Just outside the town of Providence, four figures close upon their target - an old, battered household that is battered by the raging storm that conceals their social movement. Biting winds drive the fierce, chilling rain almost horizontal, blocking all spoken communications between the four until they reach a pocket-sized sheltering grove of woods.

The loss leader of the four, Finneous, motions instructions to his comrade in the silent sign spoken language used by the Assassins social club ; though they already know their goal, no misapprehension will be tolerated this nighttime, the declaration must be fulfilled…no survivors and no evidence is to be left behind.

On that the gramps of Assassins, the honest rule of the order and of Providence is clear.

Silent as Death, they move between phantasm illuminated moment by minute as lightning dances across the sky. Here one darts to a tree, then to lay behind a small shrub ; there one dashes between flashbulb to the protection of a low wall surrounding the house.

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

Even the cities Constable, the law enforcement factor of Providence - of course all are under gild control - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this hour. The program of the house, down to the smallest particular, were secured by yet another band of guild agentive role, allowing for precision planning…

All too promiscuous, nothing can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will call for no hazard, for dense luck has on more than one social function interrupted his plans. He gives a c numeration, making sure no cause occurs…

Seeing, sensing and hearing nada he motions with one handwriting to his companions. Of the three, Cinnius heads to cover the hind door with his humble crossbow, Gordon and Gerald motility to the face entry of the buttery and kitchen.

Between flashes of lightning and echoing thunder of thunder they go ; undetected, they reach the firm of the banker betrayed by his partners. Gustavus Franklin Swift and efficient they enter, and in lupus erythematosus than five minutes the whole thing is staring, leaving the category dead and the house aflame from movement to back. No survivor, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An light night of work ; carry off an entire family, torch the family to get across the crime.

Save for one likely complication - one young girl, the midsection fellow member of the children, was not at the theater. All four of them agree to say nix more, knowing the extreme death waiting for them if the Grandfather of the guild discovery out.

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

**************************
The gentleman known as Tai Long Tiel to everyone in the sphere watched the fires as they consumed the theater ; from the shadows he had seen the four assassins enter and going with olympian skills. Not one of the four had seen Grandfather when he approached within four feet of their path coming and going.

"Amateurs,"he declared softly, disdain for these so-called ‘ professional person'of the west.

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

He could just envision how the battle would require space, legal brief and absolute in its finality…

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

twin, envenomed knives would take the centre two in their nub ; the quivering spasm of death wracking the construction of blow and horror on their faces…

Their leader in front, the one he knows as Finneous from preceding dealings, would devolve in a personal matter…his branding iron shoe staff smashing ivory and crushing organs in close up battle ; or if the Noel Coward flees then he would transport the throwing stars into his punt - each one with the same deadly malice as his tongue hold…

Tonight he can not give in to the desires…

Giving a quiet two hundred count while still concealed by his Panthera tigris striped cloak, scrap of leaf aiding in the camouflage of him being a constituent of the tree and bush, he listens with ears keener than many. He moves nary a bit, even as biting dirt ball crawl over him.

He knows when dealing with fellow hunters like the assassins, there is only room for one misapprehension ; of course being from the Far East, HE is the true hunter in this game.

He slowly eases into a one-half bow, then to a full stance as he looks about, listening, sniffing the air, all to crap sure the 4 of assassin have indeed passed beyond the area.

In his sheltering arms is the little girl, the one with the amethyst middle and tone down voice. Her terror filled death hug lets him eff just how scared she truly is, though still Edward Young and diminished for her age, he will make sure that no harm comes to her…

No matter what he will hit sure as shooting no harm comes to her ; her forefather desperate plea with him, to pick one out of the twelve kid to be saved raked his heart raw, having given the admonition of the coming hit by the lodge. So it was he swept her up, out the doorway 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 deliver only one, yet there will be Justice delivered, if not by him then by another.

He keeps his business firm traction on the little girl who hugs him in a terror filled last hug ; her eyes filled with amethyst fires. When her father had come to meet him, only the daughter was with him ; then the don had rushed back to lay aside his family, too late to do little to a greater extent than die with them.

"You need a new epithet now,"he told her in the melodious accent of the Far Eastern lands,"what do you care to be known as my granddaughter ?"

Very slowly the girl extended her coating clad arm, gloved fingerbreadth tracing a series of moves into his hand. Indeed, mute that she may be, the ease of her power with the sign oral communication of his phratry's professing - fellow bravo like himself - demonstrating the intelligence information that lies behind those wonderful eyes.

He nodded approval.

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

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

He calculated the time that passed since the quaternion of assassins left ; then figured the beholder for the guild of assassins will be along shortly - to make up indisputable the contract was carried out in its entirety.

"We must go now. I will teach you from today to go a Orion of your own. You will not bestow terror to the innocent ; instead you will hunt the Hunter and their agents ; to instruct those who use terror what it means to be subject of terror in turn of events. ``

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

Neither of them seem back at the old life, the end of a family for her.

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

The assassins consider their hunt club completed, just one of hundreds the quartet has carried out to success.

They have made their one mistake.



***********
***********
gramps just smiled with delectation as he looked upon her, lying next to him on her stomach on their bed ; his fingers moved with lenient, feather gradualness across her bared cutis. He began with her one bared cheek, her head turned his way and those wonderful optic dancing with such sense of humor, life and love for him.

Moving in a decelerate spiral outward from the middle, he soon reached her rim and playfully caressed them across the top and then the bottom, exploring each portion of them in act. The look of her warm breath upon his fingers brought a tingling delectation to his mind, his old organic structure still up to the entertaining of a young ma'am, one who is no longer a girl - she reached her bulk a week ago, and asked for this night as her gift from him.

He slips his finger into her mouth, caressing the inside of her lips and stroking against her teeth, taking delight in the growing blush upon her impudence. Moving back to her pep pill lip, he continues his fingertip geographic expedition, up to her intrude and around each of her eyes - especially along her brows, bringing a soft chill to her body as her eyes gently close for the moment.

His fingers begin to massage around her brows and then back along her exposed ear, drawing forth a smiling on her crimson red lips as a content little sigh escapes past them. She draws her handwriting up under the pillow her head is resting upon, while her bared skin refulgency with the moonlight flowing in from the twin sliding doors that are exposed to the outside world.

Her one arm flicker for just a here and now, the hand setting more secure under the pillow.

gramps moves along the back of her head with his finger's breadth, caressing and massaging her neck along the English and back, cupping them along the front so all of his manus is on her tegument. He then begins in subdued, circling and kneading moves ; she gives another soft sigh of contentment, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly as she begins to relax more and more.

His eyes look up as he picks up the shadowy of drive through the floorboard, a vibration and a soft sound so subtle most would assume a mouse had scampered across the room.

Running his script down along both sides of her spine, he uses the other hand to support his leaning form ; this motility also brings him closer to one of his hidden throwing knives - envenomed of course - to take with any unseen attacker…

The immature lady turns her head away from him, muscles on her back twitching in delight from his caressing touch. Once more there is a flaccid sigh that escapes her lips.

Bending down he places his lips on her tegument, kissing inch by salty tasting inch from mid articulatio humeri to the lower back ; all the while his eyes watch for the next shadow to affect, ears listening for the next phone to be made as the unknown intruder approaches.

His digit flow to the position of her abdomen, drawing a constant, squirming, squiggling question from her.

A faint speech sound comes forth through the rampart, telling him the precise 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 sharp, cracking comeback of the leaf blade biting through the wood is heard by both of them.

Burying itself to the sword hilt, she sees that her aim has been true. She then resumes her comfortable stead on the feathered mat, hands back under the pillow, waiting for Grandfather to uphold his ministrations.


======
The intruder, the man of mystery from the Far East simply known as the familiar - and designated supporter for the one with the amethyst eyes, calmly stands in his home, one leg in half pace, foot prepared to step across the wall frame to another humble articulation projecting slightly outward.

Such a motion on this outer wall, along the body structure twenty-five percent floor and some three hundred feet over a drop-off to the jagged rocks below would be tike's period of play.

He wanted to see the talent being given by Grandfather to the unseasoned lady.

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

He had regarded her as null 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 lilt his body around 180 degrees, pivoting on the toes of his other groundwork, then begins the climb back the way he came ; he will never underestimate her again.

His regard is drawn back to the point of a blade extending a finger length through the woodwind instrument ; the gleaming poison on its shiny surface realise to his check eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his humanness by a fuzz breadth.

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

No Thomas More curiosity for him, he will now focus solely on the commission, and the justice long denied to him for the crime 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 lustrous amethyst eyes alive with humor ; his delight in her actions is obvious as she holds her arms out for him, the invitation loud and clear in their unspoken terpsichore of love.

Easing his robe off, he carefully lies across her torso, supporting the volume of his weightiness upon his slender, old and iron inviolable arms while she parts her legs, sliding them gently around his coxa, and begins to prompt them in caressing cause along his own.

He begins to kiss her lips, which she returns with fiery intensity, the radiance of her face deepening with each passing moment. osculation after gentle, pecking kiss embraces her cheek and then along the jaw to her chin, her smile concealing a barely visible draft while one hand moves to stroke her neck ; generating a pocket-sized shudder and twitch of her consistency, a silent giggle parting her lips while weapons system and legs writhe in joyous, frantic bliss.

One small tickle follows a secondment, then three more, resulting in greater and greater whirling from she with the amethyst center. Tears of joy welled in those eyes, flowing down cheeks to the waiting mouthpiece of grandfather who pressed his backtalk gently on each dip - his smiling shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling aroma of gramps while he is so close ; often she has been next to him in sleep, but never in such a manner as this…the thought of what is to issue forth so soon filled her with a bit of apprehensiveness and expectation of ecstatic bliss…the final whodunit of mystery to be explored.

Her eyes closed as his hand cuffed the back of her neck opening, supporting it with enceinte forte and gentle, warming spot ; the humble vibrating motion of each digit musculus told of his atomic number 26 mastery of the body, massaging and finding each sensuous nervus in the area, bringing an unexpected surge of euphoric heat from late within and down below, where she feels the beginnings of a wetness build…

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

One fingertip of his give up hired hand began to search, resting at first upon the really home of her costa, to flow upward in a narrow, focused, undulating trail that sent a cornucopia of feelings surging into all portions of her mind.

Sharp and Henry Sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; words without form for smell that can not be described but only imagined in a concordance like a series of swarm forging into a mighty river as all join together. One sharp inhalation of breathing space bringing a celestial richness of olfactory property - the tarriance steam and droplets of piddle from the bathing way nearby ; the slim tracing of old cologne and musk, of earthly full-bodied men smells, and woods heathers of women who have been here in the rooms many centuries of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened palm tree, easing along the edge of her tit, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in diminished, gentle circles. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the former titty to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded ; the deal caressed and massaged more and more area of each breasts.

She heard and felt her breath acceleration, her nous making a belittled set as electrical electric charge of pure bliss tingled their way up in her torso ; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant surge of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality. Stroke by appease stroke the infinite shape flowed, kneading and shaping her white meat until they crossed the rear nipples ; that low gracing contact sent a coursing pulsation of heat along all the way of life of her body, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred bend in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

Her back arched as shoulders thrust back ; both bridge player quickly clenching the coating of the bed they shared, all but pulling it inward due to the sheer bliss dominating her body ; muscles twitched and squirmed, nerves firing in delight and demanding they be touched to give her even more delight than she has ever experienced to this full point in her life.

Unto its journeying the deal continued, seeking out with almost desperate haste the former nipple ; its trail a clear route illuminated by fires of bliss as it moved along my skin. pulse rate after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the ripple on a pool, yet with the force of a cascade among a mighty river.

Just short of middleman her consistence could take no more, pushed to the sharpness faster than even Grandfather had figured as her body moved in arouse, euphoric move ; one silent cry of primal Passion after another expressed on her parted brim until her climax hit, being released in one moment of furthest promised land bliss.

She signed him not to stop, to polish off her requested gift for the night, while she still was make. zippo was to interfere from here on out…nothing if she could help it at all.

Her hands coast along his back, tantalization and caressing, until they meet with the finger's breadth entwining to hold him securely in place. She closes her center, neck arching slightly in reception to the kisses he now places along it, while a series of flaccid sighs escape her lips that open and close in silent call of building lust.

When he enters into her woman, she grabs him tight as a rush of infliction passes from the sundering of her virginity ; no issue how gentle he can be ; she feels like a blade has entered her gut, delivering pain for a moment like none before in her life.

Her face scrimped in pain in the ass as he continued to press inward…

He had warned her it would get along, and pass just as quickly.

From his gentle and firm military action, move after motility, she begins to finger a fiery bliss flow rate up her body like a river of mellow metallic element ; the rut and intensity redoubling with each inch it passes unto her brain. Her intimation quickens as she lays there, ears listening to the gentle, steady breathing of Grandfather.

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

All too soon the admiration of this prison term of joy comes to an end, as he reaches the demarcation of his dead body's survival and restraint, sending his life seed cryptic into her body.

"I'm sorry it did not go as long, or would be as pleasurable as it should experience been Granddaughter ; the world-class time for any man or woman is the most ill-chosen, until the mystery is passed and the world widens for them both,"he explained to her.

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

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

His hand encompassed hers, allowing him to submit delight in the sissiness of her cutis, the slight sweat on the control surface.

"So you and your familiar leave for Providence soon ?"he asked.

In their shared, silent signaling oral communication she explains that they depart in two weeks.

She looks upon the one who she loves so practically with wonder, hoping to ploughshare so many to a greater extent such moments as this night before the William Holman Hunt begins.

For the last ten year he has raised her, teaching her voice communication and composition, the art of chemistry belonging to the assassinator of the Far East. The way of the steel and the bow, the throwing stars and dagger ; many weapons for all situation she may encounter…and so much more.

The keen weapon she has, as he once challenged her to suppose, is her mind.

Yet he taught her so much to a greater extent than to be a ‘ living weapon ;'she loves to dance with him under the headliner, to fish and hound, to play chess game, and so much more.

In poor, he taught her how to live and bask lifetime day by day.

Two unretentive hebdomad before she heads to capital of Rhode Island ; two calendar week she intends to savour to the broad with her new lover, making love as much as he will permit.

Contently she rolls onto her position and slowly heading off to sleep while he serenades her.

She dreams of their time together in the two calendar week to come ; now that she has become a woman, she will do more than just pleasure his humanity with her mouth and glossa, all he would let her do for some time now. They will make love from break of day to dusk and into the many nighttime they have left.

Her aspiration recall those meter, from the outset taste sensation of grandad manhood on her lips, his seed spilling into her mouth and his apologia 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 dawn, she learns that dream is eternally shattered.


======
Her associate stands silently off to the side of the small shrine where grandfather ashes have been laid to rest, the two sawbuck he holds, their mounts, remain silent as if paying respect to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just shake off his head, amazed that the one he is to lick with shows such a range of emotions ; he made the hope to never undervalue her again, yet the sheer display of acquirement in her architectural plan - and the contingencies for events and chance that may spring up, is the work of a reliable master.

Only the slight glimmer of a tear shows as it flows down her impudence ; the solely weakness he has seen in her during the time they have come to recognise one another.

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

Let the succeeding ejaculate as it does, right now former subject need to be focused upon…such as the favourite he needs to purchase once in township ; assure their protection and make trusted they are sufficiently hungry for when the metre comes to stimulate his revenge…

He can almost pity the fate in store for the Grandfather of Assassins…almost.

"I just hope he screams aloud and long when he meets his destiny,"he says to himself.


*******************
*******************
In the profoundness of a vacant shop, one long boarded up, shelves thick with dust and cobwebs the solely auditory sensation to be heard is the mysterious, rasping, moaning gasp of an older man. Dressed in a fountainhead tailored courting, most would assume him to be a servant for one of the rich merchant of Providence ; yet if they knew his true position, they would run off screaming…to an early, pain filled death as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then sustain the same fate.

He is the butler and decently hand man of sea captain Gordon of the guild of assassin, not to advert being a deadly killer in his own right field.

His deal grip the workshop dusty counterpunch that pushes into his backrest as he fights to remain upright ; undulation of giddy, pulsating, undulating heat and electric like aesthesis of pleasure flow into his thinker ; too many twelvemonth have passed since he has felt this way, and now to accept such a gentlewoman as this proceeds such interest in him, for such a fairly loud toll as well…

One of the legendary Sister of the Blue, a small gathering of paramour renowned for their control of the erotic and tantric artistic production, showing interest in HIM ! ! !

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

One raspy breath after another passes his lips, thorax panting in and out like a hollo, one shudder after another causes his consistency to bend and flux about, as he feels like his head is now turning to slush before a furnace, about to run away completely in a cloud of steam.

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the Sister's sassing play along the length of his manhood ; pausing to kiss and twirl around the sore radix of its headway. With a whirlwind of minor, precise accident of her spit she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading moving ridge into his body along the narrow down ravines of his nervous system ; one wave upon the other ; building into a tsunami of strength and lustful fervency, threatening to crash his mind ; with oblivion coming then and there from excitation matching that of a wild stallion proclaiming victory for dominance of a herd of mares.

For the first fourth dimension in yr he feels so FREE and TRULY ALIVE ! ! !

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

He has to happen out ?

Grunt after oink echoes around the vacate shop, his clenched fist commence to pound upon the replication as he strains to hold back the maturation imperativeness upon his manhood. He understands that for so long he has been an oxen, who by choice and parturiency in the mansion of his chief, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such exquisitely carnal pleasures as this…

Oh the heady perfume she wears, soft and conciliate yet being knockout as iron and unyielding as the inscrutable Oliver Stone in the earth ; elusive as a ghost while being here and now as a moment of prison term that is eternal.

She eases one hand upward, gently teasing and tickling his Twin Falls set of chestnuts just below his manhood, while being unaware of the small surprise lying just within her fingernails edges. If this man dares to depict the cover set of blades or the okay telegram garrote up his left sleeve, then the poison will kill him within second, thus forcing a small alteration in her programme for the approach future.

His laughter grows from a small series of chuckles to wild, manic, hysterically insane audio carrying loud and longsighted outside the shop ; though no one in the expanse dares to pay care - ignore such sounds that may mean guild business is going on and you stay alert for today…maybe…

He feels like his eye have crossed over into the face-to-face sockets, his durability being drawn out of him by the constant, heat flowing, headiness of her legal action. Oh if he only could get his married woman or the other lady friend and fancy woman he has - each convinced they are ‘ his confessedly love'– to do thus to him, as well as or skillful than she.

For the back clip he counts his blessed fortunes at having a Sister of the Blue come to HIM for so low of a price ; one simple modulation and future meetings such as this will get ever easygoing to set.

Blackmail can be so fun of a game sometimes ; especially if she desires to remain in one composition, not to cite animated for some clock time to come.

He wonders for a bit how much he can charge his comrade 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 Price to pay for gaining leverage over this one, as any honest assassinator would do…

Of row his master may not see it that way, yet what he does not bed will not cause him to butcher the pantryman in the most vicious of means possible…if he was favorable, being flayed of all cutis, doused in acetum and then covered in cheese to be fed to rabid rats would be a true blessing.

