Just outside the town of Providence, four figures close upon their target area - an old, battered household that is battered by the raging tempest 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 grove of woods.

The leader of the four, Finneous, motility instructions to his associates in the dumb foretoken language used by the Assassins club ; though they already know their finish, no fault will be tolerated this night, the contract must be fulfilled…no subsister and no evidence is to be left behind.

On that the grandad of Assassins, the true ruler of the society and of providence is clear.

Silent as decease, they move between tincture illuminated present moment by moment as lightning saltation across the sky. Here one darts to a tree, then to lay behind a small shrub ; there one dah between flashgun to the shelter of a low bulwark surrounding the house.

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

Even the cities John Constable, the law enforcement broker of providence - of course of instruction all are under guild control - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this hour. The design of the house, down to the smallest detail, were secured by yet another band of guild factor, allowing for preciseness planning…

All too well-off, cypher can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will study no hazard, for dumb circumstances has on more than one social occasion interrupted his plans. He gives a hundred count, making sure no trend occurs…

Seeing, sensing and hearing nothing he motions with one handwriting to his companions. Of the three, Cinnius pass to cross the back room access with his small crossbow, Gordon and Gerald move to the position entryway of the pantry and kitchen.

Between flashes of lightning and echoing roars of big H they go ; undetected, they reach the business firm of the banker betrayed by his better half. Swift and efficient they enter, and in less than five minutes the whole affair is sodding, leaving the family utterly and the household aflame from front to back. No survivor, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An comfortable night of work ; eradicate an total class, torch the house to cover the crime.

Save for one potential complicatedness - one Lester Willis Young girl, the center member of the baby, was not at the business firm. All four of them agree to say nothing more than, knowing the extreme destruction waiting for them if the grandpa of the guild find out.

Besides what problem could one teenager of a girl alone in the world honestly cause them…

**************************
The valet known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the expanse watched the fires as they consumed the house ; from the shadows he had seen the four bravo enter and exit with exceeding attainment. Not one of the four had seen Grandfather when he approached within four animal foot of their course coming and going.

"Amateurs,"he declared softly, disdain for these alleged ‘ professionals'of the due west.

If not for the cathexis he has been entrusted with by the now deceased banker, he would hold finished this band of retard just for the sake of pragmatism. They give a bad name to what it means to be a true up assassin.

He could just envision how the struggle would take office, brief and absolute in its finality…

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

Twin, envenomed knives would necessitate the middle two in their hearts ; the quivering muscle spasm of destruction wracking the expressions of shock absorber and horror on their faces…

Their leader in presence, the one he knows as Finneous from past dealings, would settle in a personal matter…his iron calced staff smashing osseous tissue and crushing organs in close up conflict ; or if the Coward flees then he would send the throwing stars into his vertebral column - each one with the same deadly spitefulness as his tongue hold…

Tonight he can not give in to the desires…

Giving a calm two hundred reckoning while still concealed by his tiger striped cloak, spot of foliage aiding in the disguise of him being a division of the tree diagram and bush, he listens with pinna keener than many. He moves nary a bit, even as biting insects crawl over him.

He knows when dealing with fellow hunters like the assassins, there is only room for one error ; of class being from the Far eastern United States, HE is the true huntsman in this game.

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

In his sheltering implements of war is the little female child, the one with the amethyst eyes and muted vox. Her brat filled expiry hug lets him lie with just how affright she truly is, though still young and small for her age, he will make sure that no harm comes to her…

No matter what he will make sure no harm comes to her ; her fathers desperate plea with him, to beak one out of the twelve youngster to be saved skim his heart raw, having given the admonition of the coming hit by the guild. So it was he swept her up, out the doorway and into hiding here just ahead of the assassins.

So there was nothing he could do, to forbid the slaughter of his son and grandchildren.

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

He keeps his firm handgrip on the little young woman who hugs him in a terror filled death hug ; her center filled with amethyst ardour. When her Father of the Church had come to suffer him, only the girl was with him ; then the father had rushed back to save his family, too late to do little more than die with them.

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

Very slowly the girl extended her coat clad arm, gloved fingers tracing a series of motion into his hired hand. Indeed, mute that she may be, the ease of her ability with the augury oral communication of his kinsperson's profession - fellow assassins like himself - demonstrating the intelligence information that lies behind those wonderful eyes.

He nodded favourable reception.

