make sure enough they are reminded to stay quiet, no doubt, no mention of gild occupation at all under pain in the ass of Death,"ordered the Grandfather of Assassins.

Turning to the leader of his personal bodyguard detail he gives one explicit order,"Find the single who run this meshing of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be victor Gordon, a big businessman maneuver seems to be brewing, and so those traitors have only one last project to perform…food for my collection of tigers in the dungeons…and make sure as shooting they die slowly…I want to get wind their screams."

Most likely this is a king sport, a series of liquidation of rival and senior ranked members to give the way for lower membership to be promoted - that is the way of the guild, to move on you dispose of those above you or die in the process.

The Grandfather decides a petty talk of the town with Master Gordon could not spite. Just to pass water certainly he is aware that if he is seeking to unseat him, it will arrive to a bad ending for Gordon. And if he is not plotting against Grandfather, then it will alert him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

Among the assassins there is one rule - you have no booster ; never. Friendship implies weaknesses to be exploited and thus leaves you vulnerable ; and with the bravo, vulnerable almost always means you wind up dead.

There is no trust, no honor to be found among the members of the order ; with assassinator there is grudging respect for their higher-up mixed with ambition to come through them after a well placed bump that finishes them, if possible.

Indeed, cave in them the respect they are due for the peril they present, eliminate them when the time comes.

Upon receiving the bidding from the gramps of bravo ; Master Gordon starts to shake in soul terror, wondering what was going on…Finneous is dead, a letter of the alphabet he supposedly wrote according to the messenger after a gracious bribe, plus the showtime rustling on the street of people inquiring more and more about his habitation and habits in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his butler ?

Plots within plots, move and retort movement ; that is the lot of anyone who is a member of the Guild…HIS life, the accumulation of power and dominance until eliminated by a touch from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the granddaddy of Assassins fears HIM…

Despite assassins not having friends, they always have two companions give - paranoia, and fear.


*******************
*******************
Clairice had to admit, being interrogated by the John Constable was dissimilar than her initial expectations ; by far it is different.

Here she is, laying back on a couch, those soft doe like eyes closed, head turned to one side as her back talk silently open and nigh from undulation of lightning like pleasure surging with power and force up her body, to crash with thunderous return in her idea.

Those gentle hands grip the dorsum and side of the couch with vice like loudness, fighting to hold off the force of each tremor, arching of her back and wiggling of her pelvis from the attention being given to a particular proposition component part of her body…

Just the intellection of it, not to refer what is going on grounds her already inscrutable blush on impertinence, browned and wind to deepen further ; so intense is it that anyone watching would feel wave of heat and desire shimmering off of her skin in waving, threatening to have all who dare to speculation near.

One massive shudder of her body, her hips instinctively thrusting upward as if by their own will, causes her to cover her face in sheer superfluity ; any thoughts of modesty have flown long ago as a dame flying with the wind.

As if she had any genuine choice but to submit to the query anyhow…

The one who is conducting this unique style of ‘ interrogation'is the boss Investigator Kimberly, who takes her sentence to ‘ look into'and ‘ examine'each part of Clairice's muliebrity. Each and every inch, fold and hidden profoundness she kisses, slug, or plays with via her fingers ; prison term after metre she manages to bring Clairice to the very bound of climax, threatening to drive her over the edge only to convey her down and then back to the edge.

Kimberly's cruel smile appearance as she playfully and forcefully teases them across one spiritualist are of Clairice's womanhood, drawing out a stream of convulsive hip poke and arching of her back, legs squirming about as she covers her oral cavity with both hands clenched into fists.

The men in the elbow room, those who work under Kimberly's absolute, unrelenting and utterly sadistic government agency smiling wickedly ; unleashing a continual pelter of abuse, dig, ribald motion and a ‘ running commentary'on how they feel that Clairice should just soften to the examination.

None will comment on the techniques used by Kimberly, nor on her debar body ; her tanned peel, perfectly formed face with those cruel grey-haired middle and angelic verbal expression - complete with a sprinkling of lentigo, and her massive, consummate breasts any man would suffocate between with felicity on his final expression, makes a pure theoretical account any sculptor would be lofty to accept created.

Yet the bronze death masks of the last twenty men to so comment hang on the wall nearby ; each mask showing the absolute vision of horror their faces had attained at the mo of their deaths in the most heinous of ways one could imagine…chewed on by stinker, boiled in oil, excruciation, last by 500 cilium of a whip, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will dare lay a hand on Clairice either, nor make any form of threatening motion ; the lot of those who do is unknown quantity save for thus : the day after they made the terminal misapprehension in the presence of Kimberly their manhood was found in the streets near their domicile, and no early remains.

Amazingly though, rumour to abound out of Kimberly's hearing of one man, a luxuriously higher-ranking member of the guild of bravo has won her heart….if that is even possible…

The squirming and thrashing of Clairice on the couch, causing it to bounce about some is the purest and sweetest of music to Kimberly.

friction her fingers rapidly over the girl's womanhood, she grins wickedly back at her men ; then she moves back down again, playing her knife across it in rapid, exact strokes and missive patterns of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the fingers of both hands worming their way inside her tight folding.

"Oh how I love those girls who are still fairly innocent,"she declared.

"Davis, get over here and get inside of me…do me toilsome as you can ... do not cum inside me though…"

Clairice just grimaced ; she clearly recognizes that Kimberly is preparing an ultimatum of some kind - a new twist on her nigh sadistic of plot.

She knows this woman is equal to of doing anything ; as on the way for her own ‘ audience'she had been shown a man who failed to cater the answers concerning Finneous's last that they wanted - he was dumped head first into a caldron of boiling oil, one in at a time.

Her acquaintance Darius was whipped while tied to a wooden military post.

The torturers though just could not break up his already harebrained nous ; he continued to fence with the place, some matter of maths and mechanics. Each crack of the party whip drew only a humble slash on his exposed back, enough to inflict maximum pain, yet did not transgress him.

She watched as one torturer came around before Darius with a knife in hand.

He commented that they would now remove the captive skin one inch at a time - yet when the torturer looked into the eyes of Darius, he suddenly lost his spunk and ran down the hall, screaming as if chased by the legions of the damned…

Shortly to be joined by the arcsecond torturer, many of whom never imagined could have his nerves cracked by the regard of an insane man.

No one knows what happened, former than they gazed head long into the insanity of Darius ; then smacked their weapons system as if bitten by some kind of worm ...

Her aid returned to the here and now, and whatever her fortune is to be.

Kimberly continuing her maddening efforts on her, determined to extract every bit of pleasure out of this piffling tart, continuing to refuse her the release her body demands.

Again and again her hips thrust upward as Wave of fiery bliss shoot along her body and threaten to break her intellect. waving of volcanic heating plant flow and ebb along every fiber of her being ; surging and exploding with every case of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rapturous cloud nine !

A swirling, dazzling kaleidoscope of coloration convolution into being, parting and shifting with each new blissful moment sweeping up from her womanhood ; to merge yet again into a new form and being, a cycle that is repeated over and over again, a thousand multiplication for each passing beat of her heated heart.

One silent gulp followed by another and yet a third becomes a stabilize current for some time as one particular spot is touched just so by Kimberly's tongue ; causing her pelvis to shove up, back bending and bosom heaving with the sudden inflow of air her heated, burning consistency is demanding…

The inspector's hands move up and fondle her breast yet again, not bothering to be gentle either ; three times she draws soundless screams out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving contusion of her finger and decoration on each one, relishing the torment she can inflict on such an innocent and cowardly girl…

If she only knew how fast the quicksilver helping hand of lady fortune can turn…

The animalistic grunts and slapping of flesh on flesh of David entering into Kimberly merged with her cries of joy, loud and baseless like a mob of wolves. He showed no restraint, no hesitation in his every apparent motion or desires to enjoy this present moment in which he thinks he has complete ascendancy over the examiner Kimberly.

Of course, his sidekick know better.

"OK you little jade, I will recount you this much…mhmmm…if you cum before David, I will let the rest of the men have…mhmm…their way with you…oh…ohh…"

Grinning savagely Kimberly went about her movement on Clairice in a whirlwind of exertion ; probing and twirling her finger deep in her womanhood while working every portion she can with her flickering tongue and lips. Faster and ever debauched her efforts accelerated, determined to break Clairice once and for all ; to shew these men and the girlfriend who is the lawful boss and mistress on the scene…

Then she will see about destroying the one called Darius.

Clairice fights with all the considerable discipline she has learned in her life, locking her bodies muscles and restraining the ever construction, quickening fervidness of her pending dismissal ; she smiles inward with a small dowery of her thinker as Kimberly howls in foiling - no matter what the inspector does or tries, she just can not make the girl hit her climax.

So tempestuous does Kimberly become her bridge player that holds onto the backrest of their shared couch tears away a lump of wood some two metrical foot long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her breasts saltation with the pulsating rise and autumn of her chest, howling delight escaping her back talk as eyes roll up into her head…she hits her climatic release at the instant St. David, full of bellowing grunts and growls howls for all he is Worth ( and such would make any pack of woman chaser grin with superbia ), his release inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

His grinning is from ear to ear, holding his fist in a Wave of victory for another ‘ conquest'well done.

Moments after his big finish Clairice loosens up on her soundbox, allowing the inevitable surge of final bliss to pour Forth River as an unstoppable storm, the force and madness of the earthquake, the keen tsunami descending onto the seashore of a Continent from across the ocean…

Kimberly shook her pass, clearly disappointed she could not break the girl…

"Well then Clairice, don't let it ever be said I break my password once given. You lasted longer than this also-ran who is strutting like a cock-of-the-walk before a slew of peahens. Get your article of clothing on, you survived this time."

Kimberly just looked at her with smoothing iron in her frigidity greyish eyes,"There will be another though, and who knows ; I may let my son have their fun with you…"

"She is to be escorted home, if one of you so much as ballad a hired man on her, pray for a quick death from self-annihilation ; otherwise I will flay your skin one in at a time, then soaked in vinegar, covered in molten cheese and tossed to a pit full of rabid, plague infested and hungry rotter,"Kimberly informed them all.

Everyone quickly nodded in affirmation ; knowing their foreman is all too able of carrying out that threat.

======
As they gather Clairice's article of clothing, gently handing it to her, backs and gazes now politely turned away ; the Investigator prepares to make her newest recruit - David - a stern lesson in following lodge. One thing David should birth remembered is that each of the Investigators are women who absolutely loathe men most of the sentence, plus being high grade assassin of the guild.

Without bothering to gather her clothing she saunters to stand behind Davis as he finishes lacing his britches ; his grin of conquest turns to worry as he takes in the grin of his companions.

- WHACK !
- whack !
- WHACK !

double over, eyes crossing and soft moans escaping his lips, Jacques Louis David begins a slow, brass first descent to the floor. One more victim racked up to the examiner well known move called the"three-base hit Nutcracker."

"That is for you daring to remember you are even suitable of releasing your seeded player inside of me St. David,"Kimberly growled at him.

Of course by now, laying on the floor while making soft, mewing and whimpering sound, he is beyond any conscious thought or complaint.

Kimberly catches the subtle bemused smile and laughter of Clairice's eye ; that is all the thanks the deaf-and-dumb person missy is capable of giving, she had seen the horrific scar upon her throat.

No, she and the old toymaker Darius had nothing to do with the death of Finneous.

Her responsibility is done though in this matter - ordination from above in the guild told her to find out if the girl Clairice and Darius had anything to do with the demise of Finneous. Pure bit, save for the fact that the torturers had run off for some rationality - that had unnerved Kimberly completely for a here and now or two ; the girl should consider what bit of mercifulness she has been shown, as many of the others brought in for the ‘ probe'will never leave alive.

That is the way of the guild run constable and their research worker ; they control the town folks through fear.

No, these two definitely know nothing…she shakes her head as the miss is led away to be safely delivered home.

Finneous appears to simply birth died of heart stoppage.

cover in her personal business office she examines the last, precious gift sent to her by Finneous…a last gift sent just a few hours before his death…and to just up and die from his heart fillet ; not in deadly combat against another assassin or madman…

She smiles at the marvellous gift :

A simple, bingle, half bloomed rose sent to her from Clairice's flower shop just before he died.

Ironic indeed, two of the most deadly of killers sharing one matter in common : A dearest for rosebush of all kinds.

In fact he had one near him at the time of his death, and then this gift came for her a short time afterwards.

Taking it in hand from the quartz glass vase it arrived in, she looks at the peak in the sonant lantern light ; the promise of mantrap beyond wonder hinted once the blossom opens to its fullest.

Bringing it to her nose she savors the heady fragrance that mix together - rose backtalk, cinnamon and clover ; plus others that still defy her ability to identify.

Little wonder Finneous sent it to her, such a swag can bring a kings ransom or more from its grower…

It takes over two hours before anyone who heard the crashing haphazardness followed by absolute secretiveness to build up the courage to enter her office, rightfully fearing for their lives.

Of course they quickly discern there is nothing to fear any more from Kimberly - being dead does give that guarantee ; and she is deemed to get died from heart stoppage as did Finneous.

The jubilation held that night in the Constables federal agency for her passing lasted well into the future day ; the moans and groans of the men and women coupling merged with the coupling of women with other charwoman telling all who dared to hear just how the celebration culminated.


*************
"gentleman you can put me down now, there is no need for the escort…"

As usual no matter what Darius said or did the Constables escorting him and Clairice to her store paid him no attention. Its not that he minded the date, nor having her as party during the tenacious manner of walking home ; he is glad they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by gang raping her as so many other womanhood routinely are - the so called ‘ law'of this town lives by terror as does the assassinator who rule.

What really is bothering him is being carried hog-tied to a tenacious pole carried between two constable ; they had the audacity to do so with his now cut up gown as well, leaving him wearing only a twain of string bare britches in a deathly shivering night.

"O.K. Guy,"said the patrol leader - Jambis,"we have done our duty for the night ; now, provide her be and knock down him…"

The two police constable carrying him summarily threw him into a heap of garbage and slime. To add further insult to injury, the patrol dumps slews of garbage from containers, traveling bag, and boxes on top of him ; mocking him as a true maniac.

"fountainhead lads master Gordon wanted him humiliated ; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the next time the master wants an order filled, get it right. One more fault and the following visit by us will be a more pain sensation filled than your demented incubus could comprehend,"Jambis told him.

"Really, I look forward to giving you book of instructions in such nightmares some time then,"he said with such coldness, voice devoid of all emotion, that the entire patrol was chilled to their very bones.

"Mind you Darius, that is from me just because I can,"Jambis said.

With that he delivers three wolf kicks with an smoothing iron tipped boot to Darius's head.

Having finished with their business organisation the patrol heads out, making sure no one pays any tending to their message being delivered to Darius. That is the rule of the streets - pay no tending to anything that is not your business and you then delay active for another day…usually.

Even that blasted wretch of a adulteress Clairice is gone.

"smart fille, keep out of deal, and keep out of hassle. Let's get back to Ragner ; then we can possess a dark on the Ithiel Town with our payment…how about that new ale house ? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…"Jambis'spokesperson fades away as Darius rolls on the ground in pain…

Or at the to the lowest degree, the feinting of pain ; for they do not see him suddenly take fully control of his body, his oculus set on their backbone in a matter that promises death to each one of the patrol.

Only the opening of the shop threshold and a gesture of her with the amethyst eyes keeps his pursuit in check…

Not now, revenge will look, and he has a expert way of doing it - one that he will revel when the clock time is right.


======
minute later in the cities crowded market one young lady casually strolls down the way ; just a round-eyed milk maid from the farms outside the town. No one pays her any attention, the much patched, homespun fabric coated in the casual grime of grueling labor keeps most eyes from more than than a coup d'oeil followed by, for those of more wealthy means, a insulting snort of disgust.

She filled her hoop with an categorization of fruits, day old bread and early good for a belittled kinsfolk of one ; all that the vendors know she needs.

Friendly, but silent, the scar across her pharynx and left nerve indicate a horrendous injury that never properly healed due to lack of care.

Still with simple gestures of pantomime they communicate for conducting business ; both prescribed and otherwise, for one of the vendors passes her a small sack of refreshed fruit, something she pays well to obtain due to their rare and just nature.

vertebral column in the safety device of one established den, she sees her associate carefully undo the firing cloth to gain accession to the bill. He takes extreme care in doing this, to make indisputable the note is not trapped in some manner - say with a small, highly poisonous louse or a small-scale snake.

"wealthy person reliance in your federal agent on-key my granddaughter ; but study fear in case one has been turned,"granddaddy had warned her in a lesson so long ago.

In her small mirror, used to murder the makeup, false scars and former token of her disguises, she sees her currently immature eyes turn back to their formula color…the Twin orb of amethyst fires…

"My lady,"her fellow says as he holds the note out for her to examine.

It is from one of her other factor :

Jesmine and her family are out of the city and well on their way to a new life.

For a second her grinning turns feral ; her amethyst oculus dancing with pure fires from within.

She remembered the lesson Shan Tiel had taught :

The assassinator controls agents through promise of wealthiness for winner, and promise of destruction for failure. Find the object he threatens destruction to, the key to control over the family - once found, machinate the family unit escape. When the agentive role of the bravo no longer is controlled by fear, their concern now becomes a burning at the stake desire for revenge. Thus the assassin in now vulnerable, and when you are ready, he will die.

Finneous held power and thus had number mastery of the father by threatening hurt to his precious Jesmine.

When the offer of freedom and escape from the fear of Finneous came, and understood to be lawful, he took up the one task without reluctance. Hence the flower was delivered and the note left behind.

One assassin is dead, three more to go.

Along with taking down the nifty swag of them all ; now the paranoia and the pressure level will rise and ascend until all comes down.

He watched her cross the room to station the note among a minuscule bundle of them, to be burned later on and the ash tree scattered in the wilds. No grounds of them is to remain at all once committed to memory.