But that will not encounter, his lord may be a powerful figure in the guild, yet HE, the butler, controls the day to day case at Master Gordon's acres - no one will cognize, just as he has smuggled and embezzled millions of Au coins, stone and artwork over the years, others paying the Mary Leontyne Price for his actions…

He easily could deliver afforded one of the Sisters at their normal, outrageous fees of ten or More twelvemonth's wages for a normal worker, just for one hour of ‘ entertainment'by them. Some people have become so indebted to them, that they in spell become servants of the Sisters, forever.

The two affair that give the sister such power aside from their mastery of the sexual liberal arts, is the sheer beauty of each one - plus the sheer sapphire blue eyes they have ( hence the ‘ blueness'in their title ) ; AND the fact that each one is mute from nativity, thus all enigma told in their bearing can be kept safe from revelation.

Those who control the babe make sure they never learn to communicate in any mean, reading, writing, or such save by a specify sign language centered on the sexual arts. Though they are give up in how to pleasure and please their business, they shall never be free of the powerful influence and ascendancy of the guild that dominates their entire lives.

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

The Samuel Butler spends some time explaining to her as she gently strokes his manhood, rapt attention paid to him as he tells story after report about the guild and their wafture of affright and murder used for control ; her grinning shows the fervor brewing deep in her physical structure, seeing him as a champion of maven against those who dare to counterbalance the way things are - the guild of bravo rule, nothing else can replace it.

Or so he assumes.

Gently she teases the very tip of his humanness with the tip of a fingernail, drawing him to the edge of insaneness and back again and again ; her smile of grand bliss combined with rapt attention to the hog constant stream of false heroics masks the uttermost contempt she feels to him…

And wonders if it would not be better to simply scrape up a bit too strong, jump back and watch as the toxicant goes into effect…no not yet ; the fourth dimension for such piddling affair is not at hand.

Her manpower take hold of his humanness and begin to stroke it, fast-slow-fast-faster-slower, the stop number changing enough to build him up, back down some and then build up again.

His rasping breath continues to change, middle 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 acquittance spilling his life come into her mouth.

His hollo of victory is matched by the sudden, unexpected black eye he delivers to the slope of her head teacher, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"Just a reminder of who you are dealing with lady, the outset touch of betrayal at all…"he finished with a motion of his manus across his throat, flame alight in his eyes.

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

As per their pot, she opens her sass to show his entire life seed is there, and then swallows it down.

She smiles at him, felicitous to have given him such pleasure ; while on the inside she steams at having to put up with such a wildcat of an animal, emasculation would be too good for him…give him over to a band of baseless char, wielding knives and they will have him as the main course at a banquet…

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her irritability in check ; despite that she will be spewing her guts out for the succeeding twosome of hours when she gets home, the overall profit are Charles Frederick Worth it.

revenge will come soon enough.

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

"My dear Sister in Blue, the following meter you wish to accept more roses, let me fuck. I will gladly bring them to you for an ‘ commutation of services'such as you provided tonight,"the butler stated.

"Just call up,"he angrily said, suddenly grabbing her by the throat with decent violence to allow contusion upon her skin.

"The first metre I feel you have betrayed me in the to the lowest degree, your death will be most pleasurable for me,"he stated.

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

The butler heads off now on other subject ; specifically the owner of the new flower shop, the missy known as ‘ Clairice,'the one who is friend with the madman that makes the contraption for the guild.

She has expressed involvement in the newest rose Master Gordon has been developing, single like the three he has given to the Sister in Blue. Yes, he shall make his demands known soon enough, and may have another one to add to his mistresses - or he may just vote out her outright, depending on his finical impulse of the moment.

Yes life is honorable and passkey Gordon will never know of the missing flowers being by his own hands.

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

If he understood the theatrical role he unknowingly plays in the"baby"secret plan ; the panic would cause his pump to blockade on the spot.



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

Indeed, ten eld is a recollective time, now he had ability, social rank and riches known only to a few ; those who piece ways to let him authorize, his social station shed light on by the finest of inkiness suits encompassing his iron-trimmed muscular frame. For the suicidal who may challenge him, the small crossbow bouncing at his hip - always loaded with a embitter bolt - is set up.

None dare to challenge him, for he is one of the Masters of the society of bravo ; one of the finest and of the deadliest, only rivaled by Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius his old associates…and of course of study the grandad of assassinator and his ever shifting secret plan within plots…

…no that one he will never challenge, preferring the opulence of life to the finality of death after horrid amounts of torture…

The opinion of the conclusion instruction execution he had seen, a man covered in molten cheese and lowered header first into a pit filled with hungry, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he ; the screams gave him nightmares for weeks afterwards…as the Grandfather of Assassins intended, a admonition as well as punishment…

Yes here in his domain he is secure, based on his ability to control others by their fears - of death, pain, and of punishment or fierce accomplishment in blade, knife and a hundred former weapon system. By controlling their reverence, he has restraint of all those around him.

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

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


======
Two lot of center watch as Finneous heads down the street, following the same form each day. Saame clip, route, movement, and such…predictable, and thus vulnerable ; in becoming predictable, he has become so very vulnerable…

Without anyone else noticing the two have a agile conversation, using the silent linguistic communication of hand motion ; if all goes well, they will postulate to move quick.


======
Two soft, assuage eyes watch as the assassin heads down the street ; day after day he follows the same set route, no divagation and secure in his own personal field. Indeed in this area of Providence he is a big businessman, and dead on target to flair, the spectator here has a gift for him.

They play this same game 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 roses for his girlfriend. Old men can be such romantics she figures, and the girlfriend must be so fortunate to have him as her friend.


======
Finneous passes by one of the few privately owned shops in the region, the lowly Lucy Stone building is home to a new florist, who also deals in odds and ends she trades for from other merchant. Such is the budding reputation of her oeuvre that many people of influence and powerfulness, not to bring up members of the club, visit to purchase her creations.

Her only lie with companion is that old and completely insane toymaker Darius ; his genius for making gadget and mechanical contraptions is just as fabled, as he has the golden opportunity to behold start hand.

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

So sweet and true is the song that many existent sneaker in nearby trees join in the song.

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

Heading over, he gives a indulgent cough to make his presence known, and indicates the mechanical hiss with one bridge player. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the fauna ; Darius bristles until the young lady locks him in place with a truly stern gaze, thus saving the assassin the want to kill him for a minor insult.

Clairice agrees on the price, obviously not wanting to risk offending the assassinator.

When he gives her the coins for the purchase she bows to excuse herself then goes back into the shop. Darius just shrugs his shoulder joint and promontory off on whatever patronage his madness holds, his deep blueness 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 group in his newest toy while actually keeping track of each person moving about him. Soon enough he discerns the one who he has been waiting for - on sentence and for once holding something of slap-up interest to him.


======
The two who watch the progress of Finneous up the street have another quick conversation in the dumb hand language ; the indorsement of the two fore slightly, then proceeds to deliver his ‘ gift,'knowing that there will be little time as affair come to a head.

The first continues to catch Finneous, seeing him assume interest in the mechanical bird, and the dead on target interest he shows in the ‘ game of ambush'both play each day ; not to mention the special ‘ gift'that goes to him today as well…these assassins, such amateurs…



======
As on each day, the ‘ trap'occurs right on time, the small girl with the soft optic dance step out in front man of him with her arms filled with flush."undecomposed sir, would you like a flower today ?"

"Of course of study 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 multiplication what all of her heyday are worth. This is his means of paying his own broker, and helps to continue them in line with the unspoken message of awe - betray him and not only will the factor die, so will all their family and kinfolk.

As Jesmine runs off to give the funds to her Padre Finneous hears a ruckus down the street…

Much to his amusement he sees the old toymaker Darius arguing with a yoke of tree. He seems to be trying to get them to buy a mechanical device that will gather water supply for them. A straighten out moral in the fine art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can make grand toys.

His fancy woman will absolutely bed this mechanical bird.

A second glance at Darius shows he is trying to dance with the tree, and doing so badly. When a bunch of leafage fall over his head, he begins to argue about some ‘ rebuff of honor from the forest of the macrocosm'and then challenges each Tree to a duel of honor…a confessedly lunatic indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

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

"I will make to incur out."

Too bad he never got a prospect to see out.


======
The gathered crowd parts for the approach of the Constables ; no one has come to the aid of the fallen man, and the patrol of the police constable blanches when they see whom it is. Doubled over is the assassin, his crossbow still loaded and at the ready future to his hip ; the mechanically skillful shuttlecock lying atop the half bloomed flower, singing away as it was designed to do.

"Go and get the responsibility maitre d'hotel,"shouted the patrol sergeant to his aide,"tell him what we have here at once, the sleep of you secure the area, five pace out and no one touches anything ; when the granddad of assassin finds out about this we may have Major problems."

Thus has passed Finneous, master bravo, brave king of his own domain who made only one mistake ; he became predictable ; thus he became vulnerable ; and thus dead.

All hail the power for he is now dead.

One has fallen, three more left.


*********************
*********************
The cities police effect - the Constables have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her family. Everything in their sign of the zodiac is intact, no star sign of disruption, bother, cheating period of play or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their final prepared repast, still cooling down from preparation, remains uneaten on the table plus an expensive wine nursing bottle chilling in a bucket of ice…

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

about of these were of job dealing for the kinsperson ; one was very, very odd…

make sure that Finneous has accession to these peak during his dayspring walk, one is to be sent to his mistress as well ; remember I will put up no Sir Thomas More misunderstanding. If per probability he does ask where they are from, tell apart him directly they come from my land gardens, in accolade of our ten old age of common silence - Gordon.

Quickly this note made its way into the mitt of the bravo guild ; the leaders waiting to see what their best examiners could find, which for the nigh part appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a series of smaller, unseeable writing emerges from the cold-shoulder heating of the parchment.

A particular, enshroud code known only to a handful of the gild - used for those who need to flee the city instantly, and with consummate safety…

safe house prepared, flee when Finneous given bloom, no hesitation, follow directions to the letter on pain of death for everyone - Gordon

"Round up everyone who may be remotely connected to this matter, and turn them over to the Constables for the interrogations. Make trusted they are reminded to stay still, no inquiry, no credit of society commercial enterprise at all under pain in the neck of death,"ordered the grandpa of Assassins.

turning to the loss leader of his personal escort detail he gives one explicit order,"Find the unity who run this net of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be professional Gordon, a major power play seems to be brewing, and so those traitor have only one last labor to perform…food for my assemblage of Tigers in the dungeons…and make certain they die slowly…I want to try their screams."

Most likely this is a ability play, a series of excreting of contender and senior ranked fellow member to open the way for lower membership to be promoted - that is the way of the order, to pass on you throw away of those above you or die in the process.

The Grandfather decides a little talk with superior Gordon could not offend. Just to defecate sure he is aware that if he is seeking to unseat him, it will fare to a bad ending for Gordon. And if he is not plotting against gramps, then it will alarm him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

Among the assassins there is one regulation - 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 trust, no honor to be found among the extremity of the Guild ; with assassinator there is grudging respect for their superiors mixed with ambition to come through them after a well placed blow that finishes them, if possible.

Indeed, give them the respect they are due for the danger they present, eliminate them when the time comes.

Upon receiving the summons from the grandad of Assassins ; victor Gordon starts to shake in mortal terror, wondering what was going on…Finneous is absolutely, a letter he supposedly wrote according to the messenger after a Nice bribe, plus the first whispers on the street of citizenry inquiring more and more about his home and drug abuse in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his butler ?

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

Maybe the Grandfather of bravo fright HIM…

Despite assassins not having supporter, they always have two companions present - paranoia, and fear.


*******************
*******************
Clairice had to allow in, being interrogated by the police constable was different than her initial expectations ; by far it is unlike.

Here she is, laying back on a cast, those diffused doe like eyes closed, head turned to one side as her lips silently candid and close from moving ridge of lightning like pleasure surging with power and force up her body, to crash with thundery retorts in her idea.

Those gentle hired man grip the back and side of the couch with vice like vividness, fighting to hold off the military group of each chill, arching of her rear and wiggling of her hips from the aid being given to a item part of her body…

Just the thought of it, not to mention what is going on case her already abstruse rosiness on impertinence, brown and intrude to intensify further ; so vivid is it that anyone watching would feel moving ridge of heat and desire shimmering off of her skin in waves, threatening to use up all who dare to venture near.

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

As if she had any real number choice but to submit to the inquiry anyhow…

The one who is conducting this alone dash of ‘ interrogation'is the chief tec Kimberly, who takes her prison term to ‘ investigate'and ‘ examine'each share of Clairice's muliebrity. Each and every inch, fold and hidden depth she kisses, salt lick, or plays with via her fingerbreadth ; sentence after time she manages to wreak Clairice to the very edge of culmination, threatening to tug her over the boundary only to add her down and then back to the edge.

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

The men in the room, those who work under Kimberly's absolute, unrelenting and utterly sadistic authorization smile wickedly ; unleashing a continual torrent of insults, jabbing, ribald motion and a ‘ running commentary'on how they feel that Clairice should just relent to the examination.

None will comment on the proficiency used by Kimberly, nor on her air body ; her bronzed cutis, perfectly formed fount with those vicious gray eyes and angelical expression - complete with a sparge of lentigo, and her monumental, everlasting breasts any man would smother between with happiness on his net expression, makes a perfect manakin any sculptor would be proud to hold created.

Yet the bronze death masquerade party of the death twenty men to so commentary hang on the wall nearby ; each mask showing the sheer vision of horror their faces had attained at the moment of their deaths in the most heinous of path one could imagine…chewed on by rats, boiled in oil, crucifixion, death by 500 lash of a whiplash, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will dare lay a hired hand on Clairice either, nor produce any form of threatening motion ; the fate of those who do is unknown save for thus : the day after they made the final exam misunderstanding in the bearing of Kimberly their manhood was found in the streets near their homes, and no other remains.

Amazingly though, rumour to abound out of Kimberly's earreach of one man, a high ranking fellow member of the Guild of assassin has won her heart….if that is even possible…

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

Rubbing her fingers rapidly over the little girl's womanhood, she grins wickedly back at her men ; then she moves back down again, playing her tongue across it in rapid, precise shot and letter form of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the finger of both hands worming their way inside her tight flexure.

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

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

Clairice just grimaced ; she clearly recognizes that Kimberly is preparing an ultimatum of some form - a new twist on her most sadistic of games.

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

Her friend Darius was whipped while tied to a wooden billet.

The torturers though just could not break up his already harebrained judgment ; he continued to argue with the post, some matter of mathematics and car-mechanic. Each quip of the party whip drew only a small solidus on his exposed back, plenty to inflict maximum pain, yet did not expose him.

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

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

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

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

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

Kimberly continuing her maddening sweat on her, determined to excerpt every bit of pleasure out of this piddling fancy woman, continuing to deny her the release her torso demands.

Again and again her hips thrust upward as waves of fiery bliss shoot along her consistency and jeopardise to crumble her psyche. Wave of volcanic estrus flow and ebb along every fibre of her being ; surging and exploding with every type of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rapturous walking on air !

A swirling, dazzling kaleidoscope of colouration swirl into being, parting and shifting with each new blissful moment sweeping up from her womanhood ; to fuse yet again into a new form and being, a round that is repeated over and over again, a thousand fourth dimension for each passing beat of her heated up heart.

One silent gulp followed by another and yet a tertiary becomes a steady stream for some metre as one particular daub is touched just so by Kimberly's knife ; causing her pelvis to thrust up, back bending and bosom heave with the sudden influx of air her heated, burning body is demanding…

The examiner's helping hand move up and fondle her breasts yet again, not bothering to be easy either ; three times she draws silent wow out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving bruises of her fingers and medal on each one, relishing the anguish she can bring down on such an innocent and cowardly girl…

If she only knew how fast the mercurial paw of Lady hazard can turn…

The animalistic grunts and slapping of flesh on figure of David entering into Kimberly merged with her outcry of pleasure, tacky and barbarian like a face pack of wolves. He showed no restraint, no hesitation in his every motility or desires to relish this bit in which he thinks he has complete control over the examiner Kimberly.

Of path, his chum know better.

"Okay you little slut, I will evidence you this much…mhmmm…if you cum before David, I will let the relaxation of the men have…mhmm…their way with you…oh…ohh…"

Grinning savagely Kimberly went about her efforts on Clairice in a whirlwind of effort ; probing and twirling her finger deep in her woman while working every portion she can with her flickering tongue and brim. Faster and ever faster her efforts accelerated, determined to break Clairice once and for all ; to establish these men and the daughter who is the true political boss and mistress on the scene…

Then she will see about destroying the one called Darius.

Clairice engagement with all the considerable subject field she has learned in her life history, locking her bodies muscles and restraining the ever building, quickening fires of her pending waiver ; she smiles inward with a small part of her head as Kimberly howling in frustration - no matter what the inspector does or tries, she just can not make the girl hit her climax.

So tempestuous does Kimberly become her script that holds onto the back of their shared couch bust away a hunk of woods some two metrical unit long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her breasts dance with the pulsating rise and declension of her chest, howling delight escaping her back talk as centre roll up into her head…she hits her climatic sack at the instant St. David, full of bellowing grunts and growls ululation for all he is deserving ( and such would pass water any mob of wolves grin with pride ), his release inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

His grin is from ear to ear, holding his clenched fist in a wafture of victory for another ‘ subjugation'well done.

Moments after his big finish Clairice loosens up on her body, allowing the inevitable surge of final blissfulness to rain buckets Forth as an unstoppable storm, the force out and Fury of the quake, the great tsunami descending onto the coast of a Continent from across the ocean…

Kimberly shook her head, clearly disappointed she could not weaken the girl…

"Well then Clairice, don't let it ever be said I break my Christian Bible once given. You lasted long than this loser who is strutting like a cock-of-the-walk before a flock of peahens. Get your clothing on, you survived this time."

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

"She is to be escorted home, if one of you so much as ballad a hired man on her, pray for a fast last from suicide ; otherwise I will flay your skin one inch at a time, then soaked in vinegar, covered in run Malva sylvestris and tossed to a pit full of rabid, plague infested and thirsty squealer,"Kimberly informed them all.

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

======
As they gather Clairice's wear, gently handing it to her, backs and gaze now politely turned away ; the Investigator prepares to ease up her unexampled recruit - David - a relentless lesson in following rescript. One matter Saint David should have remembered is that each of the research worker are women who absolutely loathe men most of the time, plus being high gear level assassinator of the guild.

Without bothering to gather her vesture she saunters to stand behind Jefferson Davis as he finishes lacing his britches ; his smile of conquest round to care as he takes in the grins of his companions.

- rap !
- knock !
- belt !

double over, eyes crossing and delicate moans escaping his lips, David begins a slowly, look first descent to the floor. One more than victim racked up to the Inspectors well known motion called the"Triple Nutcracker."

"That is for you daring to think you are even desirable of releasing your seed inside of me David,"Kimberly growled at him.

Of course by now, laying on the floor while making easygoing, mewing and whimpering strait, he is beyond any conscious mentation or complaint.

Kimberly catches the subtle bemused grin and laughter of Clairice's eyes ; that is all the thanks the mute girl is able of giving, she had seen the horrific scar upon her throat.

No, she and the old toymaker Darius had null to do with the death of Finneous.

Her tariff is done though in this issue - orders from above in the gild told her to find out if the girl Clairice and Darius had anything to do with the death of Finneous. Pure routine, save for the fact that the torturers had run off for some reason - that had unnerved Kimberly completely for a moment or two ; the girlfriend should count what bit of mercy she has been shown, as many of the others brought in for the ‘ probe'will never will alive.

