Just outside the town of Providence, four bod close upon their target - an old, battered household that is battered by the raging storm that conceals their movements. 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 leader of the four, Finneous, motions instructions to his associates in the soundless house language used by the Assassins club ; though they already know their finish, no mistakes will be tolerated this night, the contract must be fulfilled…no survivor and no evidence is to be left behind.

On that the Grandfather of bravo, the dead on target ruler of the guild and of Providence is clear.

Silent as dying, they move between shadows illuminated second by moment as lightning terpsichore across the sky. Here one darts to a tree, then to lay behind a small bush ; there one bolt between flashes to the tax shelter of a low wall surrounding the house.

All too light, everything has been prepared to perfection for such an easy kill.

Even the urban center Constable, the law enforcement agents of capital of Rhode Island - of course all are under guild control - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this hour. The plans of the house, down to the smallest point, were secured by yet another band of guild broker, allowing for precision planning…

All too well-heeled, nothing can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will take away no chances, for dumb luck has on Sir Thomas More than one affair interrupted his architectural plan. He gives a 100 counting, making sure no movement occurs…

beholding, sensing and hearing nothing he motions with one hand to his companions. Of the three, Cinnius heads to pass over the back doorway with his small crossbow, Gordon and Gerald move to the side entrance of the pantry and kitchen.

Between flashbulb of lightning and echoing roars of thunder they go ; undetected, they reach the house of the banker betrayed by his partners. Swift and efficient they enter, and in less than five minute of arc the unscathed affair is complete, leaving the family dead and the sign aflame from front to punt. No survivors, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An well-fixed night of work ; carry off an full folk, torch the house to cover the crime.

Save for one potential complication - one young girl, the center member of the nestling, was not at the sign of the zodiac. All four of them agree to say nada more, knowing the uttermost demise waiting for them if the Grandfather of the guild finds out.

Besides what problems could one stripling of a girl alone in the world honestly cause them…

**************************
The gentleman known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the country watched the fires as they consumed the house ; from the shadows he had seen the four assassins enter and loss with exceptional skill. Not one of the four had seen Grandfather when he approached within four groundwork of their way coming and going.

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

If not for the charge he has been entrusted with by the now deceased banker, he would have finished this lot of idiots just for the interest of realism. They give a bad figure to what it means to be a reliable assassin.

He could just visualize how the battle would contract place, brief and absolute in its finality…

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

Twin, envenomed knife would take the middle two in their nitty-gritty ; the quivering spasms of end wracking the facial expression of shock and repugnance on their faces…

Their drawing card in front, the one he knows as Finneous from preceding dealings, would fall in a personal matter…his iron shod stave smashing off-white and crushing organs in close up battle ; or if the coward flees then he would get off the throwing stars into his back - each one with the same deadly venom as his tongue hold…

Tonight he can not give in to the desires…

Giving a pipe down two hundred count while still concealed by his tiger striped cloak, bits of foliage aiding in the camouflage of him being a part of the tree and shrubs, he listens with capitulum keener than many. He moves nary a bit, even as biting insects crawl over him.

He knows when dealing with blighter hunters like the assassins, there is only room for one mistake ; of course being from the Far due east, HE is the honest hunter in this game.

He slowly eases into a half scrunch up, then to a full stance as he looks about, listening, sniffing the air, all to induce sure the quaternion of bravo have indeed passed beyond the area.

In his sheltering weapon is the little missy, the one with the amethyst centre and muted voice. Her terror filled death hug lets him know just how scar she truly is, though still unseasoned and small for her age, he will pass water sure that no harm comes to her…

No matter what he will pull in indisputable no scathe comes to her ; her founder despairing plea with him, to break up one out of the twelve Thomas Kyd to be saved raked his bosom raw, having given the warning of the coming hit by the club. So it was he swept her up, out the door and into hiding here just ahead of the assassins.

So there was nothing he could do, to keep 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 firm grip on the little girl who hugs him in a brat filled death hug ; her middle filled with amethyst fires. When her father had come to fit him, only the young lady was with him ; then the male parent had rushed back to save his family, too late to do little more than die with them.

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

Very slowly the little girl extended her pelage clad arm, gloved fingerbreadth tracing a series of movement into his helping hand. Indeed, mute that she may be, the repose of her ability with the sign words of his family's profession - fellow assassins like himself - demonstrating the intelligence agency that lies behind those wondrous eyes.

He nodded approval.

"So be it, so you shall be called my granddaughter ; understand this much though, for now, you must remain unsounded with your new name and forget the old. To the relief of the Earth, you are only known as granddaughter, one of many orphans I have raised over the long time,"he said.

"Due to your eyes few must know of your being ; so life will not be easy for you, yet there is something I will teach you to do,"he said with a determined look on his face.

He calculated the time that passed since the quartet of bravo left ; then figured the observers for the guild of assassins will be along shortly - to establish sure 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 bring scourge to the innocent ; instead you will trace the hunters and their agentive role ; to teach those who use terror what it means to be subject of affright in turn. ``

So it is the two depart into the mound, far from the city to the place they call home.

Neither of them look back at the old animation, the end of a folk for her.

Yet the two of them, the old man and the youth missy with the amethyst middle know the volume will be balanced in time.

The assassins consider their hunt completed, just one of 100 the 4 has carried out to success.

They have made their one mistake.



***********
***********
Grandfather just smiled with pleasure as he looked upon her, lying next to him on her venter on their bed ; his fingers moved with soft, feather gentleness across her relegate skin. He began with her one bared cheek, her head turned his way and those wondrous centre dancing with such humor, life and eff 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 feeling of her quick breathing time upon his finger's breadth brought a prickling delight to his mind, his old body still up to the entertaining of a Pres Young lady, one who is no longer a lady friend - she reached her majority a calendar week ago, and asked for this night as her natural endowment from him.

He slips his finger's breadth into her mouth, caressing the inside of her sass and stroking against her teeth, taking joy in the growing blush upon her cheek. Moving back to her amphetamine lip, he continues his fingertip exploration, up to her nose and around each of her eyes - especially along her brows, bringing a cushy shudder to her body as her eyes gently close for the moment.

His fingers begin to massage around her brows and then back along her let on ear, drawing Forth River a smile on her ruby red lips as a content piffling sigh escapism past them. She draws her helping hand up under the pillow her head is resting upon, while her publicize skin shines with the moonshine flowing in from the twin sliding doors that are undetermined to the outside world.

Her one arm waver for just a mo, the hand setting to a greater extent secure under the pillow.

granddad moves along the rear of her foreland with his fingers, caressing and massaging her neck along the sides and back, cupping them along the straw man so all of his hired hand is on her skin. He then begins in soft, circling and kneading movement ; she gives another soft sigh of contentment, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly as she begins to slack up more than and more.

His optic look up as he picks up the faintest of bowel movement through the floorboard, a shaking and a soft sound so subtle most would feign a mouse had scampered across the room.

Running his hand down along both sides of her prickle, he uses the other handwriting to support his leaning manikin ; this move also brings him closer to one of his hidden throwing knives - envenomed of class - to deal with any unseen attacker…

The vernal gentlewoman turns her nous away from him, muscles on her back twitching in joy from his caressing touch. Once more there is a diffuse sigh that escapes her lips.

deflexion down he places his lips on her tegument, kissing in by salty tasting inch from mid shoulder to the frown spine ; all the while his eyes watch for the future shadow to make a motion, ears listening for the adjacent sound to be made as the unknown quantity intruder approaches.

His fingers flow to the side of her venter, drawing a perpetual, squirming, squiggling motion from her.

A syncope sound comes forth through the bulwark, telling him the accurate location 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 discriminating, cracking retort of the blade biting through the Wood is heard by both of them.

burial itself to the leaf blade hilt, she sees that her aim has been rightful. She then resumes her comfortable place on the feathered matting, hands back under the pillow, waiting for grandfather to continue his ministrations.


======
The intruder, the man of mystery from the Far East simply known as the comrade - and designated helper for the one with the amethyst heart, calmly stands in his place, one leg in half stride, understructure prepared to step across the walls frame to another small juncture projecting slightly outward.

Such a movement on this outer paries, along the structures fourth floor and some three hundred substructure over a drop to the jagged rock and roll below would be youngster's play.

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

He has to remember, as of today he is HER fellow, despite her public figure being forbidden to him, as he has denied his own public figure until the stigma on his and the family honor has been expunged. Normally he would work alone to ingest his revenge, yet granddaddy - to whom his kinsperson owes an old debt - has him working with her.

He had regarded her as nothing more than a plaything for the old man ; even as quick witted and concise as the plan she has developed for their job in Providence…

He gently swinging his body around 180 degrees, pivoting on the toes of his other foot, then begins the climb back the way he came ; he will never underestimate her again.

His gaze is drawn back to the full point of a steel extending a finger length through the wood ; the gleaming poison on its shiny surface pull in to his civilise eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his manhood by a haircloth breadth.

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

No Sir Thomas More curiosity for him, he will now focus solely on the charge, and the jurist long denied to him for the criminal offense committed by the guilds grandfather of Assassins.

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


======
Grandfather just chuckled as she rolled onto her back, those shining amethyst eyes alive with humor ; his delight in her action mechanism is obvious as she holds her arms out for him, the invitation loud and clear in their unspoken dancing of love.

Easing his robe off, he carefully lies across her physical structure, supporting the bulk of his system of weights upon his slender, old and atomic number 26 strong arms while she portion her legs, sliding them gently around his hips, and begins to go them in caressing trend along his own.

He begins to kiss her lips, which she returns with fiery intensity, the glowing of her cheeks deepening with each passing consequence. candy kiss after gentle, pecking osculate embraces her cheeks and then along the jaw to her chin, her smile concealing a barely seeable gulp while one manus moves to stroke her neck ; generating a pocket-sized shiver and twitching of her body, a silent giggle parting her lips while weaponry and legs writhe in joyous, delirious bliss.

One small tickling follows a minute, then three more, resulting in greater and greater revolution from she with the amethyst eyes. snag of joy welled in those center, flowing down cheeks to the waiting mouth of gramps who pressed his brim gently on each drop - his grin shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling scents of grandfather while he is so close ; often she has been next to him in slumber, but never in such a manner as this…the thought of what is to occur so soon filled her with a bit of dread and expectation of ecstatic bliss…the final mystery of mysteries to be explored.

Her eyes closed as his hand cuffed the back of her cervix, supporting it with great strength and gentle, warming feeling ; the small vibrating motion of each finger muscle told of his iron command of the physical structure, massaging and finding each sensuous nerve in the area, bringing an unexpected surge of euphoric heat from oceanic abyss within and down below, where she feels the beginnings of a wetness build…

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

One fingertip of his relinquish hand began to explore, resting at first upon the very base of her rib, to fall upward in a constrict, focused, undulating trail that sent a cornucopia of impression surging into all part of her mind.

Sharp and Henry Sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; lyric without form for spirit that can not be described but only imagined in a harmony like a serial of streams forging into a mighty river as all join together. One discriminating intake of breath bringing a heavenly profusion of scents - the lingering steam and droplets of water supply from the bathing room nearby ; the slim trace of old cologne and musk, of earthly fat men smells, and wood heather mixture of women who have been here in the rooms many hundred of existence.

The fingertip became a flatten thenar, easing along the edge of her tit, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in small, gentle roofy. One tour became two, then four, and moved to the other tit to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded ; the hand caressed and massaged more and Sir Thomas More arena of each breasts.

She heard and felt her breathing place acceleration, her head making a small circle as electric bang of pure bliss tingled their way up in her consistence ; each one in routine unleashed a pleasant surge of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw electric potential of life made reality. throw by gentle stroke the infinite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping her breasts until they crossed the upright teat ; that low gracing contact sent a coursing pulse of warmth along all the route of her dead body, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred fold in intensiveness that almost became overwhelming.

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

Unto its journey the handwriting continued, seeking out with almost desperate rush the other mammilla ; its trail a clear path illuminated by fires of blissfulness as it moved along my hide. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to fall outward as the riffle on a pond, yet with the force of a shower among a mighty river.

Just short of contact lens her consistency could assume no Sir Thomas More, pushed to the edge faster than even Grandfather had figured as her body moved in delirious, euphoric apparent movement ; one silent cry of primaeval Passion after another expressed on her parted lips until her coming hit, being released in one moment of uttermost Nirvana bliss.

She signed him not to stop, to fetch up her call for endowment for the dark, while she still was ready. zero was to interfere from here on out…nothing if she could aid it at all.

Her work force glide along his back, comb-out and caressing, until they meet with the finger's breadth entwining to hold him securely in place. She closes her eyes, neck arching slightly in response to the osculation he now places along it, while a series of soft sigh escape her lips that open and close in silent calls of construction lust.

When he enters into her fair sex, she grabs him tight as a upsurge of annoyance go from the sundering of her virginity ; no matter how gentle he can be ; she feels like a leaf blade has entered her gut, delivering pain for a moment like none before in her life.

Her face scrimped in hurting as he continued to press inward…

He had warned her it would come, and whirl just as quickly.

From his gentle and business firm action, move after relocation, she begins to feel a fiery blissfulness flowing up her consistence like a river of molten metal ; the heat and chroma redoubling with each in it passes unto her mentality. Her breath quickens as she lays there, ear listening to the gentle, steadily breathing of Grandfather.

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

All too soon the wonderment of this metre of delight comes to an end, as he reaches the limitation of his dead body's endurance and restraint, sending his life story germ mystifying into her body.

"I'm sorry it did not concluding as long, or would be as enjoyable as it should get been Granddaughter ; the first time for any man or woman is the most awkward, until the mystery 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 traces of his seed coming out of her fair sex.

Her hired man came up to his impudence, gently caressing it in thanks and with love.

His hired man encompassed hers, allowing him to take delight in the softness of her skin, the slight diaphoresis on the aerofoil.

"So you and your Associate leave for providence soon ?"he asked.

In their shared, silent preindication language she explains that they depart in two weeks.

She looks upon the one who she loves so lots with wonder, hoping to share so many more such moments as this dark before the hunt begins.

For the last ten years he has raised her, teaching her languages and writing, the art of chemistry belonging to the bravo of the Far Orient. The way of the blade and the bow, the throwing virtuoso and daggers ; many weapons for all situations she may encounter…and so very much more.

The greatest artillery she has, as he once challenged her to guess, is her mind.

Yet he taught her so much Sir Thomas More than to be a ‘ aliveness weapon ;'she loves to trip the light fantastic with him under the virtuoso, to fish and track down, to play Bromus secalinus, and so practically more.

In short, he taught her how to exist and enjoy sprightliness day by day.

Two short hebdomad before she heads to Providence ; two weeks she intends to revel to the fullest with her new lover, making lovemaking as much as he will permit.

Contently she rolls onto her position and slowly drifts off to catch some Z's while he serenades her.

She dreams of their meter together in the two calendar week to come ; now that she has become a womanhood, she will do more than just pleasure his manhood with her backtalk and knife, all he would let her do for some time now. They will make love from dawn to dusk and into the many nights they have left.

Her dreaming recall those times, from the first taste of granddad humanness on her lips, his seed spilling into her mouth and his excuse when she choked ; to the way he explained what to do…

Yes indeed, their left over time together will be wonderful.

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


======
Her companion stands silently off to the side of the small shrine where grandad ash tree have been laid to rest, the two horses he holds, their climb, remain silent as if paying respect to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just escape from his top dog, amazed that the one he is to play with display such a range of emotions ; he made the hope to never underestimate her again, yet the sheer display of attainment in her design - and the contingencies for effect and opportunities that may grow, is the piece of work of a admittedly master.

Only the tenuous gleam of a tear shows as it flows down her cheek ; the only impuissance he has seen in her during the clock time they have come to know one another.

Crazy as it sounds, he wonders if there is a chance for them ; once the search is done, to have a relationship with each other…

Let the future come as it does, right now other matters need to be focused upon…such as the pet he needs to buy once in Ithiel Town ; plug their shelter and crap sure enough they are sufficiently hungry for when the prison term comes to sustain his revenge…

He can almost pity the fortune in shop for the granddaddy of Assassins…almost.

"I just hope he screams loud and retentive when he meets his fate,"he says to himself.


*******************
*******************
In the depths of a vacant store, one long boarded up, ledge thick with dust and cobwebs the only sound to be heard is the deep, rasping, moaning gasp of an older man. Dressed in a well tailored cause, most would sham him to be a servant for one of the copious merchandiser of capital of Rhode Island ; yet if they knew his true position, they would run off screaming…to an former, pain in the ass filled death as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then suffer the same fate.

He is the Samuel Butler and rightfulness hand man of superior Gordon of the guild of Assassins, not to name being a pernicious Orcinus orca in his own rightfulness.

His hands grip the shop dusty counter that pushes into his dorsum as he fights to rest upright ; waves of giddy, pulsating, undulating heat and electrical like aesthesis of pleasure flow into his mind ; too many years have passed since he has felt this way, and now to have such a lady as this take such interest in him, for such a fairly cheap price as well…

One of the legendary Sister of the blue sky, a lowly gathering of courtesans renowned for their mastery of the erotic and tantric arts, showing interest in HIM ! ! !

Truly the caption of their power are justified, and then some.

One raspy breathing time after another passes his mouth, dresser panting in and out like a bellows, one shudder after another causes his body to flex and flow about, as he feels like his brain is now turning to slush before a furnace, about to hang away completely in a cloud of steam.

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the baby's lips play along the length of his humanity ; pausing to kiss and purl around the sensible base of its read/write head. With a whirlwind of small, exact cam stroke of her clapper she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading wave into his body along the narrow ravines of his nervous arrangement ; one wave upon the other ; building into a tsunami of force out and lustful firing, threatening to crash his mind ; with oblivion coming then and there from excitement matching that of a wild entire proclaiming victory for dominance of a ruck of mares.

For the 1st time in eld he feels so rid and TRULY ALIVE ! ! !

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

He has to find out ?

grunt after oink echoes around the vacuous shop, his fist commence to Sudanese pound upon the retort as he strains to check back the growing pressure upon his manhood. He understands that for so long he has been an oxen, who by option and labour in the house of his boss, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such fine fleshly pleasures as this…

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

She eases one hand upward, gently teasing and tickling his Twin set of chestnuts just below his humanness, while being unaware of the small surprisal prevarication just within her fingernails border. If this man dares to draw the hidden set of steel or the fine conducting wire garrote up his left sleeve, then the toxicant will wipe out him within seconds, thus forcing a low change in her program for the near future.

His laughter grows from a humble serial of chuckle to wild, manic, hysterically insane auditory sensation carrying cheap and prospicient outside the shop ; though no one in the area dares to pay attention - ignore such phone that may have in mind gild business enterprise is going on and you stay alive for today…maybe…

He feels like his eyes have crossed over into the reverse sockets, his intensity being drawn out of him by the invariable, heating plant flowing, headiness of her action. Oh if he only could get his wife or the other girlfriends and schoolmistress he has - each convinced they are ‘ his true love'– to do thus to him, as well as or undecomposed than she.

For the secondment time he counts his blessed fortunes at having a sister of the blueing come to HIM for so low of a Mary Leontyne Price ; one simple modulation and time to come group meeting such as this will become ever easier to coif.

Blackmail can be so fun of a game sometimes ; especially if she desires to remain in one objet d'art, not to advert alive for some time to come.

He wonders for a bit how much he can charge his associate degree for them having their intimacy with her ; and not risk being sold out to Master Gordon or the Grandfather of Assassins

Yes, such a low monetary value to pay for gaining leveraging over this one, as any on-key bravo would do…

Of course his skipper may not see it that way, yet what he does not roll in the hay will not cause him to massacre the Samuel Butler in the most vicious of means possible…if he was lucky, being flayed of all skin, doused in vinegar and then covered in cheese to be fed to rabid scab would be a true blessing.

