Just outside the townsfolk of capital of Rhode Island, four figure close upon their target - an old, battered home that is battered by the raging storm that conceals their movements. Biting winds drive the fierce, chilling rain almost horizontal, blocking all spoken communications between the four until they reach a modest sheltering orchard of woods.

The loss leader of the four, Finneous, motion pedagogy to his associate in the mum star sign nomenclature used by the assassinator Guild ; though they already know their finish, no mistakes will be tolerated this night, the contract bridge must be fulfilled…no subsister and no grounds is to be left behind.

On that the grandfather of Assassins, the dead on target rule of the guild and of providence is clear.

Silent as expiry, they move between shadows illuminated instant by consequence as lightning saltation across the sky. Here one darts to a Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, then to lay behind a humble shrub ; there one bolt between flash to the protection of a low wall surrounding the house.

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

Even the cities Constables, the law enforcement agents of providence - of course all are under lodge control - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this time of day. The plans of the house, down to the smallest particular, were secured by yet another band of guild agents, allowing for preciseness planning…

All too leisurely, nada can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will take aim no chances, for speechless luck has on Thomas More than one juncture interrupted his plans. He gives a C count, making for sure no movement occurs…

Seeing, sensing and hearing nothing he motions with one mitt to his companions. Of the three, Cinnius heads to compensate the rearward door with his lowly crossbow, Gordon and Gerald motion to the side entrance of the pantry and kitchen.

Between twinkling of lightning and echoing roars of thunder they go ; undetected, they reach the star sign of the banker betrayed by his spouse. Swift and efficient they enter, and in less than five minutes the whole affair is complete, leaving the menage dead and the firm aflame from nominal head to back. No survivors, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An sluttish night of work ; rule out an intact family, torch the house to cover the crime.

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

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

**************************
The gentleman known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the area watched the fervency as they consumed the house ; from the tail he had seen the four assassin enter and exit with exceptional acquisition. Not one of the four had seen grandad when he approached within four feet of their course coming and going.

"Amateurs,"he declared softly, disdain for these alleged ‘ professional'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 half-wit just for the interest of pragmatism. They give a bad name to what it means to be a reliable assassin.

He could just fancy how the battle would select lieu, brief and absolute in its finality…

Emerging from the concealment he would guide the finale in descent with a quick, flavorless edged mitt chop to the throat, instantly crushing it and sending him into a gurgling death…

Twin, envenomed knives would take the middle two in their fondness ; the quivering spasm of death wracking the expressions of shock and horror on their faces…

Their leader in front, the one he knows as Finneous from past transaction, would decrease in a personal matter…his iron shod staff smashing bone and crushing organs in close up conflict ; or if the Noel Coward flees then he would send the throwing stars into his rearward - each one with the Saami deadly spite as his knife hold…

Tonight he can not pass on in to the desires…

Giving a quieten two hundred count while still concealed by his tiger striped cloak, chip of foliage aiding in the disguise of him being a voice of the tree and shrubs, he listens with ears keener than many. He moves nary a bit, even as biting worm crawl over him.

He knows when dealing with comrade hunter like the bravo, there is only room for one mistake ; of course being from the Far East, HE is the reliable hunter in this game.

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

In his sheltering blazonry is the little lady friend, the one with the amethyst center and mute voice. Her terror filled dying hug lets him know just how scared she truly is, though still Whitney Moore Young Jr. and small for her age, he will make sure that no injury comes to her…

No subject what he will make sure no harm comes to her ; her fathers do-or-die supplication with him, to pick one out of the twelve kids to be saved raked his pith raw, having given the warning of the coming hit by the guild. So it was he swept her up, out the door and into hiding here just ahead of the assassins.

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

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

He keeps his firm grip on the minuscule girl who hugs him in a terror filled death hug ; her eyes filled with amethyst fires. When her father had come to play him, only the female child was with him ; then the father had rushed back to hold open his family, too late to do little Thomas More than die with them.

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

Very slowly the daughter extended her coating clad arm, gloved fingers tracing a serial publication of moves into his handwriting. Indeed, deaf-mute that she may be, the ease of her power with the sign terminology of his folk's profession - fellow assassin like himself - demonstrating the intelligence 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 understood with your new figure and block the old. To the balance of the populace, you are only known as granddaughter, one of many orphans I have raised over the old age,"he said.

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

He calculated the metre that passed since the quaternity of assassins left ; then figured the observers for the gild of assassinator will be along shortly - to make sure the contract was carried out in its entirety.

"We must go now. I will instruct you from today to become a hunter of your own. You will not contribute terror to the inexperienced person ; instead you will hunt the hunters and their agents ; to teach those who use brat what it means to be matter of terror in turn. ``

So it is the two depart into the hills, far from the metropolis to the place they call menage.

Neither of them bet back at the old aliveness, the end of a family for her.

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

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

They have made their one mistake.



***********
***********
Grandfather just smiled with joy as he looked upon her, lying next to him on her stomach on their bed ; his finger moved with flaccid, feather gentleness across her bared skin. He began with her one bared cheek, her head turned his way and those wonderful oculus dancing with such wit, lifespan and bed for him.

Moving in a slow spiral outward from the center, he soon reached her mouth and playfully caressed them across the top and then the bottom, exploring each circumstances of them in turning. The feel of her warm breath upon his finger brought a tingling delectation to his mind, his old consistence still up to the entertaining of a untried lady, one who is no longer a girlfriend - she reached her absolute majority a calendar week ago, and asked for this night as her gift from him.

He slips his fingerbreadth into her mouth, caressing the interior of her lips and stroking against her teeth, taking delight in the growing blush upon her cheek. Moving back to her upper lip, he continues his fingertip exploration, up to her poke and around each of her eye - especially along her brows, bringing a subdued shudder to her body as her eye gently close for the moment.

His digit begin to massage around her forehead and then back along her display ear, drawing forth a grin on her ruby red lip as a content picayune sigh flight past them. She draws her hands up under the pillow her head is resting upon, while her bared hide shines with the moonshine flowing in from the twin sliding threshold that are receptive to the outdoor world.

Her one arm flickers for just a moment, the deal setting more secure under the pillow.

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

His optic look up as he picks up the faintest of apparent motion through the floor board, a shaking and a cushy speech sound so subtle most would assume a mouse had scampered across the room.

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

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

bending down he places his lips on her tegument, kissing inch by salty tasting inch from mid shoulder joint to the lower back ; all the while his eyes watch for the next shadow to be active, ears listening for the side by side auditory sensation to be made as the unknown interloper approaches.

His fingers flow to the position of her abdomen, drawing a constant, squirming, squiggling apparent movement from her.

A faint sound comes forth through the rampart, telling him the accurate location of the intruder.

It also provides the information to another as well…

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

The discriminating, cracking riposte of the vane biting through the woodwind instrument is heard by both of them.

burial itself to the blades hilt, she sees that her aim has been true. She then resumes her comfortable billet on the fledge matting, hands back under the pillow, waiting for Grandfather to continue his ministrations.


======
The intruder, the man of mystery from the Far east simply known as the comrade - and designated benefactor for the one with the amethyst eyes, calmly stands in his lieu, one leg in one-half step, animal foot prepared to step across the rampart physical body to another small articulation projecting slightly outward.

Such a movement on this outer wall, along the social structure fourth level and some three hundred understructure over a cliff to the jagged rocks below would be child's play.

He wanted to see the gift being given by grandfather to the immature lady.

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

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

He gently cut his body around 180 grade, pivoting on the toes of his early ft, then begins the climb back the way he came ; he will never underestimate her again.

His gaze is drawn back to the decimal point of a blade extending a digit length through the wood ; the gleaming poison on its shiny surface percipient to his trained eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his humanness by a haircloth breadth.

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

No more peculiarity for him, he will now center solely on the charge, and the justice long denied to him for the offense committed by the guilds grandfather of Assassins.

The destiny 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 joy in her actions is obvious as she holds her weapon system out for him, the invitation loud and clear in their unspoken dance of love.

Easing his robe off, he carefully lies across her body, supporting the mass of his weight upon his slender, old and iron strong arms while she contribution her legs, sliding them gently around his hips, and begins to strike them in caressing effort along his own.

He begins to osculate her lips, which she returns with fiery chroma, the glow of her cheeks deepening with each passing moment. osculation after gentle, pecking kiss embraces her buttock and then along the jaw to her chin, her smile concealing a barely seeable gulp while one hand moves to stroke her cervix ; generating a small tingle and twitch of her dead body, a silent giggle parting her lips while arms and legs writhe in joyous, frenzied bliss.

One humble tickle follows a second, then three more than, resulting in corking and corking gyrations from she with the amethyst eyes. tear of joy welled in those eyes, flowing down cheeks to the waiting mouth of grandfather who pressed his lips gently on each drop - his smile shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling scents of granddad while he is so close ; often she has been side by side to him in slumber, but never in such a manner as this…the thought of what is to come so soon filled her with a bit of dread and arithmetic mean of ecstatic bliss…the final secret of mysteries to be explored.

Her eyes closed as his handwriting cuffed the book binding of her cervix, supporting it with great strength and gentle, warming cutaneous senses ; the small vibrating motion of each finger muscle told of his iron control of the physical structure, massaging and finding each sensuous nerve in the area, bringing an unexpected spate of euphoric heat from mysterious within and down below, where she feels the beginning of a wetness build…

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

One fingertip of his free hand began to explore, resting at first upon the very base of her rib, to flow upward in a pin down, focused, undulating lead that sent a cornucopia of feelings surging into all portions of her mind.

Sharp and sweet, working girl and tangy, dull and dense ; row without form for feelings that can not be described but only imagined in a harmony like a serial publication of current forging into a right river as all joint together. One sharp intake of breath bringing a heavenly profusion of scents - the lingering steam and droplets of water from the bathing room nearby ; the slightest trace of old cologne water and musk, of earthly copious men olfactory modality, and timberland heathers of women who have been here in the rooms many one C of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened palm tree, easing along the edge of her white meat, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in belittled, gentle circles. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded ; the hand caressed and massaged more and more field of each breasts.

She heard and felt her breath quickening, her header making a pocket-sized circuit as electrical charges of pure walking on air tingled their way up in her body ; each one in number unleashed a pleasant surge of zip, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality. Stroke by gentle stroke the multitudinous pattern flowed, kneading and shaping her breasts until they crossed the erect nipples ; that first gracing contact sent a coursing heart rate of warmth along all the itinerary of her torso, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred flexure in intensiveness that almost became overwhelming.

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

Unto its journey the handwriting continued, seeking out with almost desperate rush the other nipple ; its trail a net route illuminated by fires of seventh heaven as it moved along my skin. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the rippling on a pool, yet with the force of a cascade among a mighty river.

Just short of contact her body could take no more, pushed to the edge faster than even grandpa had figured as her body moved in emotional, euphoric motion ; one silent cry of primal passion after another expressed on her parted lips until her flood tide hit, being released in one mo of uttermost Eden bliss.

She signed him not to stop, to finish her requested gift for the night, while she still was ready. goose egg was to intervene from here on out…nothing if she could assist it at all.

Her bridge player slide along his back, teasing and necking, until they meet with the fingers entwining to take hold him securely in plaza. She closes her eyes, neck arching slightly in response to the kisses he now places along it, while a series of soft sighs escape her lips that open and tightlipped in still calls of building lust.

When he enters into her womanhood, she grabs him tight as a surge of painful sensation passes from the sundering of her virginity ; no matter 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 cheek scrimped in pain in the neck as he continued to press inward…

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

From his gentle and firm action, move after motility, she begins to feel a fiery bliss flow up her body like a river of molten metal ; the heating system and intensity redoubling with each inch it passes unto her brain. Her breath quickens as she lays there, ears listening to the gentle, steadfast breathing of Grandfather.

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

All too soon the wonderment of this metre of pleasure comes to an end, as he reaches the limit of his consistency's survival and restraint, sending his life ejaculate cryptical into her body.

"I'm sorry it did not survive as long, or would be as gratifying as it should accept been Granddaughter ; the commencement time for any man or woman is the most embarrassing, until the mystery is passed and the creation widens for them both,"he explained to her.

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

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

His hand encompassed hers, allowing him to charter delight in the effeminacy of her skin, the slight hidrosis on the surface.

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

In their shared, tacit signboard spoken language she explains that they depart in two weeks.

She looks upon the one who she loves so much with wonder, hoping to contribution so many more such import as this night before the hunt begins.

For the finale ten year he has raised her, teaching her languages and writing, the art of interpersonal chemistry belonging to the assassin of the Far East. The way of the sword and the bow, the throwing hotshot and obelisk ; many weapons for all office she may encounter…and so much more.

The outstanding weapon she has, as he once challenged her to gauge, is her mind.

Yet he taught her so much more than to be a ‘ support weapon ;'she loves to dance with him under the stars, to angle and trace, to play chess, and so much more.

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

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

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

She dreams of their time together in the two workweek to get ; now that she has become a woman, she will do more than just pleasure his humanness with her lips and tongue, all he would let her do for some time now. They will make make love from dawn to dusk and into the many nights they have left.

Her pipe dream recall those fourth dimension, from the 1st taste of grandpa manhood on her mouth, his seed spilling into her mouth and his excuse when she choked ; to the way he explained what to do…

Yes indeed, their rest 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 Grandfathers ash have been laid to roost, the two horse cavalry he holds, their mounts, remain silent as if paying respect to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just excite his head, amazed that the one he is to form with show such a range of emotions ; he made the hope to never underestimate her again, yet the sheer showing of attainment in her plan - and the contingencies for events and opportunities that may rise, is the piece of work of a admittedly master.

Only the slightest glimmer of a snag shows as it flows down her cheek ; the only failing he has seen in her during the time they have come to sleep together one another.

loony as it sounds, he wonders if there is a opportunity for them ; once the hunt is done, to possess a kinship with each other…

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

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

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


*******************
*******************
In the depth of a vacant shop, one long boarded up, shelves thick with dust and cobwebs the lonesome auditory sensation to be heard is the deep, rasping, moaning gasps of an older man. Dressed in a well tailored suit, nigh would take him to be a servant for one of the rich merchandiser of Providence ; yet if they knew his unfeigned position, they would run off screaming…to an early, pain in the ass filled last as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then brook the Saami fate.

He is the Butler and rightfulness handwriting man of headmaster Gordon of the guild of assassinator, not to mention being a deadly killer in his own rightfulness.

His hands grip the workshop dusty riposte that pushes into his back as he fights to remain good ; wafture of giddy, pulsating, undulating heating and electrical like sensations of pleasure menses into his psyche ; too many years have passed since he has felt this way, and now to have such a lady as this return such sake in him, for such a fairly punk price as well…

One of the fabled sister of the Blue, a modest gathering of courtesans renowned for their domination of the erotic and Tantrik art, showing pursuit in HIM ! ! !

Truly the legend of their abilities are justified, and then some.

One raspy breather after another passes his rim, pectus panting in and out like a Solomon Bellow, one shudder after another causes his body to flex and feed about, as he feels like his brain is now turning to slush before a furnace, about to flow away completely in a cloud of steam.

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the Sister's lips play along the length of his humanness ; pausing to kiss and swirl around the sensitive substructure of its head. With a whirlwind of small, precise strokes of her clapper she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading Wave into his consistence along the constringe ravines of his anxious scheme ; one wave upon the early ; building into a tsunami of force and lustful flak, threatening to barge in his thinker ; with oblivion coming then and there from upheaval matching that of a wild stallion proclaiming victory for laterality of a herd of mares.

For the first time in years he feels so gratuitous and TRULY ALIVE ! ! !

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

He has to find out ?

oink after oink replication around the empty shop class, his fist commence to Syrian pound upon the counter as he strains to hold back the growing pressure sensation upon his humanity. He understands that for so long he has been an Bos taurus, who by choice and labour in the mansion house of his gaffer, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such all right animal pleasures as this…

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

She eases one hired man upward, gently teasing and tickling his twin set of chestnut tree just below his humanity, while being unaware of the small surprisal prevarication just within her fingernails boundary. If this man dares to draw the veil set of blades or the all right wire garrote up his depart sleeve, then the toxicant will vote out him within endorsement, thus forcing a small change in her design for the near future.

His laughter grows from a small series of chuckles to wild, manic, hysterically insane speech sound carrying tawdry and yearn outside the shop ; though no one in the area dares to pay attending - ignore such audio that may mean guild business organisation is going on and you stay awake for today…maybe…

He feels like his center have crossed over into the opposite sockets, his strength being drawn out of him by the constant, estrus flowing, headiness of her activity. Oh if he only could get his wife or the other girlfriends and schoolmarm he has - each convinced they are ‘ his true love'– to do thus to him, as well as or better than she.

For the indorse time he counts his blessed destiny at having a sis of the Blue come to HIM for so low of a price ; one simple changeover and future tense meetings such as this will go ever easier to arrange.

Blackmail can be so fun of a game sometimes ; especially if she desires to remain in one piece, not to mention active for some time to come.

He wonders for a bit how much he can charge his associates for them having their involvement with her ; and not put on the line being sold out to Master Gordon or the Grandfather of Assassins

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

Of course his master may not see it that way, yet what he does not have it away will not induce him to slaughter the butler in the most poisonous of agency possible…if he was prosperous, being flayed of all skin, doused in vinegar and then covered in tall mallow to be fed to rabid rats would be a true blessing.

But that will not happen, his professional may be a powerful figure in the guild, yet HE, the Samuel Butler, controls the day to day consequence at lord Gordon's acres - no one will know, just as he has smuggled and embezzled millions of gold coins, stone and graphics over the geezerhood, others paying the price for his actions…

He easily could take afforded one of the Sisters at their convention, outrageous fees of ten or more year's earnings for a normal worker, just for one time of day of ‘ entertainment'by them. Some mass have become so indebted to them, that they in number become handmaid of the baby, forever.

The two thing that give the baby such power aside from their command of the sexual artistry, is the sheer beauty of each one - plus the sheer sky-blue blue eyes they have ( hence the ‘ blue'in their title ) ; AND the fact that each one is mute from nativity, thus all secrets told in their presence can be kept safe from revelation.

Those who control the Sisters make surely they never learn to intercommunicate in any agency, reading, writing, or such save by a limited signaling language centered on the sexual nontextual matter. Though they are free in how to pleasure and please their clientele, they shall never be free of the mighty influence and control of the club that dominates their entire lives.

secret and boasts safe with the sister ; so be it.

The pantryman spends some fourth dimension explaining to her as she gently strokes his humanity, rapt attention paid to him as he tells story after taradiddle about the gild and their wave of little terror and murder used for controller ; her grinning shows the excitement brewing deep in her body, seeing him as a wizard of champions against those who dare to oppose the way things are - the lodge of Assassins ruler, nothing else can put back it.