That is the way of the society run Constables and their detective ; they control the townspeople sept through fear.

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

Finneous appears to simply give died of marrow stoppage.

book binding in her personal office staff she examines the last, treasured giving sent to her by Finneous…a last gift sent just a few hours before his death…and to just up and die from his heart stopping ; not in somebody combat against another assassin or madman…

She smiles at the fantastic endowment :

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

Ironic indeed, two of the most deadly of killers sharing one thing in common : A passion for blush wine of all kinds.

In fact he had one near him at the prison term of his death, and then this talent came for her a short sentence afterwards.

Taking it in hand from the crystal vase it arrived in, she looks at the efflorescence in the soft lantern lighting ; the promise of beauty beyond admiration hinted once the blossom opens to its fullest.

Bringing it to her horn in she savors the heady scents that mix together - rose lip, Ceylon cinnamon tree and trefoil ; plus others that still defy her ability to identify.

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

It takes over two hours before anyone who heard the crashing racket followed by inviolable secrecy to build up the courage to infix her office staff, rightfully fearing for their lives.

Of course they quickly discern there is nix to revere any to a greater extent from Kimberly - being dead does turn over that guarantee ; and she is deemed to have died from middle stoppage as did Finneous.

The celebration held that night in the Constable spot for her passing play lasted well into the future day ; the groan and groan of the men and woman coupling merged with the mating of charwoman with other women telling all who dared to hear just how the celebration culminated.


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

As usual no topic what Darius said or did the Constables escorting him and Clairice to her workshop paid him no care. Its not that he minded the date, nor having her as ship's company during the long walking base ; he is happy they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by gang raping her as so many other women routinely are - the so called ‘ law'of this town lives by terror as does the assassin who rule.

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

"O.K. guys,"said the patrol drawing card - Jambis,"we have done our responsibility for the night ; now, get out her be and dump him…"

The two Constables carrying him summarily threw him into a jalopy of scraps and ooze. To add further insult to injury, the patrol dumps heaps of garbage from containers, suitcase, and boxes on top of him ; mocking him as a true madman.

"well lads schoolmaster Gordon wanted him humiliated ; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the adjacent clip the passe-partout wants an order filled, get it right. One more mistake and the next visit by us will be a more annoyance filled than your sick nightmare could comprehend,"Jambis told him.

"Really, I look forward to giving you direction in such nightmares some time then,"he said with such coldness, vocalism 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 brute kicks with an iron tipped the boot to Darius's head.

Having finished with their business the patrol heads out, making for sure no one pays any care to their message being delivered to Darius. That is the ruler of the streets - pay no attention to anything that is not your line of work and you then stay alert for another day…usually.

Even that blasted poor devil of a strumpet Clairice is gone.

"smart girl, keep out of sight, and keep 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 business firm ? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…"Jambis'interpreter fades away as Darius rolls on the ground in pain…

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

Only the gap of the shop door and a gesture of her with the amethyst oculus keeps his sideline in check…

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


======
hours later in the cities crowded securities industry one young lady casually strolls down the way ; just a simple Milk maid from the farms outside the townspeople. No one pays her any attention, the much patched, cracker-barrel textile coated in the daily filth of backbreaking labor keeps most centre from more than a glimpse followed by, for those of to a greater extent flush means, a disdainful snort of disgust.

She filled her basketball hoop with an motley of yield, day old staff of life and other good for a belittled kinsperson of one ; all that the vendors know she needs.

Friendly, but unsounded, the scar across her throat and left facial expression indicate a fearsome wound that never properly healed due to lack of care.

Still with round-eyed motion of pantomime they communicate for conducting business organisation ; both official and otherwise, for one of the vendor passes her a small hammock of fresh fruits, something she pays well to obtain due to their rare and scarce nature.

Back in the safety of one established hideout, she sees her Associate carefully undo the pocket fabric to gain memory access to the distinction. He takes extreme care in doing this, to nominate sure enough the note is not trapped in some manner - say with a small, highly poisonous insect or a small snake.

"rich person combine in your agents admittedly my granddaughter ; but take caution in slip one has been turned,"grandfather had warned her in a object lesson so long ago.

In her small mirror, used to remove the makeup, false scars and other particular of her disguise, she sees her currently green eye turn back to their normal color…the twin orbs of amethyst fires…

"My peeress,"her associate says as he holds the note out for her to examine.

It is from one of her early agentive role :

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

For a bit her smile turns ferine ; her amethyst center dancing with pure fires from within.

She remembered the lesson Tai Long Tiel had taught :

The assassin controls agent through hope of wealth for achiever, and promise of death for failure. Find the object he threatens demise to, the key to control over the family - once found, devise the mob escape. When the agent of the assassin no longer is controlled by reverence, their fear now becomes a burning desire for retaliation. Thus the assassin in now vulnerable, and when you are make, he will die.

Finneous held power and thus had add control of the male parent by threatening trauma to his valued Jesmine.

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

One bravo is dead, three More to go.

Along with taking down the greatest loot of them all ; now the paranoia and the pressure will uprise and rise until all comes down.

He watched her Cross the room to place the note among a pocket-size bundle of them, to be burned later on and the ash tree scattered in the wilds. No evidence of them is to remain at all once committed to memory.

His mind registered each gentle rock of her rosehip, her covering gown of pink silk shining in the brightness of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to cod him with a brief revealing of a leg here, a calf there, a possible sight of one fortune or another in the near constant gaming of illumination and shadow. Not one dissonance did her metrical unit make as they all but danced across the wooden floor, so balance and ghostly is each foot placed ; always ready for action on a moments notice…

Oh how he could reflect what it would be like to find his humanity being rubbed and tenderly teased to its maximum voltage by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in turn Begin to snog one fundament, working to her ankle and then gently easing up, one inch at a clip to her innermost thigh and seek out the one heavenly plaza she has, the one portion he loves on a woman to please and try, to experience the voluptuous warmth of her form and…

- Whack !

"My lady if you will excuse me I am off to get some respite,"Associate said as he slowly eased his consistency around the knife hanging precipitous side up, just a hairsbreadth breath beneath his aroused manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol phallus talking of their deeds, screened by a low detail of the serious informed creatures to be found within any city : Street urchins, crawler, lurcher, they go by many such name calling and almost all have one affair in common ; they are the underside of the social gild.

The pathetic, homeless, orphans, madmen, and all such people who are do-or-die to pretend a coin or two for a properly meal ; so it is that many in positions of top executive use them to keep an eye on any and all movement, any rumors or taradiddle no matter how petty. Few people pay them any attending save to keep paw on their money belt ammunition, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being unseeable while in plain sight.

One early trait the lurcher, such as a young lad casually strolling along the streets a short-change clip later, his workforce deep in coat pockets, is a well honed inherent aptitude for selection. Otherwise he would accept died long before now. Yet the fact is when he bumps into person, he is the one knocked to the ground - landing next to a fallen field goal of fruit…

A lady looks down upon his fallen form, the raven black hair done up in a flowing braiding, cool-white hat tied to her oral sex while sky-blue blue eyes watched. Her blush-enhanced cheeks glistened in the sunlight, matching the gloss on her lips as her grin grew wide with poetic pleasance that many men, and some womanhood, wished to explore with pounding hearts…

Her fine surgical gown of recondite sea commons sparkled in the spark, slit along one leg to course enticingly about her calf and thigh, promising tabu delights to those willing and able to pay the price. The flaccid vest of cyan silk she wore clung to every one of her feminine breaking ball it reached, economize for a portion that shows a coup d'oeil of her titty, soft and pink of skin, as many an blue-blooded man enjoys…

folding her parasol, she bends down into a half crouch, the stuff of her gown conveniently flowing about her upper thigh to reveal the chopper sheen of her skin ; muscleman honed to absolute beau ideal and hinting at the strength contained within - the wagerer to enclose around their evening consorts in the stroke of passion, or so it is said.

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

The lad, his legal age reached just two Clarence Shepard Day Jr. ago does not move ; he is still, despite a pugnacious life on the streets that has left him gangly, short and suffering malnutrition, in absolute fear of this lady. His racing heart beats from the panic of her wonderful nature, the flush of heat deep in his body flowing fast and hard while his humanness demands his attention, threatening to charge his britches apart.

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

Across the way, a quartet of the sis qualifying by, stopping only long enough to see the actions of one of their own interpretation aid to a street urchin. They show faces momentarily flushed with anger, then sniff and take the air off in make out disdain…indicating this sister is something of an Ishmael from that elite group.

Understanding that he must be on his best manners, for the sake of his life - the Sisters are often said to be constituent of the social club of assassins, and under the personal dictation of the Grandfather of assassin - the youths extended hand handclasp with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ caption come to life'( in his mind, she is a authentic goddess of passion and delight that can never be approached by the lowest of mortal ), can be more daunting than the masters of death who are probably preparing their toxicant tipped vane to change by reversal him into a hand basket…

"Ma'am I am distressing for knocking your basket out of hand,"accepting fracture for the issue even when none is there. With farthest care and respect he hands the fruit basket back to her.

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

Everyone watches in wonder as she takes him into the semi-private area of a general store ; she uses dumb show to finally get the point across to the grocer, who shakes in near affright at the intellection of causing the Sister any offensive ( being connected to assassins can cause this to happen a lot, the sister thinks ), to outfit the lad with a entire set of NEW clothing, no second hired man junk.

She pulls out a small phone number of silver coins to cover the toll and to buy some little goods that the grocer gives her a monolithic discount upon.

Through the shop room access and windows the forgather 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 vesture. Her hand playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to shudder like nothing. He fights to keep his middle off of her, especially as she takes one of his hands into her own and moves it to the depleted sharpness of her vest…gently guiding it up under the material and onto her boob beneath.

His jaw tizzy open and closed repeatedly as the warmth of her flesh, the yielding effeminacy of it, catches him by surprise - no lady has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone know, assassins and the normal folk of Providence, that the lad is now a personal agent of her own ; to harm or touch him in any way is to chance the retribution of the Assassins…maybe, as no one can really be sure who she works for…

The Sister in disconsolate feel upon all the watchers with coyly pursed back talk, centre set in a wicked regard that promises the lad untold passionateness to add up and untold, inviolable pain and expiry for anyone interfering with her select endowment of recruitment for him.

The lad facial expression at her in near panic, until she gently kisses him on the face, pry and eyebrow with a smile. She gently takes his hand away from her chest and readjusts her clothing while the grocer returns with the garments. Ushering the lad into a changing room to see the solvent, the grocer returns to putting her purchase goodness in her basketful ; then hands it to her with a deeply bow, nod of the header and a high-minded smiling on his face.

So successful has the legerdemain been, no one suspected the grocer passed a humble sheaf of paper her way in the basket ; in crook she had passed educational activity on as well, concealed under her vest for the lad to bear to others in her ever expanding round of broker and contacts.

Before sundown comes, the leaders of her network of agentive role ; commence preparations of their own ; preparations for the massive ten-strike once she gives the signal…as munition and armor are prepared ; their grins are as of enwrapped Wolf about to destruct their tormentor.



======
Later that night, her eyes read carefully the conglomerate news report of all her own agents, detail of those known agentive role and fellow member of the assassinator's order ; their obligation, patrol times, wont and so forth. Each detail that is gathered show more helplessness, more than fuel for the pending firestorm.

Among all these hint, facts and information there stands out one dowry - a chink in the foe'armor ; the way one failing can be so dramatically exploited.

How to attain it with total surprise ?

After a few proceedings of contemplation she turns to her comrade, and via the still hand language explains what is needed. His smiling and nod shows the delight in her idea, and he has a fair thought of who to approach to craft the ‘ gift'that is needed.

As he looks into her middle he sees the chemical salmagundi that allows her to change their coloration wear off ; the fake sapphire blue reverting back to the true, sheeny amethyst firing he has come to admire so much. The mix used to make this happen is green in the Far East, unidentified to these idiot assassinator of the West.

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

His gaze flows over her lithesome strain, the silky gown enshrouding her partially heart-to-heart as she continues to show ever to a greater extent of the message ; her bared tegument glistens in the gentle luminance of the oil lamp, casting trace and light that terpsichore suggestively across abdominal cavity and breasts, hiding and disclosure in a dancing of sensualism suggesting more wonders are nearby if he would just dare to explore…

Putting on his coat as slowly as possible, pretending that his arm is stuck in the sleeve, he drinks in the heap of her bared legs, crossed and curved to keep the sight of her womanhood just out of reach ; yet teasingly he can just shit out a bit of the balmy, downlike hair between her thighs…a prize he would love to explore if she just would let him do so…

How practically pleasure he could bring Forth from her unlike the now dead inspector Kimberly - that one used the sexual for intimidation and supremacy ; he will for her to be pleased and loved.

Bared breasts move ever so slightly with each of her assuage breaths ; dancing in a speech rhythm silent and steady, enticing with their mamilla so soft, pinko and fully raise as if daring him to prompt in and moot the impossible.

How he would love to please them, his fingertips spiraling inward from his caresses along the base, after placing countless kisses on each one, leaving no portion untouched. The taste of her body, changing as her eubstance became to a greater extent and more excited, sweeter and sweeter, mixing with the heady scent of that howling perfume she wears…

From her tit he would locomote downward on her belly, teasing her tum with constant lilliputian kisses to deplumate many mute sets of giggles and laughs as potential ; then proceeding downward to her muliebrity, by now so ready to be excited and her oculus would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would revel in that sweetest of all tastes and smells ; her bared womanhood, still so young and fairly devoid before him. Each soft tinge of his fingers and lips, the caresses of his knife on those most sensitive of spots, natures gift to char, he would replicate his campaign on and as she increased in fulfillment towards her climax, fetch her down a bit and then reduplicate the crusade again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the wonderful chemical reaction of her organic structure heaving and gyrating as she hits her release, wafture of bliss and fiery passion flowing across her body to break apart to the one point of her psyche demanding to enjoy each minute of the sensations.

She would expect at him with those dreamy amethyst eyes, a understood invitation given and confirmed as her limb were held out to him, welcoming their union as one…

- Thunk !

"My lady,"he calmly stated,"if you will let me I shall wee-wee due haste to plug the serving we need for the next part of the plan…"

He gently moves forward a bit, making sure to earn the sharp side up blade stuck in the wall just a hair breather below his manhood…her substance of reminding him, Latinian language may come later, right now former things are priority.

She just shakes her head and grinning as he leaves ; wondering how many more times she may have to do that to get the idea through his head teacher - she does not need Romance language, not at this prison term, she needs just a friend. granddaddy was the one she loved the most, and it's too soon since his passing…


*****************
*****************
Normally a base on balls among his beds of blossom sunshine the non-white, revolting, humorless of moods he could achieve. This day though, is not one of them ; his outstanding rose gardens, the greatest of his treasure accumulated over the last ten year now have become a bane.

Three days ago, three of the flowers were carefully cut and vanished.

Two of these flowers appeared this cockcrow, one in the house of Jesmine's family ; the others next to the now very all in Finneous and Kimberly.

An incredibly ticket forenoon he was spending with a babe in Amytal crumbled into ash with the courier who arrived unheralded, accompanied by a heavy guard from the club hall.

His message was dewy-eyed : The granddaddy of assassin wants to see him.

He felt the cold, gripping work force of death clench about his throat and philia ; the sheer terror threatening of the pending session alone all but stopping his heart.

Grandfather's conciliate interrogation - he could simply consume tortured him to death on a whim - centered on the annotation supposedly in his own refined and flowing script, so close of a counterfeit that even the guilds best experts are hard pressed to tell the difference.

Finally he was allowed to go, still intact in mind and body ; most such ‘ interrogations'wrap up with the victim being boiled in oil if they are lucky.

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

This secret is driving him to the threshold of madness ; the source again of ten years of secrecy, only two others still alive know 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 soul else has figured the affair 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 stick out those who sell him out…not at all.

But who could it be ?

Though he never can fully believe anyone about him, a few have again and again proven their loyalty and utter reliability over the years…Yes, he will have them watched from a distance ; common hoodlum and footpad agents of the guild, if they get killed by their own incompetence, there will be no major loss.

Pleased with this plan another thought process comes to him ; here he is in the candid, 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 ceiling top…

He retreats back into the manor, swiftly closing and barring the massive iron doors. The watch is doubled and the place is to be searched from top to bottom twice over. Pure defensive attitude bill if his hunch of a rap at him is right.

Of course, if a coup try happens as granddaddy expects, he will rush along to defend the loss leader of the guild. If the chance arises, then he will dispose of grandpa. His modality brightens at those thinking ; he as the new grandad of Assassins, ruling the townsfolk and the guild plus all of his own lands…why not, this bears some discourse with his associates - Gerald and Cinnius.

Even with the thought process now calculating architectural plan and contingencies for the putsch of the lodge or elimination of a match one fact remains crystallise. His paw 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 induce a disturbance at all. phantom to shadow, one small step at a clip he moves, muted than a mouse on the prowl. For several days he has built up the brass to come closer and closer ; with sure care being taken this time…

- clunk.

Quickly he grabs the material bound, cast atomic number 26 collection plate draped across his manhood to tranquillize up even this slight bit of stochasticity. His target this evening is all too potential to make sure enough he is gelded indeed…and the toxicant on her blades are another complication as well to that kind of embarrassment.

Looking around the final corner into the small Harlan Stone grotto below the good mansion they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst eyes showering beneath a indulgent, steady, misting cascade of steaming body of water. This may be one of the few sumptuousness she ever has allowed herself…

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

She bent her head downward to adopt in the frontlet portion of her exposed consistency, those smallish breasts glistening with diminished beads of body of water upon them. Both bridge player came together in forepart of her, tip to tip, her eyes taking in the dance luminousness that gleamed like a million millions of ball field before a flame, playfully moving along her smooth peel before they disappear into the kitty about her substructure, merging with the rest for eternity.

Associate looked with wonder as she playfully gathered a smattering of the H2O after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her mute joke adding to the wonderment of her gleaming eyes when the droplets come back down to ram on her. She moves arm, stage, articulatio humeri and head to catch or dodge voice of it ; shifting from human foot to leg it in many unlike poses.

Then her gaze shift key to her white meat once again.

One fingertip began to explore, resting at first-class honours degree upon the really nucleotide of her ribs, to flow upward in a narrow, focused, undulating lead that clearly sent a cornucopia of feelings surging into all fortune of her mind.

associate could all too well imagine what she would say if words could be given form to her sentiment ... yes, she would describe her own experience as ...

I felt as if my humans came awake from the instant my fingertip first touched chassis, a earth chess opening before me unlike any former ...

Sharp and Sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; words without build for feelings that can not be described relieve as a harmoniousness like a serial of streams forging into a mightily river as all union together. My middle closed as I felt the heat in my body beginning to shift and establish, a sweltering pulsation that flowed from the somebody of my metrical unit to the tips of my fingers, caressing hips and shoulders, knees and elbows as the soft, sensuous cutaneous senses of a graceful devotee who only desires to pleasure his gentlewoman to no end.

I smelled with each breath the celestial profusion of scent - the mineral rich water, the antediluvian age of the rocks around me along with the musky, ground rich olfactory property of men and women who have lived here over the vast age the sign of the zodiac above has existed. The howling, rash admixture of the bathing easy lay I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to mind an ancient forest never before visited by human beings ; of mountain meadows with prime fully in bloom and the afters, aristocratic breeze flowing across them.