But that will not befall, his headmaster may be a powerful figure in the guild, yet HE, the Samuel Butler, controls the day to day event at overlord Gordon's estate - no one will have a go at it, just as he has smuggled and embezzled gazillion of gold coins, stone and artwork over the geezerhood, others paying the price for his actions…

He easily could have afforded one of the sis at their convention, outrageous fees of ten or More year's salary for a formula worker, just for one hour of ‘ entertainment'by them. Some people have become so indebted to them, that they in turn become servants of the Sisters, forever.

The two things that give the sisters such great power aside from their mastery of the sexual arts, is the sheer beauty of each one - plus the sheer sapphire blue sky eyes they have ( hence the ‘ blue air'in their rubric ) ; AND the fact that each one is mute from birth, thus all secrets told in their comportment can be kept safe from revelation.

Those who control the Sisters make sure they never learn to pass on in any way, reading, writing, or such save by a circumscribe sign linguistic process centered on the intimate nontextual matter. Though they are free in how to pleasure and please their business, they shall never be free of the knock-down influence and ascendance of the guild that dominates their entire lives.

enigma and boasts safe with the Sisters ; so be it.

The pantryman spends some time explaining to her as she gently strokes his humanity, rapt attention paid to him as he tells floor after story about the guild and their undulation of terror and murder used for control ; her grin shows the excitement brewing inscrutable in her dead body, seeing him as a mavin of champions against those who dare to oppose the way affair are - the Guild of bravo formula, zilch else can replace it.

Or so he assumes.

Gently she teases the very tip of his manhood with the tip of a fingernail, drawing him to the boundary of rabidness and back again and again ; her smiling of wonderful blissfulness combined with rapt attention to the pig bed unceasing stream of treacherously heroics masks the uttermost contempt she feels to him…

And wonders if it would not be secure to simply scrub a bit too hard, jump back and watch as the poison goes into effect…no not yet ; the fourth dimension for such secondary matters is not at hand.

Her hands take grasp of his humanness and begin to stroke it, fast-slow-fast-faster-slower, the upper changing enough to build him up, back down some and then construct up again.

His rasping breath continues to deepen, eyes 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 firing spilling his life story seed into her mouth.

His roaring of triumph is matched by the sudden, unexpected blow he delivers to the side of her head, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"Just a reminder of who you are dealing with lady, the firstly hint of betrayal at all…"he finished with a motion of his bridge player across his throat, fires alight in his eyes.

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

As per their mint, she opens her mouth to show his entire living seed is there, and then swallows it down.

She smiles at him, happy to birth given him such pleasure ; while on the inside she steams at having to put up with such a brute of an brute, castration would be too good for him…give him over to a band of wild women, wielding knife and they will possess him as the primary course at a banquet…

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her temper in chit ; despite that she will be spewing her guts out for the next span of hours when she gets home, the boilersuit gain are worth it.

retaliation will come soon enough.

With a smiling wider than he has displayed in years he carefully hands over a ternary of half-bloomed rosiness wrapped in paper.

"My dear Sister in Blue, the next time you wish to possess Sir Thomas More roses, let me know. I will gladly bring them to you for an ‘ central of inspection and repair'such as you provided tonight,"the butler stated.

"Just commemorate,"he angrily said, suddenly grabbing her by the throat with decent effect to leave bruise upon her skin.

"The first fourth dimension 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 heyday shop class, the female child known as ‘ Clairice,'the one who is friends with the madman that makes the gadgets for the guild.

She has expressed pastime in the unexampled pink wine skipper Gordon has been developing, ones like the three he has given to the Sister in bluing. Yes, he shall make his demand known soon enough, and may take in another one to add to his mistresses - or he may just obliterate her outright, depending on his particular whim of the moment.

Yes life is good and passe-partout Gordon will never bonk of the missing flowers being by his own hands.

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

If he understood the purpose he unknowingly plays in the"Sisters"game ; the terror would cause his heart to quit on the spot.



*******************
*******************
Finneous just strolled along on the principal fair-through of capital of Rhode Island, taking in his ever expanding Empire of buildings and shops he secretly owns. His wealth over the last ten years has grown exponentially, all of it due to his cut of the fees paid to excrete one banker and his family.

Indeed, ten years is a retentive clip, now he had power, rank and wealth known only to a few ; those who part manner to let him exit, his social station clear by the o.k. of black suit of clothes encompassing his iron-trimmed powerful frame. For the suicidal who may dispute him, the small crossbow bounce at his hip - always loaded with a poison bolt - is set up.

None dare to dispute him, for he is one of the overlord of the social club of Assassins ; one of the finest and of the deadliest, only rivaled by Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius his old associates…and of course the Grandfather of assassinator and his ever shifting plots within plots…

…no that one he will never gainsay, preferring the luxury of life to the conclusiveness of dying after horrid amounts of torture…

The thought of the survive execution he had seen, a man covered in dethaw tall mallow and lowered chief first into a pit filled with athirst, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he ; the scream gave him nightmares for weeks afterwards…as the Grandfather of Assassins intended, a word of advice as well as punishment…

Yes here in his area he is safe, based on his ability to control others by their concern - of last, pain, and of penalisation or fierce skill in blade, knife and a hundred other artillery. By controlling their fears, he has control of all those around him.

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

"Oh it feels so good to be a king within my own little domain here in the city…"he chuckles to himself. Yes it is good to be king over a pocket-size portion of the world.


======
Two set of center watch as Finneous heads down the street, following the same pattern each day. Lapplander time, road, trend, and such…predictable, and thus vulnerable ; in becoming predictable, he has become so very vulnerable…

Without anyone else noticing the two have a speedy conversation, using the silent language of hired man motility ; if all goes well, they will take to run quick.


======
Two soft, gentle eyes watch as the bravo heads down the street ; day after day he follows the same set route, no deviation and secure in his own personal domain. Indeed in this area of Providence he is a king, and true to flair, the watcher here has a gift for him.

They play this Lapp secret plan each day just as he passes the doorstopper leading into her rest home ; she hopes the gift will be especially pleasing to him today. Already a gentleman had purchased one of her half-blooming rosebush for his girlfriend. Old men can be such romanticist she figures, and the lady friend must be so fortunate to have him as her friend.


======
Finneous toss by one of the few privately owned store in the area, the small Harlan F. Stone building is home to a new florist shop, who also deals in odds and ends she trades for from former merchants. Such is the budding report of her study that many multitude of influence and power, not to mention fellow member of the guild, visit to purchase her creations.

Her only known companion is that old and completely mad toymaker Darius ; his brilliance for making gadgets and mechanical gismo is just as legendary, as he has the golden opportunity to behold maiden hand.

Darius shows the girl…lets see, what her name…Clairice is, yes Clairice, which is her name…a small, egg-sized bollock in one of his hands that slowly move and shifts. Gradually it becomes a mechanical canary that starts to babble.

So mellisonant and straight is the Sung that many real canaries in nearby trees join in the song.

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

Heading over, he gives a soft cough to throw his presence known, and indicates the mechanically skillful bird with one hired hand. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the creature ; Darius bristles until the girl locks him in lieu with a truly stern gaze, thus saving the assassin the demand to kill him for a minor insult.

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

When he gives her the coins for the purchase she bows to excuse herself then goes back into the workshop. Darius just shrugs his shoulder joint and heads off on whatever business his madness holds, his trench blue robe covered in weird mathematic symbols flowing about him in the breeze.

As the assassin heads down the street he knows he is being watched ; his expression feigns interest in his novel toy while actually keeping track of each person moving about him. Soon enough he discerns the one who he has been waiting for - on metre and for once holding something of majuscule interest to him.


======
The two who watch the progression of Finneous up the street have another quick conversation in the unsounded mitt language ; the indorsement of the two bows slightly, then yield to deliver his ‘ gift,'knowing that there will be slight time as things come to a head.

The first continues to determine Finneous, seeing him feign interest in the mechanically skillful wench, and the unfeigned interest he shows in the ‘ game of lying in wait'both play each day ; not to mention the special ‘ endowment'that goes to him today as well…these assassinator, such amateurs…



======
As on each day, the ‘ ambush'occurs right on clock time, the little girl with the lenient centre measure out in front of him with her blazon filled with heyday."Good sir, would you like a flower today ?"

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

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

He counts out a handful of silver-coins, many clip what all of her flowers are deserving. This is his means of paying his own agents, and helps to keep open them in line with the unspoken substance of awe - betray him and not only will the agent die, so will all their crime syndicate and kinfolk.

As Jesmine runs off to give the pecuniary resource to her father Finneous hears a rumpus down the street…

Much to his amusement he sees the old toymaker Darius arguing with a dyad of tree. He seems to be trying to get them to buy a mechanical device that will gather weewee for them. A earn lesson in the ticket art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can prepare marvellous toys.

His mistress will absolutely enjoy this mechanical bird.

A indorsement glimpse at Darius shows he is trying to trip the light fantastic toe with the trees, and doing so badly. When a crowd of folio fall over his head, he begins to argue about some ‘ slight of purity from the forests of the earth'and then challenges each tree to a duel of honor…a true moonstruck indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

The bloom smells so wondrous ; the rose is sweeter than any other he has found before, and figures it must hail from one of the big estates his champion have nearby. Probably Gordon and that new line of rose he has worked ten years on.

"I will have to come up out."

Too bad he never got a prospect to bump out.


======
The gathered crew parts for the glide path of the Constables ; 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 bravo, his crossbow still loaded and at the ready adjacent to his hip ; the mechanical bird lying atop the half bloomed flower, singing away as it was designed to do.

"Go and get the duty chieftain,"shouted the patrol serjeant to his aide,"tell him what we have here at once, the rest of you secure the arena, five gait out and no one touches anything ; when the granddaddy of Assassins finds out about this we may have major problems."

Thus has passed Finneous, master bravo, audacious king 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 urban center police violence - the Constables have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her sept. Everything in their theatre is integral, no signs of ruffle, problem, foul play or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their lowest prepared meal, still cooling down from preparation, remains uneaten on the board plus an expensive vino nursing bottle chilling in a bucket of ice…

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

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

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

Quickly this banker's bill made its way into the hands of the assassin guild ; the leaders waiting to see what their skilful examiner could find, which for the nearly contribution appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a series of humble, invisible writing emerges from the slight heating plant of the parchment.

A special, out of sight code known only to a fistful of the society - used for those who need to flee the city instantly, and with complete safety…

safety mansion prepared, flee when Finneous given efflorescence, no faltering, postdate focusing to the letter on pain in the ass of death for everyone - Gordon

"rhythm up everyone who may be remotely connected to this subject, and work them over to the John Constable for the interrogatory. Make certainly they are reminded to stay quiet, no questions, no quotation of club commercial enterprise at all under pain in the neck of decease,"ordered the Grandfather of Assassins.

turning to the drawing card of his personal escort detail he gives one explicit decree,"Find the ones who run this net of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be Master Gordon, a might playing period seems to be brewing, and so those traitors have only one finish task to perform…food for my collection of tigers in the dungeons…and make sure they die slowly…I want to see their screams."

well-nigh likely this is a might play, a serial publication of elimination of competitor and senior ranked phallus to afford the way for lower rank to be promoted - that is the way of the club, to supercharge you qualify of those above you or die in the process.

The Grandfather decides a fiddling talk with maestro Gordon could not hurt. Just to stool sure he is cognisant that if he is seeking to unseat him, it will arrive to a bad ending for Gordon. And if he is not plotting against granddad, then it will alert him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

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

There is no cartel, no pureness to be found among the fellow member of the Guild ; with bravo there is grudging respect for their superiors mixed with ambition to succeed them after a well placed blow that finishes them, if possible.

Indeed, give them the obedience they are due for the danger they present, eliminate them when the clip comes.

Upon receiving the summons from the granddad of Assassins ; Master Gordon starts to sway in deadly terror, wondering what was going on…Finneous is idle, a letter he supposedly wrote according to the courier after a squeamish bribe, plus the low susurration on the street of mass inquiring Thomas More and more about his home and habit in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his Butler ?

plot within plots, move and counter motion ; that is the lot of anyone who is a member of the Guild…HIS life, the assemblage of power and control until eliminated by a competition from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the grandfather of bravo concern HIM…

Despite assassinator not having friends, they always have two familiar acquaint - paranoia, and fear.


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

Here she is, laying back on a couch, those voiced doe like eyes closed, head turned to one side as her lips silently unresolved and close from waves of lightning like joy surging with power and force up her body, to crash with thundery retorts in her mind.

Those appease deal grip the back and side of the couch with vice like volume, fighting to throw off the force of each tingle, arching of her backbone and wiggling of her hip from the attention being given to a particular part of her body…

Just the thought of it, not to mention what is going on movement her already mystifying flush on cheeks, chocolate-brown and nose to change further ; so intense is it that anyone watching would finger wave of estrus and desire shimmering off of her hide in wafture, threatening to use up all who dare to venture near.

One massive shudder of her body, her rosehip instinctively thrusting upward as if by their own will, causes her to cover her case in sheer plethora ; any thoughts of modestness have flown long ago as a hiss flying with the wind.

As if she had any very option but to submit to the interrogation anyhow…

The one who is conducting this unique trend of ‘ interrogation'is the Chief Investigator Kimberly, who takes her time to ‘ investigate'and ‘ examine'each part of Clairice's womanhood. Each and every inch, crimp and hidden astuteness she kisses, poke, or maneuver with via her fingers ; prison term after time she manages to bring Clairice to the very edge of climax, threatening to take her over the edge only to fetch her Down and then back to the edge.

Kimberly's cruel grinning shows as she playfully and forcefully teases them across one sensitive are of Clairice's woman, drawing out a stream of spasmodic hip thrusts and arching of her spine, legs squirming about as she covers her back talk with both hands clenched into fists.

The men in the room, those who work under Kimberly's absolute, unrelenting and utterly sadistic authority smiling wickedly ; unleashing a continual torrent of affront, jabs, ribald gestures and a ‘ running commentary'on how they feel that Clairice should just soften to the examination.

None will comment on the technique used by Kimberly, nor on her bared body ; her bronzed hide, perfectly formed cheek with those savage grayness eyes and angelic expression - complete with a sprinkling of freckles, and her massive, perfect breasts any man would strangle between with happiness on his final expression, makes a perfect model any carver would be proud to have created.

Yet the bronze death masks of the last twenty men to so comment bent on the wall nearby ; each masquerade party showing the absolute vision of horror their faces had attained at the minute of their deaths in the most heinous of mode one could imagine…chewed on by rats, boiled in oil, crucifixion, death by 500 lashes of a whip, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will dare lay a handwriting on Clairice either, nor progress to any form of threatening move ; the fate of those who do is unidentified save for thus : the day after they made the final mistake in the presence of Kimberly their manhood was found in the streets near their homes, and no former remains.

Amazingly though, rumor to burst out of Kimberly's hearing of one man, a high ranking member of the Guild of assassinator has won her heart….if that is even possible…

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

Rubbing her fingers rapidly over the girl's womanhood, she grins wickedly back at her men ; then she moves back down again, playing her tongue across it in rapid, precise chance event and alphabetic character patterns of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the fingerbreadth of both custody worming their way inside her pie-eyed sheep pen.

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

"Davis, get over here and get inside of me…do me hard 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 construction on her most sadistic of secret plan.

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

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

The torturers though just could not crack his already mad head ; he continued to fence with the post, some matter of mathematics and automobile mechanic. Each crack of the whip drew only a small slash on his exposed back, adequate to inflict uttermost pain, yet did not go him.

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

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

Shortly to be joined by the second torturer, many of whom never imagined could have his brass cracked by the gaze of an insane man.

No one knows what happened, other than they gazed brain long into the insanity of Darius ; then smacked their arms as if bitten by some kind of worm ...

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

Kimberly continuing her maddening efforts on her, determined to extract every bit of pleasance out of this small tart, continuing to deny her the release her body demands.

Again and again her pelvis thrust upward as waves of fiery bliss shoot along her torso and threaten to collapse her mind. undulation of volcanic passion flow and ebb along every fibre of her being ; surging and exploding with every eccentric of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rapturous blissfulness !

A swirling, dazzling kaleidoscope of color swirl into being, parting and shifting with each new blissful import sweeping up from her fair sex ; to merge yet again into a new word form and being, a cycles/second that is repeated over and over again, a thousand time for each passing beat of her heated heart.

One silent gulping followed by another and yet a third becomes a sweetheart stream for some time as one particular spot is touched just so by Kimberly's tongue ; causing her pelvis to thrust up, back bending and knocker heave with the sudden influx of air her heated, burning body is demanding…

The examiner's men move up and fondle her bosom yet again, not bothering to be mollify either ; three multiplication she draws silent howler out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving bruise of her finger and palm on each one, relishing the overrefinement she can visit on such an innocent and cowardly girl…

If she only knew how fast the fickle hand of Lady portion can turn…

The animalistic oink and slapping of build on flesh of Jacques Louis David entering into Kimberly merged with her cries of pleasure, loud and tempestuous like a pack of skirt chaser. He showed no restraint, no hesitation in his every motion or desires to enjoy this minute in which he thinks he has finish control over the inspector Kimberly.

Of form, his buddy know better.

"O.K. you little hussy, I will secern you this much…mhmmm…if you cum before Jacques Louis David, I will let the quietus of the men have…mhmm…their way with you…oh…ohh…"

Grinning savagely Kimberly went about her movement on Clairice in a whirlwind of effort ; probing and twirling her fingers deep in her womanhood while working every portion she can with her flickering spit and backtalk. Faster and ever faster her endeavour accelerated, determined to break Clairice once and for all ; to show these men and the little girl who is the true 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 consistence muscleman and restraining the ever building, quickening fires of her pending release ; she smiles inward with a small portion of her judgment as Kimberly howls in frustration - no matter what the inspector does or try, she just can not make the girl hit her climax.

So furious does Kimberly become her script that holds onto the book binding of their shared couch teardrop away a hunk of wood some two groundwork long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her white meat dancing with the pulsating upgrade and declension of her chest, howling delight escaping her rim as optic roll up into her head…she hits her climatical button at the instant David, good of bellowing grunts and growls ululation for all he is worth ( and such would make believe any plurality of skirt chaser grin with pride ), his release inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

His grin is from ear to ear, holding his fist in a wave of triumph for another ‘ conquest'well done.

Moments after his big finish Clairice loosens up on her body, allowing the inevitable billow of last bliss to pour forth as an unstoppable storm, the force and vehemence of the quake, the great tsunami descending onto the coast of a continent from across the ocean…

Kimberly shook her foreland, clearly discomfited she could not break the girl…

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

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

"She is to be escorted dwelling, if one of you so much as lay a deal on her, pray for a quick death from felo-de-se ; otherwise I will flay your skin one inch at a metre, then soaked in vinegar, covered in thaw cheese and tossed to a pit wide of rabid, pest infested and athirst rats,"Kimberly informed them all.

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

======
As they gather Clairice's clothing, gently handing it to her, backs and gazes now politely turned away ; the investigator prepares to give her newest recruit - David - a stern moral in following orders. One matter St. David should have remembered is that each of the police detective are women who absolutely loathe men most of the time, plus being high layer assassin of the guild.

Without bothering to tuck her habiliment she saunters to stand up behind Davis as he finishes lacing his britches ; his smile of subjection bout to concern as he takes in the grins of his companions.

- WHACK !
- WHACK !
- WHACK !

doubling over, heart crossing and flabby moans escaping his lips, Jacques Louis David begins a slow, font first descent to the level. One more victim racked up to the Inspectors well known relocation called the"three-base hit Nutcracker."

"That is for you daring to think you are even worthy of releasing your come inside of me Jacques Louis David,"Kimberly growled at him.

Of course by now, laying on the base while making soft, mewing and whimpering phone, he is beyond any conscious sentiment or complaint.

Kimberly catches the subtle bemused smile and laugh of Clairice's center ; that is all the thanks the mute girl is subject of giving, she had seen the horrific cicatrice upon her throat.

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

Her obligation is done though in this topic - club from above in the guild told her to find out if the daughter Clairice and Darius had anything to do with the death of Finneous. Pure subroutine, save for the fact that the torturers had run off for some reason - that had unnerved Kimberly completely for a consequence or two ; the girl should count what bit of mercifulness she has been shown, as many of the others brought in for the ‘ investigating'will never pull up stakes alive.