His creative thinker registered each appease sway of her articulatio coxae, her covering robe of pink silk shining in the ignitor of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to tease him with a brief Apocalypse of a leg here, a calf there, a potential sight of one fortune or another in the near unremitting play of lighter and shadow. Not one noise did her feet make as they all but danced across the wooden floor, so poise and ghostly is each foot placed ; always ready for action on a bit notice…

Oh how he could think over what it would be like to feel his humanity being rubbed and tenderly teased to its uttermost likely by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in turning Begin to osculate one human foot, working to her ankle joint and then gently easing up, one inch at a time to her innermost thigh and seek out the one heavenly place she has, the one portion he loves on a cleaning woman to please and taste, to get the exuberant warmth of her human body and…

- Whack !

"My lady if you will excuse me I am off to get some rest,"Associate said as he slowly eased his body around the tongue hanging shrewd side up, just a hairs breath beneath his turn on manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol member talk of their deeds, screened by a small contingent of the well inform creatures to be found within any city : Street urchins, red worm, lurkers, they go by many such names and almost all have one thing in mutual ; they are the bottom of the social order.

The poor, homeless, orphans, maniac, and all such people who are desperate to make a coin or two for a decent meal ; so it is that many in positions of mightiness use them to watch any and all bowel movement, any rumors or stories no matter how fiddling. Few people pay them any attention save to restrain helping hand on their money belts, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being unseeable while in knit sight.

One early trait the lurkers, such as a Whitney Moore Young Jr. lad casually strolling along the streets a short time later, his work force deep in coat pouch, is a well honed instinct for survival. Otherwise he would have died long before now. Yet the fact is when he bumps into someone, he is the one knocked to the ground - landing succeeding to a fallen basket of fruit…

A noblewoman looks down upon his fallen form, the Corvus corax bootleg hairsbreadth done up in a flowing braid, blue-white hat tied to her head while sapphire blue eyes watched. Her blush-enhanced cheeks glistened in the sunlight, matching the gloss on her mouth as her smile grew wide-cut with poetic pleasure that many men, and some women, wished to explore with pounding hearts…

Her okay gown of late sea green sparkled in the light, slit along one leg to flow enticingly about her calfskin and thigh, promising forbidden delights to those will and able to pay the price. The soft vest of cyan silk she wore clung to every one of her womanly curve it reached, preserve for a portion that shows a glimpse of her breasts, soft and pink of pelt, as many an aristocratic man enjoys…

fold her parasol, she bends down into a half bend, the textile of her gown conveniently flowing about her upper berth second joint to expose the pearly luster of her skin ; muscles honed to absolute ne plus ultra and hinting at the military capability contained within - the better to wrap around their eventide choir in the stroke of mania, or so it is said.

She extends one hand to the lad, her mitt flowing up to the elbow and dancing with glitter crafted of a mix of mother-of-pearl, emeralds, azure and such crushed, then glued with exacting care to the fabric.

The lad, his majority reached just two days ago does not proceed ; he is still, despite a bumpy biography on the streets that has left him gangly, short and suffering malnutrition, in out-and-out fear of this lady. His racing heart beats from the panic of her superbly nature, the flush of high temperature deep in his body flowing fast and hard while his humanity demands his tending, threatening to buck his britches apart.

He looks upon her with awe and admiration ; this lady is of the famed"sister of the Blue."

Across the way, a quaternary of the sister pass by, stopping only long enough to see the actions of one of their own translation aid to a street urchin. They show faces momentarily flushed with anger, then sniff and take the air off in consummate disdain…indicating this sister is something of an outcast from that elite group.

apprehension that he must be on his best manners, for the saki of his life - the Sisters are often said to be part of the guild of assassin, and under the personal control of the grandpa of assassin - the young person extended hand shakes with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ legend come to biography'( in his mind, she is a veritable goddess of passion and pleasure that can never be approached by the lowest of mortal ), can be more daunting than the headmaster of destruction who are probably preparing their poison tipped blades to turn him into a hand basket…

"Ma'am I am sorry for knocking your basket out of hand,"accepting error for the issue even when none is there. With utmost care and obedience he hands the fruit basket back to her.

"I shall use more than caution in the future tense ; have a good day ma'am,"he says until her hand rests gently on his shoulder.

Everyone watches in wonder as she takes him into the semi-private area of a general computer storage ; she uses pantomime to finally get the point across to the grocer, who shakes in near terror at the mentation of causing the Sister any discourtesy ( being connected to assassins can cause this to encounter a lot, the sis thinks ), to equip the lad with a full set of NEW clothing, no second hired hand junk.

She pulls out a minuscule number of silver coins to cover the toll and to buy some small trade good that the grocer gives her a massive price reduction upon.

Through the store door and windows the gathered bunch watch in jaw-dropping wonderment as she sits the lad down next to her on a bench as the grocer goes to get the new vesture. Her hand playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to shudder like cypher. He fights to prevent his oculus off of her, especially as she takes one of his hired man into her own and moves it to the lower edge of her vest…gently guiding it up under the material and onto her breast beneath.

His jaw flaps open and closed repeatedly as the heat of her flesh, the yielding softness of it, catches him by surprise - no ma'am has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone acknowledge, assassins and the normal phratry of providence, that the lad is now a personal agent of her own ; to harm or touch him in any way is to risk the retribution of the Assassins…maybe, as no one can really be trusted who she works for…

The baby in blue expression upon all the witness with coyly pursed lips, eyes set in a wicked gaze that promises the lad untold heat to derive and untold, absolute pain and death for anyone interfering with her chosen talent of recruitment for him.

The lad smell at her in skinny scare, until she gently kisses him on the buttock, nose and brow with a grin. She gently takes his hand away from her breast and readjusts her clothing while the grocer returns with the garments. Ushering the lad into a changing way to see the answer, the grocer returns to putting her purchased goodness in her basket ; then hands it to her with a deep bow, nod of the headland and a rarefied smile on his face.

So successful has the deception been, no one suspected the grocer passed a little parcel of papers her way in the field goal ; in good turn she had passed command on as well, concealed under her vest for the lad to carry to others in her ever expanding circle of factor and contacts.

Before sunset comes, the leaders of her net of agents ; begin preparations of their own ; preparations for the massive strike once she gives the signal…as weapon system and armor are prepared ; their grinning are as of captive wolves about to put down their tormentor.



======
Later that night, her heart read carefully the gather accounts of all her own agent, point of those known factor and members of the assassin's guild ; their duties, patrol times, use and so forward. Each detail that is gathered shows more weaknesses, Sir Thomas More fuel for the pending firestorm.

Among all these clew, facts and information there stands out one luck - a chink in the enemy'armour ; the way one helplessness can be so dramatically exploited.

How to attain it with tally surprise ?

After a few minute of arc of contemplation she turns to her Associate, and via the silent hand language explains what is needed. His smile and nod shows the delectation in her estimation, and he has a fair idea of who to approach to craft the ‘ gift'that is needed.

As he looks into her eye he sees the chemical mixture that allows her to change their colour wear off ; the fake azure blue reverting back to the true, lustrous amethyst fires he has come to admire so a great deal. The mix used to get this happen is rough-cut in the Far Orient, unknown to these half-wit assassins of the West.

One more edge for their side ; and they need every one they can achieve.

His gaze flows over her lithe form, the silken robe enshrouding her partially exposed as she continues to read ever to a greater extent of the messages ; her bared hide glistens in the gentle illumination of the oil lamp, casting shadows and light that saltation suggestively across stomach and breasts, hiding and revealing in a dance of sensualness suggesting more wonder are nearby if he would just dare to explore…

Putting on his pelage as slowly as possible, pretending that his arm is stuck in the arm, he drinks in the deal of her block pegleg, crossed and curved to sustain the sight of her fair sex just out of reach ; yet teasingly he can just gain out a bit of the sonant, downy tomentum between her thighs…a prize he would love to explore if she just would let him do so…

How much pleasance he could work forth from her unlike the now short Inspector Kimberly - that one used the sexual for intimidation and mastery ; he will for her to be pleased and loved.

Bared breasts moves ever so slightly with each of her mollify breathing spell ; dancing in a rhythm silent and sweetie, enticing with their tit so lenient, pink and fully raise as if daring him to run in and consider the impossible.

How he would love to delight them, his fingertips spiraling inward from his caresses along the base, after placing uncounted kisses on each one, leaving no portion untouched. The taste of her body, changing as her organic structure became More and more excite, sweeter and sweeter, mixing with the heady scent of that wonderful perfume she wears…

From her breasts he would be active downward on her abdominal cavity, teasing her stomach with constant slight kisses to rend many silent sets of giggles and laughs as possible ; then proceeding downward to her muliebrity, by now so ready to be aroused and her eyes would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would revel in that sweetest of all tastes and smells ; her bared muliebrity, still so Danton True Young and fairly innocent before him. Each soft touch of his finger's breadth and lips, the caresses of his tongue on those most sensitive of spots, natures gift to women, he would double his endeavor on and as she increased in fulfilment towards her climax, bring her down a bit and then repeat the efforts again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the wonderful chemical reaction of her dead body heaving and gyrating as she hits her release, waves of walking on air and fiery mania flowing across her organic structure to go down to the one compass point of her thinker demanding to enjoy each second of the sensations.

She would look at him with those lackadaisical amethyst heart, a silent invitation given and confirmed as her arms were held out to him, welcoming their union as one…

- Thunk !

"My dame,"he calmly stated,"if you will permit me I shall gain due haste to batten down the servicing we need for the next part of the plan…"

He gently moves forward a bit, making sure to make the sharp side up blade stuck in the wall just a hairs breath below his manhood…her means of reminding him, love affair may come later, right now other thing are priority.

She just shakes her caput and smiles as he leaves ; wondering how many more than times she may have to do that to get the musical theme through his mind - she does not want romance, not at this time, she needs just a Friend. grandpa was the one she loved the most, and it's too soon since his passing…


*****************
*****************
Normally a walk among his beds of flowers cheerfulness the drear, afoul, humorless of humour he could attain. This day though, is not one of them ; his great rose gardens, the greatest of his gem accumulated over the stopping point ten years now have become a bane.

Three mean solar day ago, three of the blossom were carefully cut and vanished.

Two of these blossom appeared this good morning, one in the theater of Jesmine's kinsfolk ; the others next to the now very absolutely Finneous and Kimberly.

An incredibly delicately morning he was spending with a Sister in Blue crumbled into ashes with the messenger who arrived unheralded, accompanied by a lowering guard from the lodge hall.

His message was wide-eyed : The Grandfather of assassinator wants to see him.

He felt the coldness, gripping hired hand of Death clutches about his throat and heart ; the sheer panic threatening of the pending session alone all but stopping his heart.

grandad's docile interrogation - he could simply induce tortured him to death on a whimsy - centered on the note supposedly in his own refined and flowing handwriting, so close of a forgery that even the guilds best experts are hard pressed to narrate the remainder.

Finally he was allowed to go, still intact in psyche and torso ; most such ‘ interrogatory'wind up with the victim being boiled in oil if they are lucky.

Yet the really substance he gave to Gordon is this : grandad is watching for a coup d'etat from within, or to see if a certain overlord will fall ( i.e. Gordon ) and a new one promoted in his place.

This mystery is driving him to the brink of madness ; the denotation again of ten old age of silence, only two others still alive bed what happened all those years ago with the declaration on the banker and his family unit.

So either one of them has slipped the countersign out to set him up for a fall…or someone else has figured the social occasion out and is setting him up for a fall…

The relief that the roses disappeared makes one thing make though ; someone has an agent on the inside, and needs to be found out and ‘ interrogated.'He does not tolerate those who sell him out…not at all.

But who could it be ?

Though he never can fully trust anyone about him, a few have again and again proven their trueness and dead reliability over the years…Yes, he will stimulate them watched from a aloofness ; mutual thugs and padder factor of the social club, if they get killed by their own incompetence, there will be no John Major loss.

Pleased with this plan another cerebration comes to him ; here he is in the undefendable, well within grasp of a sharpshooter with a crossbow…

…making him an easy target, perfectly accommodating any targeting him right now from a tree or roof top…

He retreats back into the manor, swiftly closing and barring the monumental branding iron room access. The watch is doubled and the place is to be searched from top to penetrate twice over. Pure defensive amount if his intuition of a tap at him is right-hand.

Of row, if a coup try happens as Grandfather expects, he will rush to fight down the loss leader of the guild. If the opportunity arises, then he will put away of Grandfather. His climate brightens at those thoughts ; he as the new grandfather of bravo, ruling the town and the lodge plus all of his own lands…why not, this bears some discussion with his associates - Gerald and Cinnius.

Even with the thoughts now calculating program and contingency for the coup of the gild or excretion of a rival one fact remains clear. His script never loosens its traction on the razor sharp knife hanging from his belt.



**********************
**********************
companion moved as carefully and quietly as he could, not daring to make a noise at all. phantasma to shadow, one small step at a clip he moves, quieter than a mouse on the prowl. For various days he has built up the nerve to arrive closer and closer ; with sealed precautions being taken this time…

- clunk.

Quickly he grabs the fabric edge, cast smoothing iron plate draped across his humanity to calm up even this little bit of interference. His quarry this eventide is all too in all likelihood to spend a penny trusted he is gelded indeed…and the poisonous substance on her blade are another knottiness as well to that kind of embarrassment.

Looking around the final examination corner into the pocket-size Harlan Fiske Stone grot below the safe household they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst middle showering beneath a soft, sweetie, misting cascade of steaming water. This may be one of the few luxuries she ever has allowed herself…

Associate of course, just grinning, as he sees the show is about to begin…

She bent her head downward to necessitate in the frontal portion of her exhibit body, those smallish breasts glistening with humble beads of water upon them. Both hands came together in front of her, tip to tip, her eyes taking in the dance light source that gleamed like a million millions of ball field before a flame, playfully moving along her smooth tegument before they disappear into the puddle about her metrical unit, merging with the rest for eternity.

fellow looked with wonderment as she playfully gathered a fistful of the piddle after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her silent gag adding to the wonderment of her gleaming eyes when the droplets come back down to crash on her. She moves weapon system, stage, shoulders and head to catch or sidestep constituent of it ; shifting from foot to foot in many different poses.

Then her gaze shifts to her breasts once again.

One fingertip began to research, resting at foremost upon the really bag of her ribs, to flow upward in a narrow-minded, focused, undulating lead that clearly sent a profusion of feelings surging into all luck of her mind.

Associate could all too well envisage what she would say if run-in could be given form to her view ... yes, she would describe her own experience as ...

I felt as if my earth came awake from the heartbeat my fingertip first touched flesh, a public opening before me unlike any other ...

Sharp and sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; password without word form for feelings that can not be described save up as a harmoniousness like a series of pour forging into a mighty river as all juncture together. My eyes closed as I felt the hotness in my organic structure beginning to shift and ramp up, a sweltering impulse that flowed from the psyche of my feet to the baksheesh of my fingers, caressing hips and berm, knee joint and elbows as the soft, sensuous touch modality of a graceful devotee who only desires to pleasure his ma'am to no end.

I smelled with each breath the celestial profusion of aroma - the mineral rich piddle, the ancient age of the rocks around me along with the musky, Earth racy odour of men and women who have lived here over the vast age the house above has existed. The howling, judicious mixture of the bathing scoop I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to take care an ancient forest never before visited by human organism ; of mountain hayfield with bloom fully in bloom and the dessert, gentle breeze flowing across them.

The fingertip became a flatten palm tree, easing along the sharpness of my chest, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in small, gruntle circles. One circle became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded ; while my hand caressed and massaged more and Sir Thomas More area of my breasts.

My other hired hand flowed down my body unto the most personal spot each cleaning woman alone understands and has by a gift of nature ; they followed my minds command to start out exploring and probing, as I sought out the one spot to send me away into heavenly bliss for a short time.

I heard and felt my breathing spell speedup, my chief making a lowly circle as electrical charges of consummate seventh heaven tingled their way up my eubstance ; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant spate of muscularity, invigorating and easing, the raw potency of animation made realness. Stroke by gentle stroke the non-finite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping my white meat until they crossed the upright nipples ; that kickoff gracing contact sent a coursing pulse of passion along all the path of my body, surging and rebounding until it returned a century congregation in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

My back arched as berm thrust back with my promontory ; my free hand quickly clenched the vanities marble edge as both of my legs all but gave out beneath me. Muscles twitched and squirmed, nerves firing in delight and demanding they be touched to pay me even more pleasance than I had experienced with just that one monolithic spate of wonderment.

Unto its journey my manus continued, seeking out with almost desperate haste the other pap ; its lead a pull in path illuminated by fires of bliss as it moved along my peel. pulse rate after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the ripples on a pond, yet with the military unit of a shower among a mighty river.

I commanded my eubstance to bear still, to balance and move with the flowing billow that will shortly fare ; to use the DOE and move with it instead of in opposition to it. When it came, the marginal clash of flesh on that nipple ; combined with the joy flowing from my womanhood ; superb lightning ripped up and down my body, flexing and loosening muscles and face in marvellous way as I shook and moved ; the moving ridge moving downward as I sought to direct the returning pulse…

And then it hit ; the most intimate and enjoyable of sensations that sent me into a long, jarring climax that lasted over five min ; my peel shining brilliant in a shimmering cloud of soft steam rising from my body.

I felt more live than ever before.

- BOOM !

In an instant of ardour and pain Associates fantasy of his ladies delightful experience being told to him shatters.

She shook her school principal as companion went diving into the grottos primary pond, britches smoking beneath the cast iron denture he is wearing over his groin. He apparently forgot that one of the explosive compound he carried at the ready would go off at the least incorrectly motion…why would he keep it down there though ?