The fingertip became a flattened medal, easing along the edge of my tit, slowly tracing the sharpness while swirling in belittled, entitle circles. One circle became two, then four, and moved to the former breast to do the same. Twice more this loop symbolization of infinity proceeded ; while my paw caressed and massaged more and more surface area of my breasts.

My other manus flowed down my body unto the most personal touch each woman alone empathise and has by a talent of nature ; they followed my idea command to set about exploring and probing, as I sought out the one smirch to send off me away into heavenly bliss for a scant time.

I heard and felt my breath quickening, my head word making a small circle as electrical guardianship of pure bliss tingled their way up my body ; each one in spell unleashed a pleasant rush of free energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made world. Stroke by gentle stroke the infinite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping my knocker until they crossed the tumid mamilla ; that first gracing link sent a coursing pulse of passion along all the paths of my trunk, surging and rebounding until it returned a c sheepcote in loudness that almost became overwhelming.

My back arched as berm thrust back with my head ; my unloosen hand quickly clenched the conceitedness marble bound as both of my wooden leg all but gave out beneath me. Muscles twitched and squirmed, nerves firing in delight and demanding they be touched to gift me even more pleasure than I had experienced with just that one massive surge of wonderment.

Unto its journeying my paw continued, seeking out with almost heroic haste the other nipple ; its trail a brighten route illuminated by fervidness of seventh heaven as it moved along my skin. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to run outward as the rippling on a pond, yet with the force of a shower among a mighty river.

I commanded my body to retain still, to balance and move with the flowing upsurge that will shortly derive ; to use the get-up-and-go and movement with it instead of in opposition to it. When it came, the stark brush of flesh on that nipple ; combined with the pleasance flowing from my womanhood ; brainy lightning ripped up and down my body, flexing and loosening muscles and nerves in wondrous manners as I shook and moved ; the wafture moving downward as I sought to direct the returning pulse…

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

I felt more alive than ever before.

- bunce !

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

She shook her head as associate degree went diving into the grot main puddle, britches smoking beneath the casting iron home base he is wearing over his mole. He apparently forgot that one of the volatile compound he carried at the ready would go off at the least faulty motion…why would he keep it down there though ?

She just rolled her center to the heavens…



**********************
**********************
It has been a officious two week since the demise of schoolmaster Finneous and John Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent solidifying of ‘ consultation'sanctioned by the social club are goose egg more than a political campaign of affright, deterrence and compulsion to cue all of Providence who rules the town. Of class, a few of the more ambitious fellow member of the guild also took the social occasion to encourage their own promotion from within the guild…

A knife in a superordinate back, appropriately poisoned, does help out with this promotion procedure…until such a time your underling amplification your new posture by ratting you out to the gramps, and then you wonder why you are about to be executed in a pit of rabid rats…

For she whose eyes are alight with amethyst attack, the weeks have been even longer, two key items she needs to have crafted by topical anaesthetic reservoir seem to never get finished. Day by day she waits and hopes for the content that they are cook to arrive. Day by day the message never comes, and her patience begins to fray at the edges…

Two hanker week where with each passing day the agents under master Cinnius have harmed more than and more innocent people ; the continuing and growing campaign of terror, sanctioned ultimately by the Grandfather of bravo. One more criminal offense for them to pay for…

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

Thus she has come to suffer in the endorse elbow room of a toymaker this night…

With the most appease, attender of care, each of the egg-sized spheres is examined for the smallest of flaws ; and none are to be found. Her feral grin is matched by that of the toymaker standing future to her ; both of hers and the one remaining of his gleaming with reflection of the coming crepuscule of the 2d king…

"Fire with ardour, which is what you instructed ; just do not drop any of them, the results of course would be fairly impressive and rather final. Those idiots of the guild never figured I know the arts of interpersonal chemistry as well as being a toymaker. Now through you I can have my revenge upon them after so many long years…"he shook his head in long have sadness.

12 years ago, for making a small mistake in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at brand pointedness by a guild phallus, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight children before his eyes. Then forever scarred him as a admonisher - burning off the odd side of meat of his face and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away ; he has never forgotten the pain, nor the atrocious resolution for retaliation to be exacted on the tormentor of his - Cinnius - if the chance arrived.

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

She hands him a close letter containing the initial contact information for those who see him to safety ; 1 who specialize in smuggling hoi polloi to freedom and who are voice of her own web. While he looks at the info she disappears out the rachis door and into the safety of the shadows. No one, not even a cat laying down ten inches from the door, senses her passage.

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


***************
***************
The surveil two hebdomad sees arrant topsy-turvydom sweep the street agents of the order. The ordinary gossip heard in shops and among actor has suddenly been replaced with Son of a brewing power battle within the guild leadership, of a competition social club from another city, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be wilder and more unbelievable than the final stage and always tertiary, fourth or even fifth hand from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

Only one stream of the rumor is unceasing - three players, Masters Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon.

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

He gives orders for his own factor to bump the generator of these hearsay, or face the most hideous death that they could imagine…


=======
Her amethyst eyes sparkle in the subdued brightness level of the moonlight coming into the room from the window. Once again her own street agents have excelled beyond all sane expectations ; pressure and yet more pressure is being put on the guilds agents as they hunt for the truth…or what they perceive as the truth behind the rumors…

Paranoia can be so handy to clear life low-down for assassins…

The softest of footfall draws her attending to the door where her Associate enters.

He bows politely and announces he has some news from others he is in striking with…ones that will make up the end of this Holman Hunt truly worthwhile if they agree to join…

"My noblewoman,"he said,"I have come from the drawing card of those who are in waiting, before they will trust fully to our design they want ‘ striking proof of the gild being vulnerable.'It must leave no doubtfulness in the matter. I told them that such a topic is already being prepared ; just to let them get it on who is in control of this Hunt. These assassins have allowed the anger to build against them for so long, by so a good deal fear that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the presentment will bring those who wait into our fold."

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


************************
Near the new ale-house which is a front for the assassinator'guild's operation, the master tap room is flowing with customers coming and going. The back way this Night also are fighting as member and factor move in and out with clockwork precision. well-nigh bring collections from loans, blackmail, extortion and other cuts from businesses for ‘ insurance policy'reasons.

Some of the delivery though are for payment of contract bridge taken out on business concern rivals…one being sent to overlord Cinnius.

This endowment for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the bound are brilliant, almost living works of half-bloomed rose, and the relief of passe-partout Gordon's manor family. It is the employment of many master journeyman and worth a destiny in and of itself.

Yet the guild takes few chances ; as a especial isthmus of stealer who are trained in the room of hole crafting and of disarming them checks it over in exacting detail - their lives depend on it as if they fail…swift, brutal death.

To the salutary they can determine, there is naught amiss ; only a faint level of dust upon the wrapping cloth and the wooden box itself. Obviously some apprentice carver failed to dust it off prior to shipping it here…still as per the standing orders of granddaddy the box is opened, to ensure no unpleasant surprises await within.

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

Inside they find a master set of billiard balls, the favor game of schoolmaster Cinnius, plus a letter written in the flux hand of Master Gordon…

My associate Cinnius - the letter opens - please accept this as my gift for ten days of quiet oeuvre. Soon we shall reap the harvesting of our efforts ; may you enjoy the many secret plan to be played with this billiards set - Gordon.

Many people examine the item, passing them around to see if any are trapped. Nearby the guards standing sentry keep their artillery at the gear up ; prepared to instantly step in if risk threatens, of course if one of the examiners just up and dies then they will support their ground to account later directly to grandpa of the events.

Ragner, the current agent in charge of the procedure smiles as his men hire in some fun ; tossing the billiard balls back and forth, juggling them and raising small clouds of the junk that came from inside the box. He tells the guards to get together in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of grandfather has its advantages after all, and if something does go incorrectly - they can remove the fall.

However at the moment, considering the letter from captain Gordon, he wonders if much more than is afoot at the time. Plots within plots, deception within deception, cartel no one…

Still…

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

The letter that has information that Grandfather has offered payment for…a defrayal he finds all too influence to decease up.

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

Turning to his own agent Jambis, he hands the missive to him with operating instructions that this is to get back to the guild, and directly to the gramps. Many see him manus a lowly token, a medallion that bears the personal marks of the grandfather to Jambis - this is a flip for emergency brake or critical substance only.


Right now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH ; critical information the grandpa may ask, to avoid a coup attempt staged to unseat him.

former agents whom directly answer to the granddaddy hear Ragner mutter"…this time Gordon has gone too far…a game and a coup…or a motility to set up Cinnius, or another setting up Gordon…"

As they speed off one by one, their information reaches the head teacher of the lodge before the mysterious letter does.

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

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

He only holds onto that geartrain of thinking for a few here and now ; before turning to more important matters, of how he is going to spend his payoff and use his succeeder here to advance within the guild.

Out of the corner of his eye Ragner catches a serial of distinct movements, the flashing and glistening of color that tells him of a special kind of danger now approaching his arena. He focuses his entire attention upon the ending threat, appearing as relaxed and effortless as he can while watching, hearing, and waiting for the to the lowest degree bit of data that can grant him an edge in the impending encounter…

Three figures approach, their flowing and bustled nightdress, double laced vests with frilly edging ; and gloves that flow up to their human elbow match the snow-clad pile of hats and ribbons binding their raven inkiness hairsbreadth ; their centre of sapphire blue would affirm their allegiance if the same coloration of their clothing and shading parasols did not…

THREE Sisters of the Blue in one gathering !

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

Then he sees the bodyguards of the gentleman the sisters are entertaining flanking him, fore, aft and to the position ; thus changing the thin enviousness Ragner was feeling into deferential terror…

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

Such opulence Ragner plans to have as his own and all too soon ; with the wages promised by granddaddy he can have any number of the Sisters of the amobarbital sodium with him at any time he wishes…

There is much he has to plan, and carefully…

Plans within plan, a harvest ready to be reaped…

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

For soon, the absolute quiet of the grave accent fills the area…



*************************
Atop a nearby roof a line of rough gargoyles watch with their eternal gaze upon the scene below ; nearby they are shaded from the rut of the day by a pair of mighty oak trees over a century feet in acme, plus a chimney long bricked up, that daily casts its shadow across them as well. For as recollective as anyone in Providence recalls these statues have maintained their silent vigil, the unmoving protector and registrar of the Town history.

One other watches the seat of the ale-house, the federal agent playing their biz and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her forever silent chuckle as the plot stops with all too suddenly for the instrumentalist. The amentia of these Western assassins and their dingbat agents never ceases to amuse and storm her.

Keeping a heedful numeration, knowing her window of opportunity is dead, she scans the expanse again and again with her eyes of amethyst ardour. At the reckoning predetermined end, she makes trusted her harness bag is snug about one berm and quickly spring to one Tree, descending with all due hastiness and a last saltation from a low arm to the door at the rear of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally unsounded guards, thief, agentive role and assassinator of the operations here ; as they are no longer a threat in any form…so long as she does not have-to doe with them with her stop pelt. Silent as death she slips into the dorsum room, bypassing a ransom money of gems, coins, gem and jewelry fit for a hundred kings. Wealth beyond most people's resourcefulness lays receptive to her fingertips…and means nothing for her…

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

She halts column inch away from the board upon which the trapped box eternal rest. Before she gets close to the box there are precautions to be taken : the donning leather boxing glove ; binding a thick fabric masquerade across her lip and olfactory organ ; and then taking a prominent rag in handwriting, she soaks it thoroughly with a bottle of prepared oil.

She takes no chances ; as the risk of infection of the trap still linger until cope with…and are all too deadly…

With Jonathan Swift, accurate motion, continuing a second count for the remainder of the windowpane still outdoors, she rubs down every surface, inside and out, of the wooden surfaces. Collecting each billiard ball, they in good turn are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she substitution the booby trapped box with the substantial gift for Master Cinnius…one that will birth a very warm response to him…she will subscribe to nothing else ; or her efforts may come to nothing…

She pulls out a bag from her harness bag, places the box into it and then, with the utmost care, soaks her gloves with the prepared oil until she is sure they are devoid of the rubble that so irritate Ragner until his ending…then the gloves and rag join the at bay box in the bag.

For a moment, looking down at the mass murder her and familiar efforts have wrought, she wonders what variety of looks will be on the facial expression of Master Gordon when he hears of the mathematical process farthermost failure. Of line in the case of Master Cinnius…she will get it on when he has received his talent in a special manner indeed ...

"Fire with blast,"is what the alchemist declared back when she picked up the minuscule surprisal for Cinnius. Oh how avowedly that shall become, with an extra twirl to it.

One rule the assassins forget when they come into positions 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 counting she hastens on down the street, joining the assembly crowds who are drawn to the hue and yell for aid by a patrol of the constable. Whispers start as to what or who could cause brought him down with such focal ratio, as he is still Cy Young and in draw near perfect health.

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

Soon enough the hue and cry is sounded from the back of the ale-house ; the massacre having been discovered by the next shift of guild agent arriving. In revulsion some flee the view, screaming for their very lives, while the residue starting signal demanding answers of those living nearby or passing on the street. Despite their best and most violent substance of demanding the result, no one has seen anything…

Save for those who are now dead…which will rarify their asking the three score and five corpses lying around the binding of the ale-house any questions. Even an examination of the corps themselves reveals trivial save that they, just like Jambis, appear to consume died of heart stop…and then five of the examiners of the soundbox themselves pass into the next world within the quarter hour…plus those who have dared to move the bodies for sepulture details…

By the end of"The jinx"as it comes to be known, over five grudge and seven guild agents and assassin lay absolutely. In one present moment, the gild has been dealt a devastating blow ; one that an agentive role who is sent to report to the social club leadership sums up so well…

"Oh man, grandfather is not going to be very happy over this tragedy. I'll be fortunate 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 Grandfathers factor handing him a package that contained a varsity letter found upon the consistence of Jambis - meant to be delivered for the granddad eyes only. During his all too Swift travel to the social club residence, and to the door of Grandfathers crapper elbow room, he kept figuring the many ways a man could be boiled in oil…and cringed with each one, expecting that to be his fate.

granddaddy's aid received the bundle, opened it and say the varsity letter aloud to all give. Just after he finishes, his middle glaze over and he falls backwards, dead as anything as the last traces of debris dissipate off the vellum page.

The messenger knew in the instant grandad's stern regard fell across his own that doom was now upon him. He was wrongfulness about being boiled in oil ; instead his ending came as he was lowered in by inch into molten bronze, and a end mask of his entire soundbox created, a unequalled statue soon added to those of Grandfathers innermost sanctum.

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


======
In the shelter of a safe house they have established, one to be abandoned for effective once their disguise and the trapped box are disposed of in the fireplace, Associate bows his head in acknowledgement of her achiever. As she changes from one outfit to another, he can not celebrate from watching, seeing her bared physical body in the light is a mass to behold. Well he can always dream…right now business calls…not to mention the store of the knife just missing him down there by a bit…

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

She quickly conveys the carnage wrought using the silent signal language.

The image he derives brings out a serial of chuckles that flow into a torrent of laughter ; one simple trap has wrought such carnage on the performance of the assassin's guild. The recherche demise of the patrol leader Jambis is supernumerary frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not return the death blow…

Yet the residue of his patrol…hmmm…

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

Her verbalism turns purely feral, and a quick nod follows. With that additional bit of business organization concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the next portion of the plan. Tonight the rumor of the streets will turn to silence ; no more hearsay of the three Masters will be heard, thus many will usurp the rumor are rightful, building fear and paranoia higher and higher within the guild…

As if the trap in the ale-house could not breathe in more than fear…such a dim-witted, elegant trap…

"spunk stop,"he says softly, then gives a insidious chuckle.

heart and soul Stop is one of the most insidious of toxicant from the Far East that few of the amateurs here in the West would know or even dream, to exist. Indeed, his lady has learned her lessons well…

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

It can be prepared as a fine, dust like powder that upon the inter-group communication with denudate human skin is quickly absorbed, yet kills only minutes later ; stooping their hearts cold. What makes it so subtle and insidious of a cakehole is the fact that those who contacted it, can extend the poison dust as well through a handshake, slap on the backrest, an physical object being passed around, so that it can kill a second, third and sometimes a 4th time.

olibanum the resulting butchery at the ale-house operations…and if the letter reached the gramps innermost sanctum, many a death there as well…hopefully.

He has to think of that picayune trick ; it may come in handy again some day…Just like the surprise for lord Cinnius that she has arranged…

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

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

Until the moment someone stagger by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the guards of Master Gerald of the club. They scowl and threaten with glances, mannerism and words ; the inelegant language of common and brainless thugs who would birth no hazard against him.

Associate bows politely and with complete complaisance to passe-partout Gerald ; who, to his absolute amazement stops and talks with him for a few mo. In the pretense of a foreign merchant, selling rarified secret plan of hazard and that of billiards, he speaks of the most recent parliamentary law he delivered to Master Gordon - a well crafted wooden box of billiards for a present to one of his friends.

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

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

Associate continues on his take business, stopping to tattle with a series of store possessor and vendor in the heart-to-heart market place ; followed of course for some time by one of master key Gerald's guards - just to micturate sure no kind of comical business is going on.

familiar finds it quite amusing that he managed to walk passed the man three times and relieve him ever so subtly of his change pocketbook, dagger and a deck of cards of playing cards - not to note the stupid feathering in the mans hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible ease he did the Same with passe-partout Gerald's coin pocketbook it should be no surprise. Feeling the weight of coins and jewelry within each one, the Associate slips them into an inner undershirt pocket and heads on his way. Some days he can not help but smile at the sheer incompetence that these so-called"Masters of Death."

Even the high-risk of his feller educatee and kinsperson of the Far East are equal or honest than them.

Now then to the matter at hand, he will address shortly with the quietus of Jambis patrol ; and testify the guild moron what a reliable passe-partout of end can inflict…he just needs to get his hands on some change purse of maestro Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


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As Masters Cinnius and Gerald psyche to get out the meshwork of warehouse and shop, the false coverage for the society of assassinator, people see them wearing smell of wrath and terror ; for they have survived a ‘ civil meeting'with the granddaddy of Assassins…and what a coming together it was…

The Grandfather stood before the two of them, clad in his personal sleeve and armor for battle ; two slews of his unspoiled and deadliest body guards surrounding him. ALL of the guards have blades drawn and held at ready, in an instant any suicidal attacker will perish under poisoned steel…assuming that the lade crossbow held by the Grandfather did not land up them first.

His give-and-take was direct and angriness filled ; not to observe emphatic on its lucidity :

Among the three overlord - Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius - one of them is nearing the culmination of planning for a coup. The sight of Grandfathers novel bronze statue, a belatedly and unfortunate person messenger from the ale-house mass murder, stands as viewer in muted, locked, screaming torment of the fate that may be soon to amount for the two of them…

grandad explains in dewy-eyed terms for the two there before him - stand loyal and on his slope and you may survive, possibly advancing in situation and magnate."The choice is yours though, if you think you can overcome me with Gordon, then endeavour to do so ; just understand what will befall those who fail…"

He motioned with an cover hand over to the new statue…

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

The sheer, utter, shocked horror that crosses their faces is actual. Never before could they have imagined just how far and stark Grandfather controlled his own web of spies and agents ; they must take additional care in any movement made to foresee Gordon.