Or so he assumes.

Gently she teases the very tip of his humanity with the tip of a fingernail, drawing him to the edge of lunacy and back again and again ; her smile of grand seventh heaven combined with rhapsodic care to the pigs constant watercourse of false heroics masks the level best contempt she feels to him…

And curiosity if it would not be better to simply engrave a bit too hard, rise back and sentry as the poison goes into effect…no not yet ; the meter for such petty thing is not at hand.

Her hands take hold of his manhood and lead off to stroke it, fast-slow-fast-faster-slower, the speed changing enough to progress him up, back down some and then build up again.

His rasping breathing spell continues to deepen, eyes crossing as he nears his peak.

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

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

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

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

As per their deal, she opens her rima oris to show his entire spirit seed is there, and then swallows it down.

She smiles at him, happy to own given him such joy ; while on the interior she steams at having to put up with such a beast of an animal, emasculation would be too beneficial for him…give him over to a band of wild woman, wielding knives and they will deliver him as the chief course at a banquet…

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her temper in check ; despite that she will be spewing her catgut out for the future couple of hours when she gets house, the boilersuit amplification are worth it.

revenge will come soon enough.

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

"My dear baby in amobarbital sodium, the following time you wish to have to a greater extent roses, let me know. I will gladly convey them to you for an ‘ exchange of services'such as you provided tonight,"the butler stated.

"Just remember,"he angrily said, suddenly grabbing her by the throat with enough force to lead bruises upon her skin.

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

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

The pantryman heads off now on other thing ; specifically the owner of the new efflorescence shop, the girl known as ‘ Clairice,'the one who is ally with the madman that makes the gadgets for the guild.

She has expressed interest group in the fresh rosebush lord Gordon has been developing, ace like the three he has given to the sister in blueness. Yes, he shall establish his demands known soon enough, and may have another one to add to his mistresses - or he may just kill her outright, depending on his finical whim of the moment.

Yes life story is thoroughly and sea captain Gordon will never know of the missing prime being by his own hands.

The biz he is playing with the rosebush has eternal possibilities…

If he understood the role he unknowingly plays in the"Sisters"game ; the panic would cause his heart and soul to stop on the spot.



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

Indeed, ten years is a long clip, now he had baron, social rank and wealthiness known only to a few ; those who part ways to let him guide, his rank clear by the ok of black suits encompassing his iron-trimmed muscular skeletal frame. For the suicidal who may challenge him, the belittled crossbow bouncing at his hip - always loaded with a poison bolt - is make.

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

…no that one he will never gainsay, preferring the sumptuousness of life-time to the decisiveness of decease after hideous amounts of torture…

The mentation of the last execution he had seen, a man covered in meld cheese and lowered brain first into a pit filled with athirst, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he ; the screams gave him nightmares for hebdomad afterwards…as the grandad of Assassins intended, a warning as well as punishment…

Yes here in his domain he is safe, based on his power to control others by their fears - of decease, pain, and of penalty or fierce skill in blade, knife and a hundred other weapons. By controlling their fright, he has ascendence 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 knowledge base here in the city…"he chuckles to himself. Yes it is well to be king over a small destiny of the world.


======
Two sets of middle watch as Finneous nous down the street, following the Saame pattern each day. Same time, 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 quick conversation, using the silent spoken language of hand motion ; if all goes well, they will ask to strike quick.


======
Two soft, appease oculus watch as the assassinator psyche down the street ; day after day he follows the Lapp set route, no departure and secure in his own personal domain. Indeed in this area of Providence he is a Rex, and genuine to style, the watcher here has a natural endowment for him.

They play this Saami game each day just as he passes the doorstop leading into her home ; she hopes the endowment will be especially pleasing to him today. Already a gentleman had purchased one of her half-blooming rosebush for his girlfriend. Old men can be such romanticist she figures, and the girlfriend must be so golden to possess him as her friend.


======
Finneous walk by one of the few privately owned shops in the area, the diminished I. F. Stone building is home to a new florist, who also deals in odds and ends she trades for from former merchants. Such is the budding repute of her work that many hoi polloi of influence and power, not to mention phallus of the society, visit to purchase her creations.

Her only known companion is that old and completely insane toymaker Darius ; his genius for making gadgets and mechanically skillful contraptions is just as legendary, as he has the favorable opportunity to behold first 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 canary that starts to whistle.

So sweet and confessedly is the song that many real canaries in nearby Tree join in the call.

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

Heading over, he gives a cushy cough to make his front known, and indicates the mechanical bird with one hired hand. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the creature ; Darius bristles until the fille locks him in post with a truly stern regard, thus saving the assassin the motivation to kill him for a minor insult.

Clairice agrees on the terms, obviously not wanting to adventure offending the assassinator.

When he gives her the coins for the leverage she bows to relieve herself then goes back into the shop. Darius just shrugs his berm and heads off on whatever business organisation his insaneness holds, his deep blue angel robe covered in weird mathematic symbols flowing about him in the breeze.

As the assassinator heads down the street he knows he is being watched ; his construction feigns involvement in his newest toy while actually keeping path of each person moving about him. Soon enough he discerns the one who he has been waiting for - on time and for once holding something of large stake to him.


======
The two who watch the progress of Finneous up the street have another promptly conversation in the soundless paw spoken communication ; the sec of the two prow slightly, then proceeds to pitch his ‘ gift,'knowing that there will be footling time as affair come to a head.

The first continues to watch Finneous, seeing him simulate interest in the mechanical bird, and the true interest he shows in the ‘ game of ambush'both play each day ; not to mention the peculiar ‘ gift'that goes to him today as well…these assassinator, such amateurs…



======
As on each day, the ‘ ambush'occurs right on time, the minuscule female child with the soft eyes steps out in strawman of him with her weaponry filled with flowers."beneficial sir, would you like a efflorescence today ?"

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

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

He counts out a handful of silver-coins, many times what all of her flowers are worth. This is his substance of paying his own agents, and helps to keep them in line with the unspoken message of fear - betray him and not only will the broker die, so will all their household and kinfolk.

As Jesmine runs off to establish the funds to her begetter Finneous hears a din down the street…

Much to his amusement he sees the old toymaker Darius arguing with a pair of trees. He seems to be trying to get them to buy a mechanically skillful gimmick that will meet water for them. A clean-cut lesson in the fine art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can make rattling toys.

His mistress will absolutely bed this mechanical bird.

A 2d coup d'oeil at Darius shows he is trying to trip the light fantastic with the tree, and doing so badly. When a bunch of leaves fall over his promontory, he begins to debate about some ‘ slight of honor from the forests of the world'and then challenges each tree to a duel of honor…a true madcap indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

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

"I will have to find out."

Too bad he never got a opportunity to come up out.


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

"Go and get the duty skipper,"shouted the patrol sergeant-at-law to his aide,"tell him what we have here at once, the rest of you secure the orbit, five rate out and no one touches anything ; when the Grandfather of Assassins finds out about this we may have major problems."

Thus has passed Finneous, passkey assassinator, fearless world-beater of his own domain who made only one misapprehension ; he became predictable ; thus he became vulnerable ; and thus dead.

All hail the king for he is now dead.

One has fallen, three more left.


*********************
*********************
The cities police force - the John Constable have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her family. Everything in their house is inviolate, no signs of mental disturbance, trouble, foul play or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their endure prepared meal, still cooling down from cookery, remains uneaten on the table plus an expensive wine feeding bottle chilling in a bucket of ice…

There were only two oddities to be found - a half-bloomed rose on the tabular array, and a pile of composition hidden away in a hollowed out Scripture.

Most of these were of line of work dealings for the family ; one was very, very odd…

Make sure that Finneous has entree to these flowers during his morning walk of life, one is to be sent to his schoolmarm as well ; remember I will digest no more mistakes. If per hazard he does ask where they are from, assure him directly they come from my estate gardens, in honor of our ten yr of mutual silence - Gordon.

Quickly this bank bill made its way into the men of the bravo social club ; the leaders waiting to see what their skillful examiner could chance, which for the to the highest degree region appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a serial publication of belittled, invisible writing emerges from the slight heating of the lambskin.

A special, conceal code known only to a handful of the guild - used for those who need to flee the city instantly, and with pure safety…

Safe home prepared, flee when Finneous given flowers, no falter, follow directions to the letter on bother of death for everyone - Gordon

"beat up everyone who may be remotely connected to this topic, and turn them over to the Constables for the interrogations. Make sure they are reminded to rest lull, no questions, no mention of guild business organization at all under bother of death,"ordered the Grandfather of Assassins.

Turning to the loss leader of his personal escort detail he gives one explicit order,"Find the 1 who run this network of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be Master Gordon, a tycoon play seems to be brewing, and so those betrayer have only one live on task to perform…food for my collection of tigers in the dungeons…and make for certain they die slowly…I want to learn their screams."

Most in all probability this is a big businessman shimmer, a series of voiding of challenger and senior rate penis to open the way for blue membership to be promoted - that is the way of the order, to advance you toss away of those above you or die in the process.

The grandfather decides a piddling talking with victor Gordon could not hurt. Just to make sure he is cognizant that if he is seeking to unseat him, it will make out to a bad ending for Gordon. And if he is not plotting against Grandfather, then it will alert him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

Among the assassins there is one convention - you have no friends ; never. friendly relationship 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 members of the Guild ; with assassin there is grudging esteem for their superiors mixed with ambition to succeed them after a well placed blow that finishes them, if possible.

Indeed, give them the respectfulness they are due for the risk they present, eliminate them when the metre comes.

Upon receiving the bidding from the Grandfather of assassin ; overlord Gordon starts to agitate in mortal holy terror, wondering what was going on…Finneous is utter, a varsity letter he supposedly wrote according to the messenger after a nice bribe, plus the first rustle on the street of people inquiring more and more about his home and habits in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his Samuel Butler ?

plot of land within patch, relocation and counter motion ; that is the lot of anyone who is a fellow member of the Guild…HIS life, the accumulation of power and control until eliminated by a rival from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the gramps of bravo fears HIM…

Despite assassinator not having Friend, they always have two companions lay out - paranoia, and fear.


*******************
*******************
Clairice had to allow in, being interrogated by the John Constable was dissimilar than her initial arithmetic mean ; by far it is different.

Here she is, laying back on a couch, those flabby doe like eyes closed, principal turned to one side as her back talk silently open and come together from wafture of lightning like pleasure surging with power and force-out up her body, to crash with thunderous retorts in her mind.

Those gentle hands grip the dorsum and face of the sofa with vice like intensity, fighting to hold off the force of each shudder, arching of her cover and wiggling of her hips from the aid being given to a finical region of her body…

Just the intellection of it, not to bring up what is going on causes her already inscrutable blush on face, brown and nose to compound further ; so acute is it that anyone watching would feel waves of heat and desire shimmering off of her skin in moving ridge, threatening to consume all who dare to venture near.

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

As if she had any tangible pick but to submit to the interrogation anyhow…

The one who is conducting this unequaled style of ‘ inquiry'is the Chief tec Kimberly, who takes her metre to ‘ investigate'and ‘ examine'each persona of Clairice's womanhood. Each and every inch, fold and hidden depth she kisses, licks, or plays with via her fingers ; time after time she manages to bring Clairice to the very edge of coming, threatening to drive her over the edge only to bring her down and then back to the edge.

Kimberly's cruel grinning display as she playfully and forcefully teases them across one sensitive are of Clairice's muliebrity, drawing out a current of convulsive hip push and arching of her back, legs squirming about as she covers her mouth with both hands clenched into fists.

The men in the room, those who work under Kimberly's absolute, unrelenting and utterly sadistic authority grinning wickedly ; unleashing a continual waterspout of revilement, jabbing, ribald gestures and a ‘ running commentary'on how they feel that Clairice should just relent to the examen.

None will point out on the techniques used by Kimberly, nor on her bared body ; her bronzed hide, perfectly formed face with those barbarous gray eyes and cherubic expression - complete with a sprinkle of freckle, and her massive, perfect breasts any man would choke between with happiness on his final exam expression, makes a perfect tense fashion model any sculptor would be proud to have created.

Yet the bronze death mask of the last twenty men to so comment hang on the wall nearby ; each mask showing the absolute sight of horror their faces had attained at the present moment of their expiry in the most flagitious of ways one could imagine…chewed on by rats, boiled in oil, Crucifixion, dying by 500 lashes of a lash, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will make bold lay a hand on Clairice either, nor make any form of threatening move ; the fate of those who do is unknown save for thus : the day after they made the final misunderstanding in the mien of Kimberly their manhood was found in the streets near their homes, and no early remains.

Amazingly though, hearsay to burst out of Kimberly's hearing of one man, a eminent range member of the society of assassinator has won her heart….if that is even possible…

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

detrition her digit rapidly over the girl's womanhood, she grins wickedly back at her men ; then she moves back down again, playing her tongue across it in rapid, accurate strokes and letter patterns of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the fingers of both hands worming their way inside her fast bend.

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

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

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

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

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

The torturers though just could not crack his already insane thinker ; he continued to indicate with the post, some matter of math and automobile mechanic. Each crack of the lash drew only a minor separatrix on his exposed back, enough to inflict maximum pain, yet did not break him.

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

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

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

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

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

Kimberly continuing her maddening endeavour on her, determined to extract every bit of pleasure out of this minuscule prostitute, continuing to traverse her the release her dead body demands.

Again and again her hips thrust upward as wafture of fiery seventh heaven shoot along her organic structure and threaten to collapse her mind. Waves of volcanic warmth flow and ebb along every fiber of her being ; surging and exploding with every character of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rapturous bliss !

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

One silent gulp followed by another and yet a third becomes a regular stream for some meter as one specific fleck is touched just so by Kimberly's tongue ; causing her renal pelvis to thrust up, back bending and breast heaving with the sudden inflow of air her heated, burning physical structure is demanding…

The examiner's handwriting move up and caress her tit yet again, not bothering to be aristocratic either ; three multiplication she draws silent screams out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving bruises of her fingerbreadth and palm on each one, relishing the torment she can inflict on such an inexperienced person and cowardly girl…

If she only knew how fast the quicksilver manus of noblewoman fate can turn…

The animalistic grunts and slapping of flesh on flesh of David entering into Kimberly merged with her cries of pleasure, loud and wild like a pack of wolves. He showed no restraint, no hesitation in his every motion or desires to enjoy this instant in which he thinks he has complete ascendance over the examiner Kimberly.

Of course, his sidekick know better.

"okey you minuscule hussy, I will state you this much…mhmmm…if you cum before David, I will let the repose of the men have…mhmm…their way with you…oh…ohh…"

Grinning savagely Kimberly went about her crusade on Clairice in a whirlwind of elbow grease ; probing and twirling her fingers deep in her fair sex while working every portion she can with her flickering tongue and back talk. Faster and ever degenerate her elbow grease accelerated, determined to break up Clairice once and for all ; to show these men and the girl who is the avowedly gaffer and mistress on the scene…

Then she will see about destroying the one called Darius.

Clairice conflict with all the considerable bailiwick she has learned in her life, locking her consistence musculus and restraining the ever building, quickening fervour of her pending release ; she smiles inward with a small circumstances of her judgment as Kimberly howl in frustration - no matter what the inspector does or tries, she just can not make the girl hit her climax.

So furious does Kimberly go her hand that holds onto the spine of their shared frame tears away a lump of wood some two fundament long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her titty dance with the pulsating procession and downslope of her chest, howling delight escaping her sassing as center roll up into her head…she hits her climatic release at the instant David, full of bellowing oink and growls howls for all he is worth ( and such would reach any pack of brute grin with pridefulness ), his going inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

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

Moments after his big ending Clairice loosens up on her body, allowing the inevitable surge of last bliss to pour Forth as an unstoppable storm, the force and craze of the earthquake, the great tsunami descending onto the coast of a continent from across the ocean…

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

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

Kimberly just looked at her with iron in her coldness 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 dwelling house, if one of you so much as lay a paw on her, pray for a quick death from suicide ; otherwise I will flay your skin one column inch at a time, then soaked in vinegar, covered in molten cheese and tossed to a pit full of rabid, plague infested and thirsty squealer,"Kimberly informed them all.

Everyone quickly nodded in affirmation ; knowing their genus Bos is all too adequate to of carrying out that terror.

======
As they gather Clairice's habiliment, gently handing it to her, rear and regard now politely turned away ; the detective prepares to return her newest military recruit - David - a tush lesson in following orders. One thing David should have remembered is that each of the Investigators are cleaning lady who absolutely loathe men most of the time, plus being high level assassin of the club.

Without bothering to gather her clothing she saunters to support behind John Davys as he finishes lacing his britches ; his smile of conquest turns to vexation as he takes in the grins of his companions.

- WHACK !
- belt !
- rap !

Doubling over, eyes crossing and soft moans escaping his brim, David begins a slow, case first ancestry to the floor. One more than victim racked up to the inspector well known move called the"triplet Nutcracker."

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

Of course by now, laying on the floor while making soft, mewing and whimpering sounds, he is beyond any witting opinion or complaint.

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

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

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

That is the way of the guild run Constables and their Investigators ; they control the town folks through fear.

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

Finneous appears to simply sustain died of heart stoppage.

backbone in her personal office she examines the last, cute gift sent to her by Finneous…a last gift sent just a few minute before his death…and to just up and die from his heart stopping ; not in somebody combat against another bravo or madman…

She smiles at the wonderful gift :

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

Ironic indeed, two of the most deadly of sea wolf sharing one thing in park : A beloved for pink wine of all kinds.

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

Taking it in mitt from the watch crystal vase it arrived in, she looks at the flower in the flaccid lantern lighting ; the promise of beauty beyond wonderment hinted once the blossom opens to its fullest.

Bringing it to her nose she savors the heady odour that mix together - rose lips, Cinnamomum zeylanicum and clover ; plus others that still defy her power to identify.

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

It takes over two minute before anyone who heard the crashing noise followed by absolute secretiveness to work up up the courageousness to embark her post, rightfully fearing for their lives.

Of course they quickly discern there is nix to reverence any more from Kimberly - being dead does grant that warranty ; and she is deemed to have died from spunk stop as did Finneous.

The jubilation held that night in the constable office for her passing lasted well into the side by side day ; the moans and moan of the men and women coupling merged with the coupling of woman with other women telling all who dared to listen just how the celebration culminated.


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

As common no matter what Darius said or did the Constable escorting him and Clairice to her workshop paid him no tending. Its not that he minded the escort, nor having her as company during the recollective walk base ; he is sword lily they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by gang raping her as so many early woman routinely are - the so called ‘ law'of this town lives by terror as does the assassinator who rule.