She just rolled her eyes to the heavens…



**********************
**********************
It has been a busy two weeks since the dying of master Finneous and John Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent Seth of ‘ interview'sanctioned by the club are cipher more than a campaign of brat, intimidation and compulsion to prompt all of Providence who rules the Town. Of course, a few of the more ambitious members of the gild also took the occasion to boost their own promotion from within the guild…

A tongue in a superiors back, appropriately poisoned, does help out with this furtherance procedure…until such a time your underling gains your new military position by ratting you out to the Grandfather, and then you wonder why you are about to be executed in a pit of rabid rats…

For she whose eyes are light with amethyst fires, the hebdomad have been even longer, two key item she needs to give birth crafted by local sources seem to never get finished. Day by day she waits and hopes for the message that they are ready to arrive. Day by day the message never comes, and her longanimity begins to fray at the edges…

Two long weeks where with each passage day the agent under Master Cinnius have harmed more than and more innocent multitude ; the continuing and growing political campaign of terror, sanctioned ultimately by the grandfather of Assassins. One more crime for them to pay for…

Then the substance arrives :"The gift is ready."

Thus she has come to remain firm in the back way of a toymaker this night…

With the most gentle, tender of care, each of the egg-sized celestial sphere is examined for the smallest of flaw ; and none are to be found. Her feral grin is matched by that of the toymaker standing following to her ; both of hers and the one remaining of his gleaming with musing of the coming drop of the irregular king…

"blast with fervency, which is what you instructed ; just do not overlook any of them, the results of trend would be fairly impressive and quite terminal. Those idiots of the guild never figured I know the arts of alchemy as well as being a toymaker. Now through you I can have my revenge upon them after so many long years…"he shook his head in hanker sustained sadness.

Twelve geezerhood ago, for making a small mistake in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at sword breaker point by a guild member, they came and slaughtered his married woman and eight minor before his eyes. Then forever scarred him as a reminder - burning off the leftfield face of his brass and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away ; he has never forgotten the pain in the ass, nor the terrible resolve for revenge to be exacted on the tormenter of his - Cinnius - if the opportunity arrived.

When it did with her, he jumped at it immediately ; she has promised much more as well…

She hands him a folded letter containing the initial contact information for those who see him to safety device ; I who specialize in smuggling people to freedom and who are part of her own network. While he looks at the information she disappears out the second doorway and into the safety of the shadows. No one, not even a cat laying down ten inches from the room access, senses her passage.

Soon enough one more King shall be swept off the board…


***************
***************
The succeed two hebdomad sees verbalise topsy-turvydom sweep the street federal agent of the Guild. The average gossip heard in shops and among workers has suddenly been replaced with word of a brewing tycoon struggle within the guild leading, of a rival guild from another city, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be gaga and more unconvincing than the finale and always third gear, fourth or even one-fifth helping hand from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

Only one stream of the rumour is invariable - three players, headmaster Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon.

The more that the Grandfather hears of these rumors, the more he wonders if there is a takeover being prepared by these three ; or one of them who is also trying to dispose of the others…yes indeed…something is brewing and it means major trouble…but for whom…

He gives orders for his own agents to find the sources of these rumors, or face the most hideous demise that they could imagine…


=======
Her amethyst eyes sparkle in the soft light of the moon coming into the room from the window. Once again her own street agentive role have excelled beyond all sane expectations ; atmospheric pressure and yet More pressure is being put on the club agents as they hunt for the truth…or what they perceive as the truth behind the rumors…

Paranoia can be so handy to take a crap lifespan pathetic for assassins…

The softest of footfalls draws her attending to the doorway where her comrade enters.

He bows politely and announces he has some news from others he is in impinging with…ones that will construct the end of this hunt truly worthwhile if they agree to join…

"My lady,"he said,"I have come from the loss leader of those who are in waiting, before they will commit fully to our plan they want ‘ dramatic proof of the society being vulnerable.'It must leave no doubt in the topic. I told them that such a thing is already being prepared ; just to let them know who is in ascendance of this hunt. These assassin have allowed the anger to establish against them for so long, by so much fear that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the demonstration will bestow those who wait into our fold."

She nods to him, showing agreement with his version of the matter.


************************
Near the new ale-house which is a straw man for the assassinator'guild's functioning, the main tap elbow room is flowing with customers coming and going. The back rooms this night also are active as members and federal agent move in and out with clockwork preciseness. nigh land collection from loanword, blackmail, extortion and other cut from occupation for ‘ insurance'reasons.

Some of the deliverance though are for payment of contract taken out on business rivals…one being sent to Master Cinnius.

This natural endowment for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the edge are brilliant, almost living works of half-bloomed roses, and the relief of Master Gordon's manor house house. It is the work of many passe-partout artisan and worth a fortune in and of itself.

Yet the guild takes few chances ; as a special band of thieves who are trained in the means of ambush crafting and of disarming them checks it over in exacting particular - their lives depend on it as if they fail…swift, brutal death.

To the adept they can limit, there is nothing amiss ; only a faint layer of dust upon the wrapping cloth and the wooden box itself. Obviously some apprentice carver failed to dust it off prior to shipping it here…still as per the standing orders of Grandfather the box is opened, to ensure no unpleasant surprisal await within.

No disruption is to come to this performance, none at all, and they know their animation are give up if anything does go wrong.

Inside they find a lord set of billiard balls, the preferred biz of Master Cinnius, plus a letter written in the feed script of Master Gordon…

My familiar Cinnius - the letter opens - please accept this as my giving for ten class of quiet work. Soon we shall harvest the harvest of our efforts ; may you enjoy the many game to be played with this billiards set - Gordon.

Many people examine the items, passing them around to see if any are trapped. Nearby the guards standing spotter keep their arm at the ready ; prepared to instantly mistreat in if danger threatens, of path if one of the examiners just up and dies then they will contain their primer coat to cover later directly to granddaddy of the events.

Ragner, the current agent in rush of the military operation smiles as his men engage in some fun ; tossing the billiard balls back and forth, juggling them and raising little cloud of the rubble that came from inside the box. He tells the guards to join in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of granddaddy has its vantage after all, and if something does go improper - they can occupy the fall.

However at the minute, considering the varsity letter from Master Gordon, he wonders if much Thomas More is afoot at the time. Plots within game, deception within deception, trustfulness no one…

Still…

He has been instructed to wreak his use of working for Master Gordon, yet that letter…

The letter that has selective information that grandpa has offered requital for…a payment he finds all too tempting to pass up.

"Hmm, maybe Gordon is passing the mental process over to Cinnius after all ? Some sound offer coming in turn to the boss ?"he speculates aloud.

Turning to his own agent Jambis, he hands the missive to him with instructions that this is to get back to the order, and directly to the granddad. Many see him hand a belittled souvenir, a medallion that bears the personal cross of the grandpa to Jambis - this is a pass for emergencies or critical messages only.


Right now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH ; critical data the grandad may require, to avoid a putsch effort staged to unseat him.

early federal agent whom directly answer to the granddaddy hear Ragner murmuring"…this time Gordon has gone too far…a game and a coup…or a move to set up Cinnius, or another setting up Gordon…"

As they speed off one by one, their info reaches the head of the society before the occult varsity letter does.

Ragner watches Jambis of the police constable gather his team about himself, and then put the letter into an inner singlet pocket, unopened and unread. Both of them slap the junk off their hands that was upon the missive.

Ragner considers for a instant that the box must not be of such superior crafting as he first assumed ; given the sheer amount of dust covering it, as if it has been on a ledge for untold ages.

He only holds onto that train of cerebration for a few moments ; before turning to more authoritative topic, of how he is going to spend his wages and use his success here to come on within the guild.

Out of the box of his eye Ragner catches a serial publication of distinguishable movements, the flashing and glistening of color that tells him of a special variety of danger now approaching his expanse. He focuses his integral attention upon the closing scourge, appearing as relaxed and casual as he can while watching, listening, and waiting for the to the lowest degree bit of information that can give him an sharpness in the impending encounter…

deuce-ace figure of speech approach, their flowing and bustled night-robe, double laced vests with frilly edging ; and gloves that flow up to their articulatio cubiti match the white John L. H. Down of hats and ribbons binding their prey mordant fuzz ; their eyes of lazuline blue would corroborate their allegiance if the Saame colour of their wear and shading parasol did not…

terzetto sis of the Blue in one gathering !

Unheard of by almost anyone ; as the divine service of one alone would pause Ragner for the following ten lifetimes !

Then he sees the bodyguard of the gentleman's gentleman the sisters are entertaining flanking him, fore, aft and to the sides ; thus changing the slight envy Ragner was feeling into deferential terror…

Master Gerald walks on past, not bothering to pay anyone any attention other than the three ladies.

Such lavishness Ragner plans to have as his own and all too soon ; with the reward promised by grandpa he can have any identification number of the Sisters of the Blue with him at any clip he wishes…

There is much he has to plan, and carefully…

Plans within architectural plan, a harvest ready to be reaped…

It's just that the harvest will not be as he expected.

For soon, the absolute silence of the grave fills the area…



*************************
Atop a nearby roof a stemma of fierce gargoyles watch with their eternal gaze upon the shot below ; nearby they are shaded from the heating plant of the day by a twain of mighty oak trees over a one C metrical foot in height, plus a lamp chimney long bricked up, that daily casts its shadow across them as well. For as long as anyone in Providence recalls these statues have maintained their silent watch, the unmoving guardian and recording equipment of the towns history.

One other watches the rear end of the ale-house, the agents playing their biz and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her eternally silent chuckle as the secret plan stops with all too suddenly for the players. The idiocy of these Western assassins and their dingbat agents never ceases to amuse and storm her.

Keeping a careful count, knowing her window of opportunity is short-circuit, she scans the area again and again with her oculus of amethyst flame. At the counts predetermined end, she makes sure enough her harness bag is snug about one shoulder and quickly leaps to one tree, descending with all due haste and a last bound from a low branch to the room access at the book binding of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally unsounded precaution, thief, agentive role and assassins of the operations here ; as they are no longer a threat in any form…so long as she does not tinge them with her air skin. Silent as death she slips into the spine elbow room, bypassing a ransom of precious stone, coins, gem and jewelry fit for a hundred kings. Wealth beyond most people's imagination lays open to her fingertips…and means nada for her…

The game she is hunting is of much, much more personal value…

She halts inches away from the table upon which the trapped box rests. Before she gets close to the box there are care to be taken : the donning leather boxing glove ; binding a thick material mask across her mouth and nozzle ; and then taking a large rag in deal, she soaks it thoroughly with a bottleful of prepared oil.

She takes no hazard ; as the risks of the ambuscade still linger until handle with…and are all too deadly…

With swift, precise motility, continuing a second count for the remainder of the window still open, she rubs down every surface, inside and out, of the wooden open. Collecting each billiard clump, they in crook are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she central the booby trapped box with the substantial talent for Master Cinnius…one that will deliver a very strong reception to him…she will demand nada else ; or her sweat may amount to nothing…

She pulls out a bag from her harness bag, places the box into it and then, with the utmost care, soaks her baseball glove with the get up oil until she is for sure they are discharge of the dust that so annoyed Ragner until his ending…then the baseball mitt and rag join the trapped box in the bag.

For a moment, looking down at the carnage her and comrade efforts have wrought, she wonders what kind of looks will be on the case of Master Gordon when he hears of the operations uttermost failure. Of course of action in the case of passe-partout Cinnius…she will bed when he has received his gift in a limited manner indeed ...

"Fire with Fire,"is what the alchemist declared back when she picked up the little surprise for Cinnius. Oh how lawful that shall go, with an spare twist to it.

One rule the assassins forget when they come into positions of authority and ability : Never become predictable in any style ; for predictability makes one vulnerable, and soon enough all too dead…

Just like all the idiots on Ragner's watch.

Nearing the end of her count she hastens on down the street, joining the gathering gang who are drawn to the hue and cries for aid by a patrol of the constable. Whispers start as to what or who could induce brought him down with such speed, as he is still Whitney Moore Young Jr. and in good perfect health.

Yet it looks like his heart has just up and stopped.

Soon enough the hue and cry is sounded from the backrest of the ale-house ; the massacre having been discovered by the next shift of guild agents arriving. In revulsion some flee the view, screaming for their very lives, while the rest head start demanding answers of those living nearby or passing on the street. Despite their best and most violent means of demanding the reply, no one has seen anything…

Save for those who are now dead…which will perplex their asking the three score and five corpses lying around the back of the ale-house any interrogative sentence. Even an test of the remains themselves reveals short save that they, just like Jambis, appear to stimulate died of heart stop…and then five of the inspector of the soundbox themselves pass into the next worldly concern within the twenty-five percent hour…plus those who have dared to move the bodies for interment details…

By the end of"The whammy"as it comes to be known, over five score and seven guild agents and assassins lay utterly. In one moment, the guild has been dealt a withering coke ; one that an agent who is sent to describe to the guild leadership sums up so well…

"Oh man, grandfather is not going to be very happy over this disaster. I'll be fortunate if he does not moil me in oil for delivering this news,"he told his brother as he moved to depart about his errand.

He was stopped though, one of Grandfathers federal agent handing him a packet that contained a letter found upon the organic structure of Jambis - meant to be delivered for the grandpa middle only. During his all too swift traveling to the society Asaph Hall, and to the door of Grandfathers potty elbow room, he kept figuring the many ways a man could be boiled in oil…and cringed with each one, expecting that to be his fate.

Grandfather's aid received the package, opened it and say the letter aloud to all present. Just after he finishes, his eyes glaze over and he falls backwards, dead as anything as the final traces of dust dissipate off the vellum page.

The messenger knew in the split second granddaddy's stern gaze fell across his own that end of the world was now upon him. He was wrongfulness about being boiled in oil ; instead his ending came as he was lowered inch by inch into molten bronze, and a dying masquerade of his integral eubstance created, a unequalled statue soon added to those of Grandfathers innermost sanctum.

For the balance of the day and into the Nox, gramps brooded, wondering how to turn over this disaster to his advantage and continued survival.


======
In the shelter of a safe star sign they have established, one to be abandoned for good once their camouflage and the trapped box are disposed of in the open fireplace, Associate bows his headland in acknowledgement of her winner. As she changes from one outfit to another, he can not preserve from watching, seeing her banish form in the Light is a sight to behold. Well he can always dream…right now business calls…not to remark the store of the knife just missing him down there by a bit…

"I assumed the ‘ marrow stop over'poison worked as planned ?"he inquired.

She quickly conveys the carnage wrought using the silent sign of the zodiac language.

The ikon he derives brings out a series of chuckles that flow into a flood of laugh ; one simpleton trap has wrought such mass murder on the operations of the assassin's society. The exquisite demise of the patrol leader Jambis is extra frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not deliver the death blow…

Yet the remainder of his patrol…hmmm…

"My dame,"he carefully and respectfully speaks to her,"what of the rest of his patrol ? There is still the small issue of my pets having certain…needs ... shall we say…to be taken care of…"

Her expression turns purely feral, and a quick nod follows. With that extra bit of patronage concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the side by side destiny of the programme. Tonight the rumors of the streets will turn to silence ; no more rumors of the three Masters will be heard, thus many will assume the rumour are truthful, building fear and paranoia higher and gamy within the guild…

As if the trap in the ale-house could not barrack Thomas More fear…such a unproblematic, elegant trap…

"Heart stop,"he says softly, then gives a subtle chuckle.

sum stop consonant is one of the most subtle of poisons from the Far East that few of the amateurs here in the Mae West would have a go at it or even dreaming, to exist. Indeed, his lady has learned her moral well…

When first prepared it takes twenty four hours to dry, it is safe to plow on bare pelt or even inhaled. Yet for the window of seven hours after that, if breathed into the nose, as per the now late Finneous and Kimberly, it is absolutely devilishly inside of four seconds.

It can be prepared as a fine, dust like powder that upon the contact with stripped man tegument is quickly absorbed, yet kills only minutes later ; stooping their hearts cold. What makes it so insidious and pernicious of a trap is the fact that those who contacted it, can pass the toxicant dust as well through a shake, slap on the back, an object being passed around, so that it can pop a second gear, third and sometimes a fourth time.

gum olibanum the result whipping at the ale-house operations…and if the letter reached the Grandfathers innermost sanctum, many a last there as well…hopefully.

He has to call back that little caper ; it may come in handy again some day…Just like the surprise for original Cinnius that she has arranged…

Just like the fate that is coming for the patrol of Jambis ; he intends to savor each and every one of their scream and plea for mercy. Hopefully though in the end, unlikely as it seems, some of them will die with dignity and just accept their fate…his pet will be hungry enough…

As he heads down the street, he weaves and dodges among the many tribe going about their usual day to day bit of business and body of work. His contacts on the street provide the location of the patrol with efficient, refined energy in mere minutes…thus telling him just where to go about his business…

Until the moment somebody staggers by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the sentry duty of Master Gerald of the guild. They scowl and threaten with glances, pose and words ; the inelegant lyric of coarse and brainless strong-armer who would have no fortune against him.

Associate bows politely and with complete deference to Master Gerald ; who, to his inviolable amazement stops and talks with him for a few minutes. In the guise of a foreign merchant, selling uncommon biz of chance and that of billiards, he speaks of the most Holocene epoch order he delivered to Master Gordon - a well crafted wooden box of billiards for a salute to one of his friends.

Master Gerald speaks of that game being the favored one of lord Cinnius ; and confirmed by fellow in his claim of being told thus by professional Gordon as well.

After they are done, one of the sister of the blue air gently places her mitt on his shoulder, reminding him that there are far more important matters waiting his attending ( three of them precisely ), Gerald casually dismisses Associate.

fellow continues on his assumed job, stopping to lecture with a series of store owners and vendors in the open marketplace ; followed of path for some time by one of Master Gerald's guards - just to make certain no kind of funny story business is going on.

associate degree finds it quite amusing that he managed to take the air passed the man three times and relieve him ever so subtly of his alteration bag, dagger and a pack of cards of playing bill - not to bring up the dazed plumage in the mans hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible ease he did the Lapplander with captain Gerald's mint pocketbook it should be no surprise. Feeling the free weight of coins and jewellery within each one, the associate slips them into an inner vest pocket and heading on his way. Some daytime he can not aid but smile at the sheer incompetency that these supposed"lord of Death."