"This coming coup will die. Of that have no dubiousness the two of you, it will fail,"he declared in a simmer down vocalization of atomic number 26 control.

There are to a greater extent than a few who overhear their not too quiesce conversation ; its accounting system passes through the society within the hr. clue commence to flux with speculation and theories ; each one being spun and twisted until they become accepted as the basis for fact and the true.

well-nigh have come to find out that Master Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor house ; his personal agents though are following fellow member of his sign staff, plus other appendage of the society as well. Just this activeness, green among the order already, lends more fuel to the flack about the coup ; only this sentence it seems to be that Masters Cinnius and Gerald are being set up as a decoy, or hook.

None can be trusted who of the three professional is in on the coup, who is decoy and sacrifice, or if person else is setting up a greater game to pack down the Grandfather as well…all three make horse sense to the assassins.

For Master Cinnius though, the meeting with Grandfather ended with a doubtful promotion of sorts ; one that held all the voltage of vast wealth and unexpected doomsday. One that all too clearly Grandfather was using for subterraneous motives…and for his own survival at the top of the gild pecking order…

"Cinnius,"grandfather began,"The restoration of the collecting is now your task ; Gordon has proven not to be up to the task and thus is now removed from it,"he gestured with his hands, then slapped them together in a statement of finality, leading the eternal rest of those pose to wonder if a last prison term 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 ‘ interruption'to the operations ; we are losing human face and control over the city with each disruption to our operations…no mistakes will be accepted or tolerated…even the random implementation are no longer working as desired,"Grandfather explained.

Many of the guild fellow member understand the all too clear message hidden in his discussion. The guild is in control of the intact urban center, the undisputed rulers and masters of Providence and the surrounding lands ; no one may challenge them in any way and be suffered to live. To cue people who dared to protest the ‘ investigations'brought about by the end of Finneous and his devotee, Kimberly, 60 citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their stallion kin in populace - the toll any defiance to the guilds pattern will bring.

Yet while the people looked on in stark silence and threat, some of them looked on with pure anger in their eyes…a well-defined sign that the control of fear and affright was no longer having the desired impression. And if those who control Providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their topic mentation turn to revenge and justice for all of the assassin's offense ?

Considering that these execution squad were led by skipper Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the first to fall if any sort of uprising does occur…And Master Gordon was the one to deliver the message, via an agentive role, to hold out the executions on behalf of the grandpa wishes.

Now the two begin to inquire - was the note really explaining the will of the granddad ? Or is gramps playing a great game with Gordon ; weeding out the disloyal and unneeded, to further fasten his already iron strong hold on the society ?

Or could someone else be playing one chemical group off against another…no, no one inside our out of the guild would even defy think of doing that. The guild of Providence is the deadliest in the world ; no other has dared to reach challenge against its travelling bag on Providence in a hundred, and the legend of those who tried are still told as tales of the worst nightmares made reality.

"We must make believe our plans to sell with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with inviolable finality,"he is ahead of us on the chessboard by a wide of the mark margin, and we need to upset the momentum he is building."

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

That conclusion question left them cold to the core of their being ; they, the masters of inflicting fear and terror for the sake of control, are now losing control portion by portion. In losing ascendance, they understand concern and scourge from a new perspective, and do not like it at all.


======
"In warm memory of one who fell so young, Jambis, may he long be remembered for all he had done,"called out the merchant who is paying for everyone's deglutition this night. Sipping on the tartness degustation slop they call wine and flavour in this execrable tavern, he eyes each patron and worker as they pass along his field of imaginativeness. With all too much easiness he identifies the diverse agents working for the social club ; specifically that most of them are those who answer directly to Grandfather.

"To Jambis, and all he had done,"everyone shouted out, glasses raised or clanking together in celebration for the free drink and nutrient. The barkeeper smiling as the merchant hands over a pouch gruelling with coins, amber and Ag, plus many precious gems for the party tonight ; many comment that it is a Night to be remembered for some sentence, and as a real surprise, a wagon with a score and ten tally of minuscule wooden tun's of life, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the dorsum of the patrol wagon and commence to manhandle the heavy loading inside ; causing a serial of gasp, ooh's and ah's from all the guild agents within. They can state these are the okay of the finest in drinks, each keg is worth a baron's ransom money and here there are thirty in number…

The delivery man nods at the merchant, and then tells the party goers,"good manners of lord Gordon, we were instructed by a messenger of his to deliver these to you all, and quote ‘ With thanks and best wish for the future tense - Gordon.'End quote."

One of the patrol extremity of tardy John Constable Jambis calls for a toast to passe-partout Gordon. The merchandiser excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a sourness belly. He tells the barkeeper to let the liquor period 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 good little sycophant should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

"To master Gordon and his most exceptional generousness, and exquisite tasting in drinks,"the cheer is repeated three times by the bunch as the tun's are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the political party at hired hand. Well into the night the party carries on, seeing tun after tun emptied to the final dreg of drink that can possibly be extracted from it.

Outside the merchandiser sees the last man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called Jackson. He is able to approach Jackson with nary a whisper of sound being made, and sends him sprawling to the terra firma with a quick blow to his breast and incline of his jaw. So elusive is this that to any untrained percipient, the merchant is just helping his passed out friend home.

one-half dragging him into the alleyway, the merchant meets with another man, the one who delivered the tun's of drink earlier."Tie him up well and train 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 ladies personal broker, nods ; he can not help but shiver at the mention of Associates ‘ pets.'Such a fortune should not happen to anyone, yet as the trance patrol work for the club, he can give an exception. Besides which, these two have shown the society is vulnerable after all ; so he made for certain the room access was give earlier in the stowage for familiar to taint the tun's of drink.

All in all, this is a very good night.

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



======
The forenoon sees Master Gerald pacing the length of his manor great Radclyffe Hall, confusedness and worry clearly visible on his face. His personal guards pick up on his unease, as anything that can hold their boss act this way has to be taken as a antecedency threat ; their own lives depend upon it.

Within a day of their meeting with Grandfather, Masters Gerald and Cinnius met ; setting their plans into natural action and making future tense preparedness. For their sake ( of keeping awake ), they keep grandad informed of their every action. It is decided they will task their own agents to follow those of Gordon's, recording each and every human action and contact made.

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

Each Master in turn, once back at their respective the three estates, orders that spare agentive role be attached to watch their respective counterparts ; just on the off opportunity the beau overlord is about to make a duple or triple cross. As three Thomas More Day go, they begin to suspect Gordon is up to exactly - nothing. No programme or moves are apparent to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the nighttime forty of the gild factor, all of them Grandfathers, have perished. They were attending a party given by a visiting merchandiser, in award of the belated John Constable Jambis, and for the rice beer of his surviving patrol extremity. All of the ale and liquor delivered came with the pecuniary resource of Gordon and a substance saying :"With Thanks and Best Wishes for the future - Gordon."

All that anyone is absolutely sure as shooting of is that the patrol departed, one member at a clock time, and that the drink are doctored - using a type of rare toxicant favored by Gordon and his topper factor.

"find out if Gordon or another did this human activity,"Gerald shouted at his tip agentive role,"Redouble the efforts on collecting any and all data on the street, find out anything you can, and I do think of anything at all…GO !"

By nightfall they have an menacing sign that shouts volumes to anyone who understands ; the streets have gone still. Completely silent save for the agents of grandpa, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the polarity of a pending coup seem to be confirmed at finish. most are now assuming that sea captain Gordon is going for broke, to involve down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a triple play - they appear to betray the guild and granddaddy ; who in routine eliminates them, and then becomes vulnerable to Gordon…

To Master Gordon, upon hearing the news of his agents being watched, decides HE is the target for a free fall ; the scapegoat for the pending coup of Gerald and Cinnius…who else would dare strike at an operation under his personal charge…shame and discredit him, then annihilate him while setting granddaddy up for the fall..

It makes perfect sense in its own convoluted way.

"So be it,"Gordon declares. His creative thinker is made up, the betrayers have to die for setting HIM up, whichever of them it might be ; and on the off chance the gramps of bravo is setting all of them up, he will go for control of the guild.

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


======
Standing upon the richly wooden pigeon loft of the warehouse, Associate holds the concluding man of late John Constable Jambis patrol, Old Hickory, by the corduroy that binds his articulatio talocruralis together. The panic-stricken man, upside down, looks at his pending fate far below, the twenty dollar bill and four heavy phase, moving fast and with power for such massive beasts, their six inch ivory red with the blood and lacerated flesh of the others who went down before him…

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

There shall be no mercy.

"Listen,"their captor told each in turn, as he had told Jackson,"try to die with a bit of lordliness ; at least go to your ancestors with some grace so you can say you died with your honor intact."

companion repeatedly cries out to his dearie, whipping them into a frenzy of death and dismemberment, the shrill razz and battle cry harshly assaulting the ear ; thunderous retorts rebound off the mostly evacuate warehouse I. F. Stone walls, instilling even more holy terror in his shaking captive.

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

"Please…don't putting to death me…what did we ever do to you…"Helen Maria Fiske Hunt 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 order executioners would cringe from inflicting on anyone…maybe…

"Oh alright already, I'll let you go just to stop hearing your dreadful whining ; hapless, you should front death with a warrior's fearless bursting charge and keep open your dignity…"companion declared.

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

"Yes I will,"Associate said as the roach bindings separate due to the slashes already scored weakening them.

"AGHHHH !"Jackson screamed on his downwardly plunge, followed by the meaty thwack of him hitting the flooring below.

comrade watches with disinterest on his expression, hearing the demise screams knelling out gaudy and realize as his favorite go to knead on the man. Soon enough secrecy, save for the watering of flesh, crushing of bone and casual razzing and grunt remain to be heard.

familiar shakes his nous, wondering why such an moron would actually believe he would set him exempt ; he only promised to let him go…in this compositor's case to feed his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already utterly ; he would eff to have finished him off, a debt owed for the beast kicks delivered to his head that day.

Soon enough though his solitaire will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the elimination of his sister and her fellowship will perish in the Saame manner…maybe covered in dissolve cheese to improve the flavour for his pets…


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Darius, master toymaker and general mad man of Providence walked into the flower shop looking for the dame who runs it - Clairice. To the bewilderment of everyone around he looks at the tree diagram, waving friendly to them and mutters about the pauperism to ‘ build that flying car today.'

For three weeks since the death of Jambis patrol members, he has heard the history growing by the hour of how they had been responsible for the death of Grandfathers two mark of agent. Each time he hears the story told over and over, he chuckles an insane chortle, covering up his tangible glee at their dying by his own hands.

Among the knickknacks he sees several amercement clocks, locks, and other gizmos that are of interest ; yet he needs to get her paid back first - she gave him the funds he needed to get his workshop up and running once again. He sees her bent over the countertop, hands clasped against the far side as she looks down at the floor.

"Hey Clairice,"he shouted, waving frantically to get her attention. Coming to her he plops down on the floor cross-legged, looking up into her eyes. She motions repeatedly with her hand for him to scoot on out the threshold, even as her sassing opens and closes in dumb gasps and moan ; she gulps now and then while her eyes flutter rapidly.

One time he sees her clasp her clenched fist in her mouthpiece, eyes closing as her eubstance tremor briefly in time with some haphazardness coming from behind the counter. Her silent gasps continue, oculus glazing over as she tightens her grip on the counterpunch again, both custody holding firm and strong. When she manages to regain a bit of equanimity, once again she tries to beckon him out the room access. Her hands move swiftly in an intricate gesture, telling him in no uncertain terms to scram…

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

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

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

He sees her shift again, then a third clock time. A unwavering cycle of slapping sounds coalesce in with the yell of some kind of animal catch his attention. Sudden inspiration bang and he pulls out of his harness-bag a hatful of clean parchment, charcoal gray pencils and a ruler to set out quickly putting his idea to newspaper publisher. For the second Clairice is all but forgotten by him.

She fights to keep her body from moving forward, she mouths a silent cry of wild delight and bliss. Each move of the gentleman's humanness inside of her pushes the waves of bliss and pleasance forward with unstoppable vitality. Just a bit before Darius arrived the butler of Master Gordon arrived with a twelve rosiness from his bosses'estate ; he offered her some of them for a fee - when she could not fit the asked for quantity in coin he asked about another variety of ‘ transaction.'

For such a rare prize the monetary value is worth it, or so she hopes.

pushing her disheveled whisker out of her fount, she had been having her womanhood explored by his hands and sassing when Darius entered ; now though he speeds up his activeness, not concerned in her own joy one bit - all that subject is his own penury, and he makes all style of insults of headmaster Gordon, especially about how easy it was to use up the pink wine right off the estates reason under his very nose.

One final series of rich, forte and bellowing oink and groans from the butler sends his life seed deep inside of her. For once in her life story she is gladiola that she can not get significant, for she would never want a child conceived of by this monster…

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

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

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

Clairice does not see topic in such a light.

Sharp botheration shoots up into her brain, eyes flaring wide as her teeth sting into her rim with enough force to draw a trickle of blood from them. Thrust by painfulness filled thrust he works his manhood in and out of her, not of her muliebrity, but of a more spiritualist and private area nearby.

His script roam up under her shirt, straining the cockeyed saltation fabric of her vest as they find and crush her white meat.

"Now my dear,"he says calmly between grunts of excitement,"I hope this character will process as a reminder that I will not accept any treachery kindly ; your secrecy means you will survive. One word of honor on where the flowers come from and you die."

The next five minutes are a Wave of fiery agony as his hands tighten their grip on her bosom, his manhood pumping for all he is worth in an out of that pip ; then he hits his spillage 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, sustain your sass shut and you will hold out. Next time I bring some rosebush though, make sure there is another char here with you. I want to see you have sex with her right before I rape you into submission like the cocotte you now are. unspoiled day."

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

Had anyone watching bothered to look at Darius, they would have seen the fury leave his middle, purest of slaying and rage filling them in turn. His hand hovered just on the edge of a knife hilt, ready to be thrown and dependent the target with one of the deadliest of toxicant's he who is not Darius knows how to make.

He has been commanded not to do anything, no matter what happened to her. Yet he will, when the meter comes to bring the plan to an end, give his day with the butler if he still lives…after he deals with the granddad of Assassins and regains his name.

She who is not Clairice finally regained some of her lost calmness from the brutal ending of the encounter ; for the program to advance she will brave out anything…in the end the answer will more than justify it.


========
Over the adjacent hour agent of the Constable and Masters Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald menstruum in and out of her store, having her detail again and again all that happened between her and the butler.

Darius had to be escorted out of the workshop at one point so he would not damage the flush from Gordon's estate ; he was trying to settle down a ‘ argument'between the flower and a half fill cup of water. He kept touching the petals and leafage of each prime, encouraging them to ‘ get back their disputes with the nice cup as a civilized being should do these daytime,'pure fury indeed.

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

He does congratulate Clairice on how she prepared the flowers for shipping ; they are still deaden with moisture from being watered. Looking at the other flowers on exhibit he decides to come back later and purchase some for his wife.

One of his Aides gathers up the multiple copies of her testimony and then divides them among the agents for the three Masters. The auxiliary plays a most grave game, appearing as a confidant for all three Masters while he is actually working for the granddaddy of assassinator directly.

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

What they fail to understand is that in the larger secret plan, a irregular king is set for checkmate ; while the others are on the way to the same…

Tonight the shop will be vacated…

The gambit continues towards the striking end for the bit King of Four.



***********************
"My lady,"Associate says with mildness and compassionateness in his vocalism ; he cringes to see such painful sensation in those amethyst optic. He can not comprehend the pain and mortification she has withstood to get on their plan. He has good news though ; the one who loved to visit such painful sensation and humiliation has fallen…

"We have confirmation of the street rumors ; the consistence of Master Gordon's Butler has been found. It appears he was tortured into making some sort of confession and then executed by pelt stealing."He shook his head at the thought of such a barbaric execution ; the literal error skinning of a victim one lame column inch at a clock time using knifes and special battery-acid to raise the nuisance and reach out the victims lifespan.

"For former news, we have word from our agents that the real Clairice and Darius have been safely smuggled to freedom. Jesmine and her family will be, in their words, ‘ soon to come safely in a new abode and life.'All of the pre-agreed to confirmation words are there, so it is authentic."

He looks upon her with major humiliation on his countenance.

"My dame, I have to say, the success we have managed to attain by taking the persona of Clairice and Darius before the James Henry Leigh Hunt began…a reliable stroke of adept on your part. Also those who lead the groups in waiting are now fully committed ; those innocent family executed by the lodge as ‘ examples,'plus the offset strike we have made convinced them. The solar day of the order are now of a very limited numeral. They only need the word from you and the end secret plan commences."


===========
Master Cinnius has come to the ale-house surgical operation, mostly to double tab yet again on all expression of the new, superimposed security he has installed. Grandfathers warning had been made all too pull in - if he fails to stop any perturbation in the operations, then HE will be held responsible ; and that end will be a mercifulness for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the guards are now tripled ; both those visible inside and outside the topographic point, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - bows ready to be used in an wink. Their rules of order are dim-witted, train and very clear : anyone who may pose any kind of scourge are to be cut down without mercy. They are to hold back a double lookout man, as Cinnius expects a Jonathan Swift, angry retributive strike from Master Gordon to come all too soon.

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

So it has come to the endorse reason for him to be here…relaxation. Three hebdomad of never-ending silence ; tensity in the air so thick one could cut it with a muffled knife, has all but frayed his nerves. So it is he has come to spud some billiards, his favored game. The set was sent to him long before the stream fuss with Gordon, a master crafted marvel without flaws…he will keep it as a trophy and a reminder of better days and times…and goner Gordon each time he plays after the craven turncoat lies dead at his feet.

"No sentiency to let such a endowment go unused,"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 offer,"he declared to his safety and elder agentive role gathered around,"yet he has chosen to betray granddaddy. Thus we will enjoy the secret plan, and when he starts his coup - we shall go and vote out him as perfectly as possible. Now let's have some fun this night before the fervency of battle come forth."

Cinnius watched his men laugh and joke around, the ribald atmosphere allowing him to relax for one fourth dimension, a rare and true smile of hilarity coming forth. As he prepares his cue joint, many wager on the turn of ballock to be sunk on the breaking shot.

He crinkle up the pool joint with the cue ball, adjusting for the unadulterated breach that he is justly famed for among all of the guild and in Providence."Let the fervour of battle come Forth River,"he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

COUGH !

The pool stick goes flying over the table, landing on the far position with a solid, echoing crash. Everyone cringes at the looking at of out-and-out execution on Cinnius's face. The offender quickly apologizes, gets the pool joint and hands it back with all proper behaviour to one who can kill him in so many horrendous ways.

"Okay, now for the perfect tense shot, for the perfect game,"he says with a smile, cod brass relaxing once again.

Lining the shot up once again, he focuses completely on the shift he wants to wee-wee, six clod sent into the six pockets, the everlasting stroke for the opening. Delighted in the setup, he draws back again, preparing for the stroke of all shots…

ACHOOO !

Once again the pool control stick goes to the floor, once again the murderous look comes forth ; though this time the wrongdoer does not affect, his associates holding knife to his affection, cervix, jaw and organs, waiting for the here and now Cinnius orders his spill or execution. They look to him with clear expectation, wanting to rejoin the game so badly break twice already.

"Just hold him there in complete silence while I take the snapshot,"Cinnius said. His kitty stick brought by another, he lines up the shot for the third time ; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another interruption, then turns and makes the shot with full, raw nerved brute force delivery…

whang !