What really is bothering him is being carried hog-tied to a longsighted rod carried between two constable ; they had the audacity to do so with his now cut up robes as well, leaving him wearing only a pair of thread bare britches in a deathly chill nighttime.

"Okay guys,"said the patrol loss leader - Jambis,"we have done our responsibility for the night ; now, leave alone her be and dump him…"

The two police constable carrying him summarily threw him into a stack of garbage and gunk. To add further affront to injury, the patrol dumps heaps of food waste from containers, cup of tea, and corner on top of him ; mocking him as a true madman.

"wellspring lads master key Gordon wanted him humiliated ; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the next time the master copy wants an parliamentary law filled, get it right. One more misunderstanding and the next visit by us will be a more pain filled than your mad nightmares could grasp,"Jambis told him.

"Really, I look forward to giving you instructions in such incubus some meter then,"he said with such coldness, voice devoid of all emotion, that the total 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 beef with an smoothing iron tipped kick to Darius's head.

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

Even that blasted wretch of a loose woman Clairice is gone.

"smart young lady, hold back out of flock, and hold back 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 home ? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…"Jambis'voice fades away as Darius rolls on the dry land in pain…

Or at the least, the feinting of painful sensation ; for they do not see him suddenly take full control of his body, his eye set on their vertebral column in a matter that promises death to each one of the patrol.

Only the opening of the shop door and a motion of her with the amethyst eye keeps his pursuit in check…

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


======
hour later in the urban center crowded market one young madam casually strolls down the way ; just a simple Milk maid from the farms outside the town. No one pays her any attention, the much patched, homespun textile coated in the day by day grime of hard Labor Department keeps most eyes from more than a glance followed by, for those of more moneyed mean, a disdainful snort of disgust.

She filled her basket with an salmagundi of fruits, day old bread and other goods for a pocket-size kinsperson of one ; all that the trafficker know she needs.

Friendly, but dumb, the mark across her throat and left case indicate a horrendous injury that never properly healed due to lack of care.

Still with mere gestures of pantomime they communicate for conducting concern ; both official and otherwise, for one of the trafficker passes her a small sack of smart fruits, something she pays well to obtain due to their rare and scarce nature.

book binding in the condom of one established den, she sees her associate degree carefully undo the sack material to gain access code to the note. He takes extreme caution in doing this, to make sure the note is not trapped in some mode - say with a low, highly poisonous insect or a minuscule snake.

"rich person trust in your broker true my granddaughter ; but take upkeep in sheath one has been turned,"grandfather had warned her in a example so long ago.

In her lowly mirror, used to remove the constitution, false scars and other point of her camouflage, she sees her currently unripe middle turn back to their normal color…the counterpart ball of amethyst fires…

"My dame,"her Associate says as he holds the bank bill out for her to examine.

It is from one of her early agents :

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

For a consequence her grin turns ferine ; her amethyst center dancing with pure flack from within.

She remembered the lesson Shan Tiel had taught :

The assassin controls agents through promise of wealth for achiever, and hope of death for failure. Find the object he threatens death to, the key to control over the family - once found, organise the families escape. When the agent of the assassin no longer is controlled by fear, their fear now becomes a electrocution desire for retaliation. Thus the assassinator in now vulnerable, and when you are set up, he will die.

Finneous held power and thus had entire ascendency of the founder by threatening damage to his cherished Jesmine.

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

One assassin is all in, three more than to go.

Along with taking down the greatest prize of them all ; now the paranoia and the atmospheric pressure will climb up and rise until all comes down.

He watched her crossbreed the room to order the note among a lowly parcel of them, to be burned later on and the ash tree scattered in the wilderness. No evidence of them is to persist at all once committed to memory.

His thinker registered each gentle sway of her hips, her covering gown of pink silk shining in the luminousness of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to tantalise him with a abbreviated revelation of a leg here, a calf there, a possible visual modality of one parcel or another in the close unceasing play of twinkle and trace. Not one noise did her feet make as they all but danced across the wooden storey, so balance and ghostly is each foot placed ; always ready for action on a consequence notice…

Oh how he could mull over what it would be like to feel his manhood being rubbed and tenderly teased to its maximum potential by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in act Menachem Begin to kiss one metrical unit, working to her ankle and then gently easing up, one inch at a clip to her innermost second joint and seek out the one heavenly place she has, the one portion he loves on a woman to please and taste, to live the lush warmness of her flesh and…

- Whack !

"My noblewoman if you will exempt me I am off to get some rest period,"Associate said as he slowly eased his dead body around the knife hanging sharp side up, just a hairs breathing space beneath his conjure manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol phallus public lecture of their title, screened by a small contingent of the best informed fauna to be found within any urban center : Street urchins, crawler, lurcher, they go by many such figure and almost all have one thing in common ; they are the underside of the sociable order.

The poor, homeless, orphans, madmen, and all such people who are desperate to make a coin or two for a decent meal ; so it is that many in side of power use them to watch any and all movement, any rumors or chronicle no subject how petty. Few people pay them any attention save to keep handwriting on their money belts, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being inconspicuous while in plain sight.

One former trait the lurkers, such as a Whitney Young lad casually strolling along the streets a short time later, his hands deep in coat pockets, is a well honed inherent aptitude for survival. Otherwise he would have died long before now. Yet the fact is when he bumps into someone, he is the one knocked to the reason - landing succeeding to a fallen field goal of fruit…

A lady looks down upon his fallen form, the raven blackness pilus done up in a flow gold braid, blue-white hat tied to her header while sapphire depressed heart watched. Her blush-enhanced cheeks glistened in the sun, matching the gloss on her lips as her smile grew spacious with poetic pleasure that many men, and some women, wished to explore with pounding hearts…

Her exquisitely gown of abstruse sea leafy vegetable sparkled in the light, slit along one leg to flow enticingly about her calfskin and thigh, promising proscribed delights to those volition and capable to pay the price. The soft vest of blue-green silk she wore clung to every one of her womanly curvature it reached, save for a lot that shows a glimpse of her chest, soft and pink of pelt, as many an patrician man enjoys…

Folding her parasol, she bends down into a half crouch, the fabric of her gown conveniently flowing about her speed thigh to give away the pearly luster of her skin ; muscles honed to absolute perfection and hinting at the strength contained within - the better to wrap around their evenings consorts in the stroke of passion, or so it is said.

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

The lad, his majority reached just two days ago does not act ; he is still, despite a rough life on the streets that has left him gangly, short and suffering malnutrition, in absolute fear of this peeress. His racing spirit meter from the panic of her wondrous nature, the prime of estrus deep in his body flowing fast and hard while his humanity demands his attention, threatening to tear his britches apart.

He looks upon her with awe and wonder ; this dame is of the renowned"sister of the Blue."

Across the way, a quartet of the sis toss by, stopping only long enough to see the action mechanism of one of their own interpretation aid to a street urchin. They show faces momentarily flushed with anger, then snuff and walk off in gross disdain…indicating this baby is something of an outcast from that elite group.

Understanding that he must be on his honest manners, for the sake of his life - the Sisters are often said to be part of the society of assassin, and under the personal statement of the Grandfather of assassin - the youths extended hand shiver with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ legend come to life'( in his intellect, she is a unquestionable goddess of passion and delight that can never be approached by the lowest of soul ), can be more intimidate than the lord of death who are probably preparing their poison tipped blade to twist him into a hand basket…

"Ma'am I am deplorable for knocking your basketball hoop out of hand,"accepting fault for the matter even when none is there. With utmost care and esteem he hands the fruit basket back to her.

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

Everyone watches in wonder as she takes him into the semi-private area of a oecumenical memory ; she uses mime to finally get the full point across to the grocer, who shakes in near brat at the view of causing the Sister any offense ( being connected to assassin can cause this to come about a lot, the Sister thinks ), to outfit the lad with a full set of NEW article of clothing, no second hand junk.

She pulls out a small identification number of argent coins to cross the cost and to buy some small goods that the grocer gives her a monumental deduction upon.

Through the shop door and windows the tuck bunch watches in jaw-dropping wonder as she sits the lad down side by side to her on a bench as the grocer goes to get the new clothing. Her handwriting playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to thrill like nothing. He fights to prevent his oculus off of her, especially as she takes one of his hired man into her own and moves it to the let down sharpness of her vest…gently guiding it up under the material and onto her breast beneath.

His jaw flutter subject and closed repeatedly as the warmth of her flesh, the yielding softness of it, catches him by surprise - no lady has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone have it away, assassins and the normal folks of Providence, that the lad is now a personal agent of her own ; to harm or pertain him in any way is to put on the line the requital of the Assassins…maybe, as no one can really be sure as shooting who she works for…

The baby in blue looking upon all the watcher with coyly pursed lips, optic set in a wicked gaze that promises the lad untold warmth to occur and untold, rank annoyance and death for anyone interfering with her pick out gift of recruitment for him.

The lad facial expression at her in approach affright, until she gently kisses him on the boldness, wind and eyebrow with a grin. She gently takes his handwriting away from her white meat and readjusts her clothing while the grocer returns with the garments. Ushering the lad into a changing way to see the resultant role, the grocer returns to putting her buy commodity in her basket ; then hands it to her with a bass bow, nod of the pass and a grand smile on his face.

So successful has the misrepresentation been, no one suspected the grocer passed a humble bundle of papers her way in the basketful ; in turn she had passed book of instructions on as well, concealed under her waistcoat for the lad to carry to others in her ever expanding circle of agents and contacts.

Before sundown comes, the leaders of her web of agent ; begin preparation of their own ; preparations for the monumental strike once she gives the signal…as weapons system and armor are prepared ; their smile are as of captive wolves about to destroy their tormentor.



======
Later that night, her middle read carefully the gathered accounts of all her own agents, item of those known agent and fellow member of the bravo's guild ; their obligation, patrol metre, habits and so forth. Each item that is gathered show more weaknesses, More fuel for the pending firestorm.

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

How to achieve it with tote up surprisal ?

After a few minutes of contemplation she turns to her Associate, and via the still bridge player linguistic communication explains what is needed. His smile and nod shows the pleasure in her idea, and he has a bazaar approximation of who to approach to craft the ‘ gift'that is needed.

As he looks into her eyes he sees the chemical substance miscellanea that allows her to change their color wear off ; the fake sky-blue blue reverting back to the honest, shining amethyst attack he has come to admire so a great deal. The mix used to make this happen is common in the Far due east, unknown to these cretin assassins of the West.

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

His gaze flows over her supple anatomy, the satiny robe enshrouding her partially unfold as she continues to read ever more of the message ; her bared skin glistens in the ennoble visible radiation of the oil lamp, casting shadows and light that dance suggestively across abdominal cavity and breasts, concealment and revelation in a terpsichore of sensuality suggesting more wonders are nearby if he would just dare to explore…

Putting on his coating as slowly as potential, pretending that his arm is stuck in the arm, he drinks in the mountain of her bared legs, crossed and curved to keep the wad of her womanhood just out of compass ; yet teasingly he can just seduce out a bit of the soft, downy hair between her thighs…a prize he would love to search if she just would let him do so…

How very much pleasance he could bestow forth from her unlike the now dead Inspector Kimberly - that one used the sexual for bullying and supremacy ; he will for her to be pleased and loved.

Bared breasts moves ever so slightly with each of her blue breather ; dancing in a rhythm method of birth control silent and steady, enticing with their nipples so soft, pink and fully erect as if daring him to affect in and consider the impossible.

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

From her breasts he would run downward on her abdominal cavity, teasing her tummy with constant lilliputian kisses to pull many silent circle of giggles and laughs as possible ; then proceeding downward to her womanhood, by now so ready to be excited and her eyes would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would revel in that odoriferous of all sense of taste and smells ; her bared fair sex, still so young and fairly innocent before him. Each lenient touch of his fingerbreadth and lip, the caresses of his tongue on those most sensitive of spots, natures gift to char, he would double his feat on and as she increased in fulfillment towards her orgasm, bring her down a bit and then double up the efforts again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the tremendous reaction of her body panting and gyrating as she hits her release, waving of walking on air and fiery passion flowing across her body to dash to the one pointedness of her mind demanding to enjoy each moment of the sensations.

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

- Thunk !

"My dame,"he calmly stated,"if you will tolerate me I shall throw due hurry to guarantee the Robert William Service we need for the following office of the plan…"

He gently moves forward a bit, making for certain to crystallize the sharp side up blade stuck in the wall just a fuzz breath below his manhood…her means of reminding him, romance may total later, right now early things are priority.

She just shakes her head and grin as he leaves ; wondering how many to a greater extent times she may bear to do that to get the idea through his head - she does not require love story, not at this time, she needs just a champion. Grandfather was the one she loved the most, and it's too soon since his passing…


*****************
*****************
Normally a walk of life among his beds of flowers cheers the darkest, noisome, humorless of moods he could achieve. This day though, is not one of them ; his neat rose gardens, the greatest of his gem accumulated over the last ten years now have become a bane.

tercet days ago, three of the flush were carefully cut and vanished.

Two of these bloom appeared this morning, one in the house of Jesmine's folk ; the others next to the now very dead Finneous and Kimberly.

An incredibly fine morning he was spending with a Sister in Blue crumbled into ashes with the courier who arrived unpredicted, accompanied by a heavy guard from the guild hall.

His message was elementary : The Grandfather of Assassins wants to see him.

He felt the frigidity, gripping handwriting of death clasp about his pharynx and heart ; the sheer threat threatening of the pending session alone all but stopping his heart.

Grandfather's gentle inquiry - he could simply receive tortured him to death on a caprice - centered on the bill supposedly in his own elegant and flowing script, so close of a forgery that even the order ripe experts are hard pressed to severalize the difference.

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

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

This closed book is driving him to the verge of folly ; the denotation again of ten years of secretiveness, only two others still alive know what happened all those class ago with the contract on the banker and his mob.

So either one of them has slipped the word out to set him up for a fall…or person else has figured the amour out and is setting him up for a fall…

The ease that the roses disappeared makes one subject clear though ; somebody has an factor on the inside, and needs to be found out and ‘ interrogated.'He does not bear those who sell him out…not at all.

But who could it be ?

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

Pleased with this program another thought comes to him ; here he is in the open, well within stove of a marksman with a crossbow…

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

He retreats back into the manor house, swiftly closing and barring the monumental iron room access. The watch is doubled and the place is to be searched from top to fathom twice over. Pure defensive measures if his hunch of a smasher at him is right.

Of class, if a coup attempt happens as gramps expects, he will rush to defend the loss leader of the society. If the opportunity arises, then he will dispose of Grandfather. His mood brightens at those thoughts ; he as the new grandfather of Assassins, ruling the Town and the guild plus all of his own lands…why not, this bears some give-and-take with his familiar - Gerald and Cinnius.

Even with the intellection now calculating program and contingencies for the coup of the social club or evacuation of a rival one fact remains clear-cut. His paw never loosens its handgrip on the razor sharp knife hanging from his belt.



**********************
**********************
Associate moved as carefully and quietly as he could, not daring to make a dissonance at all. trace to shadow, one belittled step at a time he moves, placid than a mouse on the prowl. For several days he has built up the cheek to come closer and closer ; with certain precautions being taken this time…

- clunk.

Quickly he grabs the cloth leaping, cast atomic number 26 plate draped across his humanness to pipe down up even this petty bit of disturbance. His quarry this even is all too likely to make certainly he is gelded indeed…and the poison on her blades are another complication as well to that sort of embarrassment.

Looking around the final corner into the humble stone grotto below the safe home they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst eyes showering beneath a mild, unwavering, misting shower of steaming piss. This may be one of the few luxuries she ever has allowed herself…

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

She bent her question downward to take in the facade component of her give away body, those smallish breasts glistening with small beadwork of piss upon them. Both manpower came together in front man of her, tip to tip, her eyes taking in the dancing lights that gleamed like a million millions of baseball diamond before a flame, playfully moving along her polish skin before they disappear into the syndicate about her human foot, merging with the rest for eternity.

fellow looked with marvel as she playfully gathered a handful of the water after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her silent laugh adding to the wonderment of her gleaming eyes when the droplets come back down to crash on her. She moves arms, legs, shoulders and headland to charm or dodge division of it ; shifting from groundwork to foot up in many different poses.

Then her gaze shifts to her breast once again.

One fingertip began to search, resting at first upon the really bag of her ribs, to flow upward in a nail down, focused, undulating trail that clearly sent a cornucopia of feelings surging into all fate of her mind.

associate degree could all too well suppose what she would say if words could be given form to her thoughts ... yes, she would delineate her own experience as ...

I felt as if my globe came alive from the instant my fingertip first touched flesh, a world chess opening before me unlike any other ...

Sharp and Henry Sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; words without form for feelings that can not be described save as a harmony like a series of well out forging into a powerful river as all join together. My eyes closed as I felt the heat in my eubstance beginning to shift and progress, a sweltering pulsation that flowed from the someone of my feet to the gratuity of my fingerbreadth, caressing hips and shoulders, knees and elbows as the soft, sensuous touch of a graceful fan who only desires to pleasure his lady to no end.

I smelled with each breathing spell the heavenly profusion of smell - the mineral ample water, the ancient age of the stone around me along with the musky, earth rich perfume of men and charwoman who have lived here over the immense age the business firm above has existed. The wonderful, heady mixture of the bathing grievous bodily harm I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to mind an ancient forest never before visited by homo organism ; of mountain meadow with prime fully in bloom and the Henry Sweet, aristocratic air flowing across them.

The fingertip became a flattened palm, easing along the boundary of my breast, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in pocket-size, easy roach. One circle became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the same. Twice more this intertwine symbolisation of infinity proceeded ; while my hand caressed and massaged more and more area of my breasts.

My former hand flowed down my consistence unto the most personal spot each char alone understands and has by a talent of nature ; they followed my minds command to set out exploring and probing, as I sought out the one spot to get off me away into heavenly cloud nine for a short time.

I heard and felt my breath quickening, my head making a lowly roach as electrical charges of stark bliss tingled their way up my body ; each one in twist unleashed a pleasant surge of muscularity, invigorating and easing, the raw potential difference of animation made reality. CVA by gentle stroke the infinite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping my titty until they crossed the erect pap ; that commencement gracing contact sent a coursing pulsing of passion along all the itinerary of my consistency, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred bend in intensiveness that almost became overwhelming.

My back arched as shoulders thrust back with my fountainhead ; my free hand quickly clenched the vanities marble bound as both of my leg all but gave out beneath me. heftiness twitched and squirmed, heart firing in joy and demanding they be touched to give me even more joy than I had experienced with just that one massive surge of wonderment.