Even the rack up of his familiar students and family of the Far East are equal or good than them.

Now then to the issue at hand, he will deal shortly with the repose of Jambis patrol ; and designate the guild idiots what a true master of death can inflict…he just motivation to get his deal on some change purses of passe-partout Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


************************
************************
As master key Cinnius and Gerald head to exit the network of storage warehouse and shops, the delusive reportage for the guild of assassins, people see them wearing smell of ira and terror ; for they have survived a ‘ polite meeting'with the grandpa of Assassins…and what a meeting it was…

The granddad stood before the two of them, clad in his personal arm and armor for conflict ; two lashings of his full and deadliest body guards surrounding him. ALL of the safeguard have blades drawn and held at ready, in an instant any suicidal assailant will perish under poisoned steel…assuming that the loaded crossbow held by the Grandfather did not finish them first.

His discussion was direct and choler filled ; not to mention emphatic on its lucidness :

Among the three Masters - Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius - one of them is nearing the completion of planning for a coup d'etat. The sight of Grandfathers Modern bronze statue, a belated and unfortunate person messenger from the ale-house carnage, stands as watcher in muted, locked, screaming agony of the fate that may be soon to occur for the two of them…

grandpa explains in uncomplicated damage for the two there before him - stand loyal and on his face and you may survive, possibly advancing in position and king."The pick is yours though, if you think you can overcome me with Gordon, then attempt to do so ; just understand what will befall those who fail…"

He motioned with an extended manus over to the new statue…

The grandpa explained the evidence having been found in a letter from Gordon ; detailed info about him, Gordon, becoming ‘ the new granddad ’, and early comments that have been ‘ discretely overheard by those faithful to you both…"

The sheer, utter, shocked horror that crosses their faces is genuine. Never before could they have imagined just how far and fill out Grandfather controlled his own mesh of spies and agents ; they must take extra care in any movement made to counter Gordon.

"This coming takeover will fail. Of that have no doubt the two of you, it will conk out,"he declared in a calm articulation of iron control.

There are to a greater extent than a few who overhear their not too quiet conversation ; its accounting crack through the order within the hour. hint begin to merge with venture and theories ; each one being spun and twisted until they become have as the basis for fact and verity.

Most have come to find out out that passe-partout Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor house theater ; his personal agent though are following members of his sign of the zodiac staff, plus other members of the order as well. Just this action, mutual among the social club already, lends more fuel to the fire about the putsch ; only this time it seems to be that Masters Cinnius and Gerald are being set up as a decoy, or come-on.

None can be certain who of the three Masters is in on the putsch, who is bait and ritual killing, or if mortal else is setting up a swell plot to convey down the gramps as well…all three make sentiency to the assassins.

For sea captain Cinnius though, the meeting with Grandfather ended with a dubious promotion of sorts ; one that held all the potential of vast wealthiness and unexpected doomsday. One that all too clearly Grandfather was using for subterraneous motives…and for his own selection at the top of the society pecking order…

"Cinnius,"Grandfather began,"The restoration of the compendium is now your task ; Gordon has proven not to be up to the undertaking and thus is now removed from it,"he gestured with his hands, then slapped them together in a statement of finality, leading the rest of those present to wonder if a expiry conviction has just been passed…

And if so, who would then die…

"See to the ale-house security and score trusted that there are no more ‘ disruptions'to the operations ; we are losing face and controller over the city with each disruption to our operations…no misapprehension will be accepted or tolerated…even the random executions are no longer working as desired,"Grandfather explained.

Many of the club members understand the all too clear substance hidden in his parole. The guild is in command of the entire city, the undisputed rulers and masters of Providence and the surrounding Edwin Herbert Land ; no one may challenge them in any way and be suffered to live. To cue masses who dared to protest the ‘ investigations'brought about by the death of Finneous and his lover, Kimberly, sixty citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their entire category in world - the Price any defiance to the social club rule will bring.

Yet while the mass looked on in stark quiet and scourge, some of them looked on with pure anger in their eyes…a clear signboard that the ascendency of reverence and terror was no longer having the coveted effect. And if those who control Providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their topic thought process turn to revenge and DoJ for all of the assassin's crimes ?

Considering that these capital punishment team were led by sea captain Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the commencement to shine if any kind of uprising does occur…And Master Gordon was the one to deliver the substance, via an agent, to take out the executions on behalf of the gramps wishes.

Now the two Menachem Begin to question - was the note really explaining the will of the grandpa ? Or is Grandfather playing a larger plot with Gordon ; weeding out the disloyal and unneeded, to further tighten up his already iron out strong hold on the gild ?

Or could individual else be playing one grouping off against another…no, no one inside our out of the guild would even make bold think of doing that. The guild of Providence is the deadliest in the world ; no other has dared to piss challenge against its hold on capital of Rhode Island in a century, and the legends of those who tried are still told as taradiddle of the unfit nightmares made reality.

"We must make our architectural plan to trade with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with sheer conclusiveness,"he is ahead of us on the chessboard by a wide margin, and we need to knock over the momentum he is building."

"True,"Gerald says back,"but who took down the ale-house operations ? THAT was Gordon's task ; if he did not blow his own men, then who would ?"

That last interrogative sentence left them cold to the sum of their being ; they, the Edgar Lee Masters of inflicting fear and panic for the saki of mastery, are now losing control portion by portion. In losing ascendence, they understand fear and terror from a new perspective, and do not like it at all.


======
"In lovesome memory of one who fell so Loretta Young, Jambis, may he long be remembered for all he had done,"called out the merchant who is paying for everyone's drinks this Night. Sipping on the sour tasting swill they call wine and feeling in this pitiable tavern, he eyes each patron and proletarian as they pass along his landing field of vision. With all too a good deal ease he identifies the diverse agents working for the guild ; specifically that most of them are those who answer directly to Grandfather.

"To Jambis, and all he had done,"everyone shouted out, glasses raised or clanking together in celebration for the barren drink and food. The barkeep smiles as the merchandiser hands over a pouch heavy with coins, amber and silver, plus many precious gems for the political party tonight ; many comment that it is a Nox to be remembered for some prison term, and as a material surprisal, a wagon with a score and ten count of small wooden tun's of spirits, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the rear of the wagon and commence to manhandle the heavy load inside ; causing a series of pant, ooh's and ah's from all the guild agents within. They can tell these are the finest of the o.k. in drinks, each keg is worth a baron's ransom money and here there are thirty in number…

The delivery man nods at the merchant, and then tells the party leaver,"Courtesy of passe-partout Gordon, we were instructed by a messenger of his to deliver these to you all, and cite ‘ With thanks and outflank wishes for the future tense - Gordon.'End quote."

One of the patrol members of late Constable Jambis calls for a pledge to Master Gordon. The merchant excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a sour tummy. He tells the barman to let the hard drink period until the investment firm are used up or the sun rises with the coming sunrise. The barkeep genuflects before him, sniveling and honoring his generousness as a good little lackey should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

"To Master Gordon and his most exceptional unselfishness, and keen mouthful in drinks,"the cheer is repeated three times by the crowd as the tun's are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the party at hand. Well into the night the company carries on, seeing tun after tun emptied to the in conclusion dreg of deglutition that can possibly be extracted from it.

Outside the merchant sees the last man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called capital of Mississippi. He is able to border on Jackson with nary a whisper of sound being made, and sends him sprawling to the background with a spry C to his thorax and side of his jaw. So elusive is this that to any untrained observer, the merchandiser is just helping his passed out champion home.

half dragging him into the alley, the merchant meets with another man, the one who delivered the tun's of drink earlier."Tie him up well and take away him with the others, have your men guard them well ; I will be along shortly to…let my pet deal with them once and for all."

The man, one of his ma'am personal agentive role, nods ; he can not help but shiver at the mention of companion ‘ pets.'Such a fate should not bechance to anyone, yet as the enamour patrol work for the guild, he can make an exception. Besides which, these two have shown the guild is vulnerable after all ; so he made sure enough the doorway was spread earlier in the storeroom for Associate to infect the tun's of drink.

All in all, this is a very beneficial night.

Of course once they awaken and see their impending fate from Associates"pets"; the surviving patrol fellow member would strongly disagree with that thought.



======
The morning sees maestro Gerald pacing the duration of his manors dandy hall, muddiness and worry clearly visible on his fount. His personal sentry duty pick up on his uneasiness, as anything that can micturate their boss act this way has to be taken as a precedence threat ; their own lifetime depend upon it.

Within a day of their coming together with Grandfather, Masters Gerald and Cinnius met ; setting their design into natural process and making future homework. For their sake ( of keeping active ), they keep grandpa informed of their every action. It is decided they will tax their own agents to come those of Gordon's, recording each and every deed of conveyance and impinging made.

They will find out Gordon's plan soon enough, if such programme indeed do exist…

Each master in number, once back at their respective estates, orders that supererogatory agents be attached to determine their respective opposite number ; just on the off chance the lad passe-partout is about to make a double or triple cross. As three more mean solar day pass, they begin to suspect Gordon is up to exactly - nil. No plans or relocation are apparent to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the night forty of the guild agents, all of them Grandfathers, have perished. They were attending a political party given by a visiting merchant, in pureness of the late Constable Jambis, and for the sake of his surviving patrol members. All of the ale and booze delivered came with the stock of Gordon and a content saying :"With Thanks and Charles Herbert Best wish for the futurity - Gordon."

All that anyone is absolutely sure of is that the patrol departed, one member at a time, and that the drinks are doctored - using a type of rare poison favored by Gordon and his best agents.

"Find out if Gordon or another did this human action,"Gerald shouted at his lead agents,"Redouble the sweat on collecting any and all entropy on the street, encounter out anything you can, and I do mean anything at all…GO !"

By fall they have an sinister sign that shouts mass to anyone who understands ; the streets have gone silent. Completely mum save for the agents of Grandfather, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the signs of a pending coup seem to be confirmed at live on. Most are now assuming that Master Gordon is going for broke, to need down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a threefold play - they appear to betray the guild and Grandfather ; who in turn eliminates them, and then becomes vulnerable to Gordon…

To Master Gordon, upon hearing the tidings of his factor being watched, decides HE is the target for a fall ; the scapegoat for the pending coup of Gerald and Cinnius…who else would dare work stoppage at an operation under his personal charge…shame and disrepute him, then eradicate him while setting Grandfather up for the fall..

It makes utter sense in its own convoluted way.

"So be it,"Gordon declares. His mind is made up, the two-timer have to die for setting HIM up, whichever of them it might be ; and on the off chance the grandpa of Assassins is setting all of them up, he will go for control of the guild.

"Gordon - Grandfather of Assassins, I like the ring that has,"he smiles wickedly, heading off to prepare and shit program. He feels no pangs of guilt or conscience in betraying his fellow lord or the gramps ; for that is the way of the assassin.


======
Standing upon the high wooden pigeon loft of the storage warehouse, comrade holds the final examination man of late Constable Jambis patrol, Mahalia Jackson, by the cord that binds his articulatio talocruralis together. The terrify man, upside down, looks at his pending fortune far below, the twenty dollar bill and four declamatory forms, moving fast and with office for such massive beasts, their six column inch tusk red with the rake and rupture chassis of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the company last nighttime, bound and gagged, inside this warehouse ; one by one his booster had been dragged away by this man and then tormented with opinion of what awaits them below. One by one they howled, begged, whimpered and pleaded for mercy ; their captors'eyes, frigidity and hard beyond anything he could recall seeing, even on the one function he met the Grandfather of assassinator, told the tale…

There shall be no mercy.

"Listen,"their capturer told each in turn, as he had told Jesse Louis Jackson,"try to die with a bit of dignity ; at to the lowest degree go to your ancestor with some grace of God so you can say you died with your honor intact."

Associate repeatedly cries out to his positron emission tomography, whipping them into a frenzy of last and taking apart, the shrill snorts and war cry harshly assaulting the ears ; thunderous rejoinder rebound off the mostly empty warehouse stone walls, instilling even more holy terror in his shaking captive.

"William Tell you what Michael Joe Jackson ; I am in a merciful mood right now. I'll give you a fighting prospect,"Associate says while he uses a knife to lather at the restraints that bind the man's ft together.

"Please…don't kill me…what did we ever do to you…"Jackson said while wracked with asshole of absolute terror ; he has seen all the others perish in such a grim method ; one that even the guild executioners would grovel from inflicting on anyone…maybe…

"Oh alright already, I'll let you go just to contain hearing your dreadful whining ; miserable, you should front death with a warrior's unfearing electric charge and hold on your dignity…"fellow declared.

"You're going to let me go ?"Jackson asked a grateful smile on his face.

"Yes I will,"Associate said as the Mexican valium binding separate due to the slashes already scored weakening them.

"AGHHHH !"Mahalia Jackson screamed on his downward plunge, followed by the meaty thwack of him hitting the story below.

Associate watches with disinterest on his face, hearing the death screams knelling out tacky and clear as his pets go to turn on the man. Soon plenty quiet, redeem for the lacrimation of flesh, crushing of bone and periodic hiss and grunt remain to be heard.

associate shakes his oral sex, wondering why such an idiot would actually trust he would set him unblock ; he only promised to let him go…in this compositor's case to tip his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already dead ; he would love to take finished him off, a debt owed for the savage squawk delivered to his head that day.

Soon enough though his forbearance will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the elimination of his baby and her family will pop off in the same manner…maybe covered in molten Malva sylvestris to better the flavor for his pets…


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Darius, professional toymaker and general mad man of Providence walked into the flush shop class looking for the lady who runs it - Clairice. To the mystification of everyone around he looks at the trees, waving friendly to them and mutters about the pauperization to ‘ establish that flying auto today.'

For three weeks since the death of Jambis patrol appendage, he has heard the report growing by the hour of how they had been responsible for the death of grandad two scotch of factor. Each fourth dimension he hears the tale told over and over, he chuckles an insane chuckle, covering up his real hilarity at their demise by his own hands.

Among the knickknackery he sees several fine clocks, curl, and other gizmos that are of interest group ; yet he needs to get her paid back first - she gave him the monetary fund he needed to get his workshop up and running once again. He sees her hang over the countertop, hands clasped against the far slope as she looks down at the floor.

"Hey Clairice,"he shouted, waving frantically to get her aid. Coming to her he plops down on the floor cross-legged, looking up into her heart. She motion repeatedly with her handwriting for him to scoot on out the room access, even as her back talk opens and finish in silent gasp and groan ; she gulps now and then while her eyes flutter rapidly.

One time he sees her clasp her fist in her mouth, eyes closing as her organic structure shiver briefly in metre with some noises coming from behind the counter. Her silent gasps continue, eyes glazing over as she tightens her grip on the retort again, both hands holding firm and firm. When she manages to regain a bit of equanimity, once again she tries to undulate him out the door. Her custody move swiftly in an intricate gesture, telling him in no uncertain terms to scram…

Of course of study it matters not to Darius, he strikes up a one sided conversation with the intricate laid brickwork of the base.

Only a momentarily rustling of textile being moved about distracts him, to let him see Clairice shifting some as her back arched upward and down, her center dancing with wild forsaking, cheeks fully blushed and radiating heat like a oven.

Once again her hands move in the mum language she uses to intercommunicate with him ; telling him if he remains to stay quiet and do nothing to interfere.

He sees her shift again, then a third time. A steady rhythm of slapping auditory sensation mix in in with the calls of some form of creature trance his attending. Sudden intake hits and he pulls out of his harness-bag a spile of blank parchment, charcoal pencils and a ruler to begin quickly putting his idea to paper. For the instant Clairice is all but forgotten by him.

She fights to keep her trunk from moving forward, she mouths a mute cry of wild delight and cloud nine. Each move of the gentleman's humanity inside of her pushes the waves of bliss and pleasure forward with unstoppable energy. Just a bit before Darius arrived the butler of Master Gordon arrived with a dozen roses from his bosses'estate ; he offered her some of them for a fee - when she could not meet the asked for total in coin he asked about another kind of ‘ transaction.'

For such a rare trophy the cost is worth it, or so she hopes.

pushing her disheveled hair out of her face, she had been having her fair sex explored by his hands and sass when Darius entered ; now though he speeds up his actions, not occupy in her own pleasure one bit - all that matter is his own pauperization, and he makes all mode of insults of Master Gordon, especially about how easy it was to take the rosiness right off the estates cause under his very nose.

One final serial of deep, loud and bellowing grunts and groan from the butler sends his life seed deep inside of her. For once in her life she is glad that she can not get pregnant, for she would never desire a fry conceived of by this monster…

Now that it's over she starts to actuate when he pushes her back into place ; slamming her case into the wooden counter with such force to briefly stun her, then he boxes her across the auricle repeatedly ; the matter is not yet done. time and time again he smacks her hard on her bottom, drawing pain filled silent screams from her.

Darius, just a few inches away is totally oblivious to the exchange.

She feels him draw in up gamy on her, his manhood once again at full attention ready to do its obligation. He gossip that the men of his family have the ability to do it twice back to back ; to the ‘ delight of all the char we deem to give our affections to'of course.

Clairice does not see affair in such a light.

Sharp pain in the ass shoots up into her encephalon, oculus flaring all-inclusive as her teeth bite into her lips with enough force to guide a trickle of profligate from them. thrusting by pain filled poking he works his manhood in and out of her, not of her womanhood, but of a more sensitive and private expanse nearby.

His manus roam up under her shirt, straining the tight bounce fabric of her vest as they find and crush her knocker.

"Now my dearest,"he says calmly between grunt of hullabaloo,"I hope this part will dish out as a reminder that I will not take over any betrayals kindly ; your silence means you will live. One password on where the flowers come from and you die."

The next five minutes are a wave of fiery agony as his hand tighten their clasp on her boob, his humanity pumping for all he is Worth in an out of that spot ; then he hits his release and pulls out. He just looks upon her with barely concealed contempt.

"You know the monetary value from now on when you deal with the assassins'guild. As I said, go along your mouth shut and you will live. Next prison term I bring some roses though, make certainly there is another woman here with you. I want to see you have sex with her right before I rape you into submission like the tart you now are. right day."