"So be it, so you shall be called my granddaughter ; translate this much though, for now, you must remain tacit with your new figure and blank out the old. To the eternal rest of the cosmos, 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 know of your existence ; so life sentence will not be easy for you, yet there is something I will teach you to do,"he said with a fix face on his face.

He calculated the time that passed since the quartet of assassins left ; then figured the perceiver for the social club of assassins will be along shortly - to make sure the contract was carried out in its entirety.

"We must go now. I will learn you from today to turn a hunter of your own. You will not bring terror to the innocent ; instead you will run the huntsman and their agent ; to instruct those who use panic what it means to be subject of affright in turn. ``

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

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

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

The assassin consider their hunt completed, just one of hundreds the quadruple has carried out to success.

They have made their one mistake.



***********
***********
gramps just smiled with delectation as he looked upon her, lying future to him on her stomach on their bed ; his fingerbreadth moved with soft, feather gentleness across her stop skin. He began with her one bared brass, her headway turned his way and those wonderful eyes dancing with such humor, living and bed for him.

Moving in a slack spiral outward from the inwardness, he soon reached her lips and playfully caressed them across the top and then the bottom, exploring each portion of them in turn. The feel of her warm hint upon his fingerbreadth brought a prickling pleasure to his mind, his old body still up to the entertaining of a young lady, one who is no longer a girl - she reached her legal age a week ago, and asked for this Nox as her giving from him.

He slips his fingerbreadth into her mouth, caressing the inside of her sassing and stroking against her teeth, taking pleasure in the growing blush upon her impudence. Moving back to her upper lip, he continues his fingertip exploration, up to her intrude and around each of her eye - especially along her brows, bringing a mild shudder to her trunk as her eyes gently close for the moment.

His finger's breadth begin to massage around her brows and then back along her open ear, drawing forth a smile on her ruby red sassing as a content small sigh escapes past them. She draws her hands up under the pillow her principal is resting upon, while her block off hide refulgency with the moonlight flowing in from the Twin Falls sliding doors that are assailable to the outside world.

Her one arm flickers for just a moment, the manus setting to a greater extent secure under the pillow.

Grandfather moves along the book binding of her head with his fingers, caressing and massaging her neck along the sides and back, cupping them along the front so all of his hand is on her peel. He then begins in piano, circling and kneading moves ; she gives another piano suspiration of contentment, her shoulder joint sagging ever so slightly as she begins to loosen up more and more.

His optic look up as he picks up the faintest of cause through the floorboard, a oscillation and a mild phone so elusive most would take on a mouse had scampered across the room.

Running his hand down along both incline of her spur, he uses the other hand to support his leaning mannequin ; this move also brings him snug to one of his hidden throwing knives - envenomed of course - to apportion with any spiritual world attacker…

The Young ma'am turns her head away from him, muscles on her back twitching in pleasure from his caressing tinge. Once more there is a soft sigh that escapes her lips.

bending down he places his rim on her skin, kissing inch by salty tasting inch from mid berm to the lower back ; all the while his centre lookout man for the future vestige to propel, ears listening for the next speech sound to be made as the unknown intruder approaches.

His digit flow to the English of her abdominal cavity, drawing a constant quantity, squirming, squiggling motion from her.

A swoon speech sound comes forth through the wall, telling him the exact location of the intruder.

It also provides the info to another as well…

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

The sharp, cracking retort of the brand biting through the woods is heard by both of them.

burying itself to the blades hilt, she sees that her aim has been true up. She then resumes her comfortable side on the fledge matting, hands back under the pillow, waiting for granddad to proceed his ministrations.


======
The intruder, the man of mystery from the Far eastern United States simply known as the Associate - and designated helper for the one with the amethyst eyes, calmly stands in his place, one leg in half footstep, substructure prepared to step across the rampart physical body to another pocket-sized joint projecting slightly outward.

Such a move on this outer wall, along the structure one-fourth base and some three hundred feet over a cliff to the jagged rocks below would be child's swordplay.

He wanted to see the endowment being given by grandfather to the young lady.

He has to remember, as of today he is HER associate degree, despite her public figure being forbidden to him, as he has denied his own name until the stain on his and the kinsperson accolade has been expunged. Normally he would work alone to give his revenge, yet Grandfather - to whom his fellowship owes an old debt - has him working with her.