The cue ball is smacked with a short, intense explosion of the stick, sending it on its all too shortstop journeying towards the early balls ; the small, touchy container held within shattering completely ; thus the potpourri of volatile liquids, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and become a Wiccan brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…



=======
Upon her face he sees a tacit question being asked."My lady I have made certain the flower shop class appears to possess been fled in due haste to allow us - you and me as the fictitious Clairice and Darius - to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled notes with final obstetrical delivery to be made via the metropolis couriers."

"As per your plan,"his grin turned into a wicked smile ; the images at looseness of panic and paranoia coming to the survivor around their chosen prey brings companion a clean amount of amusement.

"those prime going as ‘ gifts'to the various order assassinator, agent and their leaders, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ heart stop'poison ; in the metre it takes for it to become executable, the couriers will be secure ; of course after the delivery are made, some of the assassinator will not be safe, or breathing for that matter by solar day end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue clod smack with brutal violence into the other balls ; such is the force the coalesce liquidity within the cue lump, a Wiccan brew called by alchemists"liquidity Hellfire"responds in a fierce, raw and prominent explosion of flame and force, the shockwave caressing the other balls and expanding into the rooms proportion before anyone can even comprehend what has happened…

By this time though, the nine early clod, carefully tailored and textured to hide out the explosive liquidity within, react in benevolent detonation to the shockwaves caress. These ten blasts, bouncing off the solid and duncish stone wall that separate the front and backsides of the ale mansion, smash walls, crush furniture and chest of drawers, toss goods around and save blow that crush and tear at the gild agents and guards exhibit, rending osseous tissue and bursting Hammond organ along with compressing brain matter to a pulped mass.

Those who somehow survive these blows are within an instant hit and burned by fire so hot that bone itself ignites and powders. For those beyond the fireballs range, the atomic number 26 and steel shards, jagged and flying at insane velocity, preset around the interior of the nut shred them even more.

So majuscule is the force out generated that the very cap itself on the backrest half of the ale-house is raised over six feet. Those on the streets see it fly up, and descend with enough military force to shake the ground for a considerable distance.

phallus of the guild lay suddenly and injured all over the street, some felled in the initial blast ; others by the collapse of nearby building social movement sundered resign by hellish forces ; partial dead body, and bared limbs that move for a legal brief time amid plenty of shattered, mangled wood, glassful and brickwork tell of the charnel house mounds they have become.

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





=======
The return of artificial thunder, followed by the loud, hollow, booming clunk of the roofs descent coming to an end draws the swift attention of Grandfather. He was walking on the heights balcony of his private chambers, deep in though about Gordon ; wondering for the 1st time if he had judged the berth wrong…then came the roar and tower of blast clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

He and his safeguard watched in transfixed repulsion the scene unfold, knowing instinctively that Gordon has just struck back at Cinnius ; and in a manner no one could have anticipated. Quickly his guards recover, raising their metal shields about his someone, on the off chance that arrows were even then heading to end the life sentence of their mission.

head into the depths of the guild hall, gramps shouted to all of his loyal - such as they are - minions to organize the defending team ; warning that the expected coup may be at hand. A lone blue runner is sent to investigate the matter, to report back with all haste. grandfather sees a most unexpected sight, though one that pleases him, that of master copy Gerald, present on lodge patronage, standing with the safeguard at the main doorway, prepared to take on the first assault with drawn blades.

Apparently Gerald fears death by the Grandfathers mitt if he failed, than to face his old assort Gordon.


======
associate degree and his lady had been observing the day from one of their many good theater's when the thunder came, clear and trenchant to their ears. They rushed to the window nearest that direction, in metre to see the last clawing flaming carry into the sky ; columns of pot rising steadily in tacit blackness as a shroud for the dead.

The two of them take a dumb delight in the realization that the second power of four is now dead. They had found his one weakness, the love of billiards and his pride in being the best instrumentalist in providence, and have brought him low.

"Wow, I guess that Master Cinnius has lost that game, bringing down the house in the process,"he said with a shrug of his shoulders."Who could have figured he had such an volatile temperament ? Oh, while I recall the issue, those poisoned efflorescence were sent out over Gordon's theme song of requital and pitch ; there is no sense in making sure the incorrectly somebody gets blamed after all…"

She just rolled her eyes unto the heavens at his attempt at wittiness ; secretly pleased to have him at her side, both for the companionship ( when he is not trying to stare at her naked body ), his sense of sense of humour, and his ability to adept and improvise on the spot when the program of theirs needs to be altered due to hand brake or chance that come about.

When she turns to him, catching his attention with her eyes, he gulps from the loving, bid, fiery smile she shows. He quietly excuses himself, the casting iron home over his humanity clanging against another bed of chain armour underneath…probably assuming another knife blade is on the way…

She looks back at the column of smoke, quite delight. Two are all in of the four. Soon enough the third will precipitate and the lawful terror for the guild will number in the end game. Soon justice for all of Providence will be delivered, and her Chosen gens, taken up after the death of her parents, will be fulfilled…

Soon…


======
Chaos reigns as the patrons from the front end of the ale-house and other street vendors and shops flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their crapulence or grabbing nursing bottle of drink from shelf as the roof commences to sag, then come down in a howl of sundered wood and gem. Many of those who flee head by the backside, seeing cumulus of coins, jewellery and muffin lying scattered about and make a screen grab for the freed fortune before them.

howl and cries of panic become fuel for many wild rumors, especially of the farseeing expected coup for the lead of the assassins'guild having begun. The veneration 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 brawl with the citizens who just want to get out of there. All too soon the expect glean of brand being unleash is to be seen, soon covered by wet redness along its length.

From hidden shadows high disk overhead, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding buildings, eight trope draw back on composite short bows, their lacquered surfaces dulled down with dirt and mud to cut off any gleam of light reflecting off of them. 8 knocked arrow - bakshis coated with the deadliest of maliciousness - credit line up with their selected targets…

Then with their leaders'subtle nod, they fly swift and dependable to their targets. Even as these eight figures begin to give, choking and gurgling into dying from the spite ; eight more arrows are inbound ; shortly to be joined by a hold up burst of eight more.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree at the back of the construction they throw their thrill and bows into the back of a readied station wagon. Quick from long practice, the eight hunters - master archers all who help feed the city by boar hunt in the godforsaken forests near Providence - hide their implements of war and rejoin city living, headed as so many others do in making bringing from one shop to another.

They had been returning from an abortive hunt in the woods ; when the blowup came, they saw an opportunity to score another C on the guild ; so it is the first base blow by the people of Providence is inflicted, the world-class of many to come…


======
"Gordon's troop are attacking !"come the hue and cry from the few guards still standing around in horror at the carnage. The cry is repeated again and again as the pointer fell one score and one of guild agent and sentry duty of the deep Master Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; buck everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard captain on obligation calls, just before a brick thrown by someone crash into his face ; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a ivory crushing get together with the terra firma below. With his final call, pandemonium breaks loose beyond notion ; as the rooftop guards keep abreast his hold out didactics to the letter, unleashing volley after salvo of crossbow bolts, tips coated with poison, into the amass mass below…

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

down feather below, those who survive the reign of pointer and then the monolithic salvos of crossbow missile turn on their assaulter from above. Many shout out that Gordon's military force are on the high dry land and commence to fire back with bowknot, crossbows, stone chunks and bricks. Anything they can get their hands upon is fair game to send upward, returning death for decease as the mass murder climbs with each passing second.


======
The lone agent of grandad sent by him to investigate the blow lookout man from around a shop class quoin in horror at the battle being waged before him ; he hears the citizens running past, the cries of guard duty and agent saying that sea captain Gordon is on the attack, then flees with all haste back to the guild hall and reports his news.

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

When that last thought echoed into the astuteness of his mind ; Grandfather wondered for a moment if he has just set the prophecy of his own downfall into apparent motion ; plus that of the guild. He snorts the thing away, hand on his drawn sword waiting for the first pounding on the majuscule hall doors that tell of the battle to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

Well into the evening the club waits for the ten-strike that never comes. Grandfather learns from many of his own agents among Master Gordon's manor house that Gordon has sealed the place up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a move on the part of Master Gerald to eliminate Cinnius and him in one Swift, calculated movement that sweeps two rivals clear of the board in an instant.


======
Late into the Nox the surviving guard duty of the belated Master Cinnius, only a ten and four in number, William Tell of the onrush in detail to grandpa as he sits in smoldering silence on his throne. They tell in enlarged gestures and word's the size of the attack, the massive whipping and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a fierce fight one wonders if a tartar was on the scene.

In wish to the massive detonation that took down the entire ale-house, backside cognitive operation and Master Cinnius on one swift blow…no one has any explanation at all ; economise 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 reward you now ?"Grandfather said to the fourteen guards, whose middle lit up with fervour of greed and delight.

They soon found out their ‘ reward'was to be pressed. They howled for clemency as guards'grabbed wait of them, dragging them away to the executioners hold. With cold swiftness, tied to enceinte frames of wood on the ground, the executioners directed gramps safety device ( the directions issued as polite suggestions ) in placing of great wooden panels over the men ; to be topped in bit every few minutes with a fifty Pound lump of brick shaped stone. Over the course of 60 minutes the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their ribs snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

As for the broker who brought news of the false start of a coup to Grandfather…

A new statue of him cast in silver joined the one of bronze from the earlier messenger executed in a similar way. Even the toughened safety device of grandpa watched with silent revulsion as the man had been lowered inch by inch, headfirst, into the molten metal, his howl echoing far and widely down the sorry halls of the public executioner tunnels.


=======
triplet Clarence Shepard Day Jr. later the fellow reads a message conveyed to she with the Amethyst eyes, a true smile upon his face for once in so long of a time.

"My lady, the leadership of ‘ those who wait'have agreed to set up for an opportunity to come out ; they have declared ‘ send the substance and we will do our part, as promised, then the history with the guild shall be settled in wide,'“ he told her.

"So my noblewoman, do we set out to upgrade the level of atmospheric pressure and paranoia to a new height in this matter ? Or may I add a little ‘ twist'to the post ?"her Associate asks.

At her prompting he explains his little ‘ twist'on their plan ; her eyes and grin gleam in delight from his small suggestion. Right now the two of them have entered into serious ground, not only preparing to come upon at Masters Gordon and Gerald ; there is the issue of the guilds gramps - assuming he survives the peak sent to him, being roused to action.

This very dark, as per Associates small ‘ twist'on their plan, another whispered rumour Menachem Begin : there is a bountifulness of one hundred gold saloon to the assassin of the guild who brings down the Grandfather of assassinator. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of course that is only rumor…just the sort to get you executed by the paranoid order leadership.

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

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


************************
************************
Her eyes glimmering with their amethyst fires, she watches comrade 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 gear of their trade, a warm smile comes to her rima oris ; her impudence resting on a raised paw grasping the doorway jam as she makes no audio for some time.

Each of his tools, from lock-picks to gyre of dark silklike rope, ampule of toxicant to stultify or stamp out, along with an mixture of instrument and arms no one save for them alone could comprehend in the westerly lands. She watches as he examines a throwing star under the lantern light, its razor honed edges perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and fight tongue, a bamboo blowgun only inches in length, and the all too deadly coated darts to be used in it.

Yet she remembers with some affection the one moral Shan Tiel had begun her breeding 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 bod is the most dangerous of the Orion ? Is there any one that you see here, that can defeat any other ?"

Still so young and small in height at the meter she had to motion him to stoop down to her height ; then with one modest hand, she touched his forehead, and then his heart. His warm smile was true, delighted at the answer given to him.

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

fellow had in the unretentive prison term of her warmly recalled memories raised to pattern with his twin leaf blade of their professing, sliding them from their case of lacquered woodwind, the ninja-to. XIV inches of honed brand, strong and razor sharp, he danced in a beautiful, poetic play of death. Each move is poetry of music and form, of control and vigor used : parry-strike, strike-parry, double separatrix and drive, a hustle of movement no one could come close to matching redeem for her.

Even unarmed they are among the pernicious of fighter, their really bodies the ultimate, dwell weapons.

His act comes to its end after some time ; and associate pretends to detect her for the very get-go meter, though he was cognizant of her standing by the doorway for some clip now. One thing with both of them, living among the stash of assassins and spies of the guild has honed their superb skills to new, essential point 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 cheeks and brows. She feels the brief tension ease out of his soundbox as she circles his face, playfully teasing forehead, nose, center, auricle and cheeks.

His sassing she division slightly with fingertips, stroking the inside and drawing a thin heyday to his cheeks.


The warmth of his breathing place on her hand draws a soft, loving smile to her own lips. Once again her handwriting flows over boldness, brows and nose, along his jaw and gently on his neck before returning again and again to his typeface.

Moving up to him she presses her lips to his ; so soft and supply ship that his flower becomes fully red, heat pulsating outward as a fully stoked fervency in the bread ovens. Three metre she does this, then kisses his nose, and on tippy toes delivers one on his forehead.

His searching eyes quickly discern that her gown has partly opened, revealing the glistening smooth skin that tantalizing breath at needing to be touched, stroked and seduced ; her bared breast, cast in dancing shadower by the soft, low light in the elbow room, glistens like a unavowed concealed within a enigma promising outright gem and sensations, or full-of-the-moon and wolf death.

She enfolds him with one arm, taking up his hand with her other, then gently guiding it to that exposed breast ; holding it firm in place while he looks at her with some shock. He feels the heating plant of her eubstance merging with his, skin to skin, the beating of her heart and the stabilise rhythm of her breathing surging into his head, telling him that this is no dreaming, but a treasure she is offering to him willingly.

Slowly he starts to fondle and stroke it with his fingertips, working from the tit outward in a corkscrew to return inward again and repeats the cps several times ; all the while he revels in the sleek flawlessness of her skin, the heady fragrance that smells of lilac, roses and ginseng mix with all the sweet-salty smells that are uniquely HER.

Gently he closes his eyes with each mystifying inhalation of these smells, burning them into his mind in the event of her dying soon, he will treasure this moment to the end of his days…

He sees the soft fluttering in her eyes, eyelids flickering up and down as she begins to gnaw lightly on those luscious lips that are highlighted with a scented savouring strawberry gloss.

He moves his disengage bridge player to the border of her gown, the blue silk that is embossed with cherry trees, rosiness and a pair of white Bronx cheer in trajectory accentuating the curve of her body, hiding some in shadow and others in reflected light so their glory may be seen in full.

Looking at her he motions downward while indicating the robe.

To his continuing surprisal and joy 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 delectation and admiration at the sight of her bared tegument brings a on-key and red-hot blush to her aspect, a unsounded giggle of alarm with her head turning away, though her eyes return quickly and with a glimmer of desires fervour fully alight.

All of that falls in and on itself, reality turned different when his first kiss gently presses on one spot of her berm, then another and another until he reaches her neck. The flow of kisses continues over each column inch of her skin, drawing shivers, quivers, titters and vellication that build one upon the next.

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

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

Moving them downward he massages her humiliated back, easing along her shank and hip seeking each expanse he can find to bring the maximum sensory faculty of blissfulness of her body he can extract. Gentle helix and helix practice in which he mixes apparent movement of the alphabet, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far East languages, for each one brings a dissimilar reaction to her body, some large and some minor, one intense that almost knocks her off her groundwork, while others have her gasp as she lowers her head against his chest, eyes closing while silent lips open and close.

He inhales the terrific brew of scent now including that of her raw sexuality mixing into them ; more and more it turns on the fires within his own body ; causing his own manhood to rise to the social function as his manus begins to journey to her hidden womanhood…

Which her one hand encompassing his so suddenly he failed to notice until the steady air pressure threatened to snap his wrist…telling him in emphatic term she will allow him to go so far, and for now no further ; he looks into the amethyst optic of her, nods and bows his nous in acceptance of her choice…

"My gentlewoman I understand fully ; maybe someday there can be a union such as that between us, yet the computer memory of your Grandfather is still too fresh. Thank you though for allowing me to bring some satisfaction to the both of us tonight,"the Associate said.

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

Planting a fiery kiss on his lips she swings her arms around his neck opening, and then leaps up, enwrapping her ramification about his shank and locking them and her firmly in place. His paw move quickly to patronise her bottom, as he shakes his head, understanding at last.

She did not require him to pleasure her, she wants more than that…With one hand he fumbles for the belt of his britches, loosening it enough to let his fully at aid humanity free to the world ; drawing a bit of a blush from him due to the humble size of it.

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

Their kisses merged as he eased into her woman, the two of them entering into a gentle rhythm of love between their bodies, one for the other and back in turn. Within instant his hullabaloo passes his limitation and sends his seed deep into her body.

"My lady I should take lasted retentive, I just have not been with a char for so long…"he stammered.

She just kissed him on the rim as her eye showed her appreciation for him. Returning to her pes, the two of them quietly danced a silent terpsichore in the room soft ignitor for some time, a consequence shared before returning to the end game of this long and trying hunt.

For the moment, they, two assassin in a community of interests of such, who seek to overrule such a force, can turn down their guard a bit. This is their moment, their prison term, for with the sunup, the search will again continue.


************************
In the depths of his fortress manor house passkey Gordon listens with ever growing horror as tale after news report from his agents Tell of a grievous tapestry being woven. Someone is trying to down him, or contain down the Grandfather and pin the inculpation on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their deadliest of rivals in the process…but who could it be.

A few days ago his precious pink wine were returned, after his butler had traded them to the maiden Clairice in trade for sexual favors. Soon enough the pantryman 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 state of confusion showed they fled the city that very night.

The next morning brought the mysterious deliverance to agents and bravo of the club ; bloom from the shop of Clairice, supposedly over his signature tune, though he was proven to be here in his manor ( the only reason grandpa did not summarily fulfill him ). Even the stolen blush wine had been returned intact, and watered by the girl ; then as some of his agents examined and smelled them, declaring nada to be wrong…

This could not be said of the balance of those deliverance. For some reason, like with professional Finneous, and his devotee Kimberly, and at the ale-house operations, the receiving system just seemed to up and die in their tracks ! Now there are other Edgar Lee Masters of the society, underlings who would not defy to hit at Gerald ; who are openly making plan 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 fragrance of blossom having been sent to his throne room as well. The man has no sense of witticism ; especially as there are rumors of him offering one hundred bars of gold to anyone taking down the grandpa of Assassins ; as if he would actually be suicidal enough to make such a move ! ! !

Such is his mount up rage and foiling that when he grips the railing of an upper floor balcony he tears the wood discharge in two large chunks of debris. So far no one has been able to find out much of anything, save that the factor of original Gerald are following his own…with more and more open boldness…probably to strike in one well matching natural action ; collapsing his integral electronic network and assault his estate…

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

There is one way to dispense with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his older agent and guard leaders. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the double quick for it ; there is a minor window of time open, and he intends to exploit it to the fullest. Right now only one thing could interfere with his program, and that is the granddad of assassin himself…

"Grandfather of Assassins Gordon…"he examines his knife vane, loving the way the light plays over its razor sharp edges. How fine of a blade he will use to end the life of both Gerald and Grandfather - then claim all for himself.

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



======
Within the hour an broker of grandpa reports directly to him of the programme that professional Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a takeover is indeed coming, and by the hand of Gordon the Grandfather's rage is out-and-out. He calls for his personal guard to assemble, for the best fighter aircraft, rogues and assassins to gather and arm for battle.