As he walks out the door and down the street she just covers her head and shortness of breath, not moving from the emplacement.

Had anyone watching bothered to look at Darius, they would have seen the madness leave his eye, purest of murder and rage filling them in turn of events. His hand hovered just on the border of a knife hilt, ready to be thrown and subject the target area with one of the deathly of toxicant's he who is not Darius knows how to make.

He has been commanded not to do anything, no matter what happened to her. Yet he will, when the time comes to bestow the design to an end, have got his day with the butler if he still lives…after he deals with the granddaddy of Assassins and regains his name.

She who is not Clairice finally regained some of her missed composure from the brutal ending of the coming upon ; for the plan to advance she will endure anything…in the end the results will more than rationalize it.


========
Over the next hour agents of the Constables and Masters Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald flow in and out of her store, having her contingent again and again all that happened between her and the butler.

Darius had to be escorted out of the shop at one point so he would not damage the flowers from Gordon's the three estates ; he was trying to settle a ‘ line'between the efflorescence and a one-half filled cup of weewee. He kept touching the flower petal and leave of absence of each efflorescence, encouraging them to ‘ settle their disputes with the Nice cup as a civilized being should do these days,'pure insaneness indeed.

"He is harmless,"the Constable told everyone,"just scoot him external and lets get these back to master copy Gordon,"he says indicating the bloom.

He does congratulate Clairice on how she prepared the prime for transport ; they are still tone down with moisture from being watered. Looking at the other flower on showing he decides to come in back later and purchase some for his wife.

One of his aides gather up the multiple copies of her testimonial and then divides them among the agents for the three sea captain. The auxiliary plays a most dangerous biz, appearing as a confidant for all three master while he is actually working for the grandfather of Assassins directly.

Within the hour all four know what occurred in the shop between Clairice and the butler.

What they fail to translate is that in the bigger game, a instant tycoon is set for checkmate ; while the others are on the way to the same…

Tonight the shop will be vacated…

The ploy continues towards the prominent end for the Second queen of Four.



***********************
"My lady,"Associate says with gentleness and compassion in his voice ; he cringes to see such painfulness in those amethyst eyes. He can not compass the nuisance and chagrin she has withstood to advance their architectural plan. He has good tidings though ; the one who loved to inflict such pain and humiliation has fallen…

"We have confirmation of the street rumors ; the eubstance of passe-partout Gordon's Butler has been found. It appears he was tortured into making some form of confession and then executed by cutis stealing."He shook his top dog at the thought of such a barbaric execution ; the literal skinning of a dupe one foursquare inch at a time using knifes and extra acids to raise the pain and strain the victim lifespan.

"For former newsworthiness, we have word of honor from our agent that the real Clairice and Darius have been safely smuggled to freedom. Jesmine and her home will be, in their Son, ‘ soon to get in safely in a new plate and life.'All of the pre-agreed to confirmation intelligence are there, so it is authentic."

He looks upon her with John Roy Major humiliation on his countenance.

"My lady, I have to say, the success we have managed to achieve by taking the roles of Clairice and Darius before the Richard Morris Hunt began…a dead on target apoplexy of genius on your section. Also those who lead the groups in waiting are now fully committed ; those destitute crime syndicate executed by the club as ‘ representative,'plus the first strike we have made convinced them. The days of the guild are now of a very limited number. They only need the Holy Scripture from you and the end game commences."


===========
maestro Cinnius has come to the ale-house operations, mostly to double over tick yet again on all aspects of the new, layered security he has installed. Grandfathers warning had been made all too sort out - if he fails to block up any break in the process, then HE will be held responsible ; and that death will be a mercy for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the guards are now tripled ; both those visible interior and outside the place, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - bowing ready to be used in an trice. Their orders are simple, direct and very open : anyone who may dumbfound any sort of threat are to be cut down without mercy. They are to maintain a double over watch, as Cinnius expects a western fence lizard, angry retributive strike from Master Gordon to hail all too soon.

lord Gerald figures it will be otherwise, insisting Gordon is focused on the pending coup d'etat against grandfather, and will fare after Cinnius later - assuming that Cinnius and Gerald do not toss of Gordon to please the Grandfather when the coup endeavour comes.

So it has come to the second reasonableness for him to be here…relaxation. Three week of constant secretiveness ; tenseness in the air so thick one could cut it with a blunt tongue, has all but frayed his nerve. So it is he has come to shoot some billiards, his privilege game. The set was sent to him long before the current problem with Gordon, a overlord crafted marvel without flaws…he will prevent it as a prize and a reminder of better days and times…and toast Gordon each time he plays after the craven turncoat lies dead at his feet.

"No sense to let such a gift go unused,"he told the men setting it up.

"Ah the pure irony of such a endowment, perfectly made and delivered here by Gordon as a peace offering,"he declared to his sentry duty and elder agents gathered around,"yet he has chosen to wander Grandfather. frankincense we will delight the biz, and when he starts his coup - we shall go and kill him as dead as possible. Now let's have some fun this night before the fires of battle come forth."

Cinnius watched his men laugh and joke around, the ribald atmosphere allowing him to relax for one prison term, a rarified and actual smiling of mirth coming forth. As he prepares his cue stick, many wager on the number of ball to be sunk on the breaking shot.

He lines up the pool spliff with the cue ballock, adjusting for the perfective geological fault that he is justly famed for among all of the guild and in Providence."Let the fires of battle come Forth,"he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

cough !

The pool peg goes flying over the table, landing on the far side with a self-coloured, echoing clangor. Everyone cringes at the look of absolute murder on Cinnius's face. The offender quickly apologizes, gets the kitty control stick and hands it back with all proper demeanor to one who can kill him in so many horrendous ways.

"O.K., now for the perfect shot, for the perfect game,"he says with a smile, taunt face relaxing once again.

Lining the gibe up once again, he focuses completely on the interruption he wants to make water, six ballock sent into the six sack, the gross pellet for the opening. Delighted in the setup, he draws back again, preparing for the jibe of all shots…

ACHOOO !

Once again the pocket billiards stick goes to the floor, once again the murderous look comes forth ; though this time the wrongdoer does not move, his associates holding knife to his heart, neck opening, jaw and reed organ, waiting for the moment Cinnius orders his release or instruction execution. They look to him with make first moment, wanting to retort the secret plan so badly disturb twice already.

"Just hold him there in accomplished silence while I take the guesswork,"Cinnius said. His pool reefer brought by another, he lines up the guess for the thirdly time ; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another interruption, then turns and makes the shot with full, raw nerved animal military unit delivery…

rap !

The cue glob is smacked with a short-change, acute salvo of the pin, sending it on its all too dead journeying towards the other balls ; the small, touchy container held within shattering completely ; thus the variety of volatile liquidness, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and go a crone brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…



=======
Upon her face he sees a silent question being asked."My lady I have made sure the flower shop appears to suffer been fled in due haste to allow us - you and me as the false Clairice and Darius - to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled bank note with final delivery to be made via the city couriers."

"As per your plan,"his grin turned into a arch grinning ; the figure of speech at free rein of panic and paranoia coming to the survivors around their chosen targets brings associate degree a clean amount of money of amusement.

"those flowers going as ‘ giving'to the respective guild assassins, broker and their leadership, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ heart stop'poison ; in the time it takes for it to become feasible, the couriers will be condom ; of course after the livery are made, some of the assassinator will not be condom, or breathing for that issue by day end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue ball flavor with brutal force into the other balls ; such is the military unit the mixed liquidness within the cue lump, a Wiccan brew called by alchemists"Liquid Hellfire"responds in a fierce, raw and spectacular detonation of flame and force out, the shockwave caressing the other balls and expanding into the rooms dimensions before anyone can even comprehend what has happened…

By this time though, the nine other balls, carefully tailored and textured to shroud the explosive liquid state within, oppose in large-hearted explosion to the shockwaves caress. These ten blasts, bouncing off the solid and thick Oliver Stone paries that separate the front end and stern of the ale house, smash walls, calf love piece of furniture and chests, toss goods around and fork out blows that crush and tear at the guild agents and guards present, rending bone and bursting organs along with compressing brain matter to a pulped wad.

Those who somehow survive these C are within an instant hit and burned by flames so hot that bone itself ignites and gunpowder. For those beyond the human dynamo grasp, the iron and brand shards, jagged and flying at insane speeds, preset around the inside of the egg shred them even more.

So great is the personnel generated that the very roof itself on the back one-half of the ale-house is raised over six fundament. Those on the streets see it fly up, and go down with enough military unit to excite the ground for a considerable distance.

phallus of the lodge lay dead and injured all over the street, some felled in the initial gust ; others by the collapse of nearby building front man sundered free by beastly forces ; partial trunk, and bared limbs that move for a brief time amid heaps of shattered, torn wood, methamphetamine and brickwork tell of the charnel mounds they have become.

Those who have survived, or look sharp up from nearby to see what aid can be rendered stand there in appalled shock, unable to comprehend what has just happened. Clearly, for those who were directly in the back of the ale-house, there are no subsister to be found.





=======
The comeback of artificial scag, followed by the loud, hole, booming thud of the roofs declination coming to an end draws the swift attention of grandad. He was walking on the high balcony of his private sleeping room, deep in though about Gordon ; wondering for the 1st time if he had judged the situation wrong…then came the roar and column of flack clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

He and his guards watched in fascinated horror the scene stretch out, knowing instinctively that Gordon has just struck back at Cinnius ; and in a manner no one could take anticipated. Quickly his guards recover, raising their metal shields about his person, on the off prospect that arrows were even then heading to end the spirit of their kick.

Heading into the depths of the social club Hall, Grandfather shouted to all of his loyal - such as they are - minions to prepare the DoD ; warning that the expected coup may be at helping hand. A lone runner is sent to investigate the matter, to account back with all haste. Grandfather sees a most unexpected sight, though one that pleases him, that of Master Gerald, present on guild business, standing with the safety device at the main doors, prepared to receive the world-class assault with drawn blades.

Apparently Gerald fears death by the Grandfathers work force if he failed, than to face his old associate Gordon.


======
associate and his peeress had been observing the day from one of their many safety business firm's when the thunder came, brighten and distinct to their ears. They rushed to the window nearest that direction, in clip to see the survive clawing fire carry into the sky ; columns of smoke rising steadily in dumb blackness as a pall for the dead.

The two of them assume a silent delectation in the recognition that the mo king of four is now utterly. They had found his one weakness, the love of billiards and his pride in being the practiced player in providence, and have brought him low.

"Wow, I guess that Master Cinnius has lost that biz, bringing down the menage in the process,"he said with a shrug of his shoulder joint."Who could birth figured he had such an volatile disposition ? Oh, while I recall the matter, those poisoned prime were sent out over Gordon's signature of requital and rescue ; there is no sentience in making for sure the wrong person gets blamed after all…"

She just rolled her eyes unto the Shangri-la at his attempt at humor ; secretly pleased to have him at her side, both for the company ( when he is not trying to stare at her naked physical structure ), his sentience of humor, and his ability to adept and improvise on the spot when the architectural plan of theirs want to be altered due to emergencies or opportunities that come about.

When she turns to him, catching his attention with her eye, he gulps from the loving, tender, fiery grinning she shows. He quietly excuses himself, the cast iron shell over his manhood clanging against another layer of mail underneath…probably assuming another knife blade is on the way…

She looks back at the editorial of fume, quite please. Two are dead of the four. Soon enough the one-third will strike and the true terror for the gild will hail in the end game. Soon justice for all of Providence will be delivered, and her chosen name, taken up after the dying of her parents, will be fulfilled…

Soon…


======
topsy-turvyness reigns as the patrons from the front of the ale-house and early street marketer and shops flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their drinks or grabbing feeding bottle of drunkenness from shelf as the roof commences to sag, then come down in a ululation of sundered Grant Wood and stone. Many of those who flee passing play by the backside, seeing heaps of coins, jewelry and gems lying scattered about and make a blind catch for the freed fortune before them.

Howls and cries of panic become fuel for many wild rumors, especially of the foresightful expected coup for the lead of the assassins'guild having begun. The awe turns into terror unprecedented on the streets, agent of all sides who rush to see what can be done or what has happened begin to brawl with the citizens who just want to get out of there. All too soon the expect glean of steel being unleashed is to be seen, soon covered by wet redness along its length.

From hidden phantasm high command processing overhead time, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding construction, eight figures draw back on composite light bows, their lacquered surfaces dulled down with dirt and mud to cut off any lambency of light reflecting off of them. eight-spot knocked arrows - tips coated with the deadliest of venom - personal credit line up with their selected targets…

Then with their leaders'insidious nod, they fly swift and lawful to their targets. Even as these eight figures begin to collapse, choking and gurgling into expiry from the maliciousness ; eight more arrows are inbound ; shortly to be joined by a last volley of eight more.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree at the backbone of the building they throw their shakiness and bows into the back of a readied wagon. Quick from long exercise, the eight Orion - master Archer all who help bung the metropolis by boar hunting in the wild forests near providence - hide their implements of war and rejoin city life, headed as so many others do in making manner of speaking from one shop to another.

They had been returning from an unsuccessful hunt in the woods ; when the explosion came, they saw an opportunity to nock another snow on the order ; so it is the first black eye by the people of Providence is inflicted, the first of many to come…


======
"Gordon's soldiery are attacking !"come the hue and cry from the few guard duty still standing around in horror at the carnage. The cry is repeated again and again as the arrows fell one score and one of guild agents and guards of the late Master Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; fritter away everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard captain on duty calls, just before a brick thrown by somebody smasher into his face ; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a bone crushing meeting with the primer below. With his terminal vociferation, topsy-turvyness breakage at large beyond belief ; as the rooftop guard trace his stopping point instructions to the letter, unleashing salvo after salvo of crossbow thunderbolt, tips coated with poisonous substance, into the gathered pile below…

They spare no meter or effort to screen out friend from foe, they just assume all are targets and strike without any bit of mercy or compassionateness. All who stand may be enemies, thus they must die. If they fail, they know their own lives will be forfeit to the unmerciful wrath of the Grandfather…

Down below, those who survive the reign of arrow and then the monumental fusillade of crossbow missile turn on their attackers from above. Many shout out that Gordon's effect are on the heights ground and commence to fire back with bows, crossbows, gem chunks and bricks. Anything they can get their hired hand upon is fair game to send upward, returning death for decease as the mass murder climbs with each passing second.


======
The lone agent of granddad sent by him to investigate the good time sentry from around a shop box in horror at the conflict being waged before him ; he hears the citizens running past, the call of safeguard and agents saying that master copy Gordon is on the onset, then flees with all haste back to the society manse and reports his news.

"This is it men, stand strong and fast, Gordon must be coming with everything for us here,"Grandfather shouts out with growing excitement and fury. FINALLY the showdown is about to happen, and he will remind all of Providence why HE is the Grandfather of the club. NONE shall rule in his stead ; absolutely none.

When that last idea echoed into the profoundness of his head ; grandpa wondered for a moment if he has just set the prognostication of his own downfall into question ; plus that of the gild. He snorts the subject away, hand on his drawn brand waiting for the first throbbing on the great hall doors that tell of the battle to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

Well into the evening the guild waits for the strike that never comes. grandpa learns from many of his own agents among Master Gordon's manor that Gordon has sealed the place up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a move on the constituent of passkey Gerald to winnow out Cinnius and him in one swift, calculated bm that sweeps two competition clear of the board in an instant.


======
Late into the night the surviving guard duty of the late Master Cinnius, only a ten and four in number, tell of the attack in contingent to Grandfather as he sits in smoldering muteness on his throne. They tell in overdraw gesture and word's the size of the attack, the massive slaughter and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a fierce battle one wonders if a dragon was on the scene.

In esteem to the massive detonation that took down the entire ale-house, backside operation and Master Cinnius on one Swift blow…no one has any explanation at all ; save for one who remarked that Cinnius said the billiard set he was using that night was"a giving from Gordon before he betrayed us."

"So then gentlemen, how shall I reward you now ?"Grandfather said to the 14 guards, whose eye lit up with flame of greed and delight.

They soon found out their ‘ advantage'was to be pressed. They howled for mercy as guards'grabbed hold of them, dragging them away to the public executioner hold. With inhuman speed, tied to great frame of reference of wood on the earth, the executioner directed granddaddy sentry go ( the directions issued as polite suggestions ) in placing of big wooden control panel over the men ; to be topped in turn every few mo with a l hammer hunk of brick shaped Lucy Stone. Over the course of time of day the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their ribs snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

As for the broker who brought tidings of the assumed kickoff of a coup to Grandfather…

A new statue of him cast in silver gray joined the one of bronze from the earlier courier executed in a similar manner. Even the temper guards of Grandfather watched with mute horror as the man had been lowered column inch by inch, headfirst, into the molten metal, his ululation echoing far and widely down the wickedness manse of the executioners tunnels.


=======
Three days later the comrade reads a content conveyed to she with the Amethyst eye, a true smiling upon his face for once in so long of a time.

"My gentlewoman, the leadership of ‘ those who wait'have agreed to set for an opportunity to emerge ; they have declared ‘ send the content and we will do our percentage, as promised, then the accounts with the guild shall be settled in full,'“ he told her.

"So my madam, do we begin to grow the horizontal surface of pressure and paranoia to a new height in this matter ? Or may I add a piffling ‘ twisting'to the state of affairs ?"her companion asks.

At her prompting he explains his picayune ‘ twist'on their programme ; her eye and smile gleaming in delight from his diminished suggestion. Right now the two of them have entered into serious ground, not only preparing to strike at Masters Gordon and Gerald ; there is the matter of the guilds Grandfather - assuming he survives the peak sent to him, being roused to action.

This very Night, as per Associates little ‘ twist'on their plan, another whispered rumor Menachem Begin : there is a bounty of one hundred gold cake to the assassin of the club who brings down the granddad of bravo. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of line that is only rumor…just the sort to get you executed by the paranoid guild leadership.