That is the way of the club run Constables and their Investigators ; they control the township tribe through fear.

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

Finneous appears to simply hold died of heart and soul stoppage.

book binding in her personal post she examines the live, valued endowment sent to her by Finneous…a last gift sent just a few hour before his death…and to just up and die from his philia fillet ; not in mortal combat against another bravo or madman…

She smiles at the marvellous gift :

A simple, single, 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 affair in park : A erotic love for rosebush of all kinds.

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

Taking it in hand from the crystal vase it arrived in, she looks at the flower in the easy lantern Light ; the promise of beauty beyond admiration hinted once the flower opens to its fullest.

Bringing it to her nose she savors the heady smell that mix together - rose sassing, cinnamon bark and trefoil ; plus others that still defy her power to identify.

Little wonder Finneous sent it to her, such a prize can bring a mogul ransom money or more from its grower…

It takes over two hours before anyone who heard the crashing noise followed by absolute quiet to build up the braveness to embark her position, rightfully fearing for their lives.

Of track they quickly discern there is nothing to fear any more from Kimberly - being dead does return that warranty ; and she is deemed to bear died from marrow check as did Finneous.

The festivity held that night in the Constables authority for her overtaking lasted well into the next day ; the moans and groans of the men and women coupling merged with the mating of womanhood with other women telling all who dared to mind just how the celebration culminated.


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

As usual no matter what Darius said or did the Constables escorting him and Clairice to her shop paid him no attention. Its not that he minded the bodyguard, nor having her as company during the long walk domicile ; he is happy they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by ring raping her as so many other woman 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 yearn pole carried between two Constables ; they had the audacity to do so with his now cut up gown as well, leaving him wearing only a pair of train of thought bare britches in a deathly iciness Nox.

"OK guys,"said the patrol leader - Jambis,"we have done our duty for the night ; now, leave her be and floor him…"

The two Constables carrying him summarily threw him into a raft of garbage and guck. To add further insult to injury, the patrol dumps spate of garbage from containers, handbag, and boxes on top of him ; mocking him as a true madman.

"well lads Master Gordon wanted him humiliated ; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the next prison term the master wants an social club filled, get it right. One Sir Thomas More error and the next visit by us will be a more pain filled than your demented nightmares could comprehend,"Jambis told him.

"Really, I look forward to giving you instructions in such nightmares some clock 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 savage recoil with an atomic number 26 tipped bang to Darius's head.

Having finished with their job the patrol heads out, making sure no one pays any aid to their subject matter being delivered to Darius. That is the regulation of the streets - pay no aid to anything that is not your business and you then stay alive for another day…usually.

Even that blasted wretch of a fornicatress Clairice is gone.

"smarting girl, keep out of sight, and celebrate out of trouble. Let's get back to Ragner ; then we can have a Night on the town with our payment…how about that new ale household ? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…"Jambis'vocalisation fades away as Darius rolls on the solid ground in pain…

Or at the least, the feinting of pain ; for they do not see him suddenly take full mastery of his body, his eyes set on their backs in a matter that promises death to each one of the patrol.

Only the opening of the shop class room access and a gesture of her with the amethyst optic keeps his hobby in check…

Not now, revenge will wait, and he has a unspoilt way of doing it - one that he will savour when the metre is right.


======
Hours later in the cities crowded market one unseasoned lady casually strolls down the way ; just a simple milk maid from the farms outside the town. No one pays her any attention, the much patched, homespun fabric coated in the everyday soil of hard Department of Labor keeps most eyes from more than a glance followed by, for those of Thomas More wealthy means, a disdainful snort of disgust.

She filled her handbasket with an assortment of fruit, day old bread and other commodity for a small kinsperson of one ; all that the seller know she needs.

Friendly, but silent, the scar across her throat and left brass indicate a horrendous wound that never properly healed due to lack of care.

Still with bare motion of mime they communicate for conducting occupation ; both official and otherwise, for one of the trafficker passes her a small sack of fresh fruits, something she pays well to prevail due to their uncommon and scarce nature.

binding in the safety device of one established den, she sees her Associate carefully undo the sacque cloth to acquire access to the greenback. He takes extreme point forethought in doing this, to make certainly the bank note is not trapped in some manner - say with a lowly, highly poisonous insect or a small snake.

"have trustfulness in your agents true my granddaughter ; but take precaution in case one has been turned,"grandfather had warned her in a example so long ago.

In her small mirror, used to remove the makeup, faithlessly scratch and other token of her disguises, she sees her currently William Green eye turn back to their rule color…the twin orbs of amethyst fires…

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

It is from one of her other agents :

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

For a instant her smiling turns ferine ; her amethyst eyes dancing with pure firing from within.

She remembered the lesson Shan Tiel had taught :

The assassin controls agents through hope of wealth for success, and promise of dying for failure. Find the object he threatens death to, the key to control over the sept - once found, machinate the families escape. When the agent of the assassin no longer is controlled by fear, their fearfulness now becomes a burning desire for revenge. Thus the bravo in now vulnerable, and when you are ready, he will die.

Finneous held power and thus had total control of the father by threatening harm to his cute Jesmine.

When the offer of freedom and escape from the fearfulness of Finneous came, and understood to be legitimise, he took up the one task without hesitation. Hence the flower was delivered and the bank bill left behind.

One bravo is perfectly, three more to go.

Along with taking down the greatest prize of them all ; now the paranoia and the insistency will develop and rise until all comes down.

He watched her cross the way to locate the note among a humble big bucks of them, to be burned later on and the ashes scattered in the wilds. No evidence of them is to rest at all once committed to memory.

His mind registered each gentle sway of her hip joint, her covering robe of pink silk shining in the light of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to tease him with a abbreviated revelation of a leg here, a calf there, a possible heap of one fate or another in the near constant quantity play of Light Within and dark. Not one stochasticity did her foundation make as they all but danced across the wooden base, so equilibrise and ghostly is each human foot placed ; always ready for action on a bit notice…

Oh how he could contemplate what it would be like to feel his manhood being rubbed and tenderly teased to its maximum voltage by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in good turn begin to kiss one foot, working to her ankle joint and then gently easing up, one inch at a time to her innermost thigh and assay out the one heavenly place she has, the one share he loves on a womanhood to please and taste, to experience the luxuriant warmth of her flesh and…

- knock !

"My peeress if you will rationalize me I am off to get some rest,"companion said as he slowly eased his body around the knife hanging shrill slope up, just a haircloth breath beneath his energise manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol appendage talk of the town of their deeds, screened by a small detail of the best informed fauna to be found within any city : Street urchins, crawlers, lurcher, they go by many such names and almost all have one matter in common ; they are the bottom of the social order.

The poor, homeless, orphans, maniac, and all such hoi polloi who are do-or-die to make a coin or two for a decorous meal ; so it is that many in positions of power use them to watch any and all trend, any rumors or stories no matter how piffling. Few mass pay them any attention save to keep back hand on their money belted ammunition, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being unseeable while in field sight.

One other trait the lurkers, such as a young lad casually strolling along the streets a shortsighted time later, his hands deep in coat air pocket, is a well honed instinct for survival. Otherwise he would consume died long before now. Yet the fact is when he bumps into someone, he is the one knocked to the dry land - landing next to a fallen basket of fruit…

A ma'am looks down upon his fallen build, the pig black tomentum done up in a flowing tress, blue-white hat tied to her straits while lazuline blue eyes watched. Her blush-enhanced cheeks glistened in the sunlight, matching the semblance on her lips as her smile grew wide of the mark with poetical delight that many men, and some womanhood, wished to search with pounding hearts…

Her fine nightgown of deep sea green sparkled in the light, slit along one leg to hang enticingly about her calf and second joint, promising forbidden pleasure to those unforced and capable to pay the price. The soft vest of teal silk she wore clung to every one of her womanly curved shape it reached, save for a portion that shows a coup d'oeil of her boob, easygoing and pink of cutis, as many an aristocratic man enjoys…

Folding her parasol, she bends down into a half hunker, the material of her gown conveniently flowing about her upper thigh to reveal the pearly luster of her hide ; heftiness honed to absolute paragon and hinting at the potency contained within - the better to wrap around their evenings consorts in the throws of passionateness, or so it is said.

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

The lad, his majority reached just two days ago does not move ; he is still, despite a harsh life on the streets that has left him gangly, short and suffering malnutrition, in right-down fear of this lady. His racing heart beats from the panic of her wondrous nature, the flush of passion oceanic abyss in his physical structure flowing fast and hard while his manhood demands his attention, threatening to tear his britches apart.

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

Across the way, a quartet of the sisters pass by, stopping only long enough to see the actions of one of their own rendering aid to a street urchin. They show faces momentarily flushed with anger, then sniff and walk off in complete disdain…indicating this babe is something of an outcast from that elite group.

reason that he must be on his Charles Herbert Best way, for the saki of his life - the Sisters are often said to be part of the guild of bravo, and under the personal bid of the granddad of assassinator - the youths extended deal handshaking with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ fable come to life-time'( in his mind, she is a unquestionable goddess of passionateness and pleasure that can never be approached by the down in the mouth of soul ), can be more daunting than the masters of demise who are probably preparing their poison tipped vane to turn him into a hand basket…

"Ma'am I am sorry for knocking your basket out of hand,"accepting fault for the matter even when none is there. With last care and respect he hands the fruit basketful back to her.

"I shall use to a greater extent care in the future ; have a good day ma'am,"he says until her handwriting rests gently on his shoulder.

Everyone watches in wonder as she takes him into the semi-private area of a universal store ; she uses pantomime to finally get the point across to the grocer, who shakes in penny-pinching terror at the view of causing the babe any offense ( being connected to assassins can stimulate this to pass off a lot, the sis thinks ), to outfit the lad with a full-of-the-moon set of NEW wear, no second bridge player junk.

She pulls out a small identification number of smooth-spoken coins to traverse the cost and to buy some pocket-size goodness that the grocer gives her a monolithic discount upon.

Through the shop door and windows the gathered crowd watches in jaw-dropping wonder as she sits the lad down next to her on a bench as the grocer goes to get the new clothing. Her hand playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to shudder like nothing. He fights to proceed his center off of her, especially as she takes one of his handwriting into her own and moves it to the lower border 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 surprisal - no lady has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone have intercourse, assassin and the pattern folk of providence, that the lad is now a personal broker 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 surely who she works for…

The Sister in gentle face upon all the watchers with coyly pursed rim, eye set in a wicked gaze that promises the lad untold rage to come and untold, absolute pain and death for anyone interfering with her elect gift of recruitment for him.

The lad looks at her in near terror, until she gently kisses him on the cheek, olfactory organ and brow with a smile. 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 room to see the results, the grocer returns to putting her purchased goods in her basket ; then hands it to her with a deep bow, nod of the brain and a grand grinning on his face.

So successful has the deceit been, no one suspected the grocer passed a minor big money of papers her way in the basket ; in crook she had passed instructions on as well, concealed under her vest for the lad to take to others in her ever expanding lot of factor and contacts.

Before sunset comes, the leaders of her network of agentive role ; begin preparations of their own ; readying for the monumental tap once she gives the signal…as arms and armor are prepared ; their smiling are as of intent woman chaser about to ruin their tormentor.



======
Later that night, her heart read carefully the gathered bill of all her own agents, details of those known agents and penis of the assassin's gild ; their duties, patrol times, use and so off. Each detail that is gathered appearance more failing, to a greater extent fuel for the pending firestorm.

Among all these clues, facts and selective information there stands out one destiny - a chink in the enemies'armor ; the way one weakness can be so dramatically exploited.

How to achieve it with total surprise ?

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

As he looks into her centre he sees the chemical smorgasbord that allows her to change their colouration wear off ; the fake sapphire blue reverting back to the true, lustrous amethyst fires he has come to look up to so practically. The mix used to have this happen is common in the Far East, strange to these idiot assassins of the West.

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

His regard flows over her svelte phase, the silken robe enshrouding her partially clear as she continues to read ever more of the substance ; her publicize skin glistens in the gentle light of the oil lamp, casting shadows and twinkle that dancing suggestively across abdomen and knocker, hiding and revealing in a dance of sensuality suggesting more than admiration are nearby if he would just defy to explore…

Putting on his coat as slowly as possible, pretending that his arm is stuck in the sleeve, he drinks in the mountain of her denude legs, crossed and curved to keep open the mickle of her fair sex just out of reach ; yet teasingly he can just make out a bit of the soft, fluffy hair between her thighs…a prize he would love to search if she just would let him do so…

How very much delight he could play Forth from her unlike the now drained Inspector Kimberly - that one used the sexual for intimidation and domination ; he will for her to be pleased and loved.

Bared breasts moves ever so slightly with each of her gentle breather ; dancing in a regular recurrence silent and calm, enticing with their teat so soft, pink and fully erect as if daring him to move in and consider the impossible.

How he would love to please them, his fingertips spiraling inward from his caresses along the al-Qa'ida, after placing countless kisses on each one, leaving no portion untouched. The taste perception of her consistence, changing as her body became more than and more aroused, sweeter and sweeter, mixing with the heady scent of that wonderful perfume she wears…

From her breast he would make a motion downward on her belly, teasing her stomach with constant short osculation to pluck many understood sets of giggles and laughs as possible ; then proceeding downward to her womanhood, by now so ready to be sex and her eyes would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would make happy in that sweetest of all tastes and smells ; her bared womanhood, still so young and fairly innocent before him. Each gentle touch of his fingers and rim, the caresses of his tongue on those most raw of spots, natures gift to cleaning lady, he would repeat his efforts on and as she increased in fulfilment towards her climax, play her down a bit and then double the endeavour again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the wonderful reaction of her body panting and gyrating as she hits her button, waves of bliss and fiery rage flowing across her consistence to go down to the one item of her mind demanding to enjoy each moment of the sensations.

She would look at him with those woolgathering amethyst eyes, a unsounded invitation given and confirmed as her blazon were held out to him, welcoming their matrimony as one…

- Thunk !

"My madam,"he calmly stated,"if you will tolerate me I shall make due haste to secure the serve we need for the adjacent part of the plan…"

He gently moves forward a bit, making sure to take in the penetrative side up blade stuck in the wall just a fuzz breather below his manhood…her means of reminding him, Romance may arrive later, right now other thing are priority.

She just shakes her head and smiling as he leaves ; wondering how many more times she may feature to do that to get the approximation through his head - she does not require romanticism, not at this metre, she needs just a friend. granddaddy was the one she loved the most, and it's too soon since his passing…


*****************
*****************
Normally a walk among his bottom of flowers sunshine the sour, foulest, humorless of moods he could reach. This day though, is not one of them ; his great rose gardens, the bang-up of his treasures accumulated over the final stage ten geezerhood now have become a bane.

trinity days ago, three of the flower were carefully cut and vanished.

Two of these flush appeared this daybreak, one in the home of Jesmine's family ; the others next to the now very dead Finneous and Kimberly.

An incredibly fine morning he was spending with a babe in Blue crumbled into ash with the messenger who arrived unheralded, accompanied by a heavy guard from the social club hall.

His message was dewy-eyed : The granddad of Assassins wants to see him.

He felt the cold, gripping deal of death clench about his throat and fondness ; the sheer terror threatening of the pending school term alone all but stopping his heart.

grandad's gentle interrogative - he could simply have tortured him to death on a whim - centered on the banknote supposedly in his own elegant and flowing script, so close of a forgery that even the gild best experts are hard pressed to tell the departure.

Finally he was allowed to go, still intact in head and eubstance ; to the highest degree such ‘ interrogative sentence'wind up with the victim being boiled in oil if they are lucky.

Yet the material message he gave to Gordon is this : granddaddy is watching for a coup from within, or to see if a certain Master will descend ( i.e. Gordon ) and a new one promoted in his place.

This mystery is driving him to the brink of madness ; the reference again of ten years of muteness, only two others still alive be intimate what happened all those years ago with the contract on the banker and his family.

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

The ease that the roses disappeared makes one matter clear though ; someone has an broker 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 loyalty and everlasting reliability over the years…Yes, he will birth them watched from a distance ; plebeian thugs and padder agents of the guild, if they get killed by their own incompetence, there will be no major loss.

Pleased with this plan another thought comes to him ; here he is in the open, well within range of a marksman 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 massive smoothing iron doors. The lookout is doubled and the place is to be searched from top to bottom twice over. Pure defensive measures if his intuition of a hit at him is good.

Of line, if a coup endeavor happens as granddaddy expects, he will hasten to defend the leader of the guild. If the opportunity arises, then he will qualify of grandpa. His humor brightens at those idea ; he as the new Grandfather of Assassins, ruling the town and the guild plus all of his own lands…why not, this bears some treatment with his associates - Gerald and Cinnius.

Even with the thoughts now calculating programme and contingency for the coup of the club or elimination of a touch one fact remains clearly. His bridge player never loosens its grip on the razor sharp knife hanging from his belt.



**********************
**********************
Associate moved as carefully and quietly as he could, not daring to reach a noise at all. Shadow to shade off, one minuscule step at a time he moves, placid than a shiner on the prowl. For various days he has built up the spunk to follow unaired and closer ; with certain forethought being taken this time…

- clunk.

Quickly he grabs the cloth bound, cast iron photographic plate draped across his humanity to hush up even this little bit of haphazardness. His fair game this eventide is all too likely to lay down sure he is gelded indeed…and the poison on her blades are another complicatedness as well to that kind of embarrassment.

Looking around the final corner into the minuscule Harlan Fisk Stone grot below the safe theater they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst heart showering beneath a sonant, becalm, misting shower of steaming weewee. This may be one of the few luxuries she ever has allowed herself…

associate degree of grade, just smiling, as he sees the show is about to begin…

She bent her straits downward to film in the frontal portion of her exposed physical structure, those smallish breasts glistening with small beads of water upon them. Both hands came together in front of her, tip to tip, her eyes taking in the dancing lighting that gleamed like a million millions of diamonds before a flame, playfully moving along her polish tegument before they disappear into the pool about her feet, merging with the repose for eternity.

companion looked with admiration as she playfully gathered a handful of the body of water after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her unsounded gag adding to the wonderment of her gleaming eyes when the droplets come back down to crash on her. She moves implements of war, pegleg, berm and head to view or elude section of it ; shifting from foot to foot in many different poses.

Then her regard shifts to her tit once again.

One fingertip began to explore, resting at first upon the very base of her ribs, to course upward in a peg down, focused, undulating trail that clearly sent a cornucopia of belief surging into all fate of her mind.

Associate could all too well imagine what she would say if tidings could be given form to her thoughts ... yes, she would describe her own experience as ...

I felt as if my universe came animated from the inst my fingertip first touched flesh, a macrocosm opening before me unlike any other ...

Sharp and sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; words without form for feelings that can not be described save as a harmony like a series of streams forging into a mighty river as all join together. My eyes closed as I felt the rut in my body beginning to agitate and build, a sweltering pulsation that flowed from the psyche of my feet to the summit of my fingers, caressing hips and articulatio humeri, knees and elbows as the subdued, sensuous cutaneous senses of a elegant buff who only desires to pleasure his lady to no end.

I smelled with each breath the celestial profusion of odor - the mineral rich water, the ancient age of the rock around me along with the musky, world rich smell of men and women who have lived here over the immense age the house above has existed. The rattling, heady mixture of the bathing soaps I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to mind an antediluvian wood never before visited by human beings ; of deal meadows with flowers fully in bloom of youth and the sweetness, assuage breeze flowing across them.

The fingertip became a planate palm, easing along the edge of my titty, slowly tracing the bound while swirling in small, mollify circles. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the early breast to do the same. Twice more this iteration symbolic representation of infinity proceeded ; while my hand caressed and massaged Sir Thomas More and more area of my breasts.

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

I heard and felt my breathing space speedup, my header making a small circle as electric charges of pure bliss tingled their way up my body ; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant upsurge of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made realness. Stroke by assuage stroke the infinite normal flowed, kneading and shaping my tit until they crossed the erect mammilla ; that first gracing contact sent a coursing beat of passion along all the paths of my torso, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred sheepfold in strength that almost became overwhelming.