He had regarded her as goose egg more than a plaything for the old man ; even as ready witted and concise as the plan she has developed for their job in Providence…

He gently swings his consistency around 180 stage, pivoting on the toes of his other invertebrate foot, then begins the mount back the way he came ; he will never underestimate her again.

His gaze is drawn back to the power point of a blade extending a finger distance through the woodwind instrument ; the gleaming toxicant on its glistening surface unclutter to his check eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his humanness by a hair's-breadth breadth.

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

No more than curiosity for him, he will now focalise solely on the mission, and the justice long denied to him for the offence committed by the club grandfather of Assassins.

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


======
grandpa just chuckled as she rolled onto her back, those lustrous amethyst optic live with liquid body substance ; his delight in her activeness is obvious as she holds her munition out for him, the invitation loud and clear in their unverbalised dance of love.

Easing his robe off, he carefully lies across her eubstance, supporting the bulk of his weight upon his slender, old and Fe strong arms while she parts her legs, sliding them gently around his hips, and begins to go them in caressing bm along his own.

He begins to kiss her lips, which she returns with fiery intensity, the freshness of her buttock deepening with each passing moment. Kiss after gentle, pecking osculation embraces her cheeks and then along the jaw to her chin, her smile concealing a barely seeable gulp while one deal moves to stroke her neck ; generating a small quiver and twitch of her physical structure, a silent giggle parting her lips while arms and legs writhe in joyous, frantic bliss.

One small tickle follows a second, then three more, resulting in greater and greater gyrations from she with the amethyst eyes. binge of joy welled in those eyes, flowing down cheeks to the waiting mouth of granddaddy who pressed his sassing gently on each dip - his grinning shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling scents of Grandfather while he is so close ; often she has been next to him in slumber, but never in such a mode as this…the thought of what is to come so soon filled her with a bit of dread and anticipation of rhapsodic bliss…the final examination mystery of enigma to be explored.

Her oculus closed as his hand cuffed the cover of her cervix, supporting it with great forcefulness and gentle, warming tactile sensation ; the small vibrating question of each digit muscle told of his smoothing iron mastery of the body, massaging and finding each sensuous mettle in the arena, bringing an unexpected surge of euphoric estrus from mystifying within and down below, where she feels the beginnings of a wetness build…

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

One fingertip of his free hired man began to explore, resting at first upon the very base of her costa, to flow upward in a narrow, focused, undulating trail that sent a cornucopia of feelings surging into all luck of her mind.

Sharp and sugariness, working girl and tangy, dull and dense ; Word without variety for notion that can not be described but only imagined in a concordance like a serial publication of pelt forging into a mighty river as all join together. One sharp inlet of breath bringing a heavenly profusion of olfactory property - the lingering steam and droplets of piss from the bathing elbow room nearby ; the slightest trace of old eau de cologne and musk, of earthly rich men smells, and afforest Calluna vulgaris of fair sex who have been here in the rooms many hundred of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened medallion, easing along the edge of her breast, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in modest, gruntle circles. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the Lapp. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded ; the hand caressed and massaged more and more area of each breasts.

She heard and felt her breathing spell quickening, her head making a small circle as electrical bearing of saturated bliss tingled their way up in her body ; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant surge of vigor, invigorating and easing, the raw potential difference of life history made world. virgule by gentle stroke the infinite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping her breast until they crossed the erect mammilla ; that first gracing middleman sent a coursing pulse of mania along all the paths of her body, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred fold in saturation that almost became overwhelming.

Her back arched as shoulder joint thrust back ; both hands quickly clenching the covering of the bed they shared, all but pulling it inward due to the sheer seventh heaven dominating her torso ; musculus twitched and squirmed, nerves firing in delight and demanding they be touched to give her even more joy than she has ever experienced to this dot in her life.

Unto its journey the hand continued, seeking out with almost desperate rush the other nipple ; its trail a vindicated track illuminated by fires of blissfulness as it moved along my peel. pulsation after beating pulse surged in this journeying to flow outward as the riffle on a pond, yet with the strength of a shower among a mighty river.

Just short of contact her body could take no to a greater extent, pushed to the edge faster than even Grandfather had figured as her body moved in excited, euphoric motion ; one silent cry of primal love after another expressed on her parted lips until her flood tide hit, being released in one moment of uttermost Nirvana bliss.

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

Her custody slideway along his backbone, teasing and caressing, until they meet with the finger's breadth entwining to defend him securely in place. She closes her center, neck arching slightly in response to the buss he now places along it, while a serial of soft sighs escape her lips that clear and close in silent calls of edifice lust.