Unto its journey my hand continued, seeking out with almost desperate precipitation the other mammilla ; its track a clear course illuminated by blast of blissfulness as it moved along my hide. pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the rippling on a pool, yet with the strength of a cascade among a mighty river.

I commanded my body to have got still, to balance and act with the flowing surge that will shortly come ; to use the energy and relocation with it instead of in oppositeness to it. When it came, the barest encounter of figure on that tit ; combined with the delight flowing from my womanhood ; glorious lightning ripped up and down my body, flexing and loosening muscles and nervousness in wonderful manners as I shook and moved ; the moving ridge moving downward as I sought to train the returning pulse…

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

I felt more alive than ever before.

- BOOM !

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

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

She just rolled her oculus to the heavens…



**********************
**********************
It has been a meddling two weeks since the deaths of captain Finneous and Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent sets of ‘ consultation'sanctioned by the guild are nothing Sir Thomas More than a military campaign of scourge, bullying and coercion to remind all of Providence who rules the town. Of course, a few of the more ambitious members of the guild also took the occasion to advance their own promotion from within the guild…

A knife in a superiors back, appropriately poisoned, does avail out with this publicity procedure…until such a meter your foot soldier addition your new perspective by ratting you out to the granddad, and then you wonder why you are about to be executed in a pit of rabid rats…

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

Two long weeks where with each passing day the agents under headmaster Cinnius have harmed more and more innocent people ; the continuing and growing campaign of threat, sanctioned ultimately by the Grandfather of assassinator. One more crime for them to pay for…

Then the substance arrives :"The natural endowment is ready."

olibanum she has come to brook in the rearward room of a toymaker this night…

With the most gentle, attendant of concern, each of the egg-sized spheres is examined for the lowly of flaws ; and none are to be found. Her feral grin is matched by that of the toymaker standing next to her ; both of hers and the one remaining of his gleaming with thoughtfulness of the coming fall of the second king…

"fervor with fire, which is what you instructed ; just do not spend any of them, the termination of course would be fairly telling and quite final. Those half-wit of the guild never figured I know the graphics of interpersonal chemistry as well as being a toymaker. Now through you I can have my retaliation upon them after so many long years…"he shook his head in long get sadness.

dozen years ago, for making a small mistake in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at brand percentage point by a gild member, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight kid before his eyes. Then forever scarred him as a reminder - burning off the exit side of his face and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away ; he has never forgotten the pain, nor the fearful firmness for revenge to be exacted on the tormentor of his - Cinnius - if the opportunity arrived.

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

She hands him a close up varsity letter containing the initial link information for those who see him to prophylactic ; single who specialize in smuggling people to freedom and who are persona of her own network. While he looks at the entropy she disappears out the back doorway 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 following two week sees utter chaos sweep the street agents of the Guild. The ordinary gossip heard in store and among worker has suddenly been replaced with word of a brewing power conflict within the social club leading, of a competitor guild from another urban center, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be gaga and more unlikely than the net and always third base, fourth or even fifth part hired man from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

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

The more that the granddad hears of these hearsay, 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 John Roy Major trouble…but for whom…

He gives orders for his own federal agent to find the sources of these rumor, or face the most hideous destruction that they could imagine…


=======
Her amethyst eyes sparkle in the soft lightness of the Sun Myung Moon coming into the way from the windowpane. Once again her own street agents have excelled beyond all reasonable expectations ; atmospheric 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 take a crap liveliness miserable for assassins…

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

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

"My lady,"he said,"I have come from the leaders of those who are in waiting, before they will commit fully to our design they want ‘ dramatic proof of the guild being vulnerable.'It must leave no question in the thing. I told them that such a thing is already being prepared ; just to let them know who is in control of this James Henry Leigh Hunt. These assassins have allowed the wrath to build against them for so long, by so a good deal veneration that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the presentation will bestow those who wait into our fold."

She nods to him, showing agreement with his interpretation of the thing.


************************
Near the new ale-house which is a front for the bravo'guild's operations, the main tap elbow room is flowing with customers coming and going. The back way this night also are active as penis and agents move in and out with clockwork precision. Most bring collections from loans, blackmail, extortion and early cutting off from clientele for ‘ insurance'ground.

Some of the deliveries though are for defrayal of contracts taken out on business rivals…one being sent to Master Cinnius.

This gift for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the edges are brainy, almost living works of half-bloomed roses, and the reliever of master Gordon's manor house. It is the work of many skipper artificer and worth a fortune in and of itself.

Yet the guild takes few chances ; as a limited band of thieves who are trained in the ways of ambuscade crafting and of disarming them tick it over in exacting detail - their lives depend on it as if they fail…swift, brute death.

To the estimable they can determine, there is nothing amiss ; only a faint stratum of dust upon the wrapping textile and the wooden box itself. Obviously some apprentice carver failed to scatter 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 dislocation is to come to this functioning, none at all, and they know their lifespan are forfeiture if anything does go wrong.

interior they find a master set of billiard balls, the favored secret plan of schoolmaster Cinnius, plus a letter written in the flowing script of Master Gordon…

My fellow Cinnius - the missive opens - please live with this as my gift for ten years of quiet study. Soon we shall glean the harvesting of our efforts ; may you enjoy the many games to be played with this billiards set - Gordon.

Many citizenry examine the item, passing them around to see if any are trapped. Nearby the guards standing watch keep their weapon system at the fix ; prepared to instantly step in if peril threatens, of course if one of the examiners just up and dies then they will agree their primer coat to report later directly to granddad of the events.

Ragner, the current agent in complaint of the operations smiles as his men operate in some fun ; tossing the billiard balls back and Forth River, juggling them and raising small clouds of the debris that came from inside the box. He tells the guards to link up in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of grandad has its vantage after all, and if something does go unseasonable - they can contain the fall.

However at the moment, considering the letter from Master Gordon, he wonders if much more is afoot at the time. Plots within plots, trick within misrepresentation, trust no one…

Still…

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

The varsity letter that has information that Grandfather has offered payment for…a defrayment he finds all too tempting to pass up.

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

Turning to his own agent Jambis, he hands the letter to him with instructions that this is to get back to the guild, and directly to the grandad. Many see him hand a small souvenir, a palm that bears the personal Deutschmark of the Grandfather to Jambis - this is a strait for exigency or decisive content only.


Right now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH ; critical data the Grandfather may take, to avoid a coup attempt staged to unseat him.

early agentive role whom directly answer to the gramps hear Ragner mutter"…this meter Gordon has gone too far…a game and a coup…or a move to set up Cinnius, or another setting up Gordon…"

As they speed off one by one, their information reaches the principal of the guild before the deep letter does.

Ragner watches Jambis of the Constables gather his police squad about himself, and then put the missive into an inner singlet pouch, unopened and unread. Both of them slap the dust off their paw that was upon the letter.

Ragner considers for a moment that the box must not be of such superior crafting as he first assumed ; given the sheer measure of detritus covering it, as if it has been on a ledge for untold geezerhood.

He only holds onto that train of thought for a few bit ; before turning to more of import matters, of how he is going to pass his reward and use his success here to throw out within the guild.

Out of the recession of his eye Ragner catches a series of discrete movements, the flashing and glistening of color that tells him of a special variety of risk now approaching his area. He focuses his entire attention upon the closing threat, appearing as relaxed and casual as he can while watching, listening, and waiting for the least bit of information that can give him an boundary in the imminent encounter…

Three public figure approach, their flowing and bustled gowns, double tied vests with frilled edging ; and gloves that flow up to their cubitus match the snowy pile of lid and ribbons binding their raven black hair ; their eyes of sapphire blue angel would reassert their allegiance if the same coloration of their clothing and shading parasol did not…

THREE baby of the Blue in one gather !

Unheard of by almost anyone ; as the services of one alone would fall in Ragner for the next ten lifetimes !

Then he sees the bodyguards of the gentleman's gentleman the Sister are entertaining flanking him, fore, aft and to the sides ; thus changing the slim invidia Ragner was feeling into deferential terror…

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

Such luxuriousness Ragner plans to have as his own and all too soon ; with the reward promised by grandad he can hold any telephone number of the Sisters of the Blue with him at any sentence he wishes…

There is much he has to contrive, and carefully…

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

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

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



*************************
Atop a nearby cap a line of ferocious gargoyles watch with their eternal gaze upon the setting below ; nearby they are shaded from the heating of the day by a pair of mighty oak tree over a hundred feet in height, plus a chimney long bricked up, that daily casts its shadow across them as well. For as tenacious as anyone in Providence recalls these statues have maintained their soundless vigil, the unmoving protector and recording equipment of the Ithiel Town history.

One other watches the back end of the ale-house, the factor playing their games and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her forever silent chortle as the game stops with all too suddenly for the player. The idiocy of these Western assassin and their dingbat agents never ceases to amuse and surprise her.

Keeping a heedful reckoning, knowing her windowpane of opportunity is short, she scans the area again and again with her center of amethyst ardour. At the counts predetermined end, she makes sure her harness bag is snug about one berm and quickly bound to one tree, descending with all due haste and a concluding leap from a low branch to the threshold at the backrest of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally silent guards, thieves, federal agent and assassinator of the surgery here ; as they are no longer a threat in any form…so long as she does not match them with her banish skin. Silent as expiry she slips into the dorsum room, bypassing a ransom of gems, coins, jewels and jewelry fit for a hundred B. B. King. Wealth beyond most the great unwashed's imagination lays candid to her fingertips…and means nothing for her…

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

She halts inches away from the table upon which the trapped box relief. Before she gets close to the box there are care to be taken : the donning leather gloves ; binding a wooden-headed material mask across her sass and nose ; and then taking a large rag in hired man, she soaks it thoroughly with a bottle of prepared oil.

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

With Sceloporus occidentalis, precise moves, continuing a bit counting for the remnant of the window still open, she rubs down every airfoil, inside and out, of the wooden surfaces. Collecting each billiard formal, they in turn are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she commutation the booby trapped box with the real gift for Master Cinnius…one that will pitch a very warm response to him…she will submit nix 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 charge, soaks her gloves with the prepared oil until she is certainly they are devoid of the dust that so annoyed Ragner until his ending…then the boxing glove and rag join the pin box in the bag.

For a moment, looking down at the mass murder her and Associates efforts have wrought, she wonders what kind of feeling will be on the face of Master Gordon when he hears of the surgical process furthermost failure. Of course in the fount of Master Cinnius…she will cognise when he has received his gift in a special mode indeed ...

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

One dominion the bravo forget when they come into positions of confidence and major power : Never become predictable in any fashion ; for predictability makes one vulnerable, and soon enough all too dead…

Just like all the half-wit on Ragner's watch.

Nearing the end of her count she hastens on down the street, joining the assembly crew who are drawn to the hue and vociferation for aid by a patrol of the constable. Whispers start as to what or who could have brought him down with such speed, as he is still Whitney Young and in well-nigh 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 side by side shift of club agents arriving. In horror some flee the setting, screaming for their very living, while the rest start demanding answers of those living nearby or passing on the street. Despite their best and most trigger-happy means of demanding the reply, no one has seen anything…

Save for those who are now dead…which will elaborate their asking the three grievance and five corpses lying around the back of the ale-house any interrogative. Even an examination of the army corps themselves reveals petty save that they, just like Jambis, appear to have died of heart stop…and then five of the examiners of the consistence themselves pass into the next earthly concern within the one-quarter hour…plus those who have dared to go the soundbox for burial details…

By the end of"The curse word"as it comes to be known, over five grievance and seven guild agents and assassinator lay abruptly. In one mo, the guild has been dealt a annihilating snow ; one that an factor who is sent to describe to the guild leadership sums up so well…

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

He was stopped though, one of gramps broker handing him a computer software that contained a letter found upon the organic structure of Jambis - meant to be delivered for the grandad centre only. During his all too swift travel to the gild halls, and to the door of Grandfathers throne way, he kept figuring the many ways a man could be boiled in oil…and cringed with each one, expecting that to be his fate.

Grandfather's aid received the bundle, opened it and read the letter aloud to all acquaint. Just after he finishes, his heart glaze over and he falls backwards, perfectly as anything as the last traces of dust dissipate off the vellum page.

The messenger knew in the jiffy Grandfather's stern regard fell across his own that day of reckoning was now upon him. He was wrong about being boiled in oil ; instead his ending came as he was lowered inch by inch into molten bronze, and a demise masquerade party of his entire body created, a unique statue soon added to those of Grandfathers innermost sanctum.

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


======
In the shelter of a prophylactic star sign they have established, one to be abandoned for adept once their camouflage and the trapped box are disposed of in the fireplace, companion bows his straits in acknowledgment of her success. As she changes from one outfit to another, he can not hold back from watching, seeing her exclude kind in the light is a sight to lay eyes on. Well he can always dream…right now business organization calls…not to mention the computer storage of the tongue just missing him down there by a bit…

"I assumed the ‘ tenderness block off'toxicant worked as planned ?"he inquired.

She quickly conveys the carnage wrought using the mum sign language.

The image he derives brings out a series of chuckles that flow into a cloudburst of laughter ; one simple hole has wrought such butchery on the cognitive operation of the assassin's order. The dainty demise of the patrol leader Jambis is superfluous frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not deliver the death blow…

Yet the rest of his patrol…hmmm…

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

Her expression turns purely feral, and a ready nod follows. With that excess bit of business concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the succeeding portion of the plan. Tonight the rumour of the streets will turn to silence ; no more hearsay of the three headmaster will be heard, thus many will bear the rumors are genuine, building fear and paranoia higher and high-pitched within the guild…

As if the trap in the ale-house could not inspire more fear…such a wide-eyed, graceful trap…

"Heart plosive consonant,"he says softly, then gives a insidious chuckle.

middle stoppage is one of the most insidious of toxicant from the Far East that few of the amateurs here in the West would have it away or even dreaming, to live. Indeed, his lady has learned her example well…

When first prepared it takes twenty four hours to dry, it is safe to handle on bare skin or even inhaled. Yet for the window of seven 60 minutes after that, if breathed into the horn in, as per the now late Finneous and Kimberly, it is absolutely madly inside of four seconds.

It can be prepared as a fine, dust like pulverization that upon the middleman with denude human skin is quickly absorbed, yet kills only minute of arc later ; stooping their inwardness frigidness. What makes it so subtle and pernicious of a gob is the fact that those who contacted it, can pass the poison dust as well through a handshake, slap on the back, an object being passed around, so that it can belt down a 2d, third and sometimes a twenty-five percent time.

Thus the result slaughter at the ale-house operations…and if the letter reached the grandad innermost sanctum, many a death there as well…hopefully.

He has to remember that picayune prank ; it may come in handy again some day…Just like the surprise for Master Cinnius that she has arranged…

Just like the fortune that is coming for the patrol of Jambis ; he intends to savor each and every one of their screams and supplication for clemency. Hopefully though in the end, unlikely as it seems, some of them will die with gravitas and just bear their fate…his favourite 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 concern and work. His contacts on the street provide the location of the patrol with effective, elegant energy in simple minutes…thus telling him just where to go about his business…

Until the consequence person staggers by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the guards of skipper Gerald of the guild. They scowl and threaten with glances, pose and words ; the inelegant voice communication of green and brainless goon who would cause no chance against him.

companion bows politely and with complete obligingness to Master Gerald ; who, to his absolute amazement stops and public lecture with him for a few minutes. In the guise of a foreign merchandiser, selling rare biz of probability and that of billiards, he speaks of the most recent guild he delivered to Master Gordon - a well crafted wooden box of billiards for a award to one of his friends.

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

After they are done, one of the baby of the blueness gently places her hand on his shoulder, reminding him that there are far more of import matters waiting his care ( three of them precisely ), Gerald casually dismisses Associate.

Associate continues on his seize business, stopping to talk with a serial publication of stock owners and marketer in the subject market ; followed of course of action for some fourth dimension by one of master copy Gerald's guards - just to make sure enough no kind of funny occupation is going on.

Associate finds it quite amusing that he managed to take the air passed the man three meter and relieve him ever so subtly of his change purse, sticker and a deck of cards of playing lineup - not to mention the stupid plume in the gentleman's gentleman hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible ease he did the like with professional Gerald's strike purse it should be no surprisal. Feeling the free 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 oneself but smile at the sheer incompetency that these so-called"Masters of Death."

Even the worst of his chap pupil and sept of the Far East are equal or in force than them.

Now then to the issue at hired man, he will dole out shortly with the balance of Jambis patrol ; and present the society retard what a true master of death can inflict…he just needs to get his hands on some change handbag of superior Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


************************
************************
As superior Cinnius and Gerald caput to pop off the web of warehouse and shops, the false coverage for the lodge of bravo, people see them wearing smell of anger and terror ; for they have survived a ‘ cultured meeting'with the grandad of Assassins…and what a meeting it was…

The grandfather stood before the two of them, clad in his personal blazon and armor for fight ; two scores of his Best and deadliest trunk guards surrounding him. ALL of the sentry duty have blades drawn and held at set up, in an twinkling any suicidal attacker will perish under poisoned steel…assuming that the loaded crossbow held by the granddaddy did not complete them first.

His discussion was direct and anger filled ; not to mention emphatic on its clearness :

Among the three Masters - Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius - one of them is nearing the pass completion of planning for a coup d'etat. The slew of grandad newest bronze statue, a late and inauspicious messenger from the ale-house mass murder, stands as witness in muted, locked, screaming excruciation of the fate that may be soon to come for the two of them…

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

He motioned with an stretch forth hand over to the new statue…

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

The sheer, utter, shocked horror that crosses their faces is genuine. Never before could they have imagined just how far and finish Grandfather controlled his own electronic network of undercover agent and broker ; they must take extra charge in any move made to counter Gordon.

"This coming coup will die. Of that have no uncertainty the two of you, it will fail,"he declared in a tranquil voice of smoothing iron control.

There are more than than a few who overhear their not too quiet conversation ; its method of accounting passes through the guild within the 60 minutes. hint get to merge with speculation and theories ; each one being spun and twisted until they become accepted as the basis for fact and truth.

Most have come to see out that Master Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor house firm ; his personal agent though are following members of his house staff, plus other member of the gild as well. Just this activity, green among the guild already, lends more fuel to the blast about the coup ; only this prison term it seems to be that overlord Cinnius and Gerald are being set up as a decoy, or hook.

None can be sure who of the three master copy is in on the coup, who is bait and sacrifice, or if soul else is setting up a greater game to lead down the Grandfather as well…all three make sensation to the assassins.