My back arched as shoulders thrust back with my promontory ; my free hand quickly clenched the vanities marble border as both of my legs all but gave out beneath me. brawniness twitched and squirmed, brass firing in delight and demanding they be touched to afford me even more pleasure than I had experienced with just that one monumental surge of wonderment.

Unto its journey my bridge player continued, seeking out with almost dire hurry the other nipple ; its trail a brighten path illuminated by ardor of cloud nine as it moved along my tegument. pulse rate after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the rippling on a pond, yet with the effect of a shower among a mighty river.

I commanded my body to hold still, to balance and incite with the flowing spate that will shortly come ; to use the free energy and move with it instead of in opponent to it. When it came, the barest skirmish of bod on that pap ; combined with the pleasures flowing from my womanhood ; superb lightning ripped up and down my body, flexing and loosening muscles and cheek in howling manners as I shook and moved ; the Wave moving downward as I sought to direct the returning pulse…

And then it hit ; the most knowledgeable and pleasurable of sensations that sent me into a longsighted, jarring flood tide that lasted over five mo ; my skin shining brilliant in a shimmering cloud of soft steam rising from my body.

I felt more alive than ever before.

- thunder !

In an instant of ardor and painfulness comrade fancy of his ladies delightful experience being told to him shatters.

She shook her principal as fellow went diving into the grotto main pocket billiards, britches smoking beneath the cast iron plate he is wearing over his groin. He apparently forgot that one of the explosive compounds 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 workweek since the deaths of Master Finneous and Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent sets of ‘ interviews'sanctioned by the guild are nothing more than a military campaign of terror, bullying and coercion to cue all of Providence who rules the townspeople. Of course, a few of the more ambitious extremity of the guild also took the social function to further their own promotion from within the guild…

A knife in a superiors back, appropriately poisoned, does facilitate out with this promotion procedure…until such a metre your subsidiary gains your new locating by ratting you out to the grandpa, and then you wonder why you are about to be executed in a pit of rabid rats…

For she whose optic are alight with amethyst fires, the hebdomad have been even longer, two key point she needs to have crafted by local anesthetic sources seem to never get finished. Day by day she waits and hopes for the message that they are ready to come. Day by day the message never comes, and her patience begins to rub at the edges…

Two long weeks where with each passing day the agentive role under passe-partout Cinnius have harmed Sir Thomas More and more innocuous people ; the continuing and growing military campaign of terror, sanctioned ultimately by the Grandfather of Assassins. One More law-breaking for them to pay for…

Then the content arrives :"The giving is ready."

gum olibanum she has come to support in the back room of a toymaker this night…

With the most gentle, tender of care, each of the egg-sized domain is examined for the pocket-sized of flaws ; and none are to be found. Her feral grinning is matched by that of the toymaker standing next to her ; both of hers and the one remaining of his gleaming with thoughtfulness of the coming spill of the second king…

"blast with blast, which is what you instructed ; just do not drop any of them, the results of course would be fairly impressive and quite an final. Those idiots of the society never figured I know the fine art of alchemy as well as being a toymaker. Now through you I can give my revenge upon them after so many long years…"he shook his head in retentive prolong sadness.

XII years ago, for making a small mistake in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at sword decimal point by a order extremity, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight tike before his eyes. Then forever scarred him as a reminder - burning off the odd side of his cheek and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away ; he has never forgotten the annoyance, nor the direful resolve for retaliation to be exacted on the tormentor 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 shut down letter containing the initial contact information for those who see him to safety ; ones who specialize in smuggling the great unwashed to freedom and who are part of her own network. While he looks at the entropy she disappears out the spinal column door and into the condom of the shadows. No one, not even a cat laying down ten inches from the door, senses her passage.

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


***************
***************
The following two weeks sees gross chaos sweep the street agents of the Guild. The ordinary chin wagging heard in shops and among workers has suddenly been replaced with word of a brewing power struggle within the club leaders, of a rival social club from another city, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be godforsaken and more improbable than the in conclusion and always third, one-fourth or even fifth manus from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

Only one stream of the rumors is unremitting - three players, schoolmaster Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon.

The more that the gramps hears of these rumor, the more he wonders if there is a coup 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 order for his own agents to detect the origin of these rumour, or face the most hideous end that they could imagine…


=======
Her amethyst eyes sparkle in the soft light of the moonshine coming into the room from the window. Once again her own street broker have excelled beyond all fair prospect ; air pressure and yet Sir Thomas More pressure is being put on the guilds agent as they hunt for the truth…or what they perceive as the verity behind the rumors…

Paranoia can be so handy to gain life paltry for assassins…

The softest of step draws her attending to the doorway where her associate degree enters.

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

"My gentlewoman,"he said,"I have come from the leader of those who are in waiting, before they will commit fully to our program they want ‘ dramatic proof of the club being vulnerable.'It must leave no doubt in the topic. I told them that such a topic is already being prepared ; just to let them bonk who is in controller of this Leigh Hunt. These assassins have allowed the ira to establish against them for so long, by so much awe that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the demonstration will fetch those who wait into our fold."

She nods to him, showing agreement with his reading of the subject.


************************
Near the new ale-house which is a front for the assassinator'guild's operations, the main tap room is flowing with customers coming and going. The back rooms this night also are active voice as members and agentive role move in and out with clockwork precision. nearly add collections from loans, blackmail, extortion and former cut of meat from businesses for ‘ insurance'intellect.

Some of the deliveries though are for payment of declaration taken out on byplay rivals…one being sent to Master Cinnius.

This natural endowment for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the edges are smart as a whip, almost living works of half-bloomed roses, and the alleviation of sea captain Gordon's manor house. It is the work of many passe-partout craftsmen and worth a fortune in and of itself.

Yet the lodge takes few probability ; as a especial dance band of thief who are trained in the ways of maw crafting and of disarming them chip it over in exacting item - their animation depend on it as if they fail…swift, brute death.

To the topper they can ascertain, there is aught amiss ; only a faint layer of dust upon the wrapping cloth and the wooden box itself. Obviously some learner carver failed to dust it off anterior to shipping it here…still as per the standing society of Grandfather the box is opened, to ensure no unpleasant surprise await within.

No disruption is to come to this operation, none at all, and they know their spirit are forfeit if anything does go wrong.

interior they find a skipper set of billiard lump, the favourite biz of Master Cinnius, plus a letter written in the flowing handwriting of maestro Gordon…

My associate degree Cinnius - the letter opens - please accept this as my giving for ten years of quiet work. Soon we shall reap the harvest of our efforts ; may you revel the many games to be played with this billiards set - Gordon.

Many mass examine the token, passing them around to see if any are trapped. Nearby the guards standing watch keep their arm at the prepare ; prepared to instantly abuse in if peril threatens, of course of study if one of the tester just up and dies then they will support their ground to report later directly to Grandfather of the events.

Ragner, the current agentive role in charge of the operations smiles as his men engage in some fun ; tossing the billiard balls back and Forth River, juggling them and raising humble clouds of the dust that came from inside the box. He tells the guards to join in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of Grandfather has its advantages after all, and if something does go wrong - they can pick out the fall.

However at the moment, considering the letter from maestro Gordon, he wonders if much Sir Thomas More is afoot at the clip. Plots within plots, deception within deception, trust no one…

Still…

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

The letter that has information that grandfather has offered payment for…a payment he finds all too tempting to exceed up.

"Hmm, maybe Gordon is passing the operation over to Cinnius after all ? Some better crack coming in twist to the party boss ?"he speculates aloud.

Turning to his own agent Jambis, he hands the letter to him with instructions that this is to get back to the guild, and directly to the grandpa. Many see him helping hand a small-scale token, a palm that bears the personal marks of the Grandfather to Jambis - this is a fling for emergency or critical substance only.


right hand now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH ; critical information the grandfather may need, to forefend a coup endeavour staged to unseat him.

Other broker whom directly answer to the Grandfather hear Ragner mutter"…this time Gordon has gone too far…a biz 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 gild before the deep letter does.

Ragner watches Jambis of the Constables accumulate his squad about himself, and then put the letter into an internal vest pocket, unopened and unread. Both of them slap the dust off their hands that was upon the letter.

Ragner considers for a moment that the box must not be of such higher-ranking crafting as he first assumed ; given the sheer sum of money of dust covering it, as if it has been on a shelf for untold ages.

He only holds onto that train of thought process for a few mo ; before turning to more important matters, of how he is going to spend his reward and use his winner here to pull ahead within the guild.

Out of the corner of his eye Ragner catches a series of decided movements, the flashing and glistening of vividness that tells him of a special sort of risk now approaching his area. He focuses his full attention upon the closing menace, appearing as relaxed and casual as he can while watching, listening, and waiting for the least bit of information that can open him an edge in the close at hand encounter…

Three image approach, their flowing and bustled gowns, double laced vests with frilled edging ; and gloves that flow up to their elbow joint match the snowy down of hats and ribbons binding their prey Black fuzz ; their eyes of sapphire blueing would affirm their allegiance if the same coloration of their wearable and shading parasols did not…

THREE Sisters of the Blue in one gathering !

Unheard of by almost anyone ; as the services of one alone would break Ragner for the side by side ten lifetimes !

Then he sees the escort of the 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 tense, not bothering to pay anyone any care other than the three ladies.

Such luxuries Ragner plans to take in as his own and all too soon ; with the payoff promised by Grandfather he can bear any number of the Sisters of the Blue with him at any clock time he wishes…

There is much he has to project, and carefully…

Plans within plans, a harvest ready to be reaped…

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

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



*************************
Atop a nearby roof a dividing line of rough gargoyles watch with their eternal gaze upon the scene below ; nearby they are shaded from the passion of the day by a twosome of mightily oak trees over a hundred infantry in height, plus a lamp chimney long bricked up, that daily casts its dark across them as well. For as farseeing as anyone in Providence recalls these statues have maintained their unsounded vigil, the unmoving guardians and vertical flute of the towns history.

One other watches the derriere of the ale-house, the agentive role playing their games and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her everlastingly silent chuckle as the biz stops with all too suddenly for the players. The idiocy of these horse opera assassins and their dingbat factor never ceases to amuse and surprise her.

Keeping a deliberate count, knowing her window of opportunity is little, she scans the domain again and again with her eyes of amethyst fire. At the counting predetermined end, she makes certain her harness bag is snug about one shoulder and quickly bound to one tree, descending with all due haste and a hold up leaping from a low branch to the door at the back of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally tacit guards, thieves, agents and assassins of the operations here ; as they are no longer a terror in any form…so long as she does not touch them with her block skin. Silent as death she slips into the rearwards room, bypassing a ransom of gems, coins, jewels and jewelry fit for a hundred baron. Wealth beyond virtually people's imagination lays spread out to her fingertips…and means nothing for her…

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

She halts inches away from the mesa upon which the trapped box rests. Before she gets close to the box there are precautions to be taken : the donning leather gloves ; binding a thick cloth mask across her mouth and nose ; and then taking a large rag in hand, she soaks it thoroughly with a bottle of prepared oil.

She takes no chances ; as the endangerment of the trap still linger until dealt with…and are all too deadly…

With swift, precise moves, continuing a mo counting for the remainder of the window still out-of-doors, she rubs down every surface, inside and out, of the wooden airfoil. Collecting each billiard formal, they in turn are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she exchanges the dummy trapped box with the real gift for Master Cinnius…one that will render a very quick reception to him…she will take nothing else ; or her endeavour may fall to nothing…

She pulls out a bag from her harness bag, places the box into it and then, with the level best care, soaks her mitt with the cook oil until she is sure they are free of the dust that so annoyed Ragner until his ending…then the baseball glove and rag join the snare box in the bag.

For a instant, looking down at the massacre her and Associates effort have wrought, she wonders what sort of facial expression will be on the font of Master Gordon when he hears of the operations farthermost failure. Of row in the case of Master 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 admittedly that shall become, with an duplicate twirl to it.

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

Just like all the imbecile on Ragner's watch.

Nearing the end of her numeration she hastens on down the street, joining the gathering crowds who are drawn to the hue and cries for aid by a patrol of the Constables. whisper start as to what or who could take in brought him down with such speed, as he is still young and in skinny perfect tense health.

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

Soon enough the hue and cry is sounded from the dorsum of the ale-house ; the slaughter having been discovered by the next shift of guild factor arriving. In horror some flee the scene, screaming for their very lives, while the stay start demanding reply of those living nearby or passing on the street. Despite their sound and most violent mean value of demanding the answers, 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 head. Even an exam of the corpses themselves reveals piddling save that they, just like Jambis, appear to make died of heart stop…and then five of the quizzer of the physical structure themselves pass into the next world within the quarter hour…plus those who have dared to be active the soundbox for burial details…

By the end of"The Curse"as it comes to be known, over five score and seven guild federal agent and assassins lay short. In one instant, the guild has been dealt a devastating blow ; one that an agent who is sent to report to the guild leading sums up so well…

"Oh man, grandad is not going to be very felicitous over this disaster. I'll be rosy if he does not boil me in oil for delivering this news,"he told his buddies as he moved to depart about his errand.

He was stopped though, one of grandpa factor handing him a software that contained a letter found upon the body of Jambis - meant to be delivered for the grandfather oculus only. During his all too swift traveling to the guild halls, and to the doorway of grandfather throne room, he kept figuring the many manner 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 read the letter aloud to all gift. Just after he finishes, his center glaze over and he falls backwards, utterly as anything as the endure touch of dust dissipate off the vellum page.

The messenger knew in the instant granddad's stark regard fell across his own that doom was now upon him. He was ill-timed about being boiled in oil ; instead his ending came as he was lowered inch by inch into melt down bronze, and a death mask of his stallion body created, a unique statue soon added to those of grandpa innermost sanctum.

For the rest of the day and into the night, Grandfather brooded, wondering how to turn this disaster to his vantage and continued survival.


======
In the tax shelter of a safe theatre they have established, one to be abandoned for good once their disguises and the trapped box are disposed of in the fireplace, Associate bows his head in acknowledgement of her success. As she changes from one outfit to another, he can not keep from watching, seeing her bare chassis in the lighter is a visual sense to behold. Well he can always dream…right now business calls…not to mention the memory of the tongue just missing him down there by a bit…

"I assumed the ‘ heart kibosh'poisonous substance worked as planned ?"he inquired.

She quickly conveys the mass murder wrought using the silent mark language.

The image he derives brings out a series of chuckles that flow into a torrent of laughter ; one simple ambush has wrought such mass murder on the operations of the assassin's guild. The dainty death of the patrol drawing card Jambis is extra frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not fork over the death blow…

Yet the eternal rest of his patrol…hmmm…

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

Her formulation turns purely feral, and a quick nod follows. With that spare bit of business concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the next percentage of the plan. Tonight the rumors of the streets will turn to silence ; no more rumor of the three Masters will be heard, thus many will assume the hearsay are rightful, building concern and paranoia high-pitched and higher within the guild…

As if the gob in the ale-house could not inspire more than fear…such a round-eyed, elegant trap…

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

nub Stop is one of the most subtle of poisons from the Far E that few of the amateurs here in the West would know or even dream, to exist. Indeed, his madam has learned her lessons well…

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

It can be prepared as a fine, dust like gunpowder that upon the contact with publicize human skin is quickly absorbed, yet kills only minutes later ; stooping their spunk cold. What makes it so subtle and insidious of a sand trap is the fact that those who contacted it, can travel by the poison dust as well through a handshake, slap on the back, an target being passed around, so that it can kill a bit, one-third and sometimes a fourth time.

Thus the resulting thrashing at the ale-house operations…and if the letter reached the granddad innermost sanctum, many a demise there as well…hopefully.

He has to remember that little thaumaturgy ; it may come in William Christopher Handy again some day…Just like the surprise for Master Cinnius that she has arranged…

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

As he heads down the street, he weaves and dodges among the many family line going about their usual day to day bit of business and work. His contact on the street provide the localization of the patrol with efficient, elegant vim in mere minutes…thus telling him just where to go about his business…

Until the moment person stagger by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the guards of Master Gerald of the guild. They scowl and threaten with glances, pose and Book ; the inelegant language of common and brainless tough who would have no chance against him.

Associate bows politely and with utter deference to Master Gerald ; who, to his sheer astonishment stops and talking with him for a few mo. In the guise of a strange merchant, selling rare games of hazard and that of billiards, he speaks of the most recent decree he delivered to master Gordon - a well crafted wooden box of billiards for a present to one of his friends.

Master Gerald speaks of that game being the favored one of captain Cinnius ; and confirmed by associate in his title of being told thus by master Gordon as well.

After they are done, one of the Sisters of the Blue gently places her bridge player on his berm, reminding him that there are far more important topic waiting his care ( three of them precisely ), Gerald casually dismisses Associate.

fellow continues on his assumed business, stopping to blab with a serial publication of store owners and vendors in the undetermined market ; followed of course for some fourth dimension by one of headmaster Gerald's safety - just to stimulate sure no kind of funny business is going on.

companion finds it quite amusing that he managed to walk passed the man three metre and relieve him ever so subtly of his modification purse, sticker and a deck of playing cards - not to observe the stupid feathering in the mans hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible simplicity he did the Saame with Master Gerald's coin handbag it should be no surprise. Feeling the weight of coins and jewelry within each one, the comrade slips them into an inner singlet air hole and school principal on his way. Some days he can not aid but smile at the sheer incompetency that these so-called"master of Death."

Even the worst of his blighter pupil and family of the Far eastern United States are peer or better than them.

Now then to the matter at script, he will take shortly with the residue of Jambis patrol ; and show the guild cretin what a confessedly master of Death can inflict…he just motive to get his script on some change purses of Master Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


************************
************************
As captain Cinnius and Gerald headway to exit the meshwork of warehouses and shops, the fictitious coverage for the guild of assassins, hoi polloi see them wearing aspect of angriness and brat ; for they have survived a ‘ polite meeting'with the granddad of Assassins…and what a meeting it was…

The Grandfather stood before the two of them, clad in his personal arms and armour for struggle ; two grade of his practiced and virulent body sentry go surrounding him. ALL of the guards have brand drawn and held at ready, in an trice any suicidal attacker will expire under poison steel…assuming that the loaded crossbow held by the granddad did not terminate them first.

His discussion was calculate and ira filled ; not to advert emphatic on its uncloudedness :

Among the three sea captain - Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius - one of them is nearing the completion of planning for a coup. The vision of grandpa newest bronze statue, a tardy and unfortunate messenger from the ale-house carnage, stands as attestant in muted, locked, screaming agony of the fate that may be soon to come for the two of them…

Grandfather explains in simple terms for the two there before him - stand truehearted and on his incline and you may survive, possibly advancing in side and office."The choice is yours though, if you think you can surmount me with Gordon, then endeavor to do so ; just understand what will befall those who fail…"

He motioned with an elongated mitt over to the new statue…

The granddad explained the grounds having been found in a varsity letter from Gordon ; detailed information about him, Gordon, becoming ‘ the new granddaddy ’, and early input that have been ‘ discretely overheard by those stuffy to you both…"

The sheer, utter, shocked horror that crosses their faces is echt. Never before could they have imagined just how far and terminated gramps controlled his own network of spies and agents ; they must choose extra care in any movement made to counter Gordon.

"This coming coup will go wrong. Of that have no dubiousness the two of you, it will fail,"he declared in a calm voice of iron control.

There are more than a few who overhear their not too quietly conversation ; its accounting passes through the guild within the hour. Clues begin to mix with speculation and theories ; each one being spun and twisted until they become take over as the basis for fact and truth.

most have come to find out that victor Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor firm ; his personal agentive role though are following members of his theater faculty, plus other members of the lodge as well. Just this natural action, common among the guild already, lends more fuel to the flame about the putsch ; only this time it seems to be that master copy Cinnius and Gerald are being set up as a steerer, or come-on.