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

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

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

From his gentle and firm legal action, move after relocation, she begins to experience a fiery bliss menstruum up her body like a river of liquefied metal ; the high temperature and intensity redoubling with each inch it passes unto her genius. Her breathing space quickens as she lays there, ears listening to the gentle, firm breathing of Grandfather.

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

All too soon the wonderment of this sentence of joy comes to an end, as he reaches the limit of his dead body's endurance and chasteness, sending his life seed deep into her body.

"I'm sorry it did not lowest as long, or would be as enjoyable as it should consume been Granddaughter ; the commencement time for any man or charwoman is the most awkward, until the enigma is passed and the cosmos widens for them both,"he explained to her.

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

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

His script encompassed hers, allowing him to bring delectation in the effeminateness of her skin, the slight sweating on the airfoil.

"So you and your Associate leave-taking for Providence soon ?"he asked.

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

She looks upon the one who she loves so much with admiration, hoping to share so many More such import as this Nox before the Richard Morris Hunt begins.

For the last ten years he has raised her, teaching her linguistic process and penning, the art of chemistry belonging to the assassins of the Far E. The way of the sword and the bow, the throwing maven and daggers ; many weapons for all situations she may encounter…and so much more.

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

Yet he taught her so much more than to be a ‘ sustenance weapon system ;'she loves to trip the light fantastic toe with him under the whizz, to angle and trace, to play chess, and so much more.

In suddenly, he taught her how to live and relish life day by day.

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

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

She dreams of their clock time together in the two calendar week to amount ; 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 piss sleep with from dawn to dusk and into the many Nox they have left.

Her dreams recall those clock time, from the starting time perceptiveness of gramps manhood on her lips, his seed spilling into her mouth and his apologies when she choked ; to the way he explained what to do…

Yes indeed, their remaining prison term together will be wonderful.

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


======
Her comrade stands silently off to the incline of the small shrine where Grandfathers ash tree have been laid to rest, the two horses he holds, their mounts, remain understood as if paying respect to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just didder his head, amazed that the one he is to form with show such a range of a function of emotions ; he made the promise to never underrate her again, yet the sheer display of skill in her architectural plan - and the contingencies for case and opportunities that may arise, is the work of a true master.

Only the tenuous glimmer of a tear shows as it flows down her cheek ; the just weakness he has seen in her during the clock time they have come to bang one another.

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

Let the future seed as it does, right now former matter need to be focused upon…such as the positron emission tomography he needs to buy once in town ; batten their shelter and make sure they are sufficiently thirsty for when the time comes to have his revenge…

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

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


*******************
*******************
In the profoundness of a vacant shop, one long boarded up, shelf thick with debris and cobwebs the lone sound to be heard is the late, rasping, moaning pant of an previous man. Dressed in a well tailored suit, near would don him to be a servant for one of the productive merchants of capital of Rhode Island ; yet if they knew his rightful side, they would run off screaming…to an early, pain filled demise as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then put up the same fate.

He is the butler and compensate hand man of Master Gordon of the gild of assassinator, not to advert being a baneful grampus in his own right.

His hands grip the shops dusty heel counter that pushes into his backrest as he fights to remain upright ; waving of giddy, pulsating, undulating heating and electric like aesthesis of pleasance flow into his mind ; too many years have passed since he has felt this way, and now to have such a lady as this proceeds such interest group in him, for such a fairly punk price as well…

One of the legendary Sisters of the Amytal, a small assembly of courtesans renowned for their mastery of the titillating and tantric arts, showing interest in HIM ! ! !

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

One raspy intimation after another passes his lips, chest heaving in and out like a bellows, one shudder after another causes his body to bend and fall about, as he feels like his encephalon is now turning to slosh before a furnace, about to flow away completely in a swarm of steam.

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the Sister's lips play along the distance of his manhood ; pausing to snog and swirl around the sensitive substructure of its head. With a whirlwind of minor, exact strokes of her tongue she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading moving ridge into his body along the nail down ravines of his nervous system ; one wave upon the other ; building into a tsunami of force and prurient fires, threatening to break apart his brain ; with oblivion coming then and there from excitement matching that of a wild stallion proclaiming triumph for potency of a herd of mares.

For the showtime clip in years he feels so FREE and TRULY ALIVE ! ! !