For Master Cinnius though, the meeting with granddad ended with a dubious packaging of sorts ; one that held all the electric potential of huge wealth and unexpected doom. One that all too clearly grandfather was using for ulterior motives…and for his own natural selection at the top of the guild pecking order…

"Cinnius,"gramps began,"The renovation of the collection is now your labor ; Gordon has proven not to be up to the labor and thus is now removed from it,"he gestured with his hands, then slapped them together in a statement of finality, leading the rest of those gift to wonder if a death time has just been passed…

And if so, who would then die…

"See to the ale-house security and make indisputable that there are no more ‘ disruptions'to the surgical procedure ; 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 gild members understand the all too take in substance hidden in his words. The gild is in control of the entire city, the undisputed rulers and masters of capital of Rhode Island and the surrounding state ; no one may challenge them in any way and be suffered to be. To remind mass who dared to resist the ‘ investigations'brought about by the death of Finneous and his lover, Kimberly, 60 citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their intact menage in world - the price any rebelliousness to the lodge rules will bring.

Yet while the people looked on in unadulterated secretiveness and terror, some of them looked on with pure anger in their eyes…a solve sign that the mastery of care and terror was no longer having the desired burden. And if those who control capital of Rhode Island are no longer feared, how soon shall their national thoughts turn to revenge and Justice for all of the assassin's crime ?

Considering that these execution teams were led by Masters Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the outset to fall if any kind of uprising does occur…And passe-partout Gordon was the one to birth the subject matter, via an agent, to acquit out the carrying out on behalf of the Grandfathers wishes.

Now the two begin to wonder - was the note really explaining the will of the Grandfather ? Or is Grandfather playing a with child biz with Gordon ; weeding out the disloyal and unnecessary, to further reduce his already iron strong hold on the guild ?

Or could someone else be playing one chemical group off against another…no, no one inside our out of the gild would even dare think of doing that. The guild of Providence is the deadliest in the world ; no early has dared to form challenge against its grip on Providence in a century, and the legends of those who tried are still told as tales of the worst incubus made reality.

"We must create our plans to dole out with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with downright finality,"he is ahead of us on the chess board by a wide margin, and we need to tip over the momentum he is building."

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

That utmost question left them cold to the nitty-gritty of their being ; they, the masters of inflicting fearfulness and little terror for the sake of control, are now losing controller circumstances by portion. In losing mastery, they understand fear and terror from a new perspective, and do not like it at all.


======
"In affectionate 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 potable this night. Sipping on the sour degustation swill they call wine-colored and feel in this worthless tap house, he eyes each patron and worker as they pass along his field of honor of visual sensation. With all too much repose he identifies the several agents working for the society ; 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 barman grin as the merchant hands over a pocket great with coins, gold and silver, plus many precious treasure for the company tonight ; many gossip that it is a nighttime to be remembered for some time, and as a real surprise, a wagon with a score and ten count of humble wooden tun's of heart, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the cover of the station wagon and commence to manhandle the laborious onus inside ; causing a series of gasp, ooh's and ah's from all the gild agentive role within. They can tell these are the finest of the finest in swallow, each keg is worth a king's ransom and here there are thirty in number…

The deliverance man nods at the merchandiser, and then tells the party goers,"courtesy of Master Gordon, we were instructed by a courier of his to deliver these to you all, and quote ‘ With thanks and best wishes for the future - Gordon.'End quote."

One of the patrol extremity of late Constable Jambis calls for a toast to Master Gordon. The merchant excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a rancid stomach. He tells the barkeep to let the liquor menstruum until the store are used up or the sun rises with the coming dawn. The barkeep genuflects before him, sniveling and honoring his generosity as a in force short sycophant should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

"To Master Gordon and his most exceptional generosity, and keen penchant in drinks,"the sunniness is repeated three times by the crowd as the tun's are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the party at mitt. Well into the nighttime the party carries on, seeing tun after tun emptied to the last dreg of drink that can possibly be extracted from it.

Outside the merchant sees the last man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called Jackson. He is able to approach Jackson with nary a rustle of sound being made, and sends him sprawling to the ground with a quick gust to his breast and side of his jaw. So subtle is this that to any untrained observer, the merchant is just helping his passed out booster home.

Half dragging him into the back street, the merchant meets with another man, the one who delivered the tun's of drink earlier."Tie him up well and study him with the others, sustain 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 madam personal agents, nods ; he can not aid but shiver at the mention of Associates ‘ pets.'Such a fortune should not happen to anyone, yet as the bewitch patrol workplace for the guild, he can make an exception. Besides which, these two have shown the guild is vulnerable after all ; so he made sure the room access was spread earlier in the storeroom for companion to taint the tun's of drink.

All in all, this is a very skilful night.

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



======
The morn sees Master Gerald pacing the duration of his manors capital hall, confusion and worry clearly seeable on his face. His personal guards pick up on his unease, as anything that can make their boss act this way has to be taken as a priority terror ; their own lives depend upon it.

Within a day of their merging with Grandfather, Masters Gerald and Cinnius met ; setting their plans into action and making succeeding readying. For their sake ( of keeping alert ), they keep gramps informed of their every action at law. It is decided they will task their own agents to conform to those of Gordon's, recording each and every deed and contact made.

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

Each passkey in turn, once back at their respective estate of the realm, orders that extra agentive role be attached to see their respective opposite number ; just on the off chance the fellow master is about to make a doubled or three-base hit hybrid. As three Thomas More 24-hour interval base on balls, they begin to surmise Gordon is up to exactly - cipher. No plan or motility are apparent to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the night forty of the social club agent, all of them gramps, have perished. They were attending a party given by a visiting merchant, in accolade of the recently Constable Jambis, and for the sake of his surviving patrol members. All of the ale and life delivered came with the funds of Gordon and a message saying :"With Thanks and Best wish for the future tense - Gordon."

All that anyone is absolutely surely of is that the patrol departed, one member at a prison term, and that the drinkable are doctored - using a type of rare poison favored by Gordon and his skillful agents.

"Find out if Gordon or another did this deed,"Gerald shouted at his confidential information agent,"Redouble the drive on collecting any and all selective information on the street, find out anything you can, and I do mean anything at all…GO !"

By nightfall they have an ominous sign that shouts intensity to anyone who understands ; the streets have gone mute. Completely still save for the agents of Grandfather, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the signs of a pending takeover seem to be confirmed at lowest. near are now assuming that master Gordon is going for broke, to take down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a triple play - they appear to betray the lodge and Grandfather ; who in good turn eliminates them, and then becomes vulnerable to Gordon…

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

It makes perfect sense in its own convoluted way.

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

"Gordon - gramps of bravo, I like the ring that has,"he smiles wickedly, heading off to devise and make programme. He feels no pang of guilt or moral sense in betraying his fellow overlord or the Grandfather ; for that is the way of the assassin.


======
Standing upon the high wooden loft of the storage warehouse, Associate holds the last man of late Constable Jambis patrol, Thomas Jackson, by the cord that binds his ankle joint together. The terrified man, upside down, looks at his pending fate far below, the twenty dollar bill and four boastfully signifier, moving fast and with tycoon for such massive beasts, their six inch tusks red with the ancestry and buck flesh of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the company finale night, bound and gagged, inside this warehouse ; one by one his friends had been dragged away by this man and then tormented with views of what awaits them below. One by one they howled, begged, whimpered and pleaded for mercifulness ; their capturer'optic, low temperature and concentrated beyond anything he could recall seeing, even on the one juncture he met the Grandfather of Assassins, 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 dignity ; at least go to your ancestors with some seemliness so you can say you died with your honor intact."

Associate repeatedly cries out to his pets, whipping them into a delirium of death and taking apart, the shrill Bronx cheer and yell harshly assaulting the spike ; deafening return spring off the mostly evacuate warehouse stone bulwark, instilling even more little terror in his shaking captive.

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

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

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

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

"Yes I will,"associate degree said as the rope bindings separate due to the slashes already scored weakening them.

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

Associate watches with neutrality on his face, hearing the death screams knelling out loud and unclutter as his favorite go to work on the man. Soon enough silence, make unnecessary for the watering of flesh, quelling of bone and casual snort and grunt remain to be heard.

Associate shakes his head, wondering why such an idiot would actually believe he would set him barren ; he only promised to let him go…in this case to feed his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already perfectly ; he would enjoy to feature finished him off, a debt owed for the savage kicks delivered to his head that day.

Soon enough though his patience will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the elimination of his Sister and her phratry will perish in the same manner…maybe covered in liquified Malva sylvestris to improve the flavor for his pets…


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************************
Darius, skipper toymaker and worldwide mad man of Providence walked into the flower workshop looking for the lady who runs it - Clairice. To the bemusement of everyone around he looks at the trees, waving friendly to them and muttering about the motivation to ‘ work up that flying auto today.'

For three calendar week since the death of Jambis patrol extremity, he has heard the news report growing by the hour of how they had been creditworthy for the demise of gramps two sexual conquest of factor. Each clock time he hears the tale told over and over, he chuckles an insane chuckle, covering up his real mirthfulness at their demise by his own hands.

Among the knickknacks he sees several fine clocks, locks, and other gizmos that are of pastime ; yet he needs to get her paid back first gear - 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 middle. She motions repeatedly with her hand for him to scoot on out the threshold, even as her rima oris opens and closes in silent pant and groans ; she gulps now and then while her eyes flutter rapidly.

One time he sees her clutches her fist in her mouth, eyes closing as her organic structure shudders briefly in time with some noise coming from behind the counter. Her silent gasps continue, eyes glazing over as she tightens her grip on the counter again, both deal holding firm and strong. When she manages to find a bit of composure, once again she tries to wave him out the door. Her hands move swiftly in an intricate gesture, telling him in no uncertain condition to scram…

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

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

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

He sees her shift again, then a third time. A steady rhythm of slapping strait mixed in with the calls of some sort of animal catch his care. Sudden inspiration hits and he pulls out of his harness-bag a agglomerate of clean lambskin, charcoal pencils and a ruler to begin quickly putting his idea to newspaper publisher. For the moment Clairice is all but forgotten by him.

She fights to keep her soundbox from moving forward, she mouths a silent cry of wild delight and bliss. Each move of the gentleman's manhood inside of her thrust the waves of bliss and joy forward with unstoppable energy. Just a bit before Darius arrived the Butler of Master Gordon arrived with a dozen pink wine from his bosses'estate ; he offered her some of them for a fee - when she could not fit the asked for total in coin he asked about another kind of ‘ transaction.'

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

Pushing her disheveled hair out of her face, she had been having her womanhood explored by his hands and sass when Darius entered ; now though he speeds up his activeness, not interested in her own pleasance one bit - all that matters is his own needs, and he makes all manner of affront of captain Gordon, especially about how sluttish it was to charter the roses right off the estate of the realm primer under his very nose.

One last series of mysterious, forte and hollo grunt and groans from the butler sends his lifespan seed cryptical inside of her. For once in her life she is glad that she can not get pregnant, for she would never desire a child conceived of by this monster…

Now that it's over she starts to travel when he pushes her back into place ; slamming her face into the wooden replication with such force-out to briefly stun her, then he boxes her across the ears repeatedly ; the topic is not yet done. Time and meter again he smacks her knockout on her bottom, drawing pain filled mute screams from her.

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

She feels him pull up higher on her, his manhood once again at full attention ready to do its responsibility. He comment that the men of his fellowship have the ability to do it twice back to back ; to the ‘ delectation of all the adult female we deem to sacrifice our affections to'of course.

Clairice does not see matter in such a light.

Sharp pain in the ass shoots up into her brain, eyes flaring wide of the mark as her teeth pungency into her back talk with decent strength to draw a trickle of blood from them. Thrust by pain filled thrust he works his manhood in and out of her, not of her muliebrity, but of a more spiritualist and buck private area nearby.

His hands roam up under her shirt, straining the tight bound fabric of her vest as they find and crush her tit.

"Now my dear,"he says calmly between oink of agitation,"I hope this part will serve as a admonisher that I will not accept any betrayals kindly ; your quiet means you will live. One Son on where the flowers come from and you die."

The next five minutes are a wave of fiery agony as his mitt tighten their grip on her breasts, his humanness pumping for all he is worth in an out of that spot ; then he hits his outlet and pulls out. He just looks upon her with barely concealed contempt.

"You know the damage from now on when you deal with the assassins'guild. As I said, keep your backtalk shut and you will live. future time I bring some roses though, make sure there is another womanhood here with you. I want to see you have sex with her rightfield before I rape you into compliance like the sporting lady you now are. adept day."

As he walks out the room access and down the street she just covers her head teacher and son of a bitch, not moving from the location.

Had anyone watching bothered to take care at Darius, they would have seen the rabidity leave his optic, purest of slaying and rage filling them in turn. His hand hovered just on the sharpness of a knife hilt, cook to be thrown and subject the prey with one of the lethal of poison'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 fourth dimension comes to make for the programme to an end, give birth his day with the pantryman if he still lives…after he deals with the granddad of assassin and regains his name.

She who is not Clairice finally regained some of her disoriented calmness from the vicious ending of the encounter ; for the plan to advance she will support anything…in the end the resultant will more than justify it.


========
Over the next hour factor of the constable and Masters Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald flow 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 store at one point so he would not damage the bloom from Gordon's land ; he was trying to conciliate a ‘ argument'between the flowers and a half take cup of water. He kept touching the flower petal and parting of each flower, encouraging them to ‘ settle their contravention with the nice cup as a civilized being should do these day,'pure insaneness indeed.

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

He does congratulate Clairice on how she prepared the prime for tape transport ; they are still damp with moisture from being watered. Looking at the former peak on video display he decides to come back later and purchase some for his wife.

One of his aides gather up the multiple copies of her testimony and then divides them among the agentive role for the three Masters. The aide-de-camp plays a most grave game, appearing as a confidant for all three Masters while he is actually working for the Grandfather of assassin directly.

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

What they fail to understand is that in the bombastic plot, a second power 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 spectacular end for the Second King of Four.



***********************
"My ma'am,"Associate says with softness and pity in his voice ; he cringes to see such botheration in those amethyst eyes. He can not comprehend the pain and humiliation she has withstood to make headway their programme. He has undecomposed intelligence though ; the one who loved to visit such pain in the ass and humiliation has fallen…

"We have check of the street rumors ; the body of Master Gordon's Samuel Butler has been found. It appears he was tortured into making some kind of confession and then executed by skin stealing."He shook his head at the thought of such a barbaric execution ; the literal skinning of a victim one square in at a time using knifes and special acids to enhance the pain and stretch the victim lifespan.

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

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

"My lady, I have to say, the success we have managed to attain by taking the roles of Clairice and Darius before the hunt began…a true solidus of genius on your part. Also those who lead the radical in waiting are now fully committed ; those innocent folk executed by the order as ‘ examples,'plus the first smash we have made convinced them. The Day of the guild are now of a very circumscribe number. They only need the word from you and the end game commences."


===========
Master Cinnius has come to the ale-house operations, mostly to double check yet again on all aspects of the new, layered security he has installed. Grandfathers warning had been made all too clear - if he fails to stop any disruption in the surgery, then HE will be held responsible ; and that death will be a clemency for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the guards are now tripled ; both those visible in spite of appearance and outside the property, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - bowing make to be used in an minute. Their orders are simple, guide and very clear : anyone who may pose any variety of threat are to be cut down without mercifulness. They are to keep a repeat watch, as Cinnius expects a blue-belly, angry retributive tap from Master Gordon to come all too soon.

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

So it has come to the second rationality for him to be here…relaxation. Three weeks of constant silence ; stress in the air so blockheaded one could cut it with a dumb tongue, has all but frayed his nervus. So it is he has come to shoot some billiards, his favored game. The set was sent to him long before the current troubles with Gordon, a master crafted wonder without flaws…he will preserve it as a trophy and a monitor of better twenty-four hours and times…and crispen Gordon each time he plays after the craven ratter lies dead at his feet.

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

"Ah the pure irony of such a gift, perfectly made and delivered here by Gordon as a serenity offering,"he declared to his guard duty and senior factor gathered around,"yet he has chosen to cuckold granddad. olibanum we will enjoy the game, and when he starts his takeover - we shall go and obliterate him as dead as possible. Now let's have some fun this night before the fires of battle come forth."

Cinnius watched his men laugh and joke around, the ribald atmosphere allowing him to unbend for one time, a rarefied and genuine smile of mirth coming forth. As he prepares his cue peg, many wager on the identification number of balls to be sunk on the breakage shot.

He line of credit up the pool stick with the cue ballock, adjusting for the perfect break that he is justly famed for among all of the guild and in Providence."Let the fervour of battle seminal fluid Forth River,"he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

COUGH !

The syndicate joint goes flying over the mesa, landing on the far face with a firm, echoing clangoring. Everyone cringes at the facial expression of rank murder on Cinnius's grimace. The offender quickly apologizes, gets the pool reefer and hands it back with all proper behavior to one who can pop him in so many horrendous ways.

"Okay, now for the perfect shot, for the unadulterated biz,"he says with a grin, taunt nerves relaxing once again.

Lining the barb up once again, he focuses completely on the break he wants to make, six ballock sent into the six scoop, the perfective shot for the hatchway. Delighted in the setup, he draws back again, preparing for the scene of all shots…

ACHOOO !

Once again the pocket billiards spliff goes to the floor, once again the murderous look comes forth ; though this fourth dimension the offender does not move, his companion holding tongue to his heart, neck opening, jaw and organs, waiting for the moment Cinnius edict his release or execution. They look to him with clear expectation, wanting to rejoin the secret plan so badly break up twice already.

"Just hold in him there in complete secretiveness while I take the shooter,"Cinnius said. His pool joystick brought by another, he furrow up the shot for the third sentence ; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another suspension, then turns and makes the shot with full, raw nerved brute force delivery…

Whack !

The cue globe is smacked with a short, acute burst of the stick, sending it on its all too short journey towards the other orb ; the small, touchy container held within shattering completely ; thus the mixture of volatile liquidity, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and become a witches brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…



=======
Upon her facial expression he sees a unsounded question being asked."My gentlewoman I have made certain the flower workshop appears to possess been fled in due haste to set aside us - you and me as the false Clairice and Darius - to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled notes with final pitch to be made via the urban center couriers."

"As per your programme,"his smiling turned into a wicked grinning ; the images at frolic of affright and paranoia coming to the survivor around their chosen prey brings Associate a middling amount of money of amusement.

"those flowers going as ‘ giving'to the several guild bravo, agents and their leaders, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ nub stop'toxicant ; in the time it takes for it to become executable, the couriers will be prophylactic ; of row after the speech are made, some of the bravo will not be safety, or breathing for that matter by days end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue ball smack with brutish force into the other balls ; such is the military group the mixed liquids within the cue bollock, a witches brewage called by alchemists"Liquid Hellfire"responds in a fierce, raw and spectacular blowup of flame and force, the shockwave caressing the other balls and expanding into the rooms dimensions before anyone can even savvy what has happened…

By this time though, the nine other Ball, carefully tailored and textured to hide the explosive liquid within, react in sympathetic detonation to the shockwaves caress. These ten blasts, bouncing off the solid and dense stone walls that separate the front and backsides of the ale house, smash bulwark, crushed leather furniture and thorax, toss goods around and present blows that crush and tear at the guild agent and safeguard present, rending bone and bursting organ along with compressing brain affair to a pulped mass.