None can be sure enough who of the three Masters is in on the coup, who is hook and sacrifice, or if someone else is setting up a not bad game to take down the Grandfather as well…all three make mother wit to the assassins.

For captain Cinnius though, the group meeting with gramps ended with a dubious forwarding of sorts ; one that held all the potential drop of huge wealth and unexpected end of the world. One that all too clearly grandpa was using for ulterior motives…and for his own natural selection at the top of the guild pecking order…

"Cinnius,"Grandfather began,"The restoration of the collections is now your task ; Gordon has proven not to be up to the chore and thus is now removed from it,"he gestured with his hands, then slapped them together in a statement of conclusiveness, leading the ease of those present to wonder if a end sentence has just been passed…

And if so, who would then die…

"See to the ale-house security and make sure that there are no more ‘ disruptions'to the operations ; we are losing human face and control over the metropolis with each hurly burly to our operations…no mistake will be accepted or tolerated…even the random carrying out are no longer working as desired,"Grandfather explained.

Many of the guild appendage understand the all too clear message hidden in his words. The lodge is in control condition of the entire metropolis, the undisputed rulers and master copy of providence and the surrounding lands ; no one may challenge them in any way and be suffered to live on. To remind people who dared to protest the ‘ investigating'brought about by the destruction of Finneous and his devotee, Kimberly, sixty citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their total families in public - the price any rebelliousness to the social club rules will bring.

Yet while the citizenry looked on in stark muteness and holy terror, some of them looked on with pure wrath in their eyes…a unclouded sign that the restraint of fear and terror was no longer having the desired effect. And if those who control Providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their national sentiment turn to revenge and justice for all of the assassin's crimes ?

Considering that these execution team were led by Masters Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the first to fall if any form of uprising does occur…And Master Gordon was the one to save the message, via an agentive role, to carry out the capital punishment on behalf of the gramps wishes.

Now the two begin to inquire - was the notation really explaining the will of the grandfather ? Or is gramps playing a larger game with Gordon ; weeding out the disloyal and unneeded, to further tighten his already iron hard hold on the guild ?

Or could soul else be playing one chemical group 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 make challenge against its clench on Providence in a one C, and the legends of those who tried are still told as narration of the forged incubus made reality.

"We must crap our design to deal with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with rank decisiveness,"he is ahead of us on the chessboard by a wide tolerance, and we need to upset the momentum he is building."

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

That live on question left them cold to the burden of their being ; they, the masters of inflicting fear and holy terror for the sake of control, are now losing control lot by portion. In losing control, they understand fright and terror from a new perspective, and do not like it at all.


======
"In fond memory of one who fell so youthful, Jambis, may he long be remembered for all he had done,"called out the merchandiser who is paying for everyone's boozing this night. Sipping on the sour tasting swill they call wine and spirits in this wretched tavern, he eyes each patron and worker as they pass along his field of vision. With all too much easiness he identifies the various factor 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, crank raised or clanking together in celebration for the free swallow and solid food. The bartender smile as the merchant hands over a protrude large with coins, gold and silver, plus many precious gems for the company tonight ; many comment that it is a night to be remembered for some time, and as a genuine surprise, a wagon with a score and ten reckoning of small wooden tun's of spirits, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the back of the wagon and commence to manhandle the leaden load inside ; causing a series of gasps, ooh's and ah's from all the guild factor within. They can evidence these are the fine of the finest in drinks, each keg is worth a magnate's ransom and here there are thirty in number…

The delivery man nods at the merchandiser, and then tells the company goer,"Courtesy of passe-partout Gordon, we were instructed by a messenger of his to have these to you all, and quote ‘ With thanks and in effect compliments for the futurity - Gordon.'End quote."

One of the patrol appendage of tardy Constable Jambis calls for a goner to Master Gordon. The merchant excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a sour stomach. He tells the barkeeper to let the liquor flowing until the funds are used up or the sun rises with the coming dawn. The barkeep genuflects before him, sniveling and honoring his generosity as a sound small crawler should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

"To Master Gordon and his most exceptional generosity, and exquisite taste in crapulence,"the sunshine is repeated three time by the crowd as the tun's are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the political party at hand. wellspring into the night the party carries on, seeing tun after tun emptied to the cobbler's last dreg of drink that can possibly be extracted from it.

Outside the merchant sees the conclusion man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called Jackson. He is capable to go up Jackson with nary a rustle of speech sound being made, and sends him sprawling to the ground with a straightaway blow to his chest and incline of his jaw. So subtle is this that to any untrained observer, the merchant is just helping his passed out friend home.

Half dragging him into the back street, the merchandiser meets with another man, the one who delivered the tun's of beverage earlier."Tie him up well and take him with the others, have your men guard them well ; I will be along shortly to…let my pets deal with them once and for all."

The man, one of his noblewoman personal factor, nods ; he can not help but shiver at the mention of Associates ‘ pets.'Such a fate should not take place to anyone, yet as the captured patrol study for the gild, he can clear an elision. Besides which, these two have shown the guild is vulnerable after all ; so he made sure the threshold was exposed earlier in the storeroom for Associate to infect the tun's of drink.

All in all, this is a very unspoiled night.

Of grade once they awaken and see their impending fate from Associates"pets"; the surviving patrol phallus would strongly take issue with that thought.



======
The morning sees Master Gerald pacing the length of his manors great entrance hall, mix-up and worry clearly visible on his face. His personal safety device pick up on his unease, as anything that can take in their knob act this way has to be taken as a priority threat ; their own lives depend upon it.

Within a day of their meeting with grandfather, Masters Gerald and Cinnius met ; setting their plans into action and making future homework. For their rice beer ( of keeping alive ), they keep grandad informed of their every action. It is decided they will tax their own agents to trace those of Gordon's, recording each and every title and physical contact made.

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

Each Master in turn, once back at their respective estates, orders that extra factor be attached to watch their respective counterparts ; just on the off prospect the fellow master is about to constitute a treble or triple hybridisation. As three more days pas, they begin to mistrust Gordon is up to exactly - zippo. No programme or motility are evident 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 party given by a visiting merchandiser, in honor of the late Constable Jambis, and for the sake of his surviving patrol appendage. All of the ale and spirits delivered came with the funds of Gordon and a message saying :"With Thanks and Best Wishes for the hereafter - Gordon."

All that anyone is absolutely sure as shooting of is that the patrol departed, one fellow member at a clock time, and that the boozing are doctored - using a eccentric of rare poison favored by Gordon and his advantageously agent.

"discovery out if Gordon or another did this title,"Gerald shouted at his lead agents,"Redouble the efforts on collecting any and all information on the street, find out anything you can, and I do mean anything at all…GO !"

By twilight they have an ominous mansion that shouts volumes to anyone who understands ; the streets have gone silent. Completely silent save for the federal agent of Grandfather, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the preindication of a pending coup seem to be confirmed at lowest. Most are now assuming that Master Gordon is going for broke, to read down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a threefold play - they appear to snitch the social club and grandad ; who in turn eliminates them, and then becomes vulnerable to Gordon…

To Master Gordon, upon hearing the intelligence of his agents being watched, decides HE is the target for a fall ; the scapegoat for the pending coup of Gerald and Cinnius…who else would make bold tap at an cognitive process under his personal charge…shame and discredit him, then eliminate him while setting Grandfather up for the fall..

It makes complete mother wit in its own convoluted way.

"So be it,"Gordon declares. His mind is made up, the betrayers 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 assassin, I like the ring that has,"he smiles wickedly, heading off to prepare and make programme. He feels no pangs of guilt or sense of right and wrong in betraying his fellow headmaster or the Grandfather ; for that is the way of the assassin.


======
Standing upon the high wooden pigeon loft of the warehouse, Associate holds the final man of late Constable Jambis patrol, Jackson, by the cord that binds his ankles together. The terrorize man, upside down, looks at his pending fate far below, the twenty and four orotund forms, moving fast and with power for such monolithic beasts, their six in tusks red with the rakehell and displume flesh of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the party close nighttime, bounce and gagged, inside this warehouse ; one by one his protagonist had been dragged away by this man and then tormented with sight of what awaits them below. One by one they howled, begged, whimpered and pleaded for mercy ; their captors'eyes, common cold and punishing beyond anything he could echo seeing, even on the one occasion he met the grandad of assassin, told the tale…

There shall be no mercy.

"Listen,"their captor told each in turn, as he had told Helen Maria Fiske Hunt Jackson,"try to die with a bit of self-respect ; at to the lowest degree go to your ancestor with some grace so you can say you died with your honor intact."

associate repeatedly cries out to his pets, whipping them into a fury of decease and dismemberment, the shrill snorts and cries harshly assaulting the ear ; thunderous retorts rebound off the mostly empty-bellied warehouse stone bulwark, instilling even more terror in his shaking captive.

"Tell you what Jackson ; I am in a merciful mood right now. I'll give you a fighting chance,"comrade says while he uses a knife to slash at the restraints that bind the man's feet together.

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

"Oh alright already, I'll let you go just to stop hearing your dreadful whining ; pathetic, you should face up death with a warrior's fearless charge and keep your dignity…"Associate declared.

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

"Yes I will,"Associate said as the forget me drug ski binding separate due to the slice already scored weakening them.

"AGHHHH !"Michael Jackson screamed on his downward dip, followed by the meaty thwack of him hitting the floor below.

Associate watches with disinterest on his face, hearing the death screams knelling out loud and clear as his pets go to work on the man. Soon enough quiet, economise for the tearing of build, crushing of bone and occasional snort and grunt remain to be heard.

associate degree shakes his head, wondering why such an half-wit would actually believe he would set him exempt ; he only promised to let him go…in this showcase to fee his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already dead ; he would love to have finished him off, a debt owed for the savage beef delivered to his head that day.

Soon enough though his forbearance will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the elimination of his sister and her crime syndicate will perish in the same manner…maybe covered in molten tall mallow to improve the spirit for his pets…


************************
************************
Darius, overlord toymaker and general mad man of Providence walked into the flower shop looking for the dame who runs it - Clairice. To the bemusement of everyone around he looks at the trees, waving friendly to them and grumble about the need to ‘ establish that flying machine today.'

For three workweek since the Death of Jambis patrol appendage, he has heard the history growing by the hour of how they had been responsible for the last of Grandfathers two score of agents. Each time he hears the fib told over and over, he chuckles an insane chuckle, covering up his existent mirthfulness at their demise by his own hands.

Among the knickknacks he sees several fine pin grass, locks, and other gizmos that are of interest ; yet he needs to get her paid back foremost - she gave him the store he needed to get his workshop up and running once again. He sees her bent-grass 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 care. Coming to her he plops down on the floor cross-legged, looking up into her center. She motions repeatedly with her hand for him to scoot on out the door, even as her sass opens and closes in silent gasps and groans ; she gulps now and then while her eyes flutter rapidly.

One meter he sees her clench her clenched fist in her sassing, eyes mop up as her body shudder briefly in time with some noises coming from behind the counter. Her silent gasp continue, eyes glazing over as she tightens her clench on the counter again, both hired man holding firm and inviolable. When she manages to retrieve a bit of equanimity, once again she tries to wave him out the threshold. Her custody move swiftly in an intricate motion, telling him in no unsure terms to scram…

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

Only a momentarily rustling of cloth being moved about distracts him, to let him see Clairice shifting some as her vertebral column arched upward and down, her centre dancing with wild abandonment, cheeks fully blushed and radiating oestrus like a oven.

Once again her hands move in the silent oral communication she uses to communicate with him ; telling him if he remains to stay quiet and do aught to interfere.

He sees her sack again, then a third time. A sweetheart rhythm of slapping audio unify in with the telephone call of some kind of fauna enamour his attending. Sudden inspiration hits and he pulls out of his harness-bag a agglomerate of blank parchment, wood coal pencils and a ruler to get quickly putting his theme to paper. For the instant Clairice is all but forgotten by him.

She fights to preserve her body from moving forward, she mouths a silent cry of barbaric delight and bliss. Each relocation of the valet de chambre's manhood inside of her pushes the waves of bliss and delight forward with unstoppable Department of Energy. Just a bit before Darius arrived the butler of master key Gordon arrived with a dozen roses from his foreman'estate ; he offered her some of them for a fee - when she could not meet the asked for amount in coin he asked about another kind of ‘ transaction.'

For such a rarefied prize the cost is worth it, or so she hopes.

pushing her disheveled hairsbreadth out of her case, she had been having her womanhood explored by his men and sass when Darius entered ; now though he speeds up his activity, not concerned in her own pleasure one bit - all that matters is his own needs, and he makes all fashion of insults of Master Gordon, especially about how easy it was to rent the blush wine right off the estate yard under his very nose.

One final series of inscrutable, flashy and bellowing grunts and groans from the butler sends his lifespan seed deep inside of her. For once in her life history she is glad that she can not get pregnant, for she would never need a child conceived of by this monster…

Now that it's over she starts to locomote when he pushes her back into position ; slamming her face into the wooden counter with such force to briefly stun her, then he boxes her across the spike repeatedly ; the matter is not yet done. Time and prison term again he smacks her hard on her ass, drawing annoyance filled soundless screams from her.

Darius, just a few inch away is totally unmindful to the exchange.

She feels him pull up up higher on her, his humanness once again at full tending ready to do its tariff. He comment that the men of his family have the ability to do it twice back to back ; to the ‘ delight of all the women we deem to give our affections to'of course.

Clairice does not see matter in such a light.

Sharp pain shoots up into her brain, eyes flaring all-embracing as her teeth bite into her lips with adequate force-out to pull back a drip of blood line from them. Thrust by pain filled poke he works his manhood in and out of her, not of her woman, but of a more sensitive and private area nearby.

His paw roam up under her shirt, straining the tight bound material of her vest as they find and crush her breasts.

"Now my dear,"he says calmly between grunts of excitement,"I hope this section will serve as a reminder that I will not accept any betrayals kindly ; your muteness means you will dwell. One Good Book on where the flowers come from and you die."

The following five minutes are a undulation of fiery agony as his hands tighten their grip on her knocker, his manhood 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 price from now on when you deal with the assassins'guild. As I said, save your mouth shut and you will hold out. Next time I bring some pink wine though, make sure as shooting there is another cleaning lady here with you. I want to see you have sex with her rightfield before I rape you into entry like the harlot you now are. commodity day."

As he walks out the doorway and down the street she just covers her head and whoreson, not moving from the location.

Had anyone watching bothered to wait at Darius, they would have seen the madness leave his eyes, purest of execution and furore filling them in turn. His hand hovered just on the boundary of a knife hilt, ready to be thrown and subject the quarry with one of the deadliest of poison's he who is not Darius knows how to make.

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

She who is not Clairice finally regained some of her lost equanimity from the brutal ending of the coming upon ; for the plan to set ahead she will prevail anything…in the end the upshot will more than justify it.


========
Over the next hour agent of the Constables and sea captain Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald period in and out of her entrepot, having her detail again and again all that happened between her and the Butler.

Darius had to be escorted out of the shop at one stage so he would not damage the blossom from Gordon's land ; he was trying to sink a ‘ line of reasoning'between the flowers and a half fulfill cup of water. He kept touching the flower petal and foliage of each flower, encouraging them to ‘ nail down their disputes with the squeamish cup as a civilized being should do these day,'pure lunacy indeed.

"He is harmless,"the police constable told everyone,"just scoot him outside and lets get these back to skipper Gordon,"he says indicating the flowers.

He does compliment Clairice on how she prepared the flowers for transport ; they are still damp with moisture from being watered. Looking at the other flowers on video display he decides to do back later and purchase some for his wife.

One of his aide gather up the multiple copies of her testimony and then divides them among the federal agent for the three Masters. The aide plays a most dangerous plot, appearing as a confidant for all three overlord while he is actually working for the grandad of Assassins directly.

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

What they fail to interpret is that in the larger plot, a second king is set for checkmate ; while the others are on the way to the same…

Tonight the store will be vacated…

The ploy continues towards the spectacular end for the moment mogul of Four.



***********************
"My gentlewoman,"Associate says with mildness and compassion in his voice ; he cringes to see such bother in those amethyst eyes. He can not embrace the botheration and humiliation she has withstood to advance their plan. He has good tidings though ; the one who loved to impose such pain and humiliation has fallen…

"We have confirmation of the street rumors ; the dead body of lord Gordon's Samuel Butler has been found. It appears he was tortured into making some kind of confession and then executed by skin stealing."He shook his fountainhead at the thought of such a wild execution of instrument ; the literal error skinning of a victim one square inch at a clock time using knifes and especial acids to enhance the pain and extend the dupe lifespan.

"For early news, we have word from our federal agent that the real Clairice and Darius have been safely smuggled to freedom. Jesmine and her family will be, in their language, ‘ soon to arrive safely in a new plate and life.'All of the pre-agreed to verification words are there, so it is authentic."

He looks upon her with Major chagrin on his countenance.

"My lady, I have to say, the achiever we have managed to achieve by taking the use of Clairice and Darius before the Holman Hunt began…a true stroke of genius on your persona. Also those who lead the groups in waiting are now fully committed ; those innocent kin executed by the guild as ‘ examples,'plus the first bang we have made convinced them. The daylight of the guild are now of a very limited bit. They only need the watchword from you and the end game commences."


===========
Master Cinnius has come to the ale-house surgical operation, mostly to repeat hitch yet again on all facial expression of the new, layered surety he has installed. grandad warning had been made all too sort out - if he fails to stop any disruption in the mental process, then HE will be held responsible ; and that death will be a mercifulness for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the guard are now tripled ; both those visible inside and outside the plaza, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - bows ready to be used in an instant. Their orders are simple, direct and very clear : anyone who may pose any variety of threat are to be cut down without clemency. They are to go on a double watch, as Cinnius expects a Sceloporus occidentalis, tempestuous retributive strike from lord Gordon to come all too soon.

Master Gerald figures it will be otherwise, insisting Gordon is focused on the pending coup against Grandfather, and will come up after Cinnius later - assuming that Cinnius and Gerald do not dispose of Gordon to delight the grandad when the coup attempt comes.

So it has come to the indorsement reason for him to be here…relaxation. Three workweek of constant secretiveness ; tensity in the air so slurred one could cut it with a dim knife, has all but frayed his heart. So it is he has come to shoot some billiards, his favour biz. The set was sent to him long before the current troubles with Gordon, a master copy crafted wonder without flaws…he will keep it as a trophy and a admonisher of break twenty-four hour period and times…and toast Gordon each clip he plays after the craven deserter lies dead at his feet.

"No sense to let such a natural endowment go fresh,"he told the men setting it up.

"Ah the pure irony of such a talent, perfectly made and delivered here by Gordon as a peace offering,"he declared to his guards and senior agents gathered around,"yet he has chosen to wander Grandfather. Thus we will enjoy the plot, and when he starts his coup - we shall go and kill him as dead as possible. Now let's have some fun this nighttime before the firing of battle come forth."

Cinnius watched his men laugh and joke around, the ribald atmosphere allowing him to relax for one time, a rare and genuine grinning of hilarity coming forth. As he prepares his cue peg, many stakes on the number of balls to be sunk on the breaking shot.

He origin up the puddle spliff with the cue ball, adjusting for the perfect break that he is justly famed for among all of the order and in Providence."Let the fervor of battle derive forth,"he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

coughing !

The pool stick goes flying over the board, landing on the far face with a self-colored, echoing clang. Everyone cringes at the look of absolute slaying on Cinnius's side. The wrongdoer quickly apologizes, gets the pond joystick and hands it back with all proper demeanor to one who can pop him in so many horrendous ways.

"Okay, now for the sodding shot, for the staring plot,"he says with a grinning, bait nerves relaxing once again.

Lining the shot up once again, he focuses completely on the jailbreak he wants to defecate, six balls sent into the six sack, the perfect slam for the possible action. Delighted in the frame-up, he draws back again, preparing for the shot of all shots…

ACHOOO !

Once again the pool stick goes to the floor, once again the murderous look comes forth ; though this sentence the wrongdoer does not move, his associates holding knives to his affectionateness, neck, jaw and organs, waiting for the moment Cinnius parliamentary procedure his going or execution. They look to him with clear expectation, wanting to riposte the plot so badly interrupted twice already.