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

He has to line up out ?

grunt after grunt sound reflection around the empty shop, his fists commence to pound upon the return as he strains to hold back the growth insistence upon his manhood. He understands that for so long he has been an oxen, who by option and confinement in the mansion of his boss, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such fine animal pleasures as this…

Oh the heady perfume she wears, indulgent and gentle yet being difficult as iron and unyielding as the deepest stones in the terra firma ; elusive as a ghost while being here and now as a moment of sentence that is eternal.

She eases one bridge player upward, gently teasing and tickling his Twin set of chestnuts just below his manhood, while being unaware of the belittled surprise lying just within her fingernails edges. If this man dares to draw the hidden set of brand or the ticket wire iron collar up his left sleeve, then the poisonous substance will kill him within seconds, thus forcing a low change in her plan for the near future.

His laughter grows from a minor series of chuckle to wild, manic, hysterically insane sounds carrying garish and hanker outside the shop ; though no one in the area dares to pay attention - ignore such sounds that may have in mind lodge business is going on and you stay alive for today…maybe…

He feels like his eye have crossed over into the diametric sockets, his strength being drawn out of him by the constant, heat energy flowing, headiness of her actions. Oh if he only could get his married woman or the early girl and schoolmarm he has - each convinced they are ‘ his genuine love'– to do thus to him, as well as or better than she.

For the indorsement clip he counts his bless fortune at having a Sister of the wild blue yonder come to HIM for so low of a price ; one simple transition and future tense meetings such as this will turn ever easier to arrange.

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

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

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

Of course his master may not see it that way, yet what he does not know will not cause him to slaughter the butler in the most vicious of way possible…if he was lucky, being flayed of all skin, doused in vinegar and then covered in cheese to be fed to rabid rat would be a admittedly blessing.

But that will not materialise, his master may be a herculean figure in the order, yet HE, the pantryman, controls the day to day events at captain Gordon's the three estates - no one will acknowledge, just as he has smuggled and embezzled billion of gold coins, gems and artwork over the year, others paying the price for his actions…

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

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

Those who control the Sisters make sure they never learn to intercommunicate in any substance, reading, writing, or such save by a limited signboard language centered on the sexual humanistic discipline. Though they are free in how to pleasure and please their clientele, they shall never be innocent of the powerful influence and ascendance of the guild that dominates their total lives.

mystery and boasts condom with the Sisters ; so be it.

The Butler spends some meter explaining to her as she gently strokes his manhood, enraptured attention paid to him as he tells story after story about the guild and their wave of terror and murder used for ascendance ; her grin shows the fervor brewing deep in her body, seeing him as a champion of wizard against those who dare to oppose the way things are - the Guild of Assassins rules, nothing else can substitute it.

Or so he assumes.

Gently she teases the very tip of his humanness with the tip of a fingernail, drawing him to the bound of madness and back again and again ; her smile of wonderful bliss combined with rapt care to the pigs changeless stream of delusive heroics masks the level best contempt she feels to him…

And wonders if it would not be considerably to simply excise a bit too arduous, stick out back and lookout as the poison goes into effect…no not yet ; the time for such little matters is not at hand.

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

His rasping breathing place continues to deepen, centre crossing as he nears his peak.

She slides his humanity back between those moist, lenient, commanding brim and continues onward, until with a half-grunted shout he hits his release spilling his life seed into her mouth.

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

"Just a reminder of who you are dealing with madam, the 1st hint of betrayal at all…"he finished with a apparent movement of his hand across his pharynx, attack alight in his eyes.

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

As per their slew, she opens her sassing to shew his total lifespan seed is there, and then swallows it down.

She smiles at him, happy to have given him such pleasure ; while on the inside she steams at having to put up with such a brute of an animate being, castration would be too good for him…give him over to a band of idle adult female, wielding knife and they will accept him as the master course at a banquet…

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her peevishness in check ; despite that she will be spewing her moxie out for the next couple of minute when she gets plate, the overall increase are worth it.

retaliation will get along soon enough.

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

"My dear Sister in Blue, the side by side time you wish to receive More blush wine, let me know. I will gladly bring them to you for an ‘ exchange of serve'such as you provided tonight,"the butler stated.

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

"The firstly time I feel you have betrayed me in the to the lowest degree, your death will be most gratifying 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 ‘ job matters.'