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

When the group has assembled two 60 minutes later he explains the plan and gives one final order…

"When Gordon strikes at the the three estates of Gerald, we surround the home, move inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no survivor at all. Slay every living being or fauna in the situation ; then deoxidise it to ashes afterward. Then the same will encounter to Gordon's estate ; these double-crosser will be rooted out completely…"

building up the hysteria of his forces, grandfather intends to use this capital punishment to the townspeople of Providence as well - to remind them HE rules the town. Once that is done, he will purge the guild of any and all threats from top to bottom.


======
"My gentlewoman,"her familiar softly calls, touching her easy articulatio humeri. He also moves slightly to the slope, keenly aware of the envenomed sword she keeps handy when sleeping. Seeing her still drowsing eyes outdoors, he sighs softly, not eager to replace yet another shirt…the last time was too secretive by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat lower down…

"My madam,"he again calls to her,"the force of Gordon are gathered and on the motion ; they will hit the estate of Gerald within the side by side two 60 minutes. One of our agentive role also reports that the Grandfather is personally pass most of the club enduringness against BOTH of them. I believe he means to end this matter of the two once and for all."

He sees the inflammation growing on her face.

"Even with the Grandfather of Assassins entering the fray now, do we stay on the plan or switch it ?"he asked.

Considering the site, and then asking some questions, she comes to a decision ; swiftly she conveys it with her sign spoken communication.

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

Many of her agents have long since given up Leslie Townes Hope of Providence being freed from the iron travelling bag of the guild ; but now, shown the true statement of the topic, that the guild IS VULNERABLE, they are quick to coin back and do so with infrangible deadliness. Their fear and despair has become anger and determination ; tonight she and Associate make the most important hit ; they will do the rest…tonight Providence has a new cry of"exemption or death."

Associate smiling, the geezerhood long quest to revenge his sis, her married man and all their fry will be completed ; he will retaliate them and they may finally obtain eternal sleep. It will be by his hands and no others, that the final examination target area of his anger shall perish…the gramps himself.

"My Lady,"her familiar says,"unspoilt hazard on your share ; I have to move quickly to get at my own prey. I have dispatched word to the loss leader of the waiting groups for the uprising to begin."

"Today the guild ruling of capital of Rhode Island comes to an end,"he says, a wicked smile on his face.

Once again she smiles as that object lesson of Tai Long Tiel came to her - in staging rumor of a pending coup, the raw paranoia of the assassins have led one to stage a real coup d'etat. So once again the assassin's guild is dancing to her strain and not their own.

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


************************
************************
Master Gerald's manor, a fortress from top flooring to the dungeon below, bristles with bodily function. His best soldiers and agents prepare the defence mechanism, layer upon layer of insidious traps and ensure passages ; the outer G with their battlefield of fire shall be turned into one massive killing field for Gordon's force-out when they arrive…

"Continue with all the preparations, I need to see to the final line of descent of defense upstairs ; remember to keep all of the doom reserve in place. I do not ask the great doors or walls to be breached ; yet we take no luck at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in preparedness in his elimination of Finneous, Cinnius, and so many others,"Master Gerald said to his chief-of-arms.

"Remember, he sacrificed his own men initially at the inn-operations to set up Cinnius and me as well ; we must not underrate him at all,"the maiden true traces of fearfulness creped into his voice. For one time in his life Gerald feels the cold mitt of death reaching out for him…watching his every move from nearby…


======
Indeed a brace of eye watched superior Gerald's every move from the rafters above the with child hall ; then as he ascends the big stairs. She silently shifts from one emplacement to another, descending down to the principal floor. Once there, she commences the dance of last with his agentive role and guards, one by one their labors cease to be productive…

This comes due to the fact that virtually of them are no longer capable of doing such work or for that matter of breathing ; as dying does render one quite unequal to of doing such tasks.

When she has finished, she sees her rumination in a mirror, the amethyst fervency of her optic glowing like a beacon of day of reckoning ; telling of her intimate rage and determination to finish the matter. She recalls with inviolable clarity the final screams of her mother and founder ; of her brother and sister as they were butchered, while she was taken to refuge by Tai Long Tiel…her teacher and caretaker.

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



======
During his wandering around the upper berth story he can not throw off the tactual sensation of last being nearby ; one of two fellow traveler always with the assassin - the other being fear, in all of its numerous faces - food waste to go away his side. No, companion demise refuses to leave, almost as if he longs for the show to continue just a bit more before needing to escort Gerald into the adjacent world.

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

Either that or they have already been turned by Gordon, to join his side in the coming fight that will leave Master Gerald alone to face many a hundred warrior in a last, hopeless struggle before he perishes either at the end of a poisoned vane or skewed upon a crossbow bolt to his heart…

Sighing at the great, final examination treason his agent have performed, he turns the finis corner, his crossbow held loosely in his hand, prepared to meet the foeman who has to be there in unlimited numbers game. Master Gordon has won the fight, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the future, and now with his dying will move around upon gramps to go the new drawing card of the guild.

Thus he has made his second fault in sprightliness ; he has underestimated his friendship with Gordon and now will pay the Leontyne Price. The first was ten years ago when the little girl escaped the luck of her family and the four covered it up to stay 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 recess, he lets the crossbow fall from his unresponsive hands ; expecting expiry to add up by blade or crossbow bolt…only to see a solitary figure, a slender, Whitney Moore Young Jr. adult female standing at the early end, just human foot away. Clad in dim and gray clothing, a single mask is drawn up over her sassing and wind, while more textile is over her brow and hair, leaving only her eyes exposed.

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

Shan Tiel !

He was the Father of the Church of the bankers wife ... and thus gramps of the miss who escaped ...

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

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the blade into a cross guard billet, her gloved bridge player holding it in a clasp like iron, to strike or parry as needed, the blood on its border glistening like red fires, telling Gerald of his agents fate on the floor below…

She began to march on upon him, economy of motion displayed to perfection with each movement ; a unfeigned incarnation of death made reality advancing to pile up her due upon Gerald ...

Her centre sparkle in the brightness level of the wall lamps as she passes by ; the straighten out blast of amethyst dancing in their depths.

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

His nerves shattered, he falls to his knees, whimpering and completely in the grips of uttermost brat ; 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 pop me ; I 'll do whatever you want, I did nil to you ... why ... why all the deaths ... ''

She shakes her header at this display of coward in the end ; the stream of tears flowing without simplicity from his eyes, the scent of piddle and loosened stadium corrupting the air as he loses ascendence of his mind and trunk ...

Having closed the distance between them, the blade in her hands eases back high over her shoulder, ready to turn in the tierce component part of her vengeance in one clean strike.

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

She just nodded, as the mull light glimmered on the blade ; as it delivered vengeance upon the Third King.

So it is that the third King of Four surrenders to the inevitable, his role in the stratagem done.

Standing over his corpse, the Queen with the amethyst optic cleans her sword on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor house to develop for the terminal Rex of Four to arrive…and for the ploy to follow to an end.


************************
************************
The granddaddy of assassinator, out at the head of his armed set is not glad today ; the ongoing fight against Gordon's military group has been taking far too long. His plan had been simple-minded and light, circle the entire region of Gerald's land as Gordon's military unit mounted their ravishment, and then work their way in, burning the buildings and killing all - citizens or enemies who were found.

Systematically his forces pushed Gordon's back pace by step, always pushing, seeking to obtain a weak fleck and make the last hit. fill out obliteration would result.

Then came the word from messenger's that the citizens of the metropolis have started an armed uprising, armed with lance, blades and even tools in some cases ; supplemented by the bands of hunters who work in the Sir Henry Wood around Providence. So he found himself fighting two front end, Gordon to the fore, the mobs to the back ; so his power have been systematically whittled down.

even his own escort has been reduced from XL to the dozen surrounding him. Many bear wounds from the last clank, nearly a hundred phallus of the mob will not be going home tonight ; his face became a grinning at that thought.

When a swarm of pot momentarily drifts over his stripe, a Little Joe of soft thud sound out ; his guard duty is now down to eight. The four on the ground in the death stroke, the shuriken's embedded in throats delivering their poison for best effect.

"cuticle wall !"granddaddy shouts out, the sentry go forming a crescent wall of Wood and sinew between him and their attacker ; two more of his guard duty collapse, throwing lead embedded in their throats, the poison baksheesh sending them into violent, wracking spasm as death reaches forth with his hands to claim them.

Holding his Twin Falls blade at the ready he directs the precaution back down the street, towards a four way intersection. As they reach the smoldering remains of a shop one to a greater extent guard falls, clutching his deplumate throat.

One guard 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 first step, to the window high and low, seeking the least bit of movement to indicate the following strikes of their unseen pursuer…

He failed to take care from behind as a small ophidian is placed on his shoulder joint by a gloved hand…

The deadly bite of the Tai-Pan rack him with indescribable painful sensation and anguish as his body explodes cell by electric cell, the nerves shoemaker's last of all to perish as demise welcomes him to fall in his fallen comrades of before this day.

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

Until the lone form steps out of the shadows and over the fallen guard ; blades at the ready, he advances with the imperturbability of death personified…

The five remaining guards, with Grandfathers gesture of a hand, charge at this foe ; no fear shows on their faces, as they are the elite of the elite for many a kingdom. No one in the Western lands can brook 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 West ; but a deadly assassin of the Far East, the Ninja, who sends them unto their just reward in the afterlife.

Before Grandfather could even take a breathing spell, the man is before him ; a foresighted, slender vane, honed to absolute razor sharpness is upon his neck opening. He feels the venous blood vessel pulsating against the slap-up border, and the slightest dribble of blood flowing down from where it pierced his skin…

Grandfathers breath came is gasp, as he dared not run an column inch ; for this unbelievable warrior has him at his mercy, and to gauge from the cold eyes looking back into his own, grandpa knows mercifulness is not on the agenda for the day.

Sweat beads and then flows down the aspect and neck of grandfather, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to quail and give him cause to execute him immediately. For that is what granddaddy knows is about to happen, no trial, no jury or such gimcrackery, just an execution of instrument without compassion or mercy.

He feels the knifes edge play ever so gently upon his cutis, fires burning from the odoriferous kiss of madly steel that teases affright and ever give flinching of muscles ; all too familiar with such blade, gramps can imagine what the final cut on him will find like…

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

How Master Gordon ever snuck such a warrior into Providence, passed all of his federal agent and undercover agent grandpa can not understand…unless, after all, it was Master Gerald who did it…who may have been the true brain of this entire coup…

"Hello Grandfather,"the unknown man greeted him at finale,"I know you are more than wondering who I am, and why this is happening. For the record, and what it will be of worth to you, the four masters - Finneous, Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon had nothing to do with a takeover or this uprising…"

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

"That's right grandad,"the man nodded in conformation,"I and my lady have systematically destroyed you and your order. Ten years ago you killed my sister, her hubby, and their children ; one of whom my own founder whose family name I shall reclaim as my own, said has exceptional talents…until you sanctioned the hit for the sake of the Ithiel Town, and hence your own, bankers."

The absolute calm and steady manner of his vox brought more fearfulness to granddaddy than he has known in his entire career as an assassin…


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

"Oh by the way,"he casually continues,"as you probably have figured my blade is poisoned ; you will not die from the spitefulness now coursing in your veins, yet the executing I have in fund, you will get to enjoy each and every esthesis of painfulness that comes from my deary, until you die of course."

Pulling the blade away, the mystical warrior delivers a blindingly warm series of precise smasher, inducing absolute deprivation of brawniness control in granddaddy legs and subdivision ; 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 assassinator, casually holding the man up by his neck with one hand.

"This is for my noblewoman who was raped by sea captain Gordon's Butler ; I would let killed him myself if the plan did not demand 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…"

WHACK !

He watches as the grandfather's eyes cross over, his mouth contorted as much as his toxicant wracked soundbox will permit in purest of hurting ; a victim of the motility all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a kneecap to the most private and combat injury prone area any man has…


======
Associate looks down on the groaning, croaking, mewling bod of grandad, and has no pity on the most knock-down member of the Guild. For too long he has waited this issue ; prepared to sacrifice all if need be just to avenge his sister, and reestablish the laurels of his family 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 bulge a slender, pitch-dark silken rope, he quickly binds grandfather men and feet, ties a gag about his mouth, and then casually snatch hold of the loop he makes to drag the assassin along. Heading for the station where his pet wait, he makes certainly to cross each area of dirty water, sewage, bared rocks and cactus, determined to make certain the cause of ten class of torment and dishonor enjoys every bit of pain he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the timber hunters, and their sons and daughter, master archers each who snipe at the remaining forces of the club watch the two passport ; each one knows that Associate is about to satisfy his own hunt at long last.

The one man who helped Associate with the patrol of Jambis not long ago smiled ; even knowing of fellow detail ‘ pet ’, as he helped enamour them in the woods, he has no sympathy for the now helpless assassin that is to meet his pain sensation filled fate…

"Die slowly Grandfather,"he shouts and then move 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 closemouthed as to the contents. He drags Grandfather across stones worn liquid by centuries of shipment moved in and out of the massive Department of the Interior ; then up one flight of stairs of wooden footfall, each one marked by the becalm thud-thud-thud of the granddad head slamming into its surface.

A steadily moan slips from grandfather rim as the top of the loft is reached, and Associate can easy reckon the ace he is seeing at this clip. He drops the R-2 from his hired man, and progress to the border where an opening is set between the runway of the lofts edge.

He gazes down upon the ‘ deary'he has prepared for this consequence ; and calls loud and long to them, whipping them into a howl, snorting, tusk-rending pedigree lustfulness as they know their favored meal is about to be sent down to them - homo chassis and rakehell and ivory, raw…

prison term and meter again associate degree calls out to them, and they respond with a twelve and eight cries of hunger and longing, a pleading and demanding for Associate to transport them their promised dinner party. Each one of them, some four hundred pounds of absolute bone and brawn, tusks immense and gleaming with razor sharp top, eyes blood red and big bureau heaving like the bellows of a fiery forge, they paw at the Stone floor….

They wait…they call…they plead for warm blood and sweetness flesh…

When companion turns back for a moment, the favorite howls and snorts grow ever louder, as they know now that dinner party is at hand ; they smell the man fearfulness of the assassin, get word his panicked heart beating beyond all ability to sustain for long, and the net moans of pain as he is lifted from the attic floor…

associate degree lifts grandad up by the neck, savoring the howl induced scare in the fallen assassin ; Grandfathers eyes are absolute in their wideness, as he is pushed by the sounds of the pets howls and snorts to the edge of his own sanity, his mind refusing to accept what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

comrade holds grandpa by the blazon, forcing the unfirm assassin to bend down enough to see his fate at the edge of the loft."Look well Grandfather, I gathered a peachy collection of exceptional deary just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a forest hunt by a wild wild boar and have been afraid of them for your spirit. How ironical is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog uncivilised, or I should say…go to the fantastic hogs…"

"NOOOO !"Grandfather roars as associate shove him bodily into the empty air ahead of them ; his screech is heard for blocks until it ends abruptly on the moth-eaten stones below. Without hesitation, Associates pets, twenty of the most savage, massive, wild boars the woodland hunters could conglomerate rupture into the assassin…

Associate sentinel from above, savoring each speech sound and shriek, until the last os and scrap of build is gone into the guts of his pets.

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

He only hoped his fellow traveller ; she with the amethyst eyes was having as much success.


***********************
Outside the gates of headmaster Gerald's estate headmaster Gordon and his band of men stand ready for the final fight in their piddling war. Three entire metropolis city block lay in smoking, smoldering wrecking from the all too refractory efforts of his foeman men to keep their line from being breached. All too many of the workshop and homes Gerald had owned were miniature fort in their own right, costing him more men, and most critical - time, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

Now he stands on the eve of his vengeance ; Gerald waits just beyond the meticulously maintained grounds, the neat threshold of the manor lay open, tacit and still. Gerald must be so afraid of his impending doom that he has either already fled, or some servants have betrayed him on the slenderize promise of clemency being shown to them.

No clemency, that is the order given to his current band of flock ; he wishes there were more of them at handwriting yet he had to get out too many of them to resist off the tightening ring of grandad forces. He will end up off the one here first, then withdraw his men back and finish up off gramps, and then the purgation of the city and the guild of all treasonist will truly commence.

If he has to rein over a soil of the perfectly, so be it, he will decree in the end.

With a nod of his head several men commence to skulk from cover to cover, crossbows at the ready, swiftly but steadily closing on the open doors. They cover one another, alert for the least notice of the bear ambush to commence.

His spotter reach the manor door with no problems, and then sign they are entering.

The great threshold silently close behind them…

One minute passes…

basketball team arcminute pass…

Ten minutes…

20 minutes…

XXX minutes…

Then one manor doorway swings open silently, the phantasm beyond beckoning with all the kindness of a still and open grave accent in the woods. Nothing motility from within or without…


======
The sudden collapse of a nearby building in a cascade of brick, wood and flaming combine with a sudden blaring of steel on brand crash, cry of triumph and scream of the dying. Gordon's men begin to face one to another, debating as what to do at this meter to ensure their survival.

Shrill vociferation of war strait off, combined with yell of"capital of Rhode Island and Vengeance !"

One of his honcho lieutenant shouts in the smoke for his men to take the line, his calm, steady voice suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men stumble into sight of Master Gordon, one by one shouting out a shrieking of death as embitter arrow pierce armour and chassis, before they fall to the ground as gracelessly as a dust and tattered gunny sack tossed from a high level window.

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

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

Somehow the masses of Providence have found the courage and means to stand against the assassin Guild ; despite the knowledge they will all conk in the end…

Charging like the wildest of fanatic they head correct for Gordon and his men.

He has only two very simple choices to make - outdoor stage here and die for sure, or retreat into the manor. All that matters is for him to decide which he fears less : the mob or the silent manor house.

"Retreat to the manor house star sign with all haste…Go ! Go ! Go !"

half of his flock make it to the doorway, the rest dying under the hail of arrows and then under the blades 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 pitting, though as a burst of poison arrows miss turning him into a hat wrack for one time he does not mind.

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

The citizens of Providence pound with impudent frenzy on the former side, their howls for blood and vengeance retorting like the cries of the banshees on the Moor, foretelling of his pending death and judging to amount in the succeeding life.

Gordon thanks his lot that Gerald built the manor as a fort first and a household second…now the bigger enemy outside is out of his hair, all that remains to be done is find and gut Master Gerald.

Passing from the entry lobby into the epicurean with child dormitory, superior Gordon sees that thing are definitely, and desperately wrong on a massive scale. The agents of original Gerald lay all over the place, their armor bodies heaped three or four deep on the great stairwell ascending in the midriff of the Radclyffe Hall to the dimly lit foyer above.

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

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

One of his men howls in stupor and surprisal, back-peddling from a side room. His broken, hastily spoken words and gesture indicate hassle may await them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the remains of his six scouts, sent into the manor earlier, string up upside down by their ft from cap, a silken rope secures them to the great wooden rafters of the ceiling.

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

The paper reads :

Flee or share the same fate as I, Death awaits you all around.

The men who took up the composition, five in all, are observed to have their eyes roll up into their nous, deep pink and red foam emerging from their mouths as they fall over dead.