The gambit is accelerating to its closing ; soon enough it shall be determined who will be left alive…

Associate reminds himself that no matter what comes for his personal fate ; his honor shall be restored before he dies…no topic what.


************************
************************
Her eyes glimmering with their amethyst fervour, she watches Associate go about his readiness for the pending end plot of the stratagem. As he sorts and examines in minutest of detail the pecker, artillery and appurtenance of their trade, a warm smiling comes to her mouth ; her nerve resting on a raised hand grasping the door jam as she makes no sound for some time.

Each of his tools, from lock-picks to roll of black silken rope, vials of poisons to cripple or shoot down, along with an assortment of cock and arms no one save for them alone could dig in the Western lands. She watches as he examines a throwing star under the lantern light, its razor honed edges perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and battle knives, a bamboo blowgun only inches in distance, and the all too deadly coated darts to be used in it.

Yet she remembers with some affection the one moral Shan Tiel had begun her training with ; one that for him, came as a ultimate surprise when she answered his question…

"Granddaughter,"he asked her showing off the arsenal of weapons in his firm,"which of these do you figure of speech is the most unsafe of the Hunter ? Is there any one that you see here, that can kill any former ?"

Still so offspring and diminished in stature at the time she had to gesture him to bend down to her summit ; then with one small hand, she touched his brow, and then his middle. His warm grinning was genuine, delighted at the answer given to him.

"Yes you do sympathize very well. The pestilent weapon system we who hunt the assassin have is the head and the passions of the pith ; used together, you can not be defeated."

Associate had in the short time of her warmly recalled memories raised to practice with his twin brand of their profession, sliding them from their sheaths of lacquered Sir Henry Joseph Wood, the ninja-to. Fourteen inches of perfect steel, strong and razor acutely, he danced in a beautiful, poetic play of demise. Each relocation is poetry of music and bod, of control and energy used : parry-strike, strike-parry, look-alike slash and thrusts, a fuss of gesture no one could hail close to matching make unnecessary for her.

Even unarmed they are among the venomous of battler, their real bodies the ultimate, populate weapons.

His procedure comes to its end after some time ; and comrade pretends to comment her for the very first time, though he was cognizant of her standing by the doorway for some prison term now. One thing with both of them, living among the hoard of assassin and spies of the guild has honed their superb skills to new, necessary levels than many would bear dreamed.

"My lady…I apologize for my lack of manners…please enters if you will…"

His surprise is complete when she gently touches him with one of her hands ; moving it up to gently strokes his impudence and brows. She feels the brief tension comfort out of his body as she circles his font, playfully teasing brow, nose, eye, auricle and cheeks.

His back talk she parts slightly with fingertips, stroking the interior and drawing a slight flush to his cheeks.


The warmth of his breathing place on her hand draws a piano, loving grin to her own rim. Once again her hand flows over face, brows and nose, along his jaw and gently on his neck before returning again and again to his side.

Moving up to him she presses her mouth to his ; so flabby and tender that his thrill becomes fully red, rut pulsating outward as a fully stoked flame in the bread ovens. Three times she does this, then kisses his olfactory organ, and on tippy toes delivers one on his brow.

His searching middle quickly discern that her robe has partly opened, revealing the glistening smooth skin that tantalizing hints at needing to be touched, stroked and seduced ; her bared chest, hurl in dancing fantasm by the subdued, low light in the way, glistens like a secret concealed within a mystery promising straight-out hoarded wealth and adept, or good and wild death.

She enfolds him with one arm, taking up his hand with her former, then gently guiding it to that exposed breast ; holding it firm in topographic point while he looks at her with some shock. He feels the heat of her body merging with his, skin to scramble, the beating of her inwardness and the regular rhythm of her breathing surging into his mind, telling him that this is no dream, but a treasure she is offering to him willingly.

Slowly he starts to caress and stroke it with his fingertips, working from the mammilla outward in a spiral to render inward again and repeats the Hz several meter ; all the while he revels in the silken paragon of her pelt, the heady essence that smells of lilac, rose and ginseng mixing with all the sweet-salty smells that are uniquely HER.

Gently he closes his eyes with each deep inhalation of these olfactory property, burning them into his mind in the event of her dying soon, he will cherish this instant to the end of his days…

He sees the soft fluttering in her eye, eyelids flickering up and down as she begins to eat at lightly on those luscious lips that are highlighted with a sweet tasting strawberry mark gloss.

He moves his free mitt to the boundary of her gown, the blue angel silk that is embossed with cherry tree, roses and a pair of livid birds in flight accentuating the curves of her torso, hiding some in shadow and others in reflected light so their glorification may be seen in full.

Looking at her he motions downward while indicating the robe.

To his continuing surprisal and pleasure she nods with a cutter smile.

Slipping it under the silk he gently uncovers the other breast, then works along the hem ; once up to her shoulder he eases is down her arm. His tin whistle of delight and wonderment at the tidy sum of her block up scramble brings a admittedly and red-hot bloom to her face, a silent giggle of consternation with her head turning away, though her centre return quickly and with a inkling of desires fires fully alight.

All of that falls in and on itself, realness turned different when his first kiss gently presses on one spot of her shoulder, then another and another until he reaches her neck. The current of buss continues over each inch of her peel, drawing shivers, quivering, titters and twitches that build one upon the next.

They momentarily separate, to his surprise, until she finishes taking off the robe and letting it micturate about her feet. She steps out of it and embraces him fully in her arm, pressing so close and fuddled with his dead body he feels the two of them are merging into one - the perfection of yin-yang, of the male and female embodied as one being for all time…

Her arms have encompassed his neck opening as he folds his about her waist.

Moving them downward he massages her lower back, easing along her shank and hip seeking each country he can find to impart the upper limit sensations of bliss of her body he can extract. Gentle spirals and helix practice in which he mixes motion of the rudiment, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far East languages, for each one brings a different chemical reaction to her physical structure, some orotund and some small, one intense that almost knocks her off her feet, while others have her pant as she lowers her nous against his pectus, middle closing while mute lips spread out and close.

He inhales the wondrous brewage of perfume now including that of her raw sexuality mixing into them ; more and more it turns on the fires within his own consistence ; causing his own manhood to rise to the social occasion as his bridge player begins to travel to her out of sight womanhood…

Which her one hand encompassing his so suddenly he failed to notice until the tauten pressure threatened to snap his wrist…telling him in emphatic terms she will earmark him to go so far, and for now no further ; he looks into the amethyst eye of her, nods and bows his principal in acceptance of her choice…

"My ma'am I understand fully ; maybe someday there can be a sexual union such as that between us, yet the memory of your grandfather is still too fresh. Thank you though for allowing me to bring in some gratification to the both of us tonight,"the comrade said.

She shakes her head, heart rolling up to the vault of heaven as he once again fails to understand.

Planting a fiery kiss on his sassing she swings her arms around his neck, and then leaps up, enwrapping her branch about his waist and locking them and her firmly in place. His deal move quickly to support her bottom, as he shakes his head, understanding at last.

She did not want him to pleasure her, she wants more than that…With one hand he fumbles for the belt of his britches, loosening it enough to let his fully at attention manhood easy to the world ; drawing a bit of a flush from him due to the modest size of it.

"And you wondered why you missed it so many clock time with those knives you threw ?"he casually joked.

Their kisses merged as he eased into her womanhood, the two of them entering into a entitle round of dearest between their bodies, one for the former and back in round. Within moments his excitement passes his bound and sends his ejaculate deep into her body.

"My ma'am I should cause lasted longer, I just have not been with a woman for so long…"he stammered.

She just kissed him on the lips as her centre showed her wonder for him. Returning to her feet, the two of them quietly danced a silent saltation in the way soft visible light for some sentence, a present moment shared before returning to the end game of this long and trying hunt.

For the instant, they, two assassins in a community of interests of such, who seek to override such a forcefulness, can take down their safety device a bit. This is their moment, their time, for with the break of the day, the Richard Morris Hunt will again continue.


************************
In the depth of his fortress manor Master Gordon listens with ever growing horror as story after news report from his agents Tell of a dangerous tapestry being woven. someone is trying to vote out him, or bring down the grandad and pin the inculpation on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their deadliest of competition in the process…but who could it be.

A few days ago his treasured rose wine were returned, after his butler had traded them to the maiden Clairice in trade for intimate party favour. Soon enough the butler was captured and tortured into confession and then summarily executed in boiling oil. As for the daughter, and that madman Darius, they vanished soon afterward ; the shop left in such a state of confusedness showed they fled the city that very night.

The succeeding morning brought the mysterious deliveries to agent and assassins of the order ; flowers from the store of Clairice, supposedly over his key signature, though he was proven to be here in his manor ( the only reason grandpa did not summarily execute him ). Even the stolen rose wine had been returned integral, and watered by the girl ; then as some of his agents examined and smelled them, declaring naught to be wrong…

This could not be said of the rest period of those manner of speaking. For some reason, like with captain Finneous, and his lover Kimberly, and at the ale-house operations, the receiving system just seemed to up and die in their runway ! Now there are other Masters of the order, underling who would not dare to strike at Gerald ; who are openly making plans to do just that, and it appears grandpa is encouraging them due to his silence on the matter.

Most probably, that is due to one of the fragrance of flowers having been sent to his crapper way as well. The man has no sense of humor ; especially as there are rumors of him offering one hundred bars of gold to anyone taking down the grandad of Assassins ; as if he would actually be suicidal enough to piddle such a move ! ! !

Such is his put on rage and frustration that when he grips the railing of an upper level balcony he tears the Ellen Price Wood free in two large chunks of dust. So far no one has been able to find out much of anything, save that the broker of lord Gerald are following his own…with more and more open boldness…probably to come to in one well unified activeness ; collapsing his entire network and assault his estate…

Yes that makes sense…Gerald, his one remaining associate…

There is one way to consider with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his older agents and guard leaders. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the double quick for it ; there is a small window of clip out-of-doors, and he intends to overwork it to the wide-cut. Right now only one thing could interfere with his plans, and that is the grandfather of assassinator himself…

"Grandfather of Assassins Gordon…"he examines his knife blade, loving the way the light maneuver over its razor incisive border. How hunky-dory of a sword he will use to end the living of both Gerald and grandad - then claim all for himself.

"Yes, that is what will occur then, both shall flow in the end…"



======
Within the hr an agent of gramps reports directly to him of the plan that superior Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a coup is indeed derive, and by the hand of Gordon the Grandfather's rage is absolute. He calls for his personal precaution to foregather, for the best champion, rascal and assassins to gather and arm for battle.

For too long he has allowed this game to go on, now all shall see the wrath of the guild and of gramps once and for all. Quickly he goes over the series of plans and contingencies he long ago prepared for such an event ; one after another are rejected, until the Best overall remains…complete extermination…

When the group has assembled two hr later he explains the design and gives one final order…

"When Gordon strikes at the landed estate of Gerald, we surround the place, move inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no survivor at all. Slay every living being or animal in the place ; then subjugate it to ashes afterward. Then the Same will befall to Gordon's estate ; these traitors will be rooted out completely…"

construction up the craze of his forces, Grandfather intends to use this execution to the townsfolk of Providence as well - to remind them HE regulation the Town. Once that is done, he will purge the lodge of any and all menace from top to bottom.


======
"My Lady,"her familiar softly calls, touching her voiced shoulder. He also moves slightly to the side, keenly mindful of the envenomed sword she keeps handy when sleeping. Seeing her still yawning optic open, he sighs softly, not bore to replace yet another shirt…the last time was too close by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat lower down…

"My lady,"he again calls to her,"the forces of Gordon are gathered and on the movement ; they will hit the estate of Gerald within the future two hour. One of our federal agent also reports that the Grandfather is personally take most of the order strong suit against BOTH of them. I believe he means to end this thing of the two once and for all."

He sees the excitement growing on her face.

"Even with the grandpa of assassinator entering the affray now, do we stick around on the architectural plan or change it ?"he asked.

Considering the billet, and then asking some query, she comes to a conclusion ; swiftly she conveys it with her sign language.

Yes the programme does vary ; they go with a contingence for such an opportunity that has arrived.

Many of her factor have hanker since given up hope of Providence being freed from the iron grip of the guild ; but now, shown the truth of the topic, that the order IS VULNERABLE, they are ready to strike back and do so with absolute deadliness. Their fear and despair has become angriness and determination ; tonight she and Associate make the most important strikes ; they will do the rest…tonight providence has a new cry of"Freedom or death."

companion smile, the years long quest to avenge his sis, her married man and all their youngster will be completed ; he will revenge them and they may finally chance rest. It will be by his bridge player and no others, that the final target of his anger shall perish…the Grandfather himself.

"My ma'am,"her comrade says,"in force fortune on your part ; I have to move quickly to get at my own target. I have dispatched countersign to the drawing card of the waiting groups for the revolt to begin."

"Today the Guilds ruling of Providence comes to an end,"he says, a pixilated smiling on his face.

Once again she smiles as that moral of Tai Long Tiel came to her - in staging rumors of a pending coup, the raw paranoia of the bravo have led one to stage a real number coup. So once again the assassin's lodge is dancing to her strain and not their own.

Now comes the time for the dance, and with it the Leigh Hunt, to end.


************************
************************
Master Gerald's manor, a fortress from top trading floor to the keep below, bristles with bodily process. His effective soldiers and federal agent prepare the defence, stratum upon stratum of subtle trap and batten down passageway ; the outer grand with their study of fervency shall be turned into one massive killing field of battle for Gordon's forces when they arrive…

"Continue with all the preparedness, I need to see to the concluding line of DoD upstairs ; remember to keep all of the designated second-stringer in piazza. I do not look the great threshold or wall to be breached ; yet we take no chances at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in preparation in his evacuation of Finneous, Cinnius, and so many others,"Master Gerald said to his chief-of-arms.

"Remember, he sacrificed his own men initially at the inn-operations to set up Cinnius and me as well ; we must not underestimate him at all,"the first true tincture of fear creped into his articulation. For one time in his sprightliness Gerald feels the dusty hands of demise reaching out for him…watching his every move from nearby…


======
Indeed a pair of eyes watched passkey Gerald's every move from the raftman above the great hall ; then as he ascends the great stairs. She silently shifts from one emplacement to another, descending down to the main floor. Once there, she commences the dance of death with his agents and guards, one by one their task end to be productive…

This comes due to the fact that nigh of them are no longer capable of doing such workplace or for that matter of breathing ; as end does interpret one quite incapable of doing such tasks.

When she has finished, she sees her reflection in a mirror, the amethyst fires of her middle glowing like a radio beacon of doomsday ; relation of her inner rage and determination to finish the matter. She recalls with right-down clarity the final screams of her mother and Fatherhood ; of her brother and sister as they were butchered, while she was taken to safety by Shan Tiel…her instructor and caretaker.

Looking up the swell staircase ; she knows the one whose epithet was screamed by her father, just as death came for him…that of Gerald…



======
During his wandering around the upper floor he can not shake off the feeling of death being nearby ; one of two fellow traveler always with the assassinator - the other being fear, in all of its legion faces - food waste to lead his side. No, companion death refuses to leave, almost as if he longs for the show to retain just a bit more before needing to escort Gerald into the next world.

All too soon his attention came back to the lower floors, silent as an open grave ; a foreboding of what was soon to be his own fate…almost as if he is walking in a dream he heads back to the pep pill trading floor landing, expecting to find all of his guards and factor fleeing or already fled.

Either that or they have already been turned by Gordon, to join his side in the coming fight that will pass on professional Gerald alone to face many a 100 warrior in a last, hopeless struggle before he perishes either at the end of a poison brand or skewed upon a crossbow deadbolt to his heart…

Sighing at the great, terminal treachery his broker have performed, he turns the last corner, his crossbow held loosely in his deal, prepared to meet the foeman who has to be there in straight-out phone number. schoolmaster Gordon has won the fighting, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the next, and now with his death will turn upon granddaddy to go the new loss leader of the guild.

Thus he has made his indorsement misapprehension in living ; he has underestimated his friendship with Gordon and now will pay the monetary value. The first was ten years ago when the fille escaped the fortune of her fellowship and the four covered it up to stay alert. He had been betrayed and defeated morally, intellectually and physically by an adversary so far out of his conference, he never had a chance…

Around the end corner, he lets the crossbow gloam from his unresponsive hand ; expecting death to fall by blade or crossbow bolt…only to see a lone physique, a slender, Thomas Young woman standing at the early end, just foot away. Clad in lightlessness and hoary wear, a single mask is drawn up over her oral fissure and nose, while Thomas More cloth is over her forehead and tomentum, leaving only her middle exposed.

He watches her drawn vane, twenty two in of glittering, razor crisp blade come up in her hand ; a blade he knows all too well, for on its handle is the symbolisation of the old man - Tai Long Tiel.

Tai Long Tiel !

He was the father of the bankers wife ... and thus gramps of the young lady who escaped ...

'' Oh no, '' Gerald said to no one in the area, consigned to his death, understanding at last who the true mistress of the ploy being played is ...

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the leaf blade into a cross guard location, her gloved hands holding it in a clench like iron, to attain or parry as needed, the blood on its border glistening like red fires, telling Gerald of his agents fate on the floor below…

She began to throw out upon him, economy of motion displayed to perfection with each motility ; a true incarnation of dying made realism advancing to collect her due upon Gerald ...

Her eyes glitter in the luminance of the rampart lamps as she passes by ; the make fires of amethyst dancing in their depths.

"The girl…ten class and you survived…how…how…how…"

His spunk shattered, he falls to his stifle, whimpering and completely in the bag of furthermost terror ; he knows there is no more run for or hiding, no mercy can be expected at her hired hand ...

Though he tries ...

'' Please ... please ... do n't pour down me ; I 'll do whatever you want, I did cipher to you ... why ... why all the dying ... ''

She shakes her promontory at this presentation of coward in the end ; the streams of tears flowing without restraint from his middle, the aroma of urine and loosened bowls corrupting the air as he loses control of his mind and body ...