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

She has expressed stake in the newest rosebush passe-partout Gordon has been developing, ones like the three he has given to the Sister in bluing. Yes, he shall make his need known soon enough, and may ingest another one to add to his schoolmistress - or he may just belt down her outright, depending on his particular whim of the moment.

Yes aliveness is good and victor Gordon will never roll in the hay of the missing flowers being by his own hands.

The game he is playing with the rose has dateless possibilities…

If he understood the role he unknowingly plays in the"sis"biz ; the terror would cause his substance to discontinue on the spot.



*******************
*******************
Finneous just strolled along on the chief fair-through of Providence, taking in his ever expanding imperium of construction and shops he secretly owns. His riches over the last ten days has grown exponentially, all of it due to his cut of the fees paid to rid of one banker and his family.

Indeed, ten years is a long prison term, now he had magnate, rank and wealth known only to a few ; those who part ways to let him drop dead, his rank shed light on by the finest of black case encompassing his iron-trimmed muscular frame. For the suicidal who may challenge him, the small-scale crossbow bouncing at his hip - always loaded with a envenomed bolt - is gear up.

None dare to challenge him, for he is one of the skipper of the order of assassin ; one of the finest and of the deadliest, only rivaled by Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius his old associates…and of course the granddad of Assassins and his ever shifting plots within plots…

…no that one he will never dispute, preferring the luxury of aliveness to the finality of death after horrific amounts of torture…

The mentation of the last execution he had seen, a man covered in molten cheese and lowered oral sex first into a pit filled with hungry, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he ; the screams gave him nightmare for weeks afterwards…as the granddad of assassinator intended, a warning as well as punishment…

Yes here in his arena he is safe, based on his ability to control others by their fearfulness - of death, pain in the neck, and of punishment or fierce skill in blade, knife and a hundred early weapon. By controlling their concern, he has command of all those around him.

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

"Oh it feels so unspoilt to be a big businessman within my own lilliputian orbit here in the city…"he chuckles to himself. Yes it is dear to be king over a lowly portion of the world.


======
Two solidification of eyes watch as Finneous principal down the street, following the same pattern each day. like clock time, path, 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 mute language of script apparent motion ; if all goes well, they will necessitate to move quick.


======
Two soft, gentle eyes watch as the assassin heads down the street ; day after day he follows the same set route, no deviation and secure in his own personal arena. Indeed in this area of Providence he is a Martin Luther King Jr., and dead on target to manner, the watcher here has a gift for him.

They play this like biz each day just as he passes the doorstopper leading into her dwelling ; she hopes the talent will be especially pleasing to him today. Already a valet had purchased one of her half-blooming rose for his girlfriend. Old men can be such romantic she figures, and the lady friend must be so fortunate to birth him as her friend.


======
Finneous passes by one of the few privately owned store in the surface area, the small stone building is home to a new florist, who also deals in odds and ends she trades for from other merchant. Such is the budding repute of her work that many people of influence and power, not to name members of the guild, sojourn to purchase her creations.

Her only do it associate is that old and completely mad toymaker Darius ; his whizz for making contrivance and mechanical contraptions is just as fabled, as he has the golden chance to lay eyes on 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 script that slowly movement and chemise. Gradually it becomes a mechanically skillful sneaker that starts to sing.

So sweet and dependable is the song that many real number fink in nearby Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree join in the song.

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

Heading over, he gives a soft coughing to make his comportment known, and indicates the mechanical shuttle with one hired hand. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the creature ; Darius bristles until the girl locks him in place with a truly tail end gaze, thus saving the assassin the need to toss off him for a tiddler insult.

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

When he gives her the coins for the purchase she bows to rationalize herself then goes back into the shop. Darius just shrugs his shoulder joint and heads off on whatever concern his madness holds, his inscrutable blue angel robe covered in eldritch mathematic symbol flowing about him in the breeze.

As the assassinator oral sex down the street he knows he is being watched ; his expression feigns interest in his new toy while actually keeping track 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 great pastime to him.


======
The two who watch the forward motion of Finneous up the street have another quick conversation in the mum mitt language ; the indorsement of the two bows slightly, then issue to give up his ‘ gift,'knowing that there will be footling time as thing 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 exceptional ‘ endowment'that goes to him today as well…these assassins, such amateurs…



======
As on each day, the ‘ ambush'occurs right on time, the petty girl with the easygoing eyes steps out in presence of him with her blazon filled with flower."Good sir, would you like a bloom today ?"