"Just entertain him there in complete silence while I take the shot,"Cinnius said. His pool reefer brought by another, he lines up the scene for the third gear time ; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another interruption, then turns and makes the shot with broad, raw nerved brute power delivery…

whack !

The cue glob is smacked with a light, acute explosion of the stick, sending it on its all too short journey towards the former orchis ; the small, finespun container held within shattering completely ; thus the commixture of volatile liquid, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and get a witches brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…



=======
Upon her face he sees a mum question being asked."My dame I have made sure the efflorescence shop appears to deliver been fled in due rush to provide us - you and me as the false Clairice and Darius - to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled notes with final deliveries to be made via the cities couriers."

"As per your plan,"his grinning turned into a mischievous smile ; the look-alike at frolic of scare and paranoia coming to the survivors around their chosen targets brings familiar a fair amount of amusement.

"those flowers going as ‘ gift'to the various guild bravo, agents and their leaders, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ heart stop'toxicant ; in the time it takes for it to get practicable, the couriers will be safe ; of course after the deliveries are made, some of the assassins will not be safe, or breathing for that matter by days end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue Ball smack with brutal forcefulness into the early nut ; such is the effect the conflate liquids within the cue nut, a hag brew called by alchemists"Liquid Hellfire"responds in a fierce, raw and spectacular blowup of flame and force-out, the shockwave caressing the other balls and expanding into the rooms dimensions before anyone can even get the picture what has happened…

By this time though, the nine other Ball, carefully tailored and textured to hide the explosive liquid state within, respond in sympathetic explosion to the shockwaves caress. These ten blast, bouncing off the firm and midst Oliver Stone paries that separate the front and backsides of the ale sign of the zodiac, overhead paries, break down furniture and chests, toss goods around and present C that crunch and tear at the guild agents and guards present, rending bone and bursting harmonium along with compressing encephalon matter to a pulped mass.

Those who somehow go these coke are within an flash hit and burned by flaming so hot that bone itself ignites and pulverization. For those beyond the fireball range of mountains, the branding iron and steel shards, jagged and flying at insane speeds, preset around the inside of the bollock shred them even more.

So great is the military force generated that the very roof itself on the plump for half of the ale-house is raised over six base. Those on the streets see it fly up, and descend with decent force to shake the flat coat for a considerable distance.

Members of the guild lay dead and hurt all over the street, some felled in the initial blast ; others by the prostration of nearby building movement sundered barren by beastly force-out ; partial bodies, and bared limbs that move for a brief time amid heaps of shattered, torn wood, glass and brickwork William Tell of the charnel mounds they have become.

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





=======
The retort of artificial skag, followed by the loud, hollow, booming thud of the roof descent coming to an end draws the Gustavus Franklin Swift attention of Grandfather. He was walking on the high school balcony of his private Sir William Chambers, inscrutable in though about Gordon ; wondering for the number 1 time if he had judged the place wrong…then came the holloa and column of fervor clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

He and his sentry go watched in fascinated horror the scene blossom out, knowing instinctively that Gordon has just struck back at Cinnius ; and in a manner no one could make anticipated. Quickly his guard recover, raising their metal buckler about his person, on the off chance that arrows were even then heading to end the life of their explosive charge.

head into the profoundness of the gild anteroom, Grandfather shouted to all of his loyal - such as they are - minions to organize the defenses ; warning that the expected coup may be at mitt. A lone runner is sent to investigate the matter, to report back with all haste. grandpa sees a most unexpected sight, though one that pleases him, that of Master Gerald, present on guild business, standing with the guard at the main doors, prepared to meet the first Assault with drawn blades.

Apparently Gerald fears Death by the Grandfathers hand if he failed, than to face his old associate Gordon.


======
associate degree and his lady had been observing the day from one of their many secure house's when the thunder came, clear and discrete to their ears. They rushed to the windowpane nearest that direction, in sentence to see the final clawing flame carry into the sky ; columns of Mary Jane rising steadily in dumb blackness as a tack for the dead.

The two of them take a silent joy in the realization that the second Rex of four is now utter. They had found his one weakness, the love of billiards and his pride in being the best player in Providence, and have brought him low.

"Wow, I guess that schoolmaster Cinnius has lost that biz, bringing down the house in the cognitive process,"he said with a shrug of his shoulders."Who could own figured he had such an explosive temperament ? Oh, while I recall the matter, those poisoned heyday were sent out over Gordon's signature of payment and saving ; there is no sensation in making sure the wrong mortal gets blamed after all…"

She just rolled her eyes unto the heavens at his attempt at humor ; secretly pleased to experience him at her side, both for the companionship ( when he is not trying to stare at her defenseless trunk ), his signified of humor, and his ability to adept and extemporise on the spot when the plan of theirs needs to be altered due to emergencies or chance that come about.

When she turns to him, catching his care with her oculus, he gulps from the loving, cutter, fiery smile she shows. He quietly excuses himself, the cast iron plate over his humanity clanging against another layer of mail underneath…probably assuming another tongue blade is on the way…

She looks back at the column of skunk, quite proud of. Two are short of the four. Soon enough the thirdly will descend and the honest holy terror for the guild will come in the end game. Soon Justice Department for all of Providence will be delivered, and her chosen public figure, taken up after the destruction of her parents, will be fulfilled…

Soon…


======
Chaos reigns as the sponsor from the front of the ale-house and early street vendors and workshop flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their drinks or grabbing feeding bottle of drink from shelves as the roof commences to sag, then come down in a howl of sundered Natalie Wood and stone. Many of those who flee passport by the butt, seeing heaps of coins, jewellery and gems lying scattered about and make a screen grab for the freed fortune before them.

howl and cries of affright become fuel for many wild hearsay, especially of the long expected takeover for the lead of the bravo'guild having begun. The reverence turns into terror unprecedented on the streets, agents of all sides who rush to see what can be done or what has happened begin to wrangle with the citizens who just want to get out of there. All too soon the expected glean of steel being unleashed is to be seen, soon covered by wet inflammation along its length.

From hidden tail high command processing overhead time, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding edifice, eight figures draw back on composite unawares fore, their lacquered surfaces dulled down with crap and mud to cut off any gleam of luminance reflecting off of them. ogdoad knocked arrows - bakshish coated with the deadliest of spite - pedigree up with their selected targets…

Then with their leaders'elusive nod, they fly fleet and reliable to their targets. Even as these eight anatomy begin to collapse, choking and gurgling into demise from the venom ; eight more pointer are inbound ; shortly to be joined by a utmost volley of eight more than.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree at the back of the building they throw their quiver and bows into the book binding of a readied wagon. Quick from long practice, the eight hunter - overlord Sagittarius the Archer all who help flow the city by boar hunt in the baseless forests near Providence - hide their implements of war and rejoin urban center life, headed as so many others do in making saving from one store to another.

They had been returning from an abortive search in the Wood ; when the explosion came, they saw an opportunity to score another black eye on the lodge ; so it is the first setback by the people of capital of Rhode Island is inflicted, the first of many to come…


======
"Gordon's military personnel are attacking !"come the hue and cry from the few safety device still standing around in horror at the carnage. The cry is repeated again and again as the arrow fell one scotch and one of guild factor and safety of the tardily Master Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; fool everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard captain on duty birdsong, just before a brick thrown by soul overhead into his side ; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a pearl crushing meeting with the ground below. With his final exam shout, pandemonium suspension unleash beyond belief ; as the rooftop precaution follow his last instructions to the letter, unleashing volley after volley of crossbow dash, summit coated with poison, into the gathered volume below…

They spare no time or crusade to sort champion from foe, they just assume all are butt and hit without any bit of mercy or compassion. 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 arrows and then the massive fusillade of crossbow projectile turn on their attackers from above. Many yell out that Gordon's effect are on the high ground and commence to sack back with bows, crossbows, stone chunks and bricks. Anything they can get their hands upon is fair game to air upward, returning death for death as the mass murder climbs with each passing second.


======
The lone agent of Grandfather sent by him to investigate the blast watches from around a shop recession in horror at the battle being waged before him ; he hears the citizens running past, the cries of guards and agents saying that professional Gordon is on the attack, then flees with all haste back to the guild residence and reports his news.

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

When that live thought echoed into the depth of his thinker ; Grandfather wondered for a moment if he has just set the prognostication of his own downfall into motion ; plus that of the society. He snorts the topic away, hired man on his drawn blade waiting for the beginning pounding 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 postponement for the smash that never comes. Grandfather learns from many of his own agents among captain Gordon's manor that Gordon has sealed the place up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a relocation on the division of professional Gerald to eradicate Cinnius and him in one blue-belly, calculated trend that sweeps two competitor make of the board in an instant.


======
Late into the Night the surviving guards of the latterly Master Cinnius, only a ten and four in turn, tell of the attack in contingent to Grandfather as he sits in smoldering silence on his throne. They tell in exaggerated gestures and word's the size of the tone-beginning, 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 regards to the monolithic blowup that took down the intact ale-house, rear end mental process 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 gift from Gordon before he betrayed us."

"So then gentlemen, how shall I honour you now ?"gramps said to the fourteen guards, whose eyes lit up with fires of greed and delight.

They soon found out their ‘ reward'was to be pressed. They howled for clemency as guards'grabbed clutch of them, dragging them away to the executioner hold. With inhuman swiftness, tied to great frames of Sir Henry Joseph Wood on the ground, the executioners directed Grandfathers sentry duty ( the directions issued as polite prompting ) in placing of great wooden control board over the men ; to be topped in turn every few minutes with a L pound lump of brick shaped stone. Over the course of hours the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their ribs snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

As for the agent who brought word of the sour kickoff of a coup to Grandfather…

A new statue of him cast in Ag joined the one of bronze from the earlier messenger executed in a standardised manner. Even the hardened guards of Grandfather watched with dumb horror as the man had been lowered inch by inch, headfirst, into the molten metallic element, his howl echoing far and wide down the dark foyer of the public executioner tunnels.


=======
Three solar day later the Associate reads a substance conveyed to she with the Amethyst center, a true grinning upon his face for once in so long of a time.

"My lady, the leadership of ‘ those who wait'have agreed to cook for an chance to emerge ; they have declared ‘ send the message and we will do our part, as promised, then the explanation with the guild shall be settled in full,'“ he told her.

"So my lady, do we lead off to enhance the level of pressure and paranoia to a new height in this matter ? Or may I add a little ‘ twist'to the situation ?"her Associate asks.

At her prompt he explains his little ‘ kink'on their architectural plan ; her eyes and grin gleam in joy from his small suggestion. Right now the two of them have entered into life-threatening reason, not only preparing to chance upon at Masters Gordon and Gerald ; there is the matter of the lodge Grandfather - assuming he survives the heyday sent to him, being roused to action.

This very dark, as per Associates niggling ‘ spin'on their architectural plan, another whispered rumor begins : there is a bountifulness of one hundred gold bars to the assassin of the social club who brings down the grandfather of assassin. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of course that is only rumor…just the kind to get you executed by the paranoid guild leadership.

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

fellow reminds himself that no affair what comes for his personal luck ; his honor shall be restored before he dies…no topic what.


************************
************************
Her oculus glimmering with their amethyst fires, she watches Associate go about his preparations for the pending end game of the gambit. As he sorts and examines in minutest of detail the tools, weapons and gearing of their trade, a warm smile comes to her mouth ; her cheek resting on a raised bridge player grasping the door jam as she makes no phone for some time.

Each of his tools, from lock-picks to coils of bleak silken rophy, ampule of poison to cripple or pop, along with an classification of cock and blazonry no one save for them alone could comprehend in the Western ground. She watches as he examines a throwing star under the lantern luminosity, its razor honed edges perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and battle tongue, a bamboo blowgun only inches in distance, and the all too deadly surface dart to be used in it.

Yet she remembers with some affection the one lesson Tai Long 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 armory of weapons in his house,"which of these do you form is the most severe of the hunter ? Is there any one that you see here, that can kill any other ?"

Still so young and small in height at the time she had to motion him to bend down to her height ; then with one minor hand, she touched his forehead, and then his heart. His warm smiling was genuine, delighted at the answer given to him.

"Yes you do read very well. The pernicious weapon we who hunt the assassin have is the judgement and the passionateness of the heart ; used together, you can not be defeated."

familiar had in the short sentence of her warmly recalled storage raised to practice with his twin blades of their professing, sliding them from their sheaths of lacquered wood, the ninja-to. fourteen inch of perfect steel, unattackable and razor sharp, he danced in a beautiful, poetic play of death. Each move is poesy of music and build, of dominance and energy used : parry-strike, strike-parry, treble virgule and thrusts, a flurry of motion no one could come close to matching salve for her.

Even unarmed they are among the deadliest of fighters, their very bodies the ultimate, survive weapons.

His routine comes to its end after some time ; and Associate pretends to remark her for the very starting time time, though he was aware of her standing by the room access for some fourth dimension now. One thing with both of them, living among the hoard of assassins and spies of the gild has honed their superb acquisition to new, necessary floor than many would have dreamed.

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

His surprisal is complete when she gently touches him with one of her hands ; moving it up to gently strokes his face and brows. She feels the legal brief tension ease out of his body as she circles his face, playfully teasing hilltop, nose, heart, pinna and cheeks.

His lips she component part slightly with fingertips, stroking the inside and drawing a tenuous flush to his cheeks.


The warmth of his breath on her hand draws a cushy, loving grinning to her own lips. Once again her hand flows over cheek, brow and horn in, along his jaw and gently on his neck before returning again and again to his human face.

Moving up to him she presses her back talk to his ; so sonant and tender that his flush becomes fully red, oestrus pulsating outward as a fully stoked firing in the bread ovens. Three times she does this, then kisses his nose, and on tender toes delivers one on his forehead.

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 tit, cast in dancing shadows by the mild, low lightness in the room, glistens like a private concealed within a mystery promising straight-out treasure and sense, or full and barbarian death.

She enfolds him with one arm, taking up his paw with her early, then gently guiding it to that exposed white meat ; holding it firm in spot while he looks at her with some shock. He feels the heat of her body merging with his, pelt to skin, the drubbing of her nitty-gritty and the steady cycle of her respiration surging into his mind, telling him that this is no dreaming, but a gem she is offering to him willingly.

Slowly he starts to caress and stroke it with his fingertips, working from the mamilla outward in a spiral to pass inward again and repeats the bicycle several time ; all the while he revels in the sleek flawlessness of her skin, the heady perfume that smells of lilac, roses and nin-sin mixing with all the sweet-salty smells that are uniquely HER.

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

He sees the lenient fluttering in her heart, lid flickering up and down as she begins to erode lightly on those luscious backtalk that are highlighted with a confection relishing strawberry gloss.

He moves his free hand to the edge of her gown, the Amytal silk that is embossed with cherry tree trees, roses and a twain of ovalbumin birds in flight accentuating the curves of her soundbox, hiding some in trace and others in think over light so their glory may be seen in full.

Looking at her he motions downward while indicating the robe.

To his continuing surprise and delight she nods with a tender 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 whistle of delight and wonderment at the sight of her bared bark brings a truthful and juicy blush to her face, a mum giggle of consternation with her head turning away, though her eye return quickly and with a glimmering of desires blast fully alight.

All of that falls in and on itself, realness turned different when his first kiss gently presses on one topographic point of her shoulder, then another and another until he reaches her neck. The period of kisses continues over each inch of her skin, drawing shivers, shudder, titters and twitching that build one upon the next.

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

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

Moving them downward he massages her crushed back, easing along her waist and hip seeking each area he can find to land the utmost sensations of seventh heaven of her soundbox he can extract. Gentle spirals and genus Helix patterns in which he mixes apparent movement of the alphabet, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far eastern United States words, for each one brings a different reaction to her dead body, some large and some minor, one intense that almost knocks her off her foot, while others have her gasp as she lowers her nous against his bureau, optic closing while mum backtalk open and close.

He inhales the wonderful brew of smell now including that of her raw sexuality mixing into them ; More and more than it turns on the fires within his own dead body ; causing his own humanity to rise to the function as his hand begins to journey to her hidden womanhood…

Which her one hand encompassing his so suddenly he failed to notice until the firm pressing threatened to bust his wrist…telling him in emphatic full term she will permit him to go so far, and for now no further ; he looks into the amethyst eyes of her, nods and bows his head in acceptance of her choice…

"My lady I understand fully ; maybe someday there can be a spousal relationship such as that between us, yet the memory of your Grandfather is still too sweet. Thank you though for allowing me to take some gratification to the both of us tonight,"the familiar said.

She shakes her head, eyes rolling up to the heavens as he once again fails to understand.

Planting a fiery candy kiss on his sass she swings her limb around his neck, and then leaps up, enwrapping her legs about his waistline and locking them and her firmly in stead. His hands move quickly to support her bed, 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 smash of his britches, loosening it enough to let his fully at attention manhood loose to the public ; drawing a bit of a flush from him due to the small size of it of it.

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

Their kisses merged as he eased into her womanhood, the two of them entering into a gentle rhythm of lovemaking between their torso, one for the other and back in bit. Within bit his excitement passes his limit and sends his cum deep into her body.

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

She just kissed him on the sass as her oculus showed her appreciation for him. Returning to her infantry, the two of them quietly danced a tacit saltation in the suite soft light for some time, a moment shared before returning to the end game of this long and trying hunt.

For the moment, they, two assassin in a community of such, who seek to overthrow such a force out, can lower their guard a bit. This is their moment, their time, for with the dawn, the Leigh Hunt will again continue.


************************
In the depths of his fortress manor Master Gordon listens with ever growing revulsion as write up after fib from his federal agent tell of a life-threatening tapis being woven. Someone is trying to kill him, or take down the Grandfather and pin the blame on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their deadliest of contender in the process…but who could it be.

A few day ago his precious rosiness were returned, after his butler had traded them to the maid Clairice in trade for sexual favors. Soon enough the butler was captured and tortured into confession and then summarily executed in boiling oil. As for the girl, and that madman Darius, they vanished soon afterward ; the workshop left in such a land of disarray showed they fled the city that very night.

The next morning brought the mysterious legal transfer to federal agent and assassins of the order ; flowers from the shop of Clairice, supposedly over his signature, though he was proven to be here in his manor ( the only reason Grandfather did not summarily execute him ). Even the stolen roses had been returned intact, and watered by the fille ; then as some of his federal agent examined and smelled them, declaring nothing to be wrong…

This could not be said of the eternal rest of those obstetrical delivery. For some intellect, like with overlord Finneous, and his lover Kimberly, and at the ale-house operations, the recipient just seemed to up and die in their caterpillar track ! Now there are other skipper of the lodge, underlings who would not dare to strike at Gerald ; who are openly making plans to do just that, and it appears Grandfather is encouraging them due to his muteness on the matter.

Most probably, that is due to one of the bouquets of flowers having been sent to his can room as well. The man has no signified of body fluid ; especially as there are rumor of him offering one hundred bars of Au to anyone taking down the Grandfather of bravo ; as if he would actually be suicidal enough to realise such a move ! ! !

Such is his mounting craze and thwarting that when he grips the rail of an upper storey balcony he tears the wood free in two prominent clump of rubble. So far no one has been capable to incur out much of anything, save that the agents of Master Gerald are following his own…with more and more assailable boldness…probably to strike in one well coordinated action ; collapsing his integral mesh and assault his estate…

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

There is one way to deal with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his fourth-year agentive role and guard loss leader. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the double quick for it ; there is a small window of clock time open, and he intends to exploit it to the full. Right now only one affair could interfere with his plan, and that is the grandpa of Assassins himself…

"Grandfather of assassin Gordon…"he examines his knife blade, loving the way the light sport over its razor acute edges. How amercement of a brand he will use to end the life story of both Gerald and granddaddy - then claim all for himself.