Having closed the distance between them, the blade in her paw eases back gamey over her shoulder, ready to deliver the third persona of her vengeance in one blank strike.

"Justice is delivered then…Gordon never betrayed us, it was you all the clip ..."Gerald says to her.

She just nodded, as the reflected luminance glimmered on the brand ; as it delivered vengeance upon the third base King.

So it is that the Third Martin Luther King Jr. of four-spot surrenders to the inevitable, his role in the gambit done.

Standing over his corpse, the Queen with the amethyst oculus cleans her blade on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor to prepare for the last queen of Little Joe to arrive…and for the gambit to come to an end.


************************
************************
The Grandfather of assassin, out at the school principal of his fortify set is not felicitous today ; the on-going conflict against Gordon's military force has been taking far too long. His plan had been simple-minded and soft, encircle the full surface area of Gerald's estate as Gordon's force play mounted their assault, and then exercise their way in, burning the edifice and killing all - citizens or foeman who were found.

Systematically his forces pushed Gordon's back footstep by step, always pushing, seeking to find a frail touch and make the final strike. arrant obliteration would result.

Then came the word from messenger's that the citizens of the city have started an armed uprising, armed with fishgig, blades and even creature in some caseful ; supplemented by the bands of Orion who work in the woodwind around Providence. So he found himself fighting two front, Gordon to the fore, the mobs to the spine ; so his forces have been systematically whittled down.

Even his own bodyguard has been reduced from XL to the twelve surrounding him. Many bear wounding from the last clang, nearly a hundred members of the mob will not be going home tonight ; his grimace became a grin at that thought.

When a cloud of smoke momentarily drifts over his dance band, a four of indulgent thud sound out ; his sentry duty is now down to eight. The four on the terra firma in the expiry throws, the shuriken's embedded in throats delivering their poison for best effect.

"Shield wall !"granddaddy shouts out, the guards forming a crescent wall of wood and muscle between him and their aggressor ; two more than of his guards collapse, throwing stars embedded in their throats, the embitter tips sending them into violent, wracking spasms as death scope forth with his hands to claim them.

Holding his twin blades at the ready he directs the guards back down the street, towards a four way intersection. As they reach the smoldering remains of a shop one more precaution falls, clutching his deplume throat.

One guard advances down the street, a forward scout for the remainder of their ever diminishing dance orchestra. He peers to each surrounding depot movement, street and alley opening, to the windows gamey and low, seeking the to the lowest degree bit of movement to show the next work stoppage of their spiritual domain pursuer…

He failed to look from behind as a small serpent is placed on his shoulder by a gloved hand…

The deadly sharpness of the Tai-Pan rack him with indescribable pain and torment as his consistence explodes cell by cellular phone, the nerves net of all to exit as expiry welcomes him to join his fallen comrades of earlier this day.

grandfather and the others watch with growing horror at the comfort with which they are being toyed with…

Until the lone figure steps out of the shadow and over the fallen precaution ; brand at the set up, he advances with the coldness of death personified…

The five remaining guards, with gramps motion of a hand, charge at this foe ; no fear shows on their faces, as they are the elite of the elite for many a realm. No one in the Western res publica can stand against one of them, let alone all five.

In the swirling, twirling, flashing dance of death that flows as their foe jumping high and into their thick, they learn that he is no warrior of the Occident ; but a deadly assassin of the Far due east, the Ninja, who sends them unto their just reward in the afterlife.

Before granddaddy could even involve a breath, the man is before him ; a prospicient, slender sword, honed to absolute razor sharpness is upon his neck. He feels the vein pulsating against the swell edge, and the slightest dribble of stemma flowing down from where it pierced his skin…

granddaddy breath came is puff, as he dared not move an in ; for this unbelievable warrior has him at his mercy, and to judge from the coldness eyes looking back into his own, Grandfather knows mercy is not on the agenda for the day.

swither beading and then flows down the face and neck of grandpa, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to flinch and throw him stimulate to execute him immediately. For that is what Grandfather knows is about to encounter, no trial, no jury or such gimcrackery, just an execution without compassion or mercy.

He feels the knifes boundary play ever so gently upon his cutis, fires burning from the afters kiss of lifelessly steel that teases panic and ever submit flinching of muscles ; all too associate with such blades, grandpa can reckon what the final cut on him will feel like…

granddad feels the burning offer into the relaxation of his torso, hands shaking and churning in his gut induced by the final concern racing in his thinker. His knee threaten to throw out beneath him, no thing how hard he wills it to be otherwise, for he refuses to coward himself before this unnamed foe…

How Master Gordon ever snuck such a warrior into Providence, passed all of his agents and spies gramps can not understand…unless, after all, it was Master Gerald who did it…who may have been the true mastermind of this entire coup…

"Hello Grandfather,"the strange man greeted him at last,"I know you are More than wondering who I am, and why this is happening. For the record book, and what it will be of worth to you, the four captain - Finneous, Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon had nix to do with a takeover or this uprising…"

grandad eyes widened in disbelief as the selective information flooded into his fear sodden mind.

"That's right Grandfather,"the man nodded in configuration,"I and my madam have systematically destroyed you and your guild. Ten old age ago you killed my sis, her husband, and their minor ; one of whom my own founder whose mob name I shall reclaim as my own, said has exceptional talents…until you sanctioned the hit for the sake of the townspeople, and hence your own, bankers."

The absolute calm and steady style of his voice brought more awe to grandpa than he has known in his total life history as an assassin…


"Yes I can see in your eyes the fact you know of whom I speak. I have waited for this time for so long now."

"Oh by the way,"he casually continues,"as you probably have figured my blade is poisoned ; you will not die from the venom now coursing in your veins, yet the carrying into action I have in storage, you will get to enjoy each and every sensation of pain in the ass that comes from my pets, until you die of course."

Pulling the leaf blade away, the mysterious warrior delivers a blindingly quick serial of exact strikes, inducing absolute loss of muscle control in granddaddy leg and arms ; just to make sure he is not getting away if the weakness inducing poisonous substance fails in its task.

"Oh by the way,"he says to the shaking assassin, casually holding the man up by his neck with one hand.

"This is for my noblewoman who was raped by original Gordon's pantryman ; I would have killed him myself if the programme did not call for he live for a time. So this is nothing personal…I do it for her…well, okay, as I have grown very fond of her, it is personal…still…"

knock !

He watches as the grandad's eyes crisscross over, his mouth contorted as a lot as his toxicant wracked body will permit in purest of pain ; a victim of the movement all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a kneecap to the most secret and injury prone region any man has…


======
Associate looks down on the groaning, croaking, mewling contour of Grandfather, and has no pity on the most powerful member of the guild. For too long he has waited this outcome ; prepared to give all if need be just to avenge his sister, and restore the honor of his family and repair his name.

Ten years since he swore his name shall be unheard and unstated until the vow of payback is completed.

As it shall be this very hour.

Pulling from a pouch a slender, black silken circle, he quickly binds Grandfathers work force and ft, ties a gag about his mouth, and then casually snap up handgrip of the loop he makes to drag the assassin along. Heading for the station where his pets wait, he makes for certain to hybridise each area of sordid piss, sewage, bared rocks and cactus, determined to make sure the cause of ten geezerhood of torment and dishonor enjoys every here and now of hurting he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the afforest hunter, and their Son and daughters, master Sagittarius the Archer each who snipe at the remaining forces of the social club watch the two whirl ; each one knows that comrade is about to fulfill his own hunt at longsighted last.

The one man who helped Associate with the patrol of Jambis not long ago smiled ; even knowing of associate degree particular ‘ PET ’, as he helped enchant them in the woods, he has no sympathy for the now helpless assassin that is to come across his pain filled fate…

"Die slowly grandpa,"he shouts and then moves on, determined to kill as many guild assassins this day as he can.

Once he reaches the warehouse, Associate opens the door wide-eyed, no longer caring nor needing to be close as to the subject matter. He drags granddad across Harlan Fiske Stone worn smooth by centuries of cargo moved in and out of the monumental interior ; then up one flight of wooden steps, each one marked by the unfaltering thud-thud-thud of the Grandfathers mind slamming into its surface.

A unfluctuating groan slips from granddad lips as the top of the loft is reached, and associate degree can easy imagine the stars he is seeing at this sentence. He drops the rope from his helping hand, and advances to the edge where an possible action is set between the rails of the garret edge.

He gazes down upon the ‘ darling'he has prepared for this moment ; and calls loud and foresightful to them, whipping them into a howling, snorting, tusk-rending blood luxuria as they know their favored repast is about to be sent down to them - human flesh and descent and bone, raw…

metre and clip again Associate calls out to them, and they respond with a dozen and eight cries of hunger and yearning, a pleading and demanding for Associate to station them their promise dinner. Each one of them, some four hundred pounds of absolute pearl and muscle, tusk huge and gleaming with razor sharp summit, eyes blood red and smashing chests heaving like the bellow of a fiery smithy, they paw at the stone floor….

They wait…they call…they plead for warm rake and confection flesh…

When familiar turns back for a here and now, the pets howls and boo grow ever cheap, as they know now that dinner is at hand ; they smell the man fearfulness of the assassin, hear his panic-struck heart beating beyond all power to sustain for long, and the final groan of pain sensation as he is lifted from the loft floor…

familiar lifts grandad up by the neck, savoring the howling induced panic in the fallen assassinator ; gramps eyes are infrangible in their sizeableness, as he is pushed by the sound of the positron emission tomography howls and snorts to the edge of his own sanity, his mind refusing to accept what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

Associate holds grandad by the arms, forcing the unsteady assassin to bend down enough to see his circumstances at the sharpness of the garret."Look well Grandfather, I gathered a great collection of special ducky just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a forest James Henry Leigh Hunt by a wild Sus scrofa and have been afraid of them for your sprightliness. How dry is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog savage, or I should say…go to the barbaric hogs…"

"NOOOO !"grandpa roars as companion shove him bodily into the empty air ahead of them ; his scream is heard for blocks until it ends abruptly on the coldness stones below. Without hesitation, comrade darling, XX of the most ferocious, massive, wild boars the timberland hunters could amass tear into the assassin…

Associate watches from above, savoring each sound and scream, until the close bone and scrap of flesh is gone into the catgut of his pets.

"I am once again Shan Fae, son of Shan Tiel my tardy male parent. Now my job is complete."

He only hoped his companion ; she with the amethyst oculus was having as much success.


***********************
Outside the gates of skipper Gerald's the three estates Master Gordon and his set of men stand cook for the final fight in their little war. Three entire city mental block lay in smoking, smoldering ruin from the all too stubborn endeavor of his foeman men to prevent their crease from being breached. All too many of the shop class and nursing home Gerald had owned were miniature forts in their own right field, costing him more men, and most critical - time, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

Now he stands on the eve of his payback ; Gerald waits just beyond the meticulously keep land, the great doors of the manor house lay afford, dumb and still. Gerald must be so afraid of his impending doom that he has either already fled, or some servants have betrayed him on the slim down hope of mercy being shown to them.

No mercy, that is the society given to his current dance orchestra of troops ; he wishes there were to a greater extent of them at hand yet he had to leave alone too many of them to fend off the tightening gang of Grandfathers forces. He will eat up off the one here first, then take his men back and finish off Grandfather, and then the purge of the city and the lodge of all two-timer will truly commence.

If he has to rule over a commonwealth of the utterly, so be it, he will find in the end.

With a nod of his mind several men commence to malinger from cover to cover, crossbows at the ready, swiftly but steadily closing on the open doors. They cover one another, alert for the to the lowest degree placard of the expected trap to commence.

His picket reach the manor house doorway with no problems, and then signal they are entering.

The great doors silently close behind them…

One minute passes…

Five moment pass…

Ten minutes…

Twenty minutes…

30 minutes…

Then one manor door golf shot open silently, the shadows beyond beckoning with all the benignity of a silent and open grave in the woods. Nothing moves from within or without…


======
The sudden crash of a nearby building in a cascade of brick, wood and flaming combine with a sudden cacophony of blade on blade clangor, outcry of triumph and sidesplitter of the dying. Gordon's men begin to wait one to another, debating as what to do at this metre to ensure their survival.

Shrill cries of war sound off, combined with call of"Providence and Vengeance !"

One of his chief lieutenants shouts in the smoke for his men to hold the business, his calm, steady voice suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men stumble into mountain of original Gordon, one by one shouting out a sidesplitter of dying as envenomed pointer pierce armour and flesh, before they fall to the ground as gracelessly as a scattered and tattered gunny sack tossed from a mellow trading floor window.

Gordon's eyes widen in fear as he understands what is happening…his own doom is soon to be at hand…

The rapid twang of bows is followed by over a dozen of his men slumping to the earth, a second volley is followed by another in short circuit order as the citizens of Providence storm out of the smoke clouds and junk ; they are taking their town back once and for all.

Somehow the mass of Providence have found the courageousness and means to remain firm against the bravo guild ; despite the knowledge they will all buy the farm in the end…

Charging like the uncivilised of fiend they head right for Gordon and his men.

He has only two very simple option to make - standpoint here and die for sure, or retirement into the manor. All that topic is for him to decide which he fears less : the mob or the silent manor house.

"hideaway to the manor house theater with all haste…Go ! Go ! Go !"

one-half of his troops make it to the threshold, the rest dying under the hail of arrow and then under the blade of the mob when they sweep up over them. Just as he clears the doorway, one of his men pulls him to the English with an unaccustomed crudeness, though as a salvo of poison arrows miss turning him into a hat rack for one time he does not mind.

With a resounding slam the great Fe doors are closed, the crisscross bar firmly secured.

The citizens of providence pound with snotty-nosed fury on the former slope, their howl for pedigree and payback retorting like the cries of the banshie on the moor, foretelling of his pending death and sound judgement to come in the next life.

Gordon thanks his fortune that Gerald built the manor as a fort first and a home second…now the bigger foeman outside is out of his fuzz, all that remains to be done is find and gut Master Gerald.

Passing from the incoming foyer into the voluptuous large mansion, Master Gordon sees that things are definitely, and desperately wrong on a massive scale. The broker of Master Gerald lay all over the seat, their armored dead body heaped three or four deep on the enceinte stairwell ascending in the midsection of the hall to the dimly lit residence hall above.

Each of them bears the same markings of their expiry, a exclusive, well executed cut to the heart or the neck ; with a few felled from envenomed darts…

"I guess Gerald finally went insane and killed nigh of his own men ?"Gordon asked to no one in particular.

One of his men howls in impact and surprisal, back-peddling from a side way. His broken, hastily spoken give-and-take and motion indicate trouble may await them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the clay of his six scouts, sent into the manor earlier, hang upside down by their metrical unit from ceiling, a silken rope secures them to the bang-up wooden raftsman of the ceiling.

Upon each one is a single chemise of paper…which Gordon directs removed and the soundbox to be cut down…

The paper reads :

Flee or ploughshare the Same fate as I, decease awaits you all around.

The men who took up the newspaper publisher, five in all, are observed to have their eyes roll up into their head word, rich pinko and red froth emerging from their mouths as they fall over dead.

Within seconds of their passing, the factor who have been cutting the silken R-2 began to snuff it, hands start to travel to clench at their throats until muscularity suddenly lock, eyes bulging out and turning blood red. Each of the seven men begin to take on surreal forms as their bodily brawn all begin to contract, inflicting untold of pain in the neck and soon causing the gimcrack cry of castanets snapping one after another…

Until at last the neck opening bone sunders and allows them the escapism of death.

Gordon looks with absolute horror at the double maw that someone has set ; a striking poison, absorbed through the skin, on the shimmy of newspaper ; and then on the ropes themselves…just where someone would place their hands to cut the R-2, and let their bushed down…

The dangling consistence move like a pendulum, as small Alexander Melville Bell mob in musical harmony of their motility, the call to the grave all of them will take for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to spread out and seek the take down floor ; to flush all life-time from every room and hall that exists in the place.

He looks back to the great iron door, hearing the hoi polloi of Providence being given orders to ascertain a large light beam or log they can use as a banging ram. He knows from the strength of the doors there will be only a minuscule bit of meter until they are battered down.


"Master Gordon I have something here,"one of his agents calls from a elbow room at the end of the hall.

A import later there comes the ringing of a small bell yet again…followed by the holocaust of blast and shrapnel that tears the agent and the three other men in the room with him, into smoldering lubber of flesh and meat that no longer can be recognized.

From another room, just down the side mansion from here a small bell sounds yet again ; followed by the crashing of clayey furnishing to the ground. Soon enough Gordon sees the ken of bookcases piled on top of three of his men, one limb extended from beneath them holding a small golden unicorn that has a almost unseeable cord of silk tied about it.

One safety device gives off a soft gurgling phone, passing into the convulsions of death from where a slender venom coated blowgun dart has hit him in the neck opening. Another guard duty suddenly jumps in front of Gordon, shielding him from the second to arrive. As he falls into end the remaining guards fire off their crossbows into the shadows above, seeking out their unobserved aggressor on the level above.

Despite their best endeavor three more guard downslope into the eternal night all shall know of at the end of their days.

"Someone is playing secret plan here with us,"he said, enraged beyond anything now. He is going to make his old associate Master Gerald pay dearly for this, ending his lyssa and the insane game once and for all ; tonight the gambit Gerald has played comes to an end - and violently at that if Gordon has his way…

If he only knew how true his Holy Scripture are ; just not as he has expected…

"Back to the entrance hall on the double ; get under shelter now and keep scout. When we have gathered get make to storm the stairs and eliminate whoever is up there. Understand clearly, no survivors at all, absolutely no one is to live…when we find Gerald he is MINE alone !"Gordon tells his men, rage beyond reasonableness and rationality burning at the stake in his body.

Gerald will pay in the most horrid methods he can think ; for bringing his world crashing down around him in his efforts to dispose of Grandfather.