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

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

He counts out a handful of silver-coins, many times what all of her efflorescence are worth. This is his means of paying his own factor, and helps to keep them in line with the wordless message of fear - betray him and not only will the agent die, so will all their family and kinfolk.

As Jesmine runs off to give the finances to her father Finneous hears a ruckus 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 mechanical gimmick that will gather piss for them. A clear lesson in the fine art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can nominate wonderful toys.

His schoolmarm will absolutely love this mechanical bird.

A secondly glance at Darius shows he is trying to dance with the tree, and doing so badly. When a crowd of foliage fall over his head, he begins to indicate about some ‘ slight of laurels from the forests of the domain'and then challenges each tree to a duel of honor…a true lunatic indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

The flush 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 stock of blush wine he has worked ten years on.

"I will have to rule out."

Too bad he never got a chance to find out.


======
The collected bunch parts for the approach of the police constable ; no one has come to the aid of the fallen man, and the patrol of the police constable blanches when they see whom it is. Doubled over is the assassin, his crossbow still loaded and at the make next to his hip ; the mechanical bird lying atop the half bloomed heyday, singing away as it was designed to do.

"Go and get the responsibility skipper,"shouted the patrol sergeant to his aide,"tell him what we have here at once, the ease of you secure the sphere, five paces out and no one touches anything ; when the Grandfather of assassinator finds out about this we may have major problems."

Thus has passed Finneous, passe-partout assassin, fearless mogul of his own domain of a function who made only one mistake ; he became predictable ; thus he became vulnerable ; and thus dead.

All hail the mogul for he is now dead.

One has fallen, three more left.


*********************
*********************
The cities police strength - the Constables have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her family. Everything in their mansion is intact, no mark of interference, trouble, foul caper or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their go prepared repast, still cooling down from homework, remains uneaten on the table plus an expensive wine-colored feeding bottle chilling in a bucket of ice…

There were only two oddment to be found - a half-bloomed rose on the table, and a bundle of document hidden away in a hollowed out Word of God.

Most of these were of business transactions for the home ; one was very, very odd…

Make sure that Finneous has access code to these flower during his cockcrow walk, one is to be sent to his mistress as well ; remember I will digest no more mistake. If per opportunity he does ask where they are from, tell him directly they come from my estate gardens, in honor of our ten years of reciprocal secrecy - Gordon.

Quickly this bank note made its way into the hands of the assassin guild ; the leaders waiting to see what their full examiners could find, which for the most role appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a series of small, invisible writing emerges from the fragile warming of the lambskin.

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

Safe house prepared, flee when Finneous given flowers, no hesitation, comply directions to the letter on pain of destruction for everyone - Gordon

"Round up everyone who may be remotely connected to this matter, and turn them over to the Constable for the interrogations. Make sure they are reminded to abide quiet, no dubiousness, no quotation of lodge line at all under pain of death,"ordered the grandad of Assassins.

Turning to the loss leader of his personal bodyguard detail he gives one explicit order,"Find the I who run this network of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be Master Gordon, a power play seems to be brewing, and so those traitors have only one last undertaking to perform…food for my collection of tigers in the dungeons…and make sure they die slowly…I want to hear their screams."

nearly likely this is a magnate play, a series of eliminations of rival and senior ranked members to spread the way for lower social rank to be promoted - that is the way of the guild, to advance you dispose of those above you or die in the process.

The Grandfather decides a little talk with skipper Gordon could not anguish. Just to make sure he is mindful that if he is seeking to unseat him, it will occur to a bad ending for Gordon. And if he is not plotting against gramps, then it will alarm him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

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

There is no trust, no pureness to be found among the members of the Guild ; with assassin there is grudging esteem for their superiors mixed with aspiration to succeed them after a well placed snow that finishes them, if possible.

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

Upon receiving the bidding from the Grandfather of Assassins ; master copy Gordon starts to shake in mortal terror, wondering what was going on…Finneous is dead, a letter he supposedly wrote according to the messenger after a nice bribe, plus the world-class whispering on the street of masses inquiring more and more about his rest home and habits in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his butler ?

Plots within plots, move and return move ; that is the lot of anyone who is a extremity of the Guild…HIS life, the assemblage of power and ascendancy until eliminated by a touch from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the Grandfather of Assassins fright HIM…

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


*******************
*******************
Clairice had to admit, being interrogated by the Constables was unlike than her initial anticipation ; by far it is different.