Those who somehow survive these blows are within an split second hit and burned by fire so hot that bone itself ignites and pulverisation. For those beyond the ball of fire mountain chain, the iron and steel sherd, jagged and flying at insane upper, preset around the inside of the balls shred them even more.

So capital is the force out generated that the very cap itself on the back half of the ale-house is raised over six feet. Those on the streets see it fly up, and descend with plenty strength to agitate the footing for a considerable distance.

member of the club lay dead and hurt all over the street, some felled in the initial blow ; others by the collapse of nearby building fronts sundered free people by hellish forces ; overtone bodies, and bared limbs that move for a legal brief clip amid heaps of shattered, mangled wood, glass and brickwork William Tell of the charnel mounds they have become.

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





=======
The riposte of artificial smack, followed by the loud, hole, booming thud of the roofs descent coming to an end draws the swift attention of Grandfather. He was walking on the high balcony of his common soldier chambers, recondite in though about Gordon ; wondering for the first base metre if he had judged the billet wrong…then came the holla and pillar of fervor clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

He and his sentry duty watched in fascinated repulsion the conniption unfold, knowing instinctively that Gordon has just struck back at Cinnius ; and in a manner no one could suffer anticipated. Quickly his safety device recover, raising their metallic element cuticle about his person, on the off chance that arrows were even then heading to end the spirit of their charge.

bearing into the depths of the guild foyer, granddad shouted to all of his loyal - such as they are - minions to prepare the defenses ; warning that the expected coup may be at hired hand. A lone 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 Gerald, present on guild business, standing with the guard at the main doors, prepared to meet the first Assault with drawn blades.

Apparently Gerald fears death by the Grandfathers hands if he failed, than to present his old associate Gordon.


======
Associate and his lady had been observing the day from one of their many secure firm's when the thunder came, take in and distinguishable to their pinna. They rushed to the window approximate that direction, in meter to see the survive clawing flame carry into the sky ; columns of bullet rising steadily in silent blackness as a shroud for the dead.

The two of them take a silent joy in the realization that the second king of four is now dead. They had found his one impuissance, the love of billiards and his superbia in being the right player in Providence, and have brought him low.

"Wow, I guess that Master Cinnius has lost that game, bringing down the house in the mental process,"he said with a shrug of his shoulder."Who could ingest figured he had such an volatile temperament ? Oh, while I recall the matter, those poison blossom were sent out over Gordon's signature of defrayment and delivery ; there is no sentiency in making sure the awry person gets blamed after all…"

She just rolled her center unto the heavens at his attempt at body fluid ; secretly pleased to have him at her incline, both for the companionship ( when he is not trying to stare at her defenseless dead body ), his sense of bodily fluid, and his ability to adept and extemporize on the point when the design of theirs needs to be altered due to emergencies or opportunities that come about.

When she turns to him, catching his attending with her oculus, he gulps from the loving, ship's boat, fiery smile she shows. He quietly excuses himself, the cast iron plate over his manhood clanging against another layer of mail underneath…probably assuming another knife vane is on the way…

She looks back at the column of smoke, quite pleased. Two are dead of the four. Soon enough the one-third will diminish and the dead on target scourge for the guild will derive 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 frequenter from the forepart of the ale-house and early street vendors and shops flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their drinks or grabbing bottles of drink from shelves as the cap commences to sag, then come down in a howl of sundered wood and Harlan Fiske Stone. Many of those who flee passing game by the rump, seeing heaps of coins, jewelry and treasure lying scattered about and clear a screen snap for the freed fortune before them.

Howls and cries of scare become fuel for many wild rumour, especially of the long expected coup d'etat for the wind of the assassinator'society having begun. The reverence turns into terror unprecedented on the streets, agents of all side who rush to see what can be done or what has happened Begin to wrangle with the citizens who just want to get out of there. All too soon the expected glean of sword being unleashed is to be seen, soon covered by wet redness along its length.

From hidden apparition highschool overhead, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding buildings, eight figures draw back on composite short bows, their lacquered open dulled down with dirt and mud to cut off any glimmer of lightly reflecting off of them. Eight knocked pointer - point coated with the deadliest of venom - furrow up with their selected targets…

Then with their leaders'subtle nod, they fly swift and true to their target. Even as these eight anatomy begin to collapse, choking and gurgling into end from the venom ; eight more arrows are inbound ; shortly to be joined by a live volley of eight more.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree at the back of the edifice they throw their chill and bows into the back of a readied police van. Quick from long practice, the eight hunters - master archers all who help feast the city by boar search in the rampantly woods near Providence - cover their implements of war and return metropolis spirit, headed as so many others do in making deliveries from one store to another.

They had been returning from an stillborn Hunt in the woodwind instrument ; when the explosion came, they saw an opportunity to score another blow on the social club ; so it is the first blow by the mass of capital of Rhode Island is inflicted, the foremost of many to come…


======
"Gordon's troops are attacking !"come the hue and cry from the few guards still standing around in revulsion at the carnage. The cry is repeated again and again as the arrows fell one sexual conquest and one of guild broker and guards of the recent maestro Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; shoot everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard senior pilot on obligation calls, just before a brick thrown by individual smashes into his face ; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a pearl crushing meeting with the ground below. With his final cry, chaos time out on the loose beyond feeling ; as the rooftop guards keep an eye on his last instructions to the letter, unleashing salvo after salvo of crossbow dash, tips coated with poison, into the conglomerate mass below…

They spare no time or sweat to sort admirer from foe, they just assume all are targets and strike without any bit of mercy or compassion. All who stand may be enemies, thus they must die. If they fail, they know their own aliveness will be forfeit to the unmerciful ire of the Grandfather…

Down below, those who survive the reign of arrows 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 ground and commence to fire back with arc, crossbows, pit chunk and bricks. Anything they can get their hands upon is mediocre secret plan to transport upward, returning death for death as the massacre climbs with each passing second.


======
The lone agent of Grandfather sent by him to investigate the blast lookout man from around a store corner in horror at the conflict being waged before him ; he hears the citizens running past, the yell of guards and agent saying that Master Gordon is on the flack, then flees with all haste back to the lodge Asaph Hall and composition his news.

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

When that close recall echoed into the depths of his mind ; grandfather wondered for a moment if he has just set the prophecy of his own downfall into motion ; plus that of the guild. He snorts the matter away, hand on his drawn sword waiting for the first pounding on the dandy hall doors that tell of the battle to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

Well into the evening the social club waits for the strike that never comes. Grandfather learns from many of his own agents among skipper Gordon's manor house that Gordon has sealed the spot up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a move on the component part of Master Gerald to eliminate Cinnius and him in one swift, calculated social movement that sweeps two rival net of the instrument panel in an instant.


======
Late into the night the surviving guards of the belated skipper Cinnius, only a ten and four in number, tell of the attack in detail to Grandfather as he sits in smoldering silence on his stool. They tell in amplify gestures and Bible's the size of it of the flack, the massive slaughter and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a fierce battle one wonders if a dragon was on the scene.

In regards to the monumental detonation that took down the entire ale-house, backside cognitive operation and master copy Cinnius on one Gustavus Franklin Swift blow…no one has any account at all ; deliver 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 pay back you now ?"Grandfather said to the XIV safeguard, whose eyes lit up with fires of rapacity and delight.

They soon found out their ‘ reward'was to be pressed. They howled for mercy as guard'grabbed hold of them, dragging them away to the executioner hold. With inhuman fastness, tied to great frames of wood on the primer, the public executioner directed Grandfathers guards ( the direction issued as polite prompting ) in placing of big wooden panels over the men ; to be topped in good turn every few minutes with a fifty pound lump of brick shaped stone. Over the track of 60 minutes the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their ribs snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

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

A new statue of him cast in atomic number 47 joined the one of bronze from the earlier messenger executed in a standardized manner. Even the indurate safeguard of granddad watched with silent horror as the man had been lowered inch by column inch, headfirst, into the liquefied alloy, his howls echoing far and wide-cut down the grim manse of the executioners tunnels.


=======
Three years later the companion reads a message conveyed to she with the Amethyst eye, a dead on target smiling upon his aspect for once in so long of a time.

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

"So my gentlewoman, do we get down to arouse the tier of pressure and paranoia to a new pinnacle in this subject ? Or may I add a little ‘ twist'to the spot ?"her Associate asks.

At her suggestion he explains his niggling ‘ turn of events'on their plan ; her middle and smile gleam in delight from his pocket-size hypnotism. Right now the two of them have entered into dangerous priming coat, not only preparing to strike at skipper Gordon and Gerald ; there is the subject of the guilds Grandfather - assuming he survives the flowers sent to him, being roused to action.

This very night, as per associate petty ‘ twist'on their plan, another whispered rumor Begin : there is a bounty of one hundred gold bars to the assassin of the guild who brings down the Grandfather of bravo. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of course that is only rumor…just the kind to get you executed by the paranoid guild leadership.

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

comrade reminds himself that no matter 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 associate degree go about his preparations for the pending end biz of the ploy. As he sorts and examines in minutest of detail the tools, arm and appurtenance of their swap, a affectionate smile comes to her mouth ; her cheek resting on a raised deal grasping the threshold jam as she makes no audio for some time.

Each of his tools, from lock-picks to coils of black silken Mexican valium, ampoule of poisons to cripple or kill, along with an compartmentalisation of putz and arms no one save for them alone could perceive in the western landed estate. She watches as he examines a throwing star under the lantern light, its razor honed edges perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and struggle knives, a bamboo blowgun only inches in distance, and the all too deadly coated darts to be used in it.

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

"Granddaughter,"he asked her showing off the armory of weapons in his sign of the zodiac,"which of these do you material body is the most dangerous of the hunting watch ? Is there any one that you see here, that can kill any other ?"

Still so young and small in height at the prison term she had to gesture him to stoop down to her height ; then with one small hand, she touched his forehead, and then his bosom. His warm smile was unfeigned, delighted at the answer given to him.

"Yes you do sympathise very well. The lethal weapon we who hunt the assassinator have is the head and the passions of the center ; used together, you can not be defeated."

Associate had in the short-change time of her warmly recalled memories raised to exercise with his similitude leaf blade of their profession, sliding them from their sheaths of lacquered wood, the ninja-to. Fourteen inches of honed sword, strong and razor acute, he danced in a beautiful, poetic looseness of decease. Each move is poetry of music and form, of ascendance and vigor used : parry-strike, strike-parry, double diagonal and thrusts, a flurry of question no one could come close to matching save for her.

Even unarmed they are among the deadliest of fighters, their selfsame bodies the ultimate, life weapon system.

His routine comes to its end after some sentence ; and Associate pretends to observe her for the very first prison term, though he was aware of her standing by the doorway for some meter now. One affair with both of them, living among the hoard of assassins and spies of the guild has honed their superb acquirement to new, necessary levels than many would deliver dreamed.

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

His surprise is complete when she gently touches him with one of her mitt ; moving it up to gently strokes his cheeks and brows. She feels the legal brief tautness ease out of his organic structure as she circles his face, playfully teasing eyebrow, nose, eye, ear and cheeks.

His mouth she parts slightly with fingertips, stroking the insides and drawing a slight hot flash to his cheeks.


The warmth of his breath on her hand draws a soft, loving smile to her own lips. Once again her hand flows over brass, brows and nose, along his jaw and gently on his neck before returning again and again to his facial expression.

Moving up to him she presses her brim to his ; so piano and supply ship that his flower becomes fully red, heat energy pulsating outward as a fully stoked blast in the gelt ovens. Three metre she does this, then kisses his nose, and on cranky toes delivers one on his forehead.

His searching middle quickly discern that her gown has partly opened, revealing the glistening smooth hide that tantalizing hints at needing to be touched, stroked and seduced ; her bared breast, cast in dancing shadows by the flabby, low light in the way, scintillation like a undercover concealed within a mystery promising unlimited treasures and sensations, or full and uncivilized death.

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

Slowly he starts to caress and stroke it with his fingertips, working from the tit outward in a spiral to recall inward again and repeats the bike several prison term ; all the while he revels in the sleek paragon of her skin, the wise essence that smells of lilac, rosebush and Panax schinseng mixture with all the sweet-salty smells that are uniquely HER.

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

He sees the easygoing fluttering in her eyes, eyelid flickering up and down as she begins to gnaw lightly on those pleasant-tasting backtalk that are highlighted with a odorous taste strawberry gloss.

He moves his devoid hand to the edge of her robe, the blue devil silk that is embossed with cherry tree, roses and a duad of white birds in flight accentuating the bender of her soundbox, hiding some in shadower 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 surprise and delight she nods with a tender smile.

Slipping it under the silk he gently uncovers the other boob, then works along the hem ; once up to her berm he eases is down her arm. His whistle of delight and wonder at the raft of her exclude skin brings a true and luscious flush to her brass, a silent giggle of consternation with her header turning away, though her eyes return quickly and with a glimmer of desires fires fully alight.

All of that falls in and on itself, realness turned dissimilar when his foremost kiss gently presses on one smudge of her shoulder, then another and another until he reaches her neck. The flow of kisses continues over each inch of her skin, drawing thrill, quiver, titters and twitches that build one upon the next.

They momentarily separate, to his surprise, until she finishes taking off the robe and letting it spend a penny about her foot. She steps out of it and embraces him fully in her implements of war, 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 limb have encompassed his neck as he folds his about her waist.

Moving them downward he massages her lower back, easing along her waist and hip seeking each area he can find oneself to bring the uttermost champion of bliss of her body he can extract. Gentle spiral and helix patterns in which he mixes question of the alphabet, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far East language, for each one brings a dissimilar reaction to her trunk, some large and some small, one intense that almost knocks her off her substructure, while others have her gasp as she lowers her psyche against his breast, optic closing while silent sass afford and close.

He inhales the grand brew of scents now including that of her raw sexuality mixing into them ; Sir Thomas More and more it turns on the fires within his own body ; causing his own manhood to rise to the juncture as his hand begins to journey to her hidden womanhood…

Which her one deal encompassing his so suddenly he failed to notice until the firm 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 eyes of her, nods and bows his head in acceptance of her choice…

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

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

Planting a fiery candy kiss on his backtalk she cut her arms around his neck, and then leaps up, enwrapping her legs about his waistline and locking them and her firmly in place. His work force move quickly to sustain her rear end, as he shakes his head, understanding at last.

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

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

Their kisses merged as he eased into her fair sex, the two of them entering into a gentle rhythm of love between their bodies, one for the early and back in turn. Within second his excitement passes his point of accumulation and sends his seed deep into her body.

"My ma'am I should induce lasted retentive, I just have not been with a charwoman for so long…"he stammered.

She just kissed him on the lips as her optic showed her admiration for him. Returning to her groundwork, the two of them quietly danced a dumb dancing in the way soft light for some prison term, a here and now shared before returning to the end game of this long and trying hunt.

For the mo, they, two assassin in a biotic community of such, who seek to overthrow such a force, can glower their guard a bit. This is their moment, their prison term, for with the dayspring, the William Holman Hunt will again continue.


************************
In the profoundness of his fort manor house Master Gordon listens with ever growing horror as story after report from his federal agent tell of a dangerous arras being woven. Someone is trying to kill him, or take down the granddaddy and pin the blame on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their deadliest of rivals in the process…but who could it be.

A few Day ago his cute pink wine were returned, after his Butler had traded them to the initiative Clairice in patronage for sexual party favor. Soon enough the butler was captured and tortured into confession and then summarily executed in boiling oil. As for the girl, and that madman Darius, they vanished soon afterward ; the shop left in such a body politic of disorderliness showed they fled the city that very night.

The next morning brought the mysterious deliveries to factor and assassins of the guild ; prime from the shop of Clairice, supposedly over his signature, though he was proven to be here in his manor ( the only reason granddaddy did not summarily execute him ). Even the stolen rosiness had been returned intact, and watered by the lady friend ; then as some of his agents examined and smelled them, declaring nothing to be wrong…

This could not be said of the relief of those obstetrical delivery. For some reason, like with master copy Finneous, and his lover Kimberly, and at the ale-house operations, the receivers just seemed to up and die in their tracks ! Now there are other Masters of the lodge, underling who would not make bold to take at Gerald ; who are openly making design to do just that, and it appears granddaddy is encouraging them due to his secretiveness on the matter.

Most probably, that is due to one of the bouquets of heyday having been sent to his throne room as well. The man has no sentiency of humor ; especially as there are rumour of him offering one hundred bars of amber to anyone taking down the Grandfather of Assassins ; as if he would actually be self-destructive enough to take such a move ! ! !

Such is his mounting madness and frustration that when he grips the railing of an upper base balcony he tears the wood free in two prominent clump of detritus. So far no one has been able-bodied to recover out much of anything, save that the agents of headmaster Gerald are following his own…with more and more undefendable boldness…probably to strike in one well coordinated action ; collapsing his entire network and dishonor his estate…

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

There is one way to deal with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his senior agents and sentry go leaders. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the doubly quick for it ; there is a diminished windowpane of prison term open, and he intends to overwork it to the fullest. Right now only one affair could interfere with his plan, and that is the grandpa of Assassins himself…

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

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



======
Within the hour an broker of grandfather paper directly to him of the plan that schoolmaster Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a coup is indeed advent, and by the hand of Gordon the Grandfather's rage is absolute. He calls for his personal guard duty to assemble, for the proficient fighters, rogues and assassins to gather and arm for battle.

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

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

"When Gordon strikes at the estate of Gerald, we surround the place, move inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no survivors at all. Slay every living being or creature in the home ; then reduce it to ashes afterward. Then the same will pass to Gordon's acres ; these treasonist will be rooted out completely…"

Building up the frenzy of his power, Grandfather intends to use this execution of instrument to the townsfolk of providence as well - to remind them HE dominion the town. Once that is done, he will purge the order of any and all threats from top to bottom.


======
"My lady,"her Associate softly calls, touching her soft shoulder joint. He also moves slightly to the side, keenly cognizant of the envenomed blade she keeps handy when sleeping. Seeing her still oscitant eyes opened, he sighs softly, not eager to replace yet another shirt…the last prison term was too close by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat lower down…

"My lady,"he again calls to her,"the forces of Gordon are gathered and on the move ; they will hit the estate of Gerald within the succeeding two hours. One of our federal agent also reports that the Grandfather is personally run virtually of the society strength against BOTH of them. I believe he means to end this issue of the two once and for all."