"Yes, that is what will happen then, both shall fall in the end…"



======
Within the hr an agent of Grandfather written report directly to him of the plan that Master Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a coup is indeed come in, and by the hand of Gordon the granddaddy's rage is absolute. He calls for his personal guard to set up, for the better fighters, rogues and assassins to gather and arm for battle.

For too long he has allowed this biz to go on, now all shall see the ira of the guild and of grandfather once and for all. Quickly he goes over the series of programme and contingencies he long ago prepared for such an consequence ; one after another are rejected, until the best overall remains…complete extermination…

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

"When Gordon ten-strike at the the three estates of Gerald, we surround the place, move inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no survivors at all. Slay every animation being or animal in the spot ; then reduce it to ashes afterward. Then the same will happen to Gordon's estate ; these traitors will be rooted out completely…"

edifice up the hysteria of his forces, Grandfather intends to use this execution to the town of capital of Rhode Island as well - to remind them HE rules the town. Once that is done, he will cast the lodge of any and all scourge from top to bottom.


======
"My lady,"her Associate softly calls, touching her soft berm. He also moves slightly to the position, keenly cognizant of the envenomed steel she keeps William Christopher Handy when sleeping. Seeing her still drowsy eyes afford, he sighs softly, not bore to replace yet another shirt…the hold out time was too cheeseparing by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat low-spirited down…

"My madam,"he again calls to her,"the strength of Gordon are gathered and on the relocation ; they will hit the demesne of Gerald within the side by side two hours. One of our agents also reports that the grandfather is personally stellar almost of the club strength against BOTH of them. I believe he means to end this thing of the two once and for all."

He sees the inflammation growing on her face.

"Even with the grandad of bravo entering the affray now, do we delay on the plan or change it ?"he asked.

Considering the state of affairs, and then asking some interrogative sentence, she comes to a decision ; swiftly she conveys it with her foretoken nomenclature.

Yes the plan does shift ; they go with a contingence for such an chance that has arrived.

Many of her broker have farsighted since given up hope of Providence being freed from the iron hairgrip of the gild ; but now, shown the truth of the issue, that the club IS VULNERABLE, they are gear up to happen upon back and do so with infrangible lethality. Their fear and despair has become angriness and conclusion ; tonight she and associate make the most crucial strikes ; they will do the rest…tonight Providence has a new cry of"Freedom or death."

Associate smiles, the years long quest to revenge his Sister, her husband and all their nipper will be completed ; he will avenge them and they may finally find rest. It will be by his hands and no others, that the final target of his anger shall perish…the Grandfather himself.

"My Lady,"her Associate says,"estimable chance on your constituent ; I have to displace quickly to get at my own target. I have dispatched Holy Writ to the leaders of the waiting group for the uprising to begin."

"Today the gild opinion of Providence comes to an end,"he says, a prankish smiling on his face.

Once again she smiles as that moral of Shan Tiel came to her - in staging rumour of a pending coup d'etat, the born paranoia of the assassins have led one to represent a real coup. So once again the assassinator's order is dancing to her tune and not their own.

Now comes the time for the terpsichore, and with it the hunt, to end.


************************
************************
professional Gerald's manor house, a fort from top floor to the dungeon below, bristles with activity. His better soldiers and federal agent prepare the DoD, layer upon layer of insidious traps and secured passages ; the outer yards with their champaign of fire shall be turned into one massive killing field for Gordon's effect when they arrive…

"Continue with all the preparations, I need to see to the net melodic line of defense upstairs ; think to keep all of the indicate second-stringer in position. I do not bear the dandy threshold or walls to be breached ; yet we take no chances at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in homework in his riddance of Finneous, Cinnius, and so many others,"master copy 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 undervalue him at all,"the initiatory true hint of fright creped into his vocalisation. For one time in his life Gerald feels the cold hands of death reaching out for him…watching his every motion from nearby…


======
Indeed a duad of centre watched Master Gerald's every move from the raftman above the peachy hall ; then as he ascends the bully stairs. She silently shifts from one localisation 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 parturiency lay off to be productive…

This comes due to the fact that most of them are no longer capable of doing such work or for that topic of breathing ; as death does render one quite incompetent of doing such tasks.

When she has finished, she sees her reflection in a mirror, the amethyst flack of her eyes glowing like a beacon of doom ; telling of her inner rage and finding to finish up the matter. She recalls with absolute clarity the net screams of her female parent and Fatherhood ; of her brothers and sisters as they were butchered, while she was taken to rubber by Tai Long Tiel…her teacher and caretaker.

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



======
During his wandering around the upper flooring he can not agitate the feeling of death being nearby ; one of two companions always with the assassinator - the other being fear, in all of its numerous faces - scraps to leave his English. No, comrade end refuses to depart, almost as if he longs for the show to continue just a bit more before needing to see Gerald into the succeeding world.

All too soon his attention came back to the lour floors, silent as an open tomb ; 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 upper berth floor landing, expecting to ascertain all of his guards and agents fleeing or already fled.

Either that or they have already been turned by Gordon, to link his side in the coming fight that will forget Master Gerald alone to front many a century warrior in a live, hopeless battle before he perishes either at the end of a poisoned steel or skewed upon a crossbow bolt to his heart…

Sighing at the swell, concluding treachery his agent have performed, he turns the last recession, his crossbow held loosely in his hand, prepared to run across the enemy who has to be there in outright numbers. Master Gordon has won the scrap, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the next, and now with his death will bend upon Grandfather to turn the new leader of the guild.

Thus he has made his instant misapprehension in liveliness ; he has underestimated his friendship with Gordon and now will pay the Mary Leontyne Price. The first base was ten years ago when the girl escaped the fate of her family and the four covered it up to stay on alive. He had been betrayed and defeated morally, intellectually and physically by an adversary so far out of his league, he never had a chance…

Around the lowest recession, he lets the crossbow fall from his unresponsive bridge player ; expecting death to get along by brand or crossbow bolt…only to see a sole figure, a slender, Whitney Young woman standing at the other end, just feet away. Clad in sinister and Gy habiliment, a unity mask is drawn up over her mouthpiece and nose, while more cloth is over her forehead and fuzz, leaving only her eye exposed.

He watches her drawn blade, twenty two inch of glittering, razor acutely steel come up in her hand ; a blade he knows all too well, for on its handle is the symbol of the old man - Shan Tiel.

Tai Long Tiel !

He was the father of the bankers married woman ... and thus grandfather of the daughter who escaped ...

'' Oh no, '' Gerald said to no one in the area, consigned to his death, understanding at concluding who the true schoolmistress of the gambit being played is ...

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the blade into a cross guard position, her gloved hands holding it in a bobby pin like iron, to strike or duck as needed, the blood on its edge glistening like red fervidness, telling Gerald of his federal agent fate on the floor below…

She began to get ahead upon him, thriftiness of motility displayed to perfection with each movement ; a true embodiment of death made realism advancing to collect her due upon Gerald ...

Her middle glitter in the light of the bulwark lamps as she passes by ; the clear fires of amethyst dancing in their depths.

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

His nerves shattered, he falls to his knees, whimpering and completely in the traction of uttermost affright ; he knows there is no more running or concealment, no mercy can be expected at her hands ...

Though he tries ...

'' Please ... please ... do n't vote down me ; I 'll do whatever you want, I did nothing to you ... why ... why all the deaths ... ''

She shakes her head at this exhibit of Sir Noel Pierce Coward in the end ; the flow of weeping flowing without restraint from his eyes, the smell of piss and loosened bowls corrupting the air as he loses command of his mind and body ...

Having closed the distance between them, the vane in her hands eases back high over her shoulder, ready to deliver the thirdly piece of her payback in one clean strike.

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

She just nodded, as the chew over light glimmered on the blade ; as it delivered vengeance upon the third King.

So it is that the Third mogul of Four surrenders to the inevitable, his theatrical role in the ploy done.

Standing over his corpse, the poove with the amethyst eyes cleans her blade on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor to prepare for the last B. B. King of four to arrive…and for the gambit to follow to an end.


************************
************************
The Grandfather of Assassins, out at the promontory of his arm band is not happy today ; the ongoing fighting against Gordon's power has been taking far too long. His plan had been round-eyed and easy, encircle the total area of Gerald's the three estates as Gordon's force-out mounted their assault, and then work their way in, burning the construction and killing all - citizens or enemy who were found.

Systematically his force-out pushed Gordon's back footmark by step, always pushing, seeking to determine a fallible spot and take a crap the final strike. Complete obliteration would result.

Then came the news show from messenger's that the citizens of the city have started an armed rising, armed with spear, blades and even tools in some cases ; supplemented by the bands of Hunter who work in the wood around Providence. So he found himself fighting two fronts, Gordon to the prow, the mobs to the cover ; so his force out have been systematically whittled down.

evening his own bodyguard has been reduced from forty to the 12 surrounding him. Many bear lesion from the last clash, nearly a hundred member 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 band, a quaternary of diffuse thuds sound out ; his guard is now down to eight. The four on the ground in the last throw, the shuriken's embedded in throat delivering their poison for best effect.

"Shield wall !"Grandfather shouts out, the guard forming a crescent wall of wood and muscle between him and their attacker ; two Thomas More of his guards collapse, throwing stars embedded in their pharynx, the envenom tips sending them into violent, wracking spasms as dying reaches forth with his hands to arrogate them.

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

One guard duty advances down the street, a forward scout for the remainder of their ever diminishing band. He peers to each surrounding store front, street and alleyway opening, to the window high and low, seeking the least bit of movement to argue the next smasher of their unseen pursuer…

He failed to look from behind as a belittled Snake River is placed on his articulatio humeri by a gloved hand…

The pernicious chomp of the Tai-Pan racks him with indescribable pain and torment as his body explodes cell by cell, the nerves survive of all to conk as death welcomes him to join his return comrades of other this day.

grandad and the others watch with growing repugnance at the repose with which they are being toyed with…

Until the lonesome public figure steps out of the vestige and over the fallen safety ; blades at the fix, he advances with the coolness of death personified…

The five remaining guards, with grandfather gesture of a deal, charge at this foe ; no concern shows on their faces, as they are the elite group of the elite for many a kingdom. No one in the western sandwich lands can put up against one of them, let alone all five.

In the swirling, twirling, flashing dance of Death that flows as their foe jumps senior high and into their midst, they learn that he is no warrior of the westward ; but a deadly assassin of the Far eastern United States, the Ninja, who sends them unto their just reward in the afterlife.

Before grandpa could even take in a breath, the man is before him ; a retentive, slender brand, honed to absolute razor sharpness is upon his neck. He feels the venous blood vessel pulsating against the penetrating edge, and the slightest drip of blood flowing down from where it pierced his skin…

grandfather intimation came is gasps, as he dared not move an inch ; for this incredible warrior has him at his clemency, and to estimate from the frigidity eyes looking back into his own, Grandfather knows mercy is not on the agenda for the day.

Sweat beads and then flows down the face and neck opening of gramps, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to flinch and give him induce to do him immediately. For that is what grandfather knows is about to happen, no trial, no jury or such trumpery, just an carrying into action without compassion or mercy.

He feels the knifes bound play ever so gently upon his skin, ardour burning from the sweet kiss of deadly steel that teases affright and ever nowadays flinching of muscles ; all too conversant with such blade, Grandfather can imagine what the last cut on him will feel like…

gramps feels the burning pass into the rest of his body, hands shaking and churning in his gut induced by the final fears racing in his idea. His knees threaten to consecrate out beneath him, no matter how hard he wills it to be otherwise, for he refuses to coward himself before this unknown foe…

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

"hullo gramps,"the strange man greeted him at last,"I know you are more than than wondering who I am, and why this is happening. For the phonograph record, and what it will be of worth to you, the four original - Finneous, Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon had nothing to do with a coup or this uprising…"

Grandfathers middle widened in skepticism as the information flooded into his awe sodden mind.

"That's right Grandfather,"the man nodded in conformation,"I and my noblewoman have systematically destroyed you and your guild. Ten years ago you killed my sister, her husband, and their shaver ; one of whom my own father whose home figure I shall reclaim as my own, said has exceptional talents…until you sanctioned the hit for the sake of the towns, and hence your own, bankers."

The absolute calm and unfaltering style of his representative brought more veneration to granddaddy than he has known in his entire vocation 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 vena, yet the execution I have in storehouse, you will get to enjoy each and every genius of pain that comes from my dearie, until you die of course."

Pulling the blade away, the mysterious warrior delivers a blindingly quick serial publication of precise ten-strike, inducing absolute red ink of muscle control in grandfather legs and arms ; just to make sure he is not getting away if the weakness inducing poison 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 lady who was raped by original Gordon's butler ; I would consume killed him myself if the design did not involve 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 Grandfather's heart interbreeding over, his mouth contorted as much as his poisonous substance wracked body will let in purest of pain ; a victim of the move all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a kneecap to the most private and injury prone area any man has…


======
associate degree looks down on the groaning, croaking, mewling kind of Grandfather, and has no pity on the most knock-down penis of the guild. For too long he has waited this termination ; prepared to give all if need be just to revenge his sister, and restore the accolade of his family unit and restore his name.

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

As it shall be this very hour.

Pulling from a pocket a slender, black silken rope, he quickly binds Grandfathers hands and feet, ties a gag about his mouth, and then casually grabs hold of the loop topology he makes to drag the assassin along. Heading for the lieu where his pets wait, he makes sure to foil each region of muddied water, sewage, bared rock and cactus, determined to make sure the cause of ten year of anguish and dishonor enjoys every moment of painfulness he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the forest hunting watch, and their sons and daughter, professional archers each who snipe at the remaining forcefulness of the guild watch the two offer ; each one knows that associate is about to fulfill his own hunt at tenacious close.

The one man who helped fellow with the patrol of Jambis not long ago smiled ; even knowing of Associates particular ‘ pets ’, as he helped charm them in the woods, he has no fellow feeling for the now helpless assassin that is to meet his pain filled fate…

"Die slowly gramps,"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 doorway wide, no longer caring nor needing to be close as to the contents. He drags grandpa across stones worn still by hundred of cargo moved in and out of the monumental DoI ; then up one flight of wooden stone's throw, each one marked by the unfaltering thud-thud-thud of the granddad fountainhead slamming into its surface.

A steady moan slips from Grandfathers lips as the top of the loft is reached, and associate can easy imagine the champion he is seeing at this time. He drops the rophy from his handwriting, and advances to the edge where an opening is set between the rails of the lofts edge.

He gazes down upon the ‘ pet'he has prepared for this second ; and calls loud and long to them, whipping them into a howling, snorting, tusk-rending stemma lust as they know their best-loved meal is about to be sent down to them - human being flesh and blood and bone, raw…

meter and clip again Associate calls out to them, and they respond with a dozen and eight cries of thirstiness and hungriness, a pleading and demanding for Associate to beam them their call dinner. Each one of them, some four hundred pounds of absolute bone and muscle, tusk huge and gleaming with razor crisp hint, centre origin red and great chests heaving like the bellows of a fiery forge, they paw at the rock floor….

They wait…they call…they plead for warm stemma and unfermented flesh…

When Associate turns back for a moment, the positron emission tomography howls and snorts grow ever louder, as they know now that dinner party is at hand ; they smell the man reverence of the assassin, hear his panic-stricken tenderness beating beyond all power to get for long, and the final moan of pain as he is lifted from the attic floor…

associate lifts Grandfather up by the neck opening, savoring the howling induced scare in the fallen assassin ; Grandfathers eyes are absolute in their wideness, as he is pushed by the auditory sensation of the pets howls and snigger to the border of his own sanity, his judgement refusing to accept what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

associate holds Grandfather by the sleeve, forcing the unfirm bravo to bend down enough to see his fate at the sharpness of the loft."Look well Grandfather, I gathered a great ingathering of special darling just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a forest William Holman Hunt by a wild wild boar and have been afraid of them for your life history. How wry is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog wild, or I should say…go to the wild hogs…"

"NOOOO !"Grandfather roars as Associate shove him bodily into the vacuous air ahead of them ; his shrieking is heard for blocks until it ends abruptly on the cold stones below. Without hesitancy, comrade pets, twenty of the most crucify, massive, unwarranted boars the woodland Orion could gather tear into the assassin…

fellow lookout man from above, savoring each sound and scream, until the in conclusion bone and scrap of figure is gone into the guts of his pets.

"I am once again Shan Fae, son of Shan Tiel my late father. Now my labor is complete."

He only hoped his companion ; she with the amethyst eyes was having as a good deal success.


***********************
Outside the gates of Master Gerald's landed estate Master Gordon and his band of men stand set for the final fight in their little war. Three entire city blocks lay in smoking, smoldering ruins from the all too stubborn crusade of his foes men to keep their line from being breached. All too many of the shops and homes Gerald had owned were miniature forts in their own right wing, costing him more men, and most critical - time, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

Now he stands on the eve of his retribution ; Gerald waits just beyond the meticulously keep grounds, the enceinte doors of the manor lay undefended, silent and still. Gerald must be so afraid of his impending doom that he has either already fled, or some handmaid have betrayed him on the slim hope of mercifulness being shown to them.

No mercy, that is the order given to his flow band of flock ; he wishes there were more of them at hand yet he had to leave too many of them to fend off the tightening ring of Grandfathers forces. He will finish off the one here first, then take his men back and terminate off Grandfather, and then the purge of the urban center and the guild of all double-dealer will truly commence.

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

With a nod of his fountainhead various men commence to skulk from cover to cover, crossbows at the fix, swiftly but steadily closing on the unfastened room access. They cover one another, alert for the least notice of the expected lying in wait to commence.

His sentinel reach the manor doorway with no job, and then signal they are entering.

The with child room access silently close behind them…

One minute passes…

Phoebe minutes pass…

Ten minutes…

20 minutes…

30 minutes…

Then one manor doorway jive open silently, the shadows beyond beckoning with all the kindness of a silent and open tomb in the woods. Nothing moves from within or without…


======
The sudden collapse of a nearby edifice in a cascade of brick, wood and flames combine with a sudden din of blade on blade clangour, cry of victory and shriek of the dying. Gordon's men begin to look one to another, debating as what to do at this prison term to see to it their survival.

Shrill cries of war phone off, combined with calls of"Providence and Vengeance !"

One of his gaffer lieutenants shouts in the weed for his men to hold the railway line, his calm air, stabilise voice suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men lurch into sight of original Gordon, one by one shouting out a shrieking of death as acerbate arrows pierce armor and flesh, before they fall to the flat coat as gracelessly as a dissipate and shattered gunny shift tossed from a high level window.

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

The rapid nasal twang of bow is followed by over a twelve of his men slumping to the terra firma, a second fusillade is followed by another in short parliamentary procedure as the citizens of Providence storm out of the smoke clouds and dust ; they are taking their town back once and for all.

Somehow the people of capital of Rhode Island have found the courage and means to tolerate against the Assassins Guild ; despite the noesis they will all perish in the end…

Charging like the wildest of fanatics they head properly for Gordon and his men.

He has only two very simple selection to take a crap - tie-up here and die for sure, or retreat into the manor house. All that matters is for him to resolve which he fears less : the mob or the silent manor house.

"Retreat to the manor theater with all haste…Go ! Go ! Go !"

half of his scout troop make it to the doorway, the rest dying under the hail of pointer and then under the vane of the mob when they sweep up over them. Just as he clears the doorway, one of his men pulls him to the slope with an unaccustomed rowdiness, though as a salvo of poisoned pointer miss turning him into a hat rack for one clip he does not mind.

With a resounding gibe the groovy smoothing iron room access are closed, the crossing bar firmly secured.

The citizens of Providence Lebanese pound with insolent fury on the other side, their howls for blood and vengeance retorting like the call of the banshie on the moors, fortune telling of his pending Death and judgment to total in the next life.

Gordon thanks his fortune that Gerald built the manor as a fort first and a plate second…now the handsome foe outside is out of his haircloth, all that remains to be done is find and gut Master Gerald.

Passing from the entrance foyer into the luxurious majuscule Charles Francis Hall, Master Gordon sees that things are definitely, and desperately wrong on a massive scale. The broker of sea captain Gerald lay all over the topographic point, their armored bodies heaped three or four oceanic abyss on the keen stairwell ascending in the middle of the foyer to the dimly lit halls above.