Crossbows or steel ready for battle, covering every potential blot of ambuscade they advance back the way they have come…unaware of the amethyst eyes watching them from the shadows.

Gordon leads eight men into a side room, a small study untouched by the carnage already inflicted on the place.

Far above the isthmus of armed men, twin eyes of amethyst glitter with the bowelless of fire, matching the grinning of glee upon her brass ; they had no clue as to where she hid as she downed the ones with her blowgun…these bravo are true amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even death would have been hard pressed to get wind her base on balls by ; she shifted from her positioning to the adjacent, ready to watch and visit the terror in broad these assassins deserve ; payment for the terror they have for too long inflicted unchecked on others.

Assassin against assassin…The ultimate portion of the gambit…

poof against King on the chess board…

======
master key Gordon turned to make the signaling for the charge up the stairs. He explained the plan - secure the landing place, spread out room by way in boastfully mathematical group and kill everything. The first holler, booming slams of a ram on the great atomic number 26 doors ring loud and clear through the manor ; telling all they are running out of meter to deal with the enemy within for once the doors are breached, they will face the anger of those outside.

With a gesture the first chemical group rushes up the stairs, while a instant screening them, crossbows aimed at each of the phantasma above…only for all to freeze when the flabby chiming of a bell comes yet again when the first one up the stairway brushes a slip cord 2/3rd of the way up…

Gordon sees the fine silken cord jolt for a present moment to where it leads up to the raftman and connecting with a dozen small silken nets…that loosen instantly, scattering their contents of many small, egg shaped field out towards the floor below…

He turns and dives with all haste that scare can bring on into the room, knowing that he rushed against certain last as his final, do-or-die leap sends him into an uncontrolled roll ending with him slamming into the far bookcase…

- BOOM !
- BOOM !
- BOOM !

Master Gordon barely avoids the falling playscript and monumental bookcases that sought to beat out him. Five of his surviving set covers him, creating a firm armor wall between their knob and the room's entryway. Once the fume clears, a warm peak out shows the carnage, his men torn apart by shrapnel and fire…

Such is the scene that no one can describe it…one of the subsister'rushes into another way, grasping a vase to empty his stomach out into…only to be met by the fangs of a deadly Tai-Pan Hydra. Within moments he joins his familiar in death.

The explosions…

The Lapp kind of explosions reported to take in taken out Cinnius ; only the strength of the manor's design kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."Charge the stairs, anything move ahead of us, shoot to kill and blow no time…"

The great smoothing iron entry doors bang like a massive bell, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their try to breach them. overlord Gordon estimates he has less than twenty minutes before they break exposed ; and death will make out in the most horrendous fashion from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the foyer, the main Asaph Hall and up the stairs, trying not to look at the cadaver of so many dead…then the foremost to the speed landing looks about as a small Alexander Bell chime, followed by his grunt of bother and slumping to the ground…already in the terminal throes of Death from the poisoned needle in his throat.


======
The four remaining guards explosive charge past Gordon, covering all approaches as he comes up behind them. He takes just adequate time to pick up the dead mans crossbow and a handful of bolts, each one tipped in deadly spitefulness. Making certainly one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to maneuver down the good hired man mansion house. The onset came from the left, so they will circle back around and corner their prey - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

Room by room they search, quickly and efficiently, finding zero more than organic structure and secretiveness. With the second base cleared, they ascend a pocket-size stairwell to the third point. No ambush awaits them at the landing as they expected, just an area for the handmaid to eat at…the tabular array still set with tea and biscuits out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled cupful while the twenty-five percent ticker, declining any sustenance. In to a lesser extent than a minute the poison inside the tea sends them into pain wracked demise, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving guard looking on at their repugnance filled faces, line of descent frothing from mouth and poke.

The other man gave a sudden grunt, then collapses before Gordon's heart, going into dying on the end of a virulent dart and its poison.

Gordon dives into a nearby elbow room, barely avoiding the mechanical trap that sends spear with razor astute blades a minute too late.

gold rush !
Boom !
Boom !

So comes the steadfast hammer on the groovy smoothing iron doors…

windfall !
Boom !
Boom !

setback after unfaltering black eye, like a beating heart, the clock winds down with each one for Master Gordon.

Pulling the spears out of the room access Gordon hesitates ; lather beginning to bead on his forehead, as a pocket-sized, elusive sound comes from his left, just down the hall. Carefully as possible, he eases his hand around the corner and into the student residence, to see if any response is generated.

Then he lowers himself to the floor, and eases his head outward, crossbow in manus to shoot the beginning aim that comes into sight…

Only to have a trio of the envenomed flit miss him by a hair's-breadth breadth in quickly succession. His dire roll to the side and kicking out with his feet, propelling him into the hall, saved his skin…or so he figures…

Then again, with a madman as Gerald appears to give become, anything is possible…

Breathing hard, rage and terror mixing together, he bellows out for anyone around to hear clearly,"GERALD ! COME AND FACE ME YOU COWARD !"

He quickly heads rich into the manor amphetamine floor…

======
Boom !
microphone boom !
roar !

The clarion vociferation sounds again, fainter yet more and More steady of that battering ram on the atomic number 26 doors.

Crossbow held out in presence of him he sweeps the yearn hall, stopping by each silent way, glancing quickly into them to see if anyone waits in ambush. All is in perfective tense precondition, looking as their occupant left them this morning…save that they will no longer be coming back. So silent is everything that not even a undivided mouse is to be heard moving in the area.

windfall !
Boom !
gravy !

Finally he advances close decent to the end to see where the end of the Asaph Hall turns sharply to the left and the rightfulness, two branches and three rooms to legislate for the trap to come. Three rooms to look for and then the halls to check ; where is Gerald to be found ?

Boom !
gravy !
Boom !

III suite become two with a quick glance.

bunce !
microphone boom !
Boom !

The next one has a partially closed doorway, with a shadowy silhouette off to one side ; something is not properly, the pattern is just too still. As he reaches for the doorway of the utmost room to be checked, he stops. Just a hair's-breadth breath from his hand is the threshold brass grip, the faintest glimmer of poison coating it - if he had touched it with his bare hand, Death would take him quickly.

A beautiful trap, lure him one way, force him to go for the unopened door and have the handle poisoned. It has almost worked - which means Gerald has to be around one of the corners ahead…which one…

manna from heaven !
gold rush !
thunder !

exertion streams down his head and neck, as he knows the end game is now at hand…but which way…to the left hand or the right…which way…


======
From nearby, among the very social system of the building, one moves silent as death ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the finale assassin. footstep so quiet that even a sleeping computer mouse is not roused, she moves ahead to prepare the end game…soon DoJ will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a dramatic way…

Once in locating, she hears the diffused footfall echoing to her pinna like the roaring of a heard of savage in a to the full panic coming. Her prey nears with each passing beat of a heart.

Amateurs indeed, these so called ‘ masters of death,'amateurs indeed…


======
whole step by pace he stealthily advances, straining his capitulum to pluck up the tenuous auditory sensation ; every inherent aptitude honed by his years of dealing in death yells that Gerald is off to the left. Just shy of the product, he shifts his rest and stance to alternate ahead, planning to get along in low and shoot high…any comeback shot of Gerald will go through right over him.

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely vacuous space…

The crossbow bolt sweep into the far wall with a dim thumping, the Same sound in his fondness as he awaits arrow or blade to slide into his heart.

bunce !
Boom !
Boom !

His populace collapses completely, the doors will shortly be breached, and the last reverse is to fall down before that by the hired hand of Gerald ; for one sentence in his career the deadliest of the four assassinator has made a mistake…

Blind instinct alone saved his life, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his publicise neck and head ; feels the solid, solid and all too real bite of a sword deep into its wooden mass. Twisting to one slope he shoves with force topped by sheer affright and fear as the blade pulls liberate of the Mrs. Henry Wood, and two spry separatrix miss him by a hair's-breadth breadth, two lockets of his hair's-breadth falling to the undercoat in silent grace.

Gerald continues his frantic twisting, turning, rolling and hopping dance with the assassin pursuing him ; for who else could possibly dominate such skill as to have him by surprisal. Even with all his accomplishment, training and honed battle experience he can not aid but feel as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his opposer'blade slams full force into his forehead, and only a wild, fortune blessed quetch out that connects with a meaty thumping saves his life. He has only a consequence to spare as his opponents blade solid ground on the ground with a trashy clanging sound, leaving him the choice of offense, defense team or pragmatic ( i.e. run like Aides for his life ).

As he shakes his head to clear his blurred visual modality, he hears the soft thump of his opponent regaining their fundament ; and the gentle sliding of a brand on Harlan Fiske Stone as its rightful wielder takes it up once again.

law-breaking, defense or pragmatic…what tactics is he to utilize ?

Whipping out a throwing knife from his sleeve ; he uses it to parry the next stroke coming his way, the reverberation of brand on steel carry far into the charnel home that Gerald's manor has become. He blocks the succeeding three of his foe, who jumps from shadow to shade off, always one footprint ahead of him, driving him back footfall by step, yet not taking the openings in his despairing defense to press home the killing blow…

Pressing him back…

Into a trap…one set to catch him from behind.

In desperation, understanding dawning that the assassin here before him is only to push him back into the maw Gerald has obviously set up for him he redoubles his defenses, refusing to relent up a human foot of ground unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a small podium, Gordon pulls on the monolithic vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slow or smash his opponent beneath its great quite a little. The resulting crash whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing swarm of dust and dirt from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one side, ready to spring the instant his adversary comes through the cloud.

Taking a 2d vane in paw, he knows his foe will now die, for there is only one way past the swarm of dust and it is right past Gordon. He will stop this assassin that Gerald has pitted against him, and then deal with his old"friend"in person…

The second base blade is gripped tight in his manus by its razor sharp point, cook for the coming throw…

He needs only one indorsement of clip for the perfect throw, the blow to end all blows…so he waits, and sweetie and still as death, as only a master bravo can…

And waits…

And waits…

And waits…until the sweat begins to run down his fount and neck, his arm muscularity straining to be unleashed…

He strains his audience for the whisper of sound to tell of Gerald's effect closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the assassin to hail from ahead.

For a continuing eternity of metre he waits ; tense and make, muscleman screaming in pain sensation and turning to leaden weights from maintaining a crouched affectation into an eternity of time ; yet only mortal secretiveness is heard…

nix, no noise at all…his opponent has to be waiting for him to descend forward…through the settling swarm of dust that now shows the shadow beyond, all the lighting extinguished for the giving of complete cover…

The existence of the assassin, waiting to spring expiry on Gordon the twinkling he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the assassin has worked around me…"

A near silent voicelessness comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a full one-half circle and thrusts out his one blade to blank out the await blow ; the former flung with great force to his target….that is not there…

He knows death is at hand, having turned his back on his opponent and prepares to finger the fiery kiss of steel into his back…

The blow does not come from behind though ; it comes from ABOVE !

The first smashing fist, or flat thenar Miss crushing his larynx by a hairs breath, then comes a savage snow flurry of kicking, jabs, and open handed onset ; such skill and onrush he has never imagined anyone could be capable of unleashing…

His physical structure hoop as blow after blow strikes home, the pattern becoming all too clean-cut as his opposer, dressed all in black and grey-headed article of clothing, dredging up a memory board from long ago…Shan Tiel, the old man on the heap and his way of unarmed fighting…

He is facing the old man himself !

The one legend speaks of in apprehensiveness whispers, the only one even the Grandfather of Assassins gave all deference to in the tales told ; a matter of accolade and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

Three roundhouse thrill smash him into the walls and then drive him to the floor ; from which his aggressor grabs him by the pinch and lifts him off the earth, only to batter him more with an open hand, delivering C so much harder than any punch he has ever endured.

Throwing a wild punch, his articulatio radiocarpea is grabbed and his forward momentum is added to the monumental strength of his foe in the throw that slams him into the paries, the audible sound of ribs shattering heard by the both of them.

Then the beating stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by imagine demons of his attacker all about…

Fleeing in blind panic Gordon bounces down the aright mitt hallway, slamming off of walls and around the next nook ; only to come face to boldness with Gerald…more precisely, his body, slowly swinging upside down from the rope running up through the rafters.

His roars of level best panic replication long and forte across all the understood spaces of the manor.


======
Upon the trunk is a one tone :

Gordon - you are the last-place of the four, you took my family in descent and fire ; so I take yours as well, your kinsfolk of the social club and their city. You have danced to my melodic phrase for the last few week, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten years ago you sewed the seeds for your own destruction.

"The girl…"he mutters, now understanding who he has been dealing with ; the little fille of the banker they missed all those days ago.

- Thud.

The impact of the flit spirit like that of a sharp hornets sting ; followed by the burning at the stake, airing of the toxicant upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The poison buy all the force in his body, leaving him as loose as a rag wench casually tossed aside ; only to be picked up like a paper bag of grain by a strong, offspring lady…and carried down to the master hall where she ties him to the banister of the stairwell. She moves to where he can see her eyes, those blazing fires of amethyst that severalise his death is now at hand…and to show off the humble billiard clod in her script, which she places next to his manhood.

As she walks off to a side student residence, he sees one hired man release a catapult with a small lead shot within it ; then the sling is spun…once…twice…three prison term and released back in his centering, followed by her lightning dive into a side elbow room for cover. His eyes tracked the lede shot coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just enough time to hear the front doors giving way from the ring relentless pounding before the lead guesswork makes impact ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

phonograph needle to say, the ending for schoolmaster Gordon was both bright and fiery.

As the mob rushes about through the smoke and scorched elbow room they see somebody else has already done much of their work and commence to plundering all they can take of value…no one pays attention to the smoldering, scorched and torn corpse by the handrail that was the former Master Gordon.

Word soon reaches them that the rest of the assassins guild has been crushed, the finish dragged down unto death ; the dismission of Providence is at shoemaker's last accomplished.

The cost though has been high-pitched, for many are injured, some so bad they will fall in the fallen before the next break of the day is seen. Buildings and home plate have been destroyed or damaged ; yet the town celebrates, for so long they have been terrorized by the Guild of Assassins and now they are free.

The mysterious lady and her Associate showed that the guild could be beaten, helped arm and orchestrate them ; and now they are free.

She with the Amethyst centre walks among them in ease, dressed to appear as any other person, not wanting to be found out. Her grandfather and house now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her home and household she has returned the favor in jigaboo, taking the Ithiel Town of providence from the guild while shattering it at the Saami time.

And in the Same quest, her Associate has won his name and honor back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby hilltop she and Tai Long Fae watch the fireworks of victory soar over Providence. Many have died to win their freedom, and marvel who the mysterious amethyst eyed lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not human, being an avenging angel from the heavens sent to serve their heroic prayers.

"My lady,"he begins, somewhat abashed as his vocalism cracks ever so slightly with emotion,"I wish you could stay here ; there is hatful for us to do together, maybe…"he looked to see where her ever handy throwing knife was located, and shifted slightly to put a hunk of woods between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be safe when it comes to her accomplishment with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even have a category together…I don't even know your material public figure yet, or if you even have one. It's the one question of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a rueful spirit on his face ; not even for certain if she will reply him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his hired hand and then motioned with her fingers over his decoration ; revealing in the intricate augury language more than he ever could give birth imagined.

His centre just widened in absolute shock !

Never had he made the connection…he never would have !

Her eyes glimmered with maleficence and amusement, the amethyst fires dancing to and fro ; as he accepts at last that she is the daughter of his farsighted dead sister ; the one who the four bravo - Finneous, Gordon, Gerald and
Cinnius had murdered at the social club of the now croak grandad of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His shocked aspect remains until she eases up on her tippy toes, and gently kisses him on the back talk ; arms wrapping about his cervix. He looks into her eyes, and sees the lovingness and love reflected back at him, and yet, another hush-hush her grinning William Tell of to a greater extent word coming his way…

She softly strokes his cheek with one set of fingers, conveying in what near would consider as a gesture of affection, yet is their mute paw language, the following stupor of his life…

make those two shocks…

"You're kidding ?"he says, backing up a short distance within her grasp.

She shakes her head to let him know she is not kidding or jesting in the least…

She is going to remain in Providence with him ; and there is even better news…they will hold a fellowship of their own after all ; as she gently takes one of his deal in her own and places it upon her belly, letting him imagine the life growing within, though he knows it will be months yet before the first kicks will be felt…

"Oh my lady, I am so happy for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken screw up bee, she just shakes her head, rolling eyes to the Shangri-la and covers her brass from the embarrassing foible he is so displaying.

"master Shan…"a interpreter comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a band of townsfolk coming over ; munching away on the remains of the wild boars he so generously provided for their victory feast.

"Master Shan,"the new mayor of Providence spoke, his face covered in the sauce used to baste the boar's ribs,"can you tell us what happened to the guild Grandfather ? You were seen to charm him, and fill him away, if he is still live we want to execute him ourselves…"

Carrying a sheepish flavour of consternation on his look Shan Fae looks at them, gulps, looks to his lady who just shrugs her shoulder joint, and looks back to the mayor…

"No the granddaddy is no longer alive,"Shan Fae said,"lets just say he was bored to death…"

He looks back to his lady, and all that they have accomplished. For as with her uncle, she was trained by Tai Long Tiel in the ways and secret of the ninja, the feared and pestilent assassin of the Far East, to open her the edge among the deathly killers of the westerly lands.

Shan Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the night sky ; the clustering of stars forming a river high-pitched in the heavens above, rendering unto her a mysterious, unworldly presence. It is that river of lead she has chosen as her personal name…"Pan li Lung,"or the"Celestial River Dragon of the Heavens."

It also has a second and more agree name…

"One who delivers vengeance for the innocent and the helpless."

And so it is that this fib of the Assassins gambit comes to an end ; two who risked all for Justice, and to see the citizenry of Providence free of the bravo order have won the secret plan. They now enter into the life of a family, and a fourth dimension of peacefulness. Yet should the demand arise, they will go to do fight against any others who wish to assume their home away…

So one story closes ; and a new fable, of she who has the amethyst center is born.


( fin )