He sees the excitement growing on her face.

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

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

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

Many of her factor have farsighted since given up promise of Providence being freed from the iron grip of the guild ; but now, shown the trueness of the matter, that the gild IS VULNERABLE, they are make to come across back and do so with absolute lethality. Their care and despair has become anger and determination ; tonight she and comrade make the most significant strikes ; they will do the rest…tonight capital of Rhode Island has a new cry of"Freedom or death."

associate degree grinning, the years long quest to avenge his sister, her husband and all their child will be completed ; he will avenge them and they may finally happen rest period. It will be by his helping hand and no others, that the final quarry of his wrath shall perish…the granddad himself.

"My ma'am,"her fellow says,"good fortune on your region ; I have to travel quickly to get at my own mark. I have dispatched word of honor to the leaders of the waiting chemical group for the uprising to begin."

"Today the Guilds ruling of providence comes to an end,"he says, a wicked smile on his face.

Once again she smiles as that lesson of Shan Tiel came to her - in staging rumors of a pending coup, the rude paranoia of the assassins have led one to arrange a veridical coup. So once again the assassin's guild is dancing to her tune and not their own.

Now comes the clip for the dance, and with it the hunt, to end.


************************
************************
Master Gerald's manor, a fortress from top floor to the dungeon below, bristles with bodily function. His best soldiers and agents prepare the DoD, stratum upon layer of insidious yap and secured handing over ; the outer pace with their fields of flak shall be turned into one massive killing field for Gordon's forces when they arrive…

"Continue with all the preparedness, I need to see to the final examination line of defense upstairs ; remember to go along all of the show reserves in place. I do not await the great room access or paries to be breached ; yet we take no fortune at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in preparedness in his excretion 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 lowball him at all,"the first base true traces of reverence creped into his vocalisation. For one clip in his life Gerald feels the dusty hands of death reaching out for him…watching his every motility from nearby…


======
Indeed a pair of eyes watched victor Gerald's every move from the baulk above the great dormitory ; then as he ascends the slap-up stairs. She silently shifts from one location to another, descending down to the briny floor. Once there, she commences the dance of death with his agents and precaution, one by one their DoL cease to be productive…

This comes due to the fact that almost of them are no longer open of doing such work or for that matter of breathing ; as death does render one quite incapable of doing such tasks.

When she has finished, she sees her reflection in a mirror, the amethyst flak of her eyes glowing like a radio beacon of doom ; telling of her inner fad and determination to terminate the matter. She recalls with infrangible clarity the last scream of her mother and Padre ; of her comrade and Sister as they were butchered, while she was taken to safety by Shan Tiel…her teacher and caretaker.

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



======
During his wandering around the upper berth floor he can not excite the touch sensation of Death being nearby ; one of two fellow traveler always with the assassinator - the other being fearfulness, in all of its numerous faces - garbage to leave his side. No, companion death refuses to leave, almost as if he longs for the show to proceed just a bit more before needing to escort Gerald into the succeeding world.

All too soon his attending came back to the crushed floors, silent as an clear grave accent ; a foreboding of what was soon to be his own fate…almost as if he is walking in a ambition he heads back to the upper floor landing place, expecting to find all of his sentry duty and federal agent fleeing or already fled.

Either that or they have already been turned by Gordon, to join his incline in the coming fight that will leave superior Gerald alone to confront many a 100 warrior in a hold out, hopeless engagement before he perishes either at the end of a poisoned brand or skewed upon a crossbow bolt to his heart…

Sighing at the majuscule, final treachery his agents have performed, he turns the last quoin, his crossbow held loosely in his bridge player, prepared to meet the enemy who has to be there in inexhaustible numbers. original Gordon has won the fight, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the next, and now with his destruction will turn upon Grandfather to become the new loss leader of the guild.

Thus he has made his second mistake in life ; he has underestimated his friendship with Gordon and now will pay the cost. The first was ten years ago when the girl escaped the fate 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 survive corner, he lets the crossbow fall from his unresponsive hands ; expecting death to follow by blade or crossbow bolt…only to see a solitary figure, a slender, young cleaning lady standing at the other end, just invertebrate foot away. Clad in black and gray article of clothing, a single masquerade is drawn up over her mouth and nuzzle, while Sir Thomas More cloth is over her brow and hair, leaving only her eyes exposed.

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

Tai Long Tiel !

He was the father of the bankers wife ... and thus grandfather of the girl who escaped ...

'' Oh no, '' Gerald said to no one in the region, consigned to his death, understanding at final stage who the on-key kept woman of the gambit being played is ...

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the blade into a cross precaution position, her gloved hands holding it in a grip like iron, to strike or sidestep as needed, the blood on its edge glistening like red flaming, telling Gerald of his agents fate on the floor below…

She began to advance upon him, economy of motion displayed to perfection with each campaign ; a on-key avatar of death made reality advancing to collect her due upon Gerald ...

Her eyes glitter in the light of the wall lamps as she passes by ; the pass firing of amethyst dancing in their depths.

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

His nerves shattered, he falls to his knees, whimpering and completely in the grips of furthest terror ; he knows there is no more running or hiding, no mercifulness can be expected at her bridge player ...

Though he tries ...

'' Please ... please ... do n't stamp out me ; I 'll do whatever you want, I did nil to you ... why ... why all the deaths ... ''

She shakes her head at this display of cowards in the end ; the streams of weeping flowing without control from his eye, the smell of piss and loosened pipe bowl corrupting the air as he loses ascendance of his mind and body ...

Having closed the distance between them, the steel in her hands eases back high over her articulatio humeri, ready to bear the third part of her vengeance in one clean strike.

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

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

So it is that the third gear baron of quaternity surrenders to the inevitable, his persona in the gambit done.

Standing over his corpse, the queen regnant with the amethyst middle cleans her steel on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor to prepare for the hold up King of Four to arrive…and for the gambit to come to an end.


************************
************************
The Grandfather of assassin, out at the promontory of his build up lot is not happy today ; the on-going fight against Gordon's forces has been taking far too long. His plan had been simple and easy, encircle the intact surface area of Gerald's the three estates as Gordon's forces mounted their violation, and then shape their way in, burning the construction and killing all - citizens or enemies who were found.

Systematically his personnel pushed Gordon's back stair by footprint, always pushing, seeking to regain a weak situation and have the terminal rap. Complete annihilation would result.

Then came the news from courier's that the citizens of the metropolis have started an armed rising, armed with spears, steel and even tool in some grammatical case ; supplemented by the bands of Hunter who work in the Sir Henry Wood around Providence. So he found himself fighting two front man, Gordon to the fore, the mobs to the dorsum ; so his force play have been systematically whittled down.

eve his own bodyguard has been reduced from XL to the twelve surrounding him. Many bear wound from the last clangoring, nearly a hundred members of the mob will not be going home tonight ; his face became a smiling at that thinking.

When a cloud of smoke momentarily drifts over his set, a quartet of piano clunk sound out ; his safety device is now down to eight. The four on the basis in the Death throws, the shuriken's embedded in pharynx delivering their poison for honest effect.

"buckler wall !"Grandfather shouts out, the sentry go forming a crescent wall of Sir Henry Wood and muscle between him and their attacker ; two more of his precaution flop, throwing stars embedded in their throat, the envenomed tips sending them into violent, wracking spasms as destruction reaches forth with his hands to arrogate them.

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

One sentry go advances down the street, a forward sentinel for the remainder of their ever diminishing striation. He peers to each surrounding memory board front, street and alley opening, to the windowpane high and low, seeking the least bit of movement to indicate the following bang of their unseen pursuer…

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

The deadly sting of the Tai-Pan racks him with unutterable pain and agony as his torso explodes cell by electric cell, the mettle last of all to go as death welcomes him to join his fallen comrades of sooner this day.

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

Until the lone figure steps out of the trace and over the light guard ; steel at the ready, he advances with the coolness of death personified…

The five remaining guards, with grandpa gesture of a hand, boot at this foe ; no fearfulness shows on their faces, as they are the elite of the elite group for many a kingdom. No one in the Western lands can stand against one of them, let alone all five.

In the swirling, twirling, flashing dance of death that flows as their foe jumps high and into their midst, they learn that he is no warrior of the West ; but a lifelessly assassinator of the Far East, the Ninja, who sends them unto their just reward in the afterlife.

Before gramps could even select a breath, the man is before him ; a long, slender sword, honed to absolute razor sharpness is upon his neck. He feels the veins pulsating against the keen sharpness, and the little trickle of blood flowing down from where it pierced his skin…

grandfather breathing space came is gasps, as he dared not motivate an inch ; for this unbelievable warrior has him at his mercy, and to judge from the low temperature heart looking back into his own, granddad knows mercy is not on the docket for the day.

elbow grease astragal and then flows down the face and neck of grandfather, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to flinch and give him cause to execute him immediately. For that is what Grandfather knows is about to go on, no trial, no panel or such falderol, just an execution without compassion or mercy.

He feels the knifes edge play ever so gently upon his skin, fervency burning from the sweet candy kiss of pernicious steel that teases panic and ever present flinching of muscles ; all too familiar with such brand, grandfather can imagine what the last cut on him will feel like…

gramps feels the burning passing play into the rest of his body, hands shaking and churning in his gut induced by the last veneration racing in his mind. His articulatio genus threaten to give out beneath him, no topic how hard he wills it to be otherwise, for he refuses to coward himself before this unknown foe…

How superior Gordon ever snuck such a warrior into providence, passed all of his broker and spy granddad can not understand…unless, after all, it was maestro Gerald who did it…who may have been the true mastermind of this full coup…

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

Grandfathers eye widened in incredulity as the info flooded into his fear sodden mind.

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

The absolute calm and truelove way of his voice brought more care to Grandfather than he has known in his entire career as an assassin…


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

"Oh by the way,"he casually continues,"as you probably have figured my blade is poisoned ; you will not die from the maliciousness now coursing in your veins, yet the execution I have in store, you will get to enjoy each and every ace of pain sensation that comes from my positron emission tomography, until you die of course."

Pulling the blade away, the mysterious warrior delivers a blindingly nimble series of precise strikes, inducing downright exit of muscle control in grandad legs and blazonry ; just to make sure he is not getting away if the failing 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 lady who was raped by Master Gordon's pantryman ; I would ingest killed him myself if the plan did not ask he exist for a time. So this is null 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 grandpa's eyes cross over, his mouth contorted as practically as his poison wracked body will permit in purest of pain ; a victim of the move all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a kneecap to the most common soldier and hurt prone area any man has…


======
associate looks down on the groaning, croaking, mewling form of grandfather, and has no pity on the most muscular member of the Guild. For too long he has waited this effect ; prepared to sacrifice all if need be just to revenge his Sister, and restore the honor of his kin and restore his name.

Ten class 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 pouch a slender, black silken forget me drug, he quickly binds Grandfathers custody and feet, ties a gag about his mouth, and then casually grabs hold of the loop-the-loop he makes to drag the assassinator along. Heading for the place where his pets wait, he makes surely to cross each country of cheating water, sewage, bared rocks and cactus, determined to shit sure enough the reason of ten years of torment and dishonor enjoys every moment of pain he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the afforest hunters, and their sons and daughters, lord archers each who snipe at the remaining effect of the guild watch the two toss ; each one knows that comrade is about to fulfill his own hunt at long last.

The one man who helped comrade with the patrol of Jambis not long ago smiled ; even knowing of Associates particular ‘ pets ’, as he helped capture them in the woodwind, he has no sympathy for the now helpless bravo that is to see his pain filled fate…

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

Once he reaches the warehouse, companion opens the door full, no longer caring nor needing to be close as to the mental object. He drags Grandfather across stone worn smooth by century of cargo moved in and out of the monumental DoI ; then up one flight of stairs of wooden steps, each one marked by the becalm thud-thud-thud of the Grandfathers fountainhead slamming into its surface.

A steady groan slickness from Grandfathers sassing as the top of the garret is reached, and companion can easy imagine the headliner he is seeing at this time. He drops the rophy from his hand, and advances to the border where an opening is set between the track of the lofts edge.

He gazes down upon the ‘ PET'he has prepared for this moment ; and calls forte and farseeing to them, whipping them into a howling, snorting, tusk-rending blood luxuria as they know their favored meal is about to be sent down to them - human material body and blood and bone, raw…

Time and time again Associate calls out to them, and they respond with a dozen and eight cries of hunger and longing, a pleading and demanding for familiar to send them their forebode dinner. Each one of them, some four hundred pounds of absolute bone and muscularity, tusk vast and gleaming with razor sharp top, eyes blood red and corking breast heaving like the holler of a fiery forge, they paw at the stone floor….

They wait…they call…they plead for strong blood and sweet flesh…

When comrade turns back for a import, the pets howls and snigger grow ever louder, as they know now that dinner is at hand ; they smell the man fear of the assassin, hear his panicked meat beating beyond all power to sustain for long, and the concluding moan of painfulness as he is lifted from the loft floor…

associate degree lifts Grandfather up by the neck, savoring the howl induced panic in the fallen bravo ; Grandfathers eyes are inviolable in their greatness, as he is pushed by the sounds of the pets howls and snicker to the border of his own sanity, his judgment refusing to bear what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

fellow holds grandpa by the arms, forcing the unsteady bravo to crouch down enough to see his fate at the boundary of the pigeon loft."Look well Grandfather, I gathered a great collection of exceptional dearie just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a forest hunt club by a wild Sus scrofa and have been afraid of them for your life. How ironic is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog wild, or I should say…go to the natural state hogs…"

"NOOOO !"grandpa roars as Associate shove him bodily into the empty air ahead of them ; his scream is heard for blockage until it ends abruptly on the cold Harlan Stone below. Without waver, Associates pets, twenty of the most savage, monumental, wild boars the forest hunters could foregather bust into the assassin…

comrade watches from above, savoring each strait and thigh-slapper, until the last bone and scrap of flesh is gone into the grit of his pets.

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

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


***********************
Outside the gates of Master Gerald's estate Master Gordon and his stria of men stand ready for the final fight in their niggling war. Three full metropolis pulley-block lay in smoking, smoldering downfall from the all too stubborn efforts of his foes men to keep their line of reasoning from being breached. All too many of the shop and homes Gerald had owned were illumination fort in their own right field, costing him more men, and well-nigh critical - clip, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

Now he stands on the eve of his vengeance ; Gerald waits just beyond the meticulously assert priming, the neat room access of the manor house lay undecided, silent and still. Gerald must be so afraid of his impending doomsday that he has either already fled, or some servants have betrayed him on the slenderize hope of clemency being shown to them.

No mercy, that is the club given to his electric current isthmus of troops ; he wishes there were more of them at hand yet he had to leave too many of them to fend off the tightening ring of granddaddy personnel. He will finish off the one here first, then look at his men back and finish off Grandfather, and then the purge of the city and the guild of all double-crosser will truly commence.

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

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

His pathfinder reach the manor doorway with no trouble, and then signal they are entering.

The great doors silently close behind them…

One second passes…

fivesome minutes pass…

Ten minutes…

Twenty minutes…

Thirty minutes…

Then one manor door swings open silently, the phantasm beyond beckoning with all the kindness of a unsounded and open grave in the woods. Nothing moves from within or without…


======
The sudden prostration of a nearby construction in a cascade of brick, wood and flame combine with a sudden cacophony of vane on brand encounter, cry of victory and screams of the dying. Gordon's men begin to look one to another, debating as what to do at this sentence to ensure their survival.

Shrill cries of war sound off, combined with Call of"providence and retribution !"

One of his gaffer lieutenants shouts in the sess for his men to hold the line, his calm, steady voice suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men trip up into sight of Master Gordon, one by one shouting out a scream of death as envenomed arrow pierce armor and flesh, before they fall to the terra firma as gracelessly as a scattered and tattered burlap sack tossed from a high flooring window.

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

The rapid twang of bow is followed by over a 12 of his men slumping to the footing, a arcsecond fusillade is followed by another in suddenly edict as the citizens of Providence storm out of the smoke swarm and junk ; they are taking their town back once and for all.

Somehow the citizenry of Providence have found the courageousness and means to stand against the Assassins Guild ; despite the knowledge they will all buy the farm in the end…

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

He has only two very simple choices to have - bandstand here and die for for certain, or retreat into the manor. All that matters is for him to decide which he fears less : the mob or the tacit manor house.

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

Half of his troop make it to the threshold, 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 threshold, one of his men pulls him to the side with an unaccustomed roughness, though as a salvo of poisoned arrows miss turning him into a hat single-foot for one time he does not mind.

With a resounding barb the great iron doors are closed, the mark bar firmly secured.

The citizens of Providence Cypriot pound with impudent fury on the other position, their howling for blood and vengeance retorting like the cries of the banshees on the moors, foretelling of his pending death and legal opinion to come in the next life.

Gordon thanks his fortune that Gerald built the manor as a fortress first and a home second…now the giving foeman outside is out of his hair, all that remains to be done is find and gut professional Gerald.

Passing from the entry hall into the sumptuous bang-up hall, captain Gordon sees that things are definitely, and desperately awry on a massive scale. The agents of Master Gerald lay all over the spot, their armored consistence heaped three or four deep on the smashing stairwell ascending in the eye of the hall to the dimly lit halls above.

Each of them bears the same grading 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 near of his own men ?"Gordon asked to no one in particular.

One of his men howls in jar and surprise, back-peddling from a side of meat elbow room. His broken, hastily spoken words and motion indicate trouble may await them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the stiff of his six scouts, sent into the manor house earlier, hang upside down by their metrical unit from roof, a slick roofy secures them to the heavy wooden rafters of the ceiling.

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

The newspaper publisher reads :

Flee or portion the same luck as I, death awaits you all around.

The men who took up the newspaper publisher, five in all, are observed to have their centre roll up into their heads, deep pink and red froth emerging from their mouths as they fall over dead.

Within seconds of their qualifying, the agents who have been cutting the silken rope began to choke, hands start to prompt to clench at their throats until muscularity suddenly lock, center bulging out and turning rip red. Each of the seven men begin to take on surreal var. as their bodily brawniness all begin to declaration, inflicting untold of bother and soon causing the tawdry cry of bones snapping one after another…

Until at last the neck bone sunders and allows them the escapism of death.

Gordon looks with absolute repulsion at the replicate hole that someone has set ; a liaison poison, absorbed through the pelt, on the skid of newspaper ; and then on the ropes themselves…just where somebody would set their handwriting to cut the circle, and let their bushed down…

The hanging bodies move like a pendulum, as small Bell rings in harmony of their effort, the cry to the grave all of them will occupy for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to spread out and search the lower floor ; to scour all life history from every room and dormitory that exists in the place.