Each of them bears the same markings of their dying, a individual, well executed cut to the heart or the neck opening ; 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 shock and surprise, back-peddling from a side room. His broken, hastily spoken Holy Writ and motion indicate fuss may expect them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the remains of his six scouts, sent into the manor earlier, hang up upside down by their ft from ceiling, a sleek rope secures them to the great wooden rafters of the ceiling.

Upon each one is a 1 slip of paper…which Gordon directs removed and the bodies to be cut down…

The paper reads :

Flee or share the same lot as I, death awaits you all around.

The men who took up the papers, five in all, are observed to have their eyes roll up into their headspring, bass pink and red froth emerging from their backtalk as they fall over dead.

Within seconds of their passing, the federal agent who have been cutting the silken rope began to strangle, hands start to travel to clench at their throats until sinew suddenly lock, eye bulging out and turning bloodline red. Each of the seven men begin to film on surreal forms as their bodily muscleman all begin to contract, inflicting untold of pain and soon causing the loud cry of bones snapping one after another…

Until at hold up the neck bone sunders and allows them the escape of death.

Gordon looks with right-down horror at the double trap that someone has set ; a contact poisonous substance, absorbed through the skin, on the slip of newspaper publisher ; and then on the roofy themselves…just where someone would aim their handwriting to cut the rope, and let their dead down…

The suspension torso move like a pendulum, as small Melville Bell rings in harmony of their bowel movement, the telephone call to the grave all of them will occupy for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to disseminate out and search the scummy floor ; to scour all aliveness from every room and hall that exists in the place.

He looks back to the great iron room access, hearing the people of Providence being given orders to find a expectant electron beam or log they can use as a battering ram. He knows from the strength of the threshold there will be only a low bit of sentence until they are battered down.


"Master Gordon I have something here,"one of his factor calls from a room at the end of the hall.

A consequence later there comes the ring of a small Bell yet again…followed by the holocaust of fire and shrapnel that tears the broker and the three other men in the room with him, into smoldering oaf of flesh and meat that no longer can be recognized.

From another room, just down the position hall from here a small bell sounds yet again ; followed by the crashing of heavy furnishing to the land. Soon enough Gordon sees the plenty of bookcases piled on top of three of his men, one arm extended from beneath them holding a low fortunate unicorn that has a almost invisible cord of silk tied about it.

One guard gives off a voiced gurgling sound, passing into the convulsion of death from where a slender spitefulness coated blowgun dart has hit him in the neck. Another safety suddenly jumps in front of Gordon, shielding him from the second to get. As he falls into death the remaining guards fire off their crossbows into the shadows above, seeking out their unseen assailant on the level above.

Despite their best efforts three more guards fall into the aeonian night all shall bang of at the end of their days.

"mortal is playing plot here with us,"he said, enraged beyond anything now. He is going to spend a penny his old associate original Gerald pay dearly for this, ending his madness 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 on-key his news are ; just not as he has expected…

"Back to the foyer on the double ; get under shelter now and keep watch. When we have gathered get ready to surprise the step and eliminate whoever is up there. Understand clearly, no survivor at all, absolutely no one is to live…when we find Gerald he is MINE alone !"Gordon tells his men, rage beyond reason and rationality burning in his body.

Gerald will pay in the most hideous method he can ideate ; for bringing his world crashing down around him in his campaign to dispose of Grandfather.

Crossbows or blade make for battle, covering every possible billet of lying in wait they advance back the way they have come…unaware of the amethyst eyes watching them from the shadower.

Gordon leads eight men into a position room, a pocket-sized study untouched by the massacre already inflicted on the place.

Far above the band of armed men, twin eyes of amethyst sparkle with the fiercest of flames, matching the grin of glee upon her human face ; they had no clue as to where she hid as she downed the ones with her blowgun…these assassins are true amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even death would have been hard pressed to hear her straits by ; she shifted from her fix to the adjacent, ready to watch and inflict the terror in entire these assassin deserve ; payment for the threat they have for too long impose unchecked on others.

Assassin against assassin…The ultimate portion of the gambit…

poove against King on the Bromus secalinus board…

======
Master Gordon turned to give the signal for the rush up the stair. He explained the plan - ensure the landing place, spread out room by room in expectant groups and pour down everything. The first hollow, booming shaft of a ram on the gravid iron doors ring gimcrack and percipient through the manor ; telling all they are running out of clip to deal with the enemy within for once the threshold are breached, they will face the ire of those outside.

With a gesture the first grouping rushes up the stairs, while a second covers them, crossbows aimed at each of the shadow above…only for all to stop dead when the soft chiming of a Melville Bell comes yet again when the first one up the stairway brushes a trip cord 2/3rd of the way up…

Gordon sees the hunky-dory silken cord jerk for a mo to where it leads up to the balk and connecting with a dozen humble silken nets…that loosen instantly, scattering their content of many pocket-size, egg shaped area out towards the floor below…

He turns and dives with all hastiness that panic can rush into the room, knowing that he rushed against certain last as his final, despairing bounce sends him into an uncontrolled roll ending with him slamming into the far bookcase…

- manna from heaven !
- BOOM !
- boom !

Master Gordon barely avoids the falling books and monolithic bookcases that sought to crush him. Five of his surviving dance orchestra covers him, creating a solid armored wall between their boss and the elbow room's incoming. Once the sens clears, a quick crown 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 survivor'rushes into another room, grasping a vase to vacate his tum out into…only to be met by the fang of a deadly Tai-Pan Hydra. Within present moment he joins his fellow traveler in death.

The explosions…

The Saami kind of explosions reported to have taken out Cinnius ; only the speciality of the manor's pattern kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."Charge the stairs, anything motion ahead of us, shoot to wipe out and waste no time…"

The great iron ingress doors bang like a massive gong, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their endeavor to go against them. passkey Gordon estimates he has less than twenty hour before they break open ; and Death will come in the most horrendous manner from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the foyer, the main hall and up the stairs, trying not to look at the remains of so many dead…then the first to the upper landing looks about as a pocket-sized buzzer bell, followed by his oink of pain and slumping to the ground…already in the final throes of death from the poisoned needle in his throat.


======
The four remaining guard charge past Gordon, covering all coming as he comes up behind them. He takes just enough time to pick up the dead valet crossbow and a handful of bolts, each one tipped in deadly maliciousness. Making sure one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to head down the right hand hall. The attack came from the left, so they will circulate back around and corner their target - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

elbow room by way they search, quickly and efficiently, finding nothing Sir Thomas More than eubstance and silence. With the second gear floor cleared, they ascend a small stairwell to the third gear floor. No ambush awaits them at the landing as they expected, just an area for the handmaiden to eat at…the table still set with tea and cookie out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled cups while the fourth part spotter, declining any sustenance. In less than a hour the poison inside the tea sends them into pain wracked death, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving guard looking on at their revulsion filled faces, line of descent frothing from oral cavity and nose.

The other man gave a sudden grunt, then collapses before Gordon's oculus, going into demise on the end of a venomous dart and its poison.

Gordon dives into a nearby way, barely avoiding the mechanically skillful trap that sends shaft with razor sharp blades a consequence too late.

Boom !
Boom !
manna from heaven !

So comes the unfluctuating pound on the great atomic number 26 doors…

roar !
Boom !
Boom !

Blow after steady blow, like a beating heart, the clock winds down with each one for Master Gordon.

Pulling the spears out of the door Gordon hesitates ; lather beginning to bead on his forehead, as a belittled, insidious sound comes from his leftfield, just down the hallway. Carefully as potential, he eases his hand around the nook and into the student residence, to see if any reaction is generated.

Then he lowers himself to the floor, and eases his head outward, crossbow in hand to shoot the number 1 target that comes into sight…

Only to have a trio of the envenomed dart miss him by a hairs breadth in quick sequence. His desperate scroll 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 have become, anything is possible…

Breathing hard, furore and terror mix together, he bellows out for anyone around to listen clearly,"GERALD ! seed AND FACE ME YOU COWARD !"

He quickly heads deeper into the manors upper floor…

======
Boom !
microphone boom !
windfall !

The clarion call sounds again, fainthearted yet more and Sir Thomas More steady of that battering ram on the iron doors.

Crossbow held out in front of him he sweeps the retentive hallway, stopping by each soundless room, glancing quickly into them to see if anyone hold in ambush. All is in sodding condition, 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 single mouse is to be heard moving in the area.

Boom !
windfall !
microphone boom !

Finally he advances close decent to the end to see where the end of the hall turns sharply to the leftfield and the right, two leg and three rooms to pass away for the ambush to descend. Three suite to search and then the halls to check ; where is Gerald to be found ?

manna from heaven !
boom !
Boom !

tierce elbow room become two with a fast glance.

Boom !
gold rush !
godsend !

The next one has a partially unopen door, with a shadowy silhouette off to one slope ; something is not right, the figure is just too still. As he reaches for the door of the last room to be checked, he stops. Just a hair's-breadth breath from his hand is the door brass handle, the swooning glimmer of poison coating it - if he had touched it with his bare hand, end would take him quickly.

A beautiful bunker, decoy him one way, force him to go for the unopened door and have the hold poisoned. It has almost worked - which means Gerald has to be around one of the recession ahead…which one…

bonanza !
manna from heaven !
windfall !

stew streams down his head and neck, as he knows the end plot is now at hand…but which way…to the left or the right…which way…


======
From nearby, among the very structure of the building, one moves silent as death ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the last assassin. Footfalls so still that even a dormancy mouse is not roused, she moves ahead to groom the end game…soon judge will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a spectacular way…

Once in position, she hears the soft footfall echoing to her ear like the smack of a heard of beasts in a full panic approach. Her prey nears with each passing beatnik of a heart.

Amateurs indeed, these so called ‘ maestro of death,'amateurs indeed…


======
step by measure he stealthily advances, straining his ears to beak up the slightest phone ; every instinct honed by his class of dealing in death yells that Gerald is off to the left. Just shy of the intersection, he shifts his Libra the Balance and stance to jump-start ahead, planning to get in low and shoot high…any return shot of Gerald will pass right over him.

Boom !
roaring !
boom !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely empty space…

The crossbow bolt shot into the far wall with a dull thump, the Lapp strait in his inwardness as he awaits arrow or blade to slip into his heart.

Boom !
Boom !
roaring !

His Earth collapses completely, the door will shortly be breached, and the end gust is to fall down before that by the hand of Gerald ; for one time in his career the deadliest of the four assassin has made a mistake…

Blind instinct alone saved his lifespan, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his exclude neck and head ; feels the satisfying, strong and all too real bite of a brand trench into its wooden mass. Twisting to one face he shoves with strength topped by sheer terror and fear as the leaf blade pulls free of the Ellen Price Wood, and two immediate slashes miss him by a hairs largeness, two lockets of his hair falling to the ground in dumb grace.

Gerald continues his phrenetic twirl, turning, rolling and hopping dance with the assassinator pursuing him ; for who else could possibly overtop such acquisition as to take him by surprise. Even with all his acquisition, training and hone battle experience he can not help but feel as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his opponents'sword slams full force into his forehead, and only a gaga, fortune blessed kick out that connects with a meaty thud saves his life. He has only a present moment to spare as his adversary blade lands on the basis with a brassy clanging sound, leaving him the choice of offense, defense or pragmatic ( i.e. run like Hades for his life ).

As he shakes his straits to clear his slur vision, he hears the soft thump of his opposer regaining their feet ; and the gentle sliding of a blade on stone as its rightful wielder takes it up once again.

criminal offense, United States Department of Defense or pragmatic…what tactic is he to employ ?

Whipping out a throwing knife from his sleeve ; he uses it to elude the next slash coming his way, the echo of steel on brand carry far into the charnel house that Gerald's manor has become. He blocks the succeeding three of his foe, who jumps from phantasm to shade off, always one step ahead of him, driving him back stride by step, yet not taking the openings in his despairing defensive structure to press home the killing blow…

pressure him back…

Into a trap…one set to view him from behind.

In desperation, understanding dawning that the assassin here before him is only to push him back into the ambuscade Gerald has obviously set up for him he redoubles his vindication, refusing to pay up a base of ground unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a humble pulpit, Gordon pulls on the massive vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slow up or crush his opponent beneath its slap-up wad. The resulting crash whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing cloud of debris and scandal from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one side, ready to spring the instant his adversary comes through the cloud.

Taking a second blade in hired hand, 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 cease this assassin that Gerald has pitted against him, and then deal out with his old"protagonist"in person…

The second blade is gripped tight in his mitt by its razor sharply dot, ready for the coming throw…

He needs only one irregular of clock time for the perfect stroke, the gust to end all blows…so he waits, and steady and still as death, as only a master assassin can…

And waits…

And waits…

And waits…until the fret begins to run down his face and neck, his arm muscularity straining to be unleashed…

He strains his hearing for the susurration of sound to tell of Gerald's forces closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the assassin to fare from ahead.

For a continuing eternity of sentence he waits ; tense and ready, heftiness screaming in nuisance and turn to leaden weight from maintaining a crouched pose into an eternity of time ; yet only deathly secrecy is heard…

aught, no noise at all…his opposer has to be waiting for him to fare forward…through the settling cloud of dust that now shows the shadows beyond, all the lighting extinguished for the giving of all over cover…

The world of the assassin, waiting to spring expiry on Gordon the instant he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the assassin has worked around me…"

A close silent voicelessness comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a wax half lot and thrusts out his one blade to choke up the ask blow ; the other flung with great military 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 gear smashing fist, or monotone palm tree misses crushing his voice box by a hairs breather, then comes a savage hustle of kicks, thrusting, and open handed attacks ; such science and attacks he has never imagined anyone could be capable of unleashing…

His consistence rings as reversal after blow rap home, the pattern becoming all too clear as his resister, dressed all in Shirley Temple Black and greyish clothing, dredging up a memory board from retentive ago…Shan Tiel, the old man on the mountain and his flair of unarmed fighting…

He is facing the old man himself !

The one legend speaks of in dreaded rustle, the sole one even the Grandfather of assassin gave all compliancy to in the taradiddle told ; a topic of honor and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

Three roundhouse kicks smash him into the walls and then drive him to the floor ; from which his assailant grabs him by the collar and lifts him off the flat coat, only to knock about him more with an spread out hand, delivering blows so much harder than any punch he has ever endured.

Throwing a unfounded punch, his carpus is grabbed and his forward impulse is added to the monolithic strength of his foe in the throw that slams him into the paries, the audible auditory sensation of costa shattering heard by the both of them.

Then the trouncing stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by imagined ogre of his assailant all about…

Fleeing in subterfuge panic Gordon bounces down the right hand hallway, slamming off of rampart and around the next quoin ; only to get font to face with Gerald…more precisely, his body, slowly swinging upside down from the rope running up through the rafters.

His bellow of uttermost panic echo long and trashy across all the silent distance of the manor.


======
Upon the body is a undivided note :

Gordon - you are the survive of the four, you took my category in ancestry and fire ; so I take yours as well, your home of the society and their city. You have danced to my strain for the last few weeks, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten years ago you sewed the seed for your own destruction.

"The girl…"he mutters, now understanding who he has been dealing with ; the fiddling girl of the banker they missed all those years ago.

- Thud.

The impact of the dart feels like that of a sharp hornets sting ; followed by the burn, spreading of the poison upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The poison steals all the strength in his organic structure, leaving him as loose as a rag doll casually tossed aside ; only to be picked up like a shift of food grain by a strong, Danton True Young lady…and carried down to the main 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 tell his death is now at hand…and to read off the low billiard ball in her script, which she places following to his manhood.

As she walks off to a side residence hall, he sees one hired hand release a triangular bandage with a small lead shot within it ; then the triangular bandage is spun…once…twice…three times and released back in his direction, followed by her lightning diving into a side room for cover. His heart tracked the lead shot coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just plenty time to hear the front doors giving way from the rout relentless pounding before the lead snap makes wallop ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

needle to say, the ending for Master Gordon was both bright and fiery.

As the mob rushes about through the smoke and scorched elbow room they see person else has already done much of their work and commence to plundering all they can involve of value…no one pays attention to the smoldering, scorched and torn corpse by the bannister that was the sometime schoolmaster Gordon.

news soon reaches them that the rest of the bravo club has been crushed, the last dragged down unto decease ; the sack of providence is at finally accomplished.

The cost though has been high, for many are injured, some so bad they will join the fallen before the next dawn is seen. Buildings and nursing home have been destroyed or damaged ; yet the town celebrates, for so long they have been terrorized by the lodge of Assassins and now they are free.

The mysterious noblewoman and her companion showed that the guild could be beaten, helped arm and get up them ; and now they are free.

She with the Amethyst eyes walks among them in simplicity, dressed to come out as any former person, not wanting to be found out. Her grandfather and mob now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her home and family she has returned the favor in spades, taking the townspeople of Providence from the guild while shattering it at the same time.

And in the same quest, her Associate has won his name and honor back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby brow she and Shan Fae watch the fireworks of triumph soar over Providence. Many have died to win their freedom, and wonder who the inscrutable amethyst eyed lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not human, being an avenging Angel from the heavens sent to answer their desperate prayers.

"My lady,"he begins, somewhat abashed as his vocalism cracks ever so slightly with emotion,"I wish you could stay here ; there is good deal 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 woodwind instrument between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be safe when it comes to her skill with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even have a family together…I don't even know your real name yet, or if you even have one. It's the one doubtfulness of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a rueful look on his face ; not even sure if she will respond him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his hired hand and then motioned with her digit over his palm ; revealing in the intricate polarity linguistic communication more than he ever could have imagined.

His eyes just widened in absolute seismic disturbance !

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 long dead sister ; the one who the four assassins - Finneous, Gordon, Gerald and
Cinnius had murdered at the order of the now deceased Grandfather of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His appall feeling remains until she eases up on her tippy toes, and gently kisses him on the lips ; arms wrapping about his cervix. He looks into her eyes, and sees the warmth and love reflected back at him, and yet, another secret her smile tells of more news program coming his way…

She softly strokes his cheek with one set of digit, conveying in what about would regard as a gesture of tenderness, yet is their silent hand language, the next shock 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 stay in Providence with him ; and there is even better news…they will birth a family of their own after all ; as she gently takes one of his workforce in her own and places it upon her belly, letting him think the life growing within, though he knows it will be months yet before the first gripe will be felt…

"Oh my gentlewoman, I am so happy for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken bumble bee, she just shakes her oral sex, rolling eyes to the heavens and covers her face from the embarrassing foible he is so displaying.

"Master Shan…"a voice comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a band of townsfolk coming over ; munching away on the corpse of the gaga wild boar he so generously provided for their triumph feast.

"Master Shan,"the new city manager of providence spoke, his face covered in the sauce used to clobber the boar's ribs,"can you evidence us what happened to the guilds gramps ? You were seen to capture him, and take him away, if he is still alive we want to accomplish him ourselves…"

Carrying a shamefaced look of consternation on his aspect Shan Fae looks at them, gulps, looks to his lady who just shrugs her shoulders, and looks back to the mayor…

"No the grandfather 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 Shan Tiel in the style and enigma of the ninja, the feared and deadly assassin of the Far E, to consecrate her the edge among the deadliest killers of the western sandwich lands.

Tai Long Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the dark sky ; the bunch of stars forming a river gamey in the heavens above, rendering unto her a mysterious, unworldly comportment. It is that river of sensation she has chosen as her personal name…"Pan li Lung,"or the"Celestial River tartar of the Heavens."

It also has a second and more fitting name…

"One who delivers vengeance for the inexperienced person and the helpless."

And so it is that this tale of the Assassins Gambit comes to an end ; two who risked all for Department of Justice, and to see the people of Providence liberal of the Assassins guild have won the game. They now enter into the life of a family, and a metre of peace. Yet should the need arise, they will go to do struggle against any others who wish to deal their home away…

So one story closes ; and a new legend, of she who has the amethyst eyes is born.


( fin )