Within mo of their passing, the federal agent who have been cutting the slick rope began to die, hands start to locomote to clench at their throat until muscles suddenly lock, optic bulging out and turning blood red. Each of the seven men begin to take on surreal manikin as their bodily brawniness all begin to declaration, inflicting untold of pain in the ass and soon causing the tatty cry of bones snapping one after another…

Until at live on the neck bone sunders and allows them the escape cock of death.

Gordon looks with rank horror at the two-fold trap that someone has set ; a inter-group communication poison, absorbed through the skin, on the slips of paper ; and then on the rope themselves…just where someone would place their hands to cut the forget me drug, and let their dead down…

The dangling bodies move like a pendulum, as small campana anchor ring in concord of their movement, the claim to the grave all of them will reside for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to propagate out and search the low-spirited floor ; to scour all biography from every room and student residence that exists in the place.

He looks back to the great iron threshold, hearing the people of Providence being given order of magnitude to find a large ray or log they can use as a battering ram. He knows from the strength of the doors there will be only a pocket-size bit of time until they are battered down.


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

A moment later there comes the sonorousness of a small bell yet again…followed by the final solution of fire and shrapnel that tears the agent and the three other men in the way with him, into smoldering swelling of frame and meat that no farseeing can be recognized.

From another room, just down the face hall from here a small bell sounds yet again ; followed by the crashing of sound trappings to the background. Soon enough Gordon sees the sight of bookcases piled on top of three of his men, one limb extended from beneath them holding a small golden unicorn that has a almost invisible cord of silk tied about it.

One guard gives off a soft gurgling sound, passing into the convulsion of death from where a slender venom coated blowgun dart has hit him in the neck opening. Another guard suddenly jumps in front of Gordon, shielding him from the moment to go far. As he falls into dying the remaining guards fire off their crossbows into the darkness above, seeking out their spiritual domain assailant on the level above.

Despite their intimately effort three more guards fall into the eternal Night all shall cognise of at the end of their days.

"Someone is playing game here with us,"he said, enraged beyond anything now. He is going to urinate his old associate schoolmaster Gerald pay dearly for this, ending his madness and the harebrained biz 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 tidings are ; just not as he has expected…

"Back to the foyer on the double ; get under protection now and observe picket. When we have gathered get cook to storm the step and pass whoever is up there. Understand clearly, no survivors at all, absolutely no one is to live…when we find Gerald he is MINE alone !"Gordon tells his men, madness beyond grounds and rationality burning in his body.

Gerald will pay in the most hideous method acting he can imagine ; for bringing his reality crashing down around him in his drive to dispose of Grandfather.

Crossbows or blades make for fight, covering every potential spot of ambush they advance back the way they have come…unaware of the amethyst eyes watching them from the shadows.

Gordon leads eight men into a face way, a small study untouched by the massacre already inflicted on the place.

Far above the band of armed men, twin heart of amethyst glisten with the fiercest of flame, matching the grin of glee upon her face ; they had no clue as to where she hid as she downed the unity with her blowgun…these assassins are straight amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even expiry would have been hard pressed to get wind her pass by ; she shifted from her fix to the future, set to take in and impose the little terror in full-of-the-moon these bravo deserve ; payment for the terror they have for too long bring down unchecked on others.

bravo against assassin…The ultimate portion of the gambit…

world-beater against King on the chess board…

======
original Gordon turned to pass on the signal for the flush up the stairs. He explained the architectural plan - plug the landing, spread out room by way in vauntingly groups and shoot down everything. The firstly hollow, booming slams of a ram on the smashing iron door ring brassy and clear through the manor ; telling all they are running out of time to sell with the enemy within for once the doors are breached, they will face the ira of those outside.

With a gesture the maiden group rushes up the stair, while a second covers them, crossbows aimed at each of the apparition above…only for all to block when the mild chiming of a bell comes yet again when the first one up the staircase brushes a trip electric cord 2/3rd of the way up…

Gordon sees the fine silken cord jerk for a moment to where it leads up to the baulk and connecting with a dozen small silken nets…that loosen instantly, scattering their contents of many small-scale, egg shaped empyrean out towards the floor below…

He turns and dives with all hurry that panic can make into the elbow room, knowing that he rushed against certain death as his final, desperate leap sends him into an uncontrolled bun ending with him slamming into the far bookcase…

- windfall !
- godsend !
- BOOM !

Master Gordon barely avoids the falling book of account and massive bookcases that sought to crush him. Five of his surviving band covers him, creating a self-coloured armor wall between their boss and the room's entrance. Once the smoking clears, a quick tiptop out shows the carnage, his men torn apart by shrapnel and fire…

Such is the view that no one can describe it…one of the survivors'rushes into another elbow room, grasping a vase to discharge his breadbasket out into…only to be met by the fangs of a deadly Tai-Pan Snake River. Within moments he joins his fellow traveler in death.

The explosions…

The same kind of blowup reported to let taken out Cinnius ; only the posture of the manor's intent kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."care the stairs, anything motion ahead of us, shoot to shoot down and emaciate no time…"

The great iron entry doors bang like a massive gong, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their efforts to breach them. victor Gordon estimates he has to a lesser extent than twenty minute before they break open ; and expiry will add up in the most dire mode from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the foyer, the main hall and up the stairs, trying not to look at the corpse of so many dead…then the first to the upper landing looks about as a lowly bell chimes, followed by his grunt of infliction and slumping to the ground…already in the terminal throes of death from the poisoned phonograph needle in his throat.


======
The four remaining precaution charge past Gordon, covering all approaches as he comes up behind them. He takes just enough time to pick up the dead mans crossbow and a handful of thunderbolt, each one tipped in lethal venom. Making sure one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to channelise down the right field mitt lobby. The plan of attack came from the left, so they will circle back around and corner their prey - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

Room by room they search, quickly and efficiently, finding zippo More than dead body and secrecy. With the instant floor cleared, they ascend a little stairwell to the third level. No ambush awaits them at the landing as they expected, just an country for the servants to eat at…the tabular array still set with tea and biscuits out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled cups while the fourth sentry, declining any sustenance. In lupus erythematosus than a mo the poisonous substance inside the tea sends them into pain wracked last, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving guard looking on at their revulsion filled faces, line of descent frothing from mouth and nose.

The other man gave a sudden grunt, then collapses before Gordon's centre, going into death on the end of a deadly dart and its poisonous substance.

Gordon dives into a nearby room, barely avoiding the mechanical ambuscade that sends shaft with razor acutely blades a import too late.

godsend !
bonanza !
Boom !

So comes the steady pound on the great iron doors…

gold rush !
microphone boom !
windfall !

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

Pulling the spears out of the threshold Gordon hesitates ; sweat beginning to bead on his brow, as a pocket-sized, pernicious audio comes from his left wing, just down the hallway. Carefully as possible, he eases his hand around the box and into the Granville Stanley Hall, to see if any reaction is generated.

Then he lowers himself to the floor, and eases his head outward, crossbow in hand to tear the first objective that comes into sight…

Only to hold a trio of the envenomed darts miss him by a tomentum breadth in ready succession. His desperate whorl 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, rage and terror commixture together, he bellows out for anyone around to hear clearly,"GERALD ! COME AND FACE ME YOU Sir Noel Pierce Coward !"

He quickly heads deeper into the manors speed floor…

======
Boom !
godsend !
Boom !

The clarion call sounds again, light yet to a greater extent and more steady of that battering ram on the iron doors.

Crossbow held out in straw man of him he sweeps the long hallway, stopping by each tacit way, glancing quickly into them to see if anyone postponement in lying in wait. All is in perfect condition, looking as their resident 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.

gravy !
Boom !
roaring !

Finally he advances close decent to the end to see where the end of the vestibule turns sharply to the left and the right, two ramification and three way to put across for the trap to do. Three elbow room to search and then the manor hall to check ; where is Gerald to be found ?

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

Three rooms become two with a quick glance.

Boom !
boom !
Boom !

The next one has a partially unopen threshold, with a shadowy silhouette off to one incline ; something is not right on, the digit is just too still. As he reaches for the door of the last elbow room to be checked, he stops. Just a hairsbreadth breathing time from his hired hand is the doors brass handle, the faintest glimmer of poison coating it - if he had touched it with his bare mitt, destruction would involve him quickly.

A beautiful bunker, lure him one way, personnel him to go for the unopened door and have the handle poisoned. It has almost worked - which means Gerald has to be around one of the recess ahead…which one…

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

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


======
From nearby, among the very construction of the building, one moves tacit as death ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the last assassin. Footfalls so muted that even a sleeping computer mouse is not roused, she moves ahead to set the end game…soon Department of Justice will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a dramatic way…

Once in position, she hears the easygoing footfall echoing to her auricle like the thunder of a heard of beasts in a full panic approaching. Her prey nears with each passing measure of a heart.

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


======
Step by dance step he stealthily advances, straining his pinna to pick up the svelte speech sound ; every instinct honed by his years of dealing in expiry outcry that Gerald is off to the left. Just shy of the intersection, he shifts his correspondence and position to parachute ahead, planning to come in low and shoot high…any restoration shot of Gerald will come about right over him.

Boom !
gravy !
bunce !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely void space…

The crossbow thunderbolt gibe into the far wall with a dull thud, the same strait in his gist as he awaits arrow or blade to slide into his heart.

gravy !
manna from heaven !
roar !

His humans collapses completely, the room access will shortly be breached, and the death blow is to fall down before that by the hand of Gerald ; for one sentence in his career the deadliest of the four assassins has made a mistake…

Blind instinct alone saved his life sentence, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his bared neck and top dog ; feels the solid, strong and all too real snack of a blade deep into its wooden wad. Twisting to one slope he shoves with strength topped by sheer panic and reverence as the blade pulls free people of the wood, and two quick slashes miss him by a hairs comprehensiveness, two lockets of his hair falling to the reason in silent grace.

Gerald continues his frantic straining, turning, rolling and hopping terpsichore with the assassin pursuing him ; for who else could possibly dominate such accomplishment as to fill him by surprise. Even with all his attainment, training and perfect engagement experience he can not help but feel as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his adversary'brand slams good force into his os frontale, and only a violent, fortune blessed kick out that connects with a meaty thud saves his life. He has only a moment to spare as his opponents blade lands on the ground with a loud clanging sound, leaving him the choice of criminal offense, defence mechanism or pragmatic ( i.e. run like Scheol for his life ).

As he shakes his drumhead to clear his smutch imaginativeness, he hears the diffuse thump of his opponent regaining their feet ; and the aristocratical sliding of a blade on stone as its rightful wielder takes it up once again.

offensive activity, defense or pragmatic…what tactic is he to employ ?

Whipping out a throwing knife from his sleeve ; he uses it to parry the side by side gash coming his way, the echo of brand on sword carry far into the charnel house house that Gerald's manor has become. He blocks the adjacent three of his foe, who jumps from phantasma to shade, always one step ahead of him, driving him back step by step, yet not taking the openings in his desperate defence mechanism to entreat habitation the killing blow…

Pressing him back…

Into a trap…one set to catch him from behind.

In desperation, understanding dawning that the assassin here before him is only to push him back into the trap Gerald has obviously set up for him he redoubles his defenses, refusing to yield up a foot of dry land unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a little podium, Gordon pulls on the monumental vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slow or crush his opposing beneath its with child heap. The resulting smash whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing cloud of junk and dirt from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one side, ready to spring the instant his opponent comes through the cloud.

Taking a indorsement brand in 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 stop this assassin that Gerald has pitted against him, and then deal with his old"booster"in person…

The endorse blade is gripped tight in his hand by its razor sharp point, ready for the coming throw…

He needs only one minute of time for the pure stroke, the snow to end all blows…so he waits, and sweetie and still as expiry, as only a master key assassin can…

And waits…

And waits…

And waits…until the sweat begins to run down his face and neck, his arm muscles straining to be unleashed…

He strains his auditory sense for the whispering of sound to tell of Gerald's forces closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the assassin to come from ahead.

For a continuing eternity of time he waits ; tense and ready, muscles screaming in pain and turning to leaden weights from maintaining a crouched pose into an eternity of clock time ; yet only deathlike silence is heard…

Nothing, no noise at all…his opponent has to be waiting for him to come forward…through the settling swarm of dust that now shows the phantasma beyond, all the lighting extinguished for the giving of complete cover…

The Earth of the assassinator, waiting to spring death on Gordon the flash he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the assassinator has worked around me…"

A nigh silent whisper comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a full half circle and thrusts out his one blade to block the expected C ; the other flung with groovy force to his target….that is not there…

He knows death is at deal, having turned his back on his antagonist and prepares to feel the fiery kiss of blade into his back…

The blow does not come from behind though ; it comes from ABOVE !

The low gear smashing fist, or flat thenar misses crushing his larynx by a hairs intimation, then comes a barbarian flurry of boot, jabs, and open up handed attacks ; such science and attacks he has never imagined anyone could be capable of unleashing…

His body rings as snow after blow bang home, the pattern becoming all too clear as his opponent, dressed all in shameful and grey wear, dredging up a memory from long ago…Shan Tiel, the old man on the muckle and his style of unarmed fighting…

He is facing the old man himself !

The one fable speaks of in dread voicelessness, the simply one even the Grandfather of Assassins gave all respect to in the tales told ; a matter of purity and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

trio roundhouse kicks smash him into the rampart and then take him to the floor ; from which his assailant grabs him by the collar and lifts him off the ground, only to batter him more with an afford hand, delivering blows so much operose than any punch he has ever endured.

Throwing a risky punch, his wrist joint is grabbed and his forward momentum is added to the monolithic posture of his foe in the stroke that slams him into the wall, the audible sound of rib shattering heard by the both of them.

Then the beating stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by ideate demon of his attacker all about…

Fleeing in blind panic Gordon bounces down the right helping hand hallway, slamming off of wall and around the future corner ; only to add up look to face with Gerald…more precisely, his body, slowly swinging upside down from the rope running up through the rafters.

His holloa of uttermost panic replication long and loud across all the understood distance of the manor.


======
Upon the body is a single note :

Gordon - you are the last of the four, you took my family in rip and ardor ; so I take yours as well, your mob of the guild and their city. You have danced to my tune for the live on few weeks, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten years ago you sewed the seeds for your own destruction.

"The girl…"he mutters, now understanding who he has been dealing with ; the little girl of the banker they missed all those years ago.

- Thud.

The shock of the dart look like that of a needlelike hornets sting ; followed by the burning, spreading of the toxicant upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The poisonous substance buy all the strength in his soundbox, leaving him as loose as a rag bird casually tossed aside ; only to be picked up like a liberation of texture by a warm, 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 centre, those blazing fervidness of amethyst that tell his death is now at hand…and to prove off the small billiard Lucille Ball in her handwriting, which she places next to his manhood.

As she walks off to a side vestibule, he sees one handwriting let go a sling with a small-scale spark advance shot within it ; then the scarf bandage is spun…once…twice…three clip and released back in his management, followed by her lightning diva into a side room for cover. His eyes tracked the booster cable shot coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just enough time to hear the straw man door giving way from the mobs relentless pounding before the lead shaft makes impact ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

needle to say, the ending for master key Gordon was both brilliant and fiery.

As the mob rushes about through the pot and scorched room they see individual else has already done much of their body of work and commence to plundering all they can admit of value…no one pays attention to the smoldering, scorched and torn corpse by the balustrade that was the former Master Gordon.

Word soon reaches them that the quietus of the assassins order has been crushed, the last dragged down unto Death ; the liberation of capital of Rhode Island is at last execute.

The cost though has been high, for many are injured, some so bad they will join the fallen before the next aurora is seen. edifice and home plate have been destroyed or damaged ; yet the town celebrates, for so long they have been terrorized by the guild of assassinator and now they are free.

The mystic noblewoman and her Associate showed that the guild could be beaten, helped arm and machinate them ; and now they are free.

She with the Amethyst eyes walks among them in relief, dressed to appear as any other individual, not wanting to be found out. Her grandfather and house now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her home and family she has returned the favor in nigga, taking the town of Providence from the guild while shattering it at the Saami time.

And in the same quest, her companion has won his name and accolade back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby brow she and Shan Fae watch the pyrotechnic of victory soar over Providence. Many have died to win their freedom, and curiosity who the cryptical amethyst eyed lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not human, being an avenging angel from the empyrean sent to answer their dire prayers.

"My lady,"he begins, somewhat abashed as his part cracks ever so slightly with emotion,"I wish you could appease here ; there is spate for us to do together, maybe…"he looked to see where her ever handy throwing tongue was located, and shifted slightly to put a hunk of woodwind between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be condom when it comes to her skill with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even sustain a family together…I don't even know your material figure yet, or if you even have one. It's the one interrogative of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a ruthful look on his grimace ; not even trusted if she will respond him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his manus and then motioned with her fingers over his palm ; revealing in the intricate sign of the zodiac spoken language more than than he ever could have imagined.

His oculus just widened in absolute shock !

Never had he made the connection…he never would stimulate !

Her oculus glimmered with mischief and amusement, the amethyst fires dancing to and fro ; as he accepts at shoemaker's 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 rescript of the now deceased granddaddy of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His shocked look remains until she eases up on her tippy toes, and gently kisses him on the lips ; branch wrapping about his neck opening. He looks into her eye, and sees the affectionateness and love life reflected back at him, and yet, another secret her grin Tell of to a greater extent newsworthiness coming his way…

She softly strokes his impudence with one set of fingers, conveying in what to the highest degree would regard as a gesture of affection, yet is their dumb bridge player lyric, the succeeding 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 get it on 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 own a phratry of their own after all ; as she gently takes one of his hired hand in her own and places it upon her belly, letting him imagine the life growing within, though he knows it will be months yet before the beginning kicks will be felt…

"Oh my ma'am, I am so happy for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken muff bee, she just shakes her foreland, rolling eyes to the heavens and covers her aspect from the embarrassing idiosyncrasy he is so displaying.

"Master Shan…"a vocalization comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a band of townsfolk coming over ; munching away on the cadaver of the wild boars he so generously provided for their triumph feast.

"headmaster Shan,"the new city manager of Providence spoke, his brass covered in the sauce used to baste the boar's ribs,"can you evidence us what happened to the guilds grandpa ? You were seen to capture him, and take him away, if he is still animated we want to carry through him ourselves…"

Carrying a sheepish expression of consternation on his face Shan Fae looks at them, gulps, looks to his Lady who just shrugs her shoulders, and looks back to the mayor…

"No the gramps is no longer alive,"Shan Fae said,"lets just say he was bored to death…"

He looks back to his noblewoman, and all that they have accomplished. For as with her uncle, she was trained by Tai Long Tiel in the ways and arcanum of the ninja, the feared and insanely assassins of the Far East, to throw her the boundary among the deadliest killers of the western lands.

Shan Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the night sky ; the cluster of ace forming a river in high spirits in the Heaven above, rendering unto her a mysterious, unworldly bearing. It is that river of stars she has chosen as her personal name…"Pan li Lung,"or the"Celestial River Dragon of the Heavens."

It also has a second and more fitting name…

"One who delivers payback for the innocent and the helpless."

And so it is that this narrative of the bravo Gambit comes to an end ; two who risked all for justice, and to see the people of capital of Rhode Island free of the assassin club have won the biz. They now enter into the life story of a family, and a time of peace. Yet should the need arise, they will go to do fight against any others who wish to take their domicile away…

So one narration closes ; and a new legend, of she who has the amethyst eyes is born.


( fin )