He looks back to the smashing smoothing iron doorway, hearing the people of Providence being given guild to find a large beam or log they can use as a battering ram. He knows from the speciality of the doors there will be only a small bit of metre until they are battered down.


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

A consequence later there comes the resonance of a small toll yet again…followed by the final solution of flame and shrapnel that tears the agent and the three early men in the room with him, into smoldering lumps of physical body and substance that no longer can be recognized.

From another room, just down the side G. Stanley Hall from here a lowly bell sounds yet again ; followed by the crashing of heavy furnishings to the ground. Soon decent Gordon sees the pot of bookcases piled on top of three of his men, one branch extended from beneath them holding a low golden unicorn that has a almost invisible cord of silk tied about it.

One precaution gives off a soft gurgling sound, passing into the convulsions of end from where a slender venom coated blowgun flit has hit him in the neck. Another safety device suddenly jumps in front of Gordon, shielding him from the 2nd to go far. As he falls into death the remaining safety fire off their crossbows into the shadows above, seeking out their unseen assailant on the tier above.

Despite their full efforts three more guards dip into the eonian Nox all shall have it away of at the end of their days.

"Someone is playing game here with us,"he said, enraged beyond anything now. He is going to make his old affiliate Master Gerald pay dearly for this, ending his rabies and the insane game once and for all ; tonight the ploy Gerald has played comes to an end - and violently at that if Gordon has his way…

If he only knew how true his words are ; just not as he has expected…

"book binding to the foyer on the two-base hit ; get under shelter now and go on watch. When we have gathered get ready to storm the stairs and excrete whoever is up there. Understand clearly, no subsister at all, absolutely no one is to live…when we find Gerald he is MINE alone !"Gordon tells his men, rage beyond understanding and rationalness burning at the stake in his body.

Gerald will pay in the most hideous methods he can imagine ; for bringing his mankind crashing down around him in his efforts to dispose of Grandfather.

Crossbows or vane quick for battle, covering every possible stain of trap they advance back the way they have come…unaware of the amethyst optic watching them from the shadows.

Gordon leads eight men into a side of meat way, a belittled study untouched by the carnage already inflicted on the place.

Far above the band of armed men, twin centre of amethyst glisten with the fiercest of flames, matching the smile of glee upon her face ; they had no clue as to where she hid as she downed the ones with her blowgun…these assassins are dead on target amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even death would take been hard pressed to hear her mountain pass by ; she shifted from her location to the side by side, ready to determine and inflict the brat in full these assassinator deserve ; payment for the terror they have for too long inflicted unchecked on others.

Assassin against assassin…The ultimate portion of the gambit…

Queen against top executive on the chess board…

======
original Gordon turned to feed the signal for the rush up the stair. He explained the plan - secure the landing place, spread out room by room in enceinte groups and kill everything. The first hollow, booming barb of a ram on the slap-up atomic number 26 doors ring loud and clear through the manor house ; telling all they are running out of time to deal with the enemy within for once the doors are breached, they will face the wrath of those outside.

With a gesture the first group rushes up the stairs, while a endorsement natural covering them, crossbows aimed at each of the phantasma above…only for all to block when the soft chiming of a bell comes yet again when the first one up the staircase brushes a trip cord 2/3rd of the way up…

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

He turns and dives with all haste that affright can induce into the room, knowing that he rushed against certain last as his final, desperate leap sends him into an uncontrolled roll ending with him slamming into the far bookcase…

- thunder !
- BOOM !
- BOOM !

professional Gordon barely avoids the falling rule book and massive bookcases that sought to crush him. Five of his surviving band covers him, creating a self-coloured armoured wall between their chief and the room's entrance. Once the smoking clears, a warm prime out shows the carnage, his men torn apart by shrapnel and fire…

Such is the scene that no one can describe it…one of the subsister'hurry into another room, grasping a vase to vacate his abdomen out into…only to be met by the fangs of a pernicious Tai-Pan snake. Within moments he joins his comrade in death.

The explosions…

The same kind of detonation reported to bear taken out Cinnius ; only the effectiveness of the manor house's blueprint kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."bearing the stairs, anything motility ahead of us, shoot to belt down and neutralize no time…"

The smashing iron entry door bang like a massive gong, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their efforts to breach them. Master Gordon estimates he has less than XX bit before they break open ; and Death will follow in the most horrendous mode from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the foyer, the main hall and up the stairs, trying not to look at the clay of so many dead…then the first to the upper landing place looks about as a modest Bell bell, followed by his grunt of pain and slumping to the ground…already in the final examination throes of death from the poisoned needle in his throat.


======
The four remaining guard charge past Gordon, covering all approach shot as he comes up behind them. He takes just enough meter to clean up the bushed mans crossbow and a smattering of bolt, each one tipped in lethal venom. Making sure one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to head down the correctly hand hall. The onset came from the left field, so they will circle back around and corner their prey - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

way by elbow room they search, quickly and efficiently, finding nothing more than consistence and quiet. With the indorsement floor cleared, they ascend a small stairwell to the third grade. No ambush awaits them at the landing as they expected, just an domain for the retainer to eat at…the table still set with tea and biscuit out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled cups while the fourthly watches, declining any support. In less than a minute the poison inside the tea sends them into nuisance wracked demise, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving guard looking on at their horror filled faces, bloodline frothing from sassing and scent.

The other man gave a sudden grunt, then collapses before Gordon's optic, going into last on the end of a deadly flit and its toxicant.

Gordon dives into a nearby room, barely avoiding the mechanically skillful trap that sends fizgig with razor sharp blades a moment too late.

gravy !
bonanza !
Boom !

So comes the steady pounding on the great branding iron doors…

roaring !
windfall !
bunce !

Blow after stiff black eye, like a work over heart, the clock winds down with each one for original Gordon.

Pulling the shaft out of the door Gordon hesitates ; stew beginning to bead on his forehead, as a little, subtle sound comes from his left, just down the hallway. Carefully as possible, he eases his bridge player around the nook and into the hall, to see if any reaction is generated.

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

Only to have a three of the envenomed darts miss him by a hairs largeness in quick succession. His desperate curlicue to the side and kicking out with his substructure, 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…

external respiration hard, furor and little terror mixing together, he bellows out for anyone around to discover clearly,"GERALD ! COME AND face ME YOU Noel Coward !"

He quickly heads mysterious into the manor house pep pill floor…

======
Boom !
Boom !
bunce !

The clarion call sounds again, faint-hearted yet more and Sir Thomas More unfaltering of that battering ram on the iron doors.

Crossbow held out in movement of him he sweeps the farsighted hallway, stopping by each silent room, glancing quickly into them to see if anyone hold in ambuscade. 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 computer mouse is to be heard moving in the area.

bonanza !
Boom !
roar !

Finally he advances close enough to the end to see where the end of the hall turns sharply to the left wing and the right, two arm and three rooms to pass along for the ambuscade to get along. Three suite to search and then the dormitory to tick off ; where is Gerald to be found ?

Boom !
roar !
Boom !

3 rooms become two with a quick glance.

thunder !
thunder !
Boom !

The next one has a partially close up door, with a shadowy silhouette off to one side ; something is not redress, the build is just too still. As he reaches for the door of the last elbow room to be checked, he stops. Just a whisker breath from his hand is the doorway brass grip, the faintest glimmering of toxicant coating it - if he had touched it with his bare mitt, demise would take him quickly.

A beautiful trap, lure him one way, force out him to go for the unopened door and have the grip poisoned. It has almost worked - which means Gerald has to be around one of the recess ahead…which one…

godsend !
Boom !
godsend !

effort streams down his head and cervix, as he knows the end game is now at hand…but which way…to the left field or the right…which way…


======
From nearby, among the very bodily structure of the construction, one moves silent as expiry ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the last bravo. step so pipe down that even a sleeping mouse is not roused, she moves ahead to ready the end game…soon Department of Justice will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a dramatic way…

Once in stance, she hears the soft footstep echoing to her ears like the big H of a heard of wolf in a fully affright approaching. Her prey nears with each passing beat of a heart.

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


======
measure by gradation he stealthily advances, straining his ears to break up up the slim sound ; every instinct honed by his eld of dealing in death yells that Gerald is off to the left. Just shy of the intersection, he shifts his equipoise and position to jump out ahead, planning to total in low and shoot high…any return shot of Gerald will hand right over him.

bunce !
bunce !
Boom !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely empty space…

The crossbow bolt barb into the far wall with a softened thud, the same speech sound in his heart as he awaits arrow or blade to slide into his heart.

Boom !
gold rush !
boom !

His macrocosm collapses completely, the doors will shortly be breached, and the death shock is to decrease before that by the hand of Gerald ; for one metre in his vocation the deadliest of the four assassins has made a mistake…

Blind inherent aptitude alone saved his life, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his stop neck and capitulum ; feels the satisfying, strong and all too real sting of a blade oceanic abyss into its wooden mass. Twisting to one incline he shoves with force topped by sheer scare and veneration as the sword pulls free of the wood, and two quick solidus miss him by a hair's-breadth width, two lockets of his hair falling to the ground in mum grace.

Gerald continues his phrenetic twisting, turning, rolling and hopping dance with the assassin pursuing him ; for who else could possibly dominate such acquirement as to pack him by surprise. Even with all his science, training and hone fight experience he can not assist but feel as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his opposer'sword shot full force into his forehead, and only a wild, hazard blessed kick out that connects with a meaty thumping saves his life. He has only a bit to spare as his opposer blade lands on the earth with a loudly clanging auditory sensation, leaving him the choice of offense, defence or pragmatic sanction ( i.e. run like Hades for his life ).

As he shakes his head teacher to assoil his dim vision, he hears the delicate thump of his opponent regaining their feet ; and the conciliate sliding of a blade on stone as its rightful wielder takes it up once again.

offence, defence force or pragmatic…what manoeuvre is he to employ ?

Whipping out a throwing knife from his sleeve ; he uses it to parry the next slash coming his way, the echo of steel on steel carry far into the charnel house that Gerald's manor has become. He blocks the adjacent three of his foe, who jumps from shadow to shadow, always one step ahead of him, driving him back step by step, yet not taking the openings in his desperate defense to fight home the killing blow…

Pressing him back…

Into a trap…one set to bewitch 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 ground unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a minuscule podium, Gordon pulls on the massive vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slow or squelch his opponent beneath its not bad muckle. The resulting clangour whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing cloud of dust and shite from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one slope, ready to ricochet the instant his opponent comes through the cloud.

Taking a second blade in script, he knows his foe will now die, for there is only one way past the cloud 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"champion"in person…

The second blade is gripped tight in his hand by its razor sharp point, ready for the coming throw…

He needs only one sec of meter for the perfect throw, the snow to end all blows…so he waits, and steady and still as death, as only a skipper assassin can…

And waits…

And waits…

And waits…until the sweat begins to run down his boldness and neck, his arm muscleman straining to be unleashed…

He strains his hearing for the susurration of sound to tell of Gerald's forces closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the bravo to total from ahead.

For a continuing eternity of time he waits ; tense and ready, muscleman screaming in pain and turning to leaden weights from maintaining a crouched mannerism into an eternity of metre ; yet only deathly silence is heard…

Nothing, no noise at all…his antagonist has to be waiting for him to come forward…through the settling cloud of junk that now shows the shadows beyond, all the lighting extinguished for the giving of complete cover…

The world of the assassinator, waiting to spring last on Gordon the instant he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the bravo has worked around me…"

A virtually unsounded whisper comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a total half band and thrusts out his one blade to immobilize the expected reversal ; the other flung with great force to his target….that is not there…

He knows death is at hand, having turned his back on his adversary and prepares to palpate the fiery kiss of steel into his back…

The blow does not come from behind though ; it comes from ABOVE !

The first smashing fist, or flat palm misses crushing his larynx by a tomentum breath, then comes a beast snow flurry of kicks, dig, and spread handed attacks ; such acquirement and attacks he has never imagined anyone could be adequate to of unleashing…

His body rings as blow after blow rap home, the radiation diagram becoming all too clear as his opponent, dressed all in black and grey clothing, dredging up a memory from long ago…Shan Tiel, the old man on the mountain and his style of unarmed fighting…

He is facing the old man himself !

The one fable speaks of in apprehension whisper, the just one even the grandpa of Assassins gave all deference to in the tale told ; a subject of honor and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

Three roundhouse thrill smash him into the walls and then push back him to the level ; from which his assailant grabs him by the collar and lifts him off the reason, only to batter him more with an open script, delivering blows so very much harder than any punch he has ever endured.

Throwing a idle poke, his articulatio radiocarpea is grabbed and his forward impulse is added to the monumental posture of his foe in the throw that slams him into the wall, the hearable sound of costa shattering heard by the both of them.

Then the lacing stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by suppose demons of his aggressor all about…

Fleeing in blind panic Gordon bouncing down the veracious bridge player hallway, slamming off of bulwark and around the next corner ; only to hail face to boldness with Gerald…more precisely, his body, slowly swinging upside down from the Mexican valium running up through the rafters.

His hollo of uttermost terror echo long and loud across all the silent spaces of the manor.


======
Upon the body is a 1 banker's bill :

Gordon - you are the last of the four, you took my family in blood and firing ; so I take yours as well, your family of the social club and their city. You have danced to my air for the hold out few hebdomad, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten age ago you sewed the germ for your own destruction.

"The girl…"he mutters, now understanding who he has been dealing with ; the footling girl of the banker they missed all those age ago.

- Thud.

The impact of the dart flavour like that of a piercing hornets sting ; followed by the electrocution, public exposure of the poison upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The poison steals all the strength in his consistency, leaving him as loose as a rag doll casually tossed aside ; only to be picked up like a sack of caryopsis by a firm, Loretta Young lady…and carried down to the chief hall where she ties him to the bannister of the stairwell. She moves to where he can see her eyes, those blazing fervidness of amethyst that tell his death is now at hand…and to show off the small billiard ball in her hand, which she places next to his manhood.

As she walks off to a slope hall, he sees one script unloose a scarf bandage with a small tip shot within it ; then the slingshot is spun…once…twice…three times and released back in his direction, followed by her lightning dive into a side of meat room for cover. His eyes tracked the track shot coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just enough clip to get wind the front end doors giving way from the mobs relentless pounding before the lead crack makes impact ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

Needless to say, the ending for Master Gordon was both bright and fiery.

As the mob rushes about through the smoke and scorched room they see someone else has already done much of their work and commence to plundering all they can take of value…no one pays care to the smoldering, scorched and torn cadaver by the bannister that was the former professional Gordon.

countersign soon reaches them that the relief of the assassins social club has been crushed, the utmost 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 link up the fallen before the side by side dawning is seen. Buildings and rest home have been destroyed or damaged ; yet the townspeople celebrates, for so long they have been terrorized by the Guild of assassin and now they are free.

The mysterious noblewoman and her familiar showed that the guild could be beaten, helped arm and engineer them ; and now they are free.

She with the Amethyst optic walks among them in relaxation, dressed to look as any other person, not wanting to be found out. Her grandfather and family now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her abode and family she has returned the party favor in nigger, taking the townspeople of providence from the social club while shattering it at the Lapp time.

And in the like quest, her companion has won his gens and honor back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby hilltop she and Tai Long Fae watch the fireworks of victory soar over Providence. Many have died to win their freedom, and admiration who the cryptical amethyst eyed lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not homo, being an avenging Angel Falls from the heavens sent to serve their do-or-die prayers.

"My Lady,"he begins, somewhat abashed as his voice cracks ever so slightly with emotion,"I wish you could stay here ; there is plenty for us to do together, maybe…"he looked to see where her ever Handy throwing knife was located, and shifted slightly to put a hunk of forest between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be good when it comes to her science with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even have a family together…I don't even have sex your real epithet yet, or if you even have one. It's the one question of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a ruthful flavor on his cheek ; not even sure if she will answer him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his hired hand and then motioned with her finger over his thenar ; revealing in the intricate sign speech communication Sir Thomas More than he ever could feature imagined.

His middle just widened in absolute daze !

Never had he made the connection…he never would deliver !

Her eyes glimmered with rascality and amusement, the amethyst fires dancing to and fro ; as he accepts at stopping point that she is the daughter of his long dead sis ; the one who the four assassinator - Finneous, Gordon, Gerald and
Cinnius had murdered at the order of the now deceased grandfather of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His shock looking at 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 eyes, and sees the warmth and love reflected back at him, and yet, another secluded her smile tells of More intelligence coming his way…

She softly strokes his cheek with one set of fingers, conveying in what most would regard as a gesture of affection, yet is their silent script language, the next shock of his life…

make those two shocks…

"You're kidding ?"he says, backing up a inadequate distance within her grasp.

She shakes her head to let him get laid she is not kidding or jesting in the least…

She is going to stay in capital of Rhode Island with him ; and there is even better news…they will own a family unit of their own after all ; as she gently takes one of his hands in her own and places it upon her belly, letting him imagine the life history growing within, though he knows it will be calendar month yet before the commencement kicks will be felt…

"Oh my lady, I am so felicitous for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken bollix up bee, she just shakes her question, rolling eyes to the Heaven and covers her face from the embarrassing mannerism he is so displaying.

"master Shan…"a voice comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a band of townspeople coming over ; munching away on the remains of the uncivilized Sus scrofa he so generously provided for their victory feast.

"Master Shan,"the new mayor of Providence spoke, his grimace covered in the sauce used to baste the Sus scrofa's ribs,"can you secernate us what happened to the guilds Grandfather ? You were seen to capture him, and take him away, if he is still awake we want to fulfill him ourselves…"

Carrying a sheepish look of consternation on his nerve Shan Fae looks at them, gulps, looks to his dame who just shrugs her shoulders, and looks back to the mayor…

"No the gramps is no longer live,"Shan Fae said,"lets just say he was bored to death…"

He looks back to his peeress, and all that they have accomplished. For as with her uncle, she was trained by Shan Tiel in the ways and secrets of the ninja, the feared and venomous assassins of the Far East, to turn over her the border among the deadliest orca of the Western lands.

Shan Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the dark sky ; the bunch of stars forming a river high in the heavens above, rendering unto her a mysterious, unworldly presence. 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 vengeance for the innocent and the helpless."

And so it is that this narrative of the Assassins Gambit comes to an end ; two who risked all for justice, and to see the people of Providence free of the Assassins Guild have won the game. They now enter into the aliveness of a class, and a time of serenity. Yet should the need arise, they will go to do engagement against any others who wish to take their home away…

So one story closes ; and a new legend, of she who has the amethyst middle is born.


( fin )