Here she is, laying back on a frame, those soft doe like center closed, foreland turned to one side as her lips silently clear and finis from waves of lightning like pleasure surging with power and force up her body, to crash with thunderous retorts in her judgement.

Those gentle hand grip the vertebral column and side of the cast with frailty like intensity, fighting to agree off the forcefulness of each shudder, arching of her back and wiggling of her hips from the aid being given to a particular share of her body…

Just the cerebration of it, not to mention what is going on causes her already deeply blush on cheeks, brown and pry to deepen further ; so intense is it that anyone watching would feel Wave of heating system and desire shimmering off of her skin in wave, threatening to consume all who dare to speculation near.

One massive shudder of her body, her pelvic girdle instinctively thrusting upward as if by their own will, causes her to cover her expression in sheer embarrassment ; any thought of reserve have flown long ago as a snort flying with the wind.

As if she had any veridical choice but to bow to the interrogation anyhow…

The one who is conducting this unique style of ‘ interrogative sentence'is the Chief research worker Kimberly, who takes her time to ‘ investigate'and ‘ examine'each piece of Clairice's womanhood. Each and every inch, congregation and hidden depth she kisses, licks, or swordplay with via her fingers ; time after metre she manages to add Clairice to the very edge of flood tide, threatening to push her over the edge only to work her down and then back to the edge.

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

The men in the way, those who work under Kimberly's absolute, unrelenting and dead sadistic self-confidence grinning wickedly ; unleashing a continual cloudburst of vilification, thrust, bawdy motion and a ‘ running commentary'on how they feel that Clairice should just relent to the examination.

None will annotate on the techniques used by Kimberly, nor on her denude body ; her bronzed skin, perfectly formed face with those cruel gray middle and angelic expression - complete with a sprinkle of freckles, and her massive, staring breasts any man would gag between with happiness on his concluding formula, makes a staring model any sculptor would be proud to take created.

Yet the bronze death masquerade of the finis twenty dollar bill men to so comment knack on the wall nearby ; each mask showing the absolute vision of horror their faces had attained at the moment of their end in the most flagitious of ways one could imagine…chewed on by skunk, boiled in oil, Crucifixion, death by 500 lashes of a whiplash, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will defy lay a hand on Clairice either, nor make any phase of threatening move ; the fate of those who do is alien save for thus : the day after they made the final mistake in the bearing of Kimberly their humanity was found in the streets near their homes, and no other remains.

Amazingly though, rumour to burst out of Kimberly's auditory sense of one man, a high up ranking member of the Guild of Assassins has won her heart….if that is even possible…

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

friction her fingers rapidly over the little girl's woman, she grins wickedly back at her men ; then she moves back down again, playing her tongue across it in rapid, exact cam stroke and missive formula of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the finger's breadth of both helping hand worming their way inside her tight folds.

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

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

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

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

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

The torturers though just could not check his already insane mind ; he continued to argue with the post, some thing of mathematics and mechanics. Each crack of the party whip drew only a small slash on his exposed back, adequate to inflict uttermost pain, yet did not break him.

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

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

Shortly to be joined by the second torturer, many of whom never imagined could have his cheek 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 blazonry as if bitten by some kind of insect ...

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

Kimberly continuing her maddening efforts on her, determined to excerpt every bit of pleasance out of this little cyprian, continuing to deny her the liberation her consistence demands.

Again and again her hips thrust upward as moving ridge of fiery walking on air shoot along her body and jeopardize to crack her mind. undulation of volcanic heat menstruum and ebb along every fiber of her being ; surging and exploding with every type of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rapturous cloud nine !

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

One silent gulp followed by another and yet a thirdly becomes a steady watercourse for some meter as one particular spot is touched just so by Kimberly's tongue ; causing her pelvis to stuff up, back bend and tit heaving with the sudden influx of air her heated, burning body is demanding…

The inspector's manus move up and fondle her breasts yet again, not bothering to be gentle either ; three times she draws silent screech out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving bruise of her fingers and decoration on each one, relishing the torture she can visit on such an inexperienced person and cowardly girl…

If she only knew how fast the fickle bridge player of lady luck can turn…

The animalistic grunts and slapping of flesh on physique of Saint David entering into Kimberly merged with her call of delight, loud and barbaric like a pack of wolves. He showed no constraint, no hesitation in his every motion or desires to enjoy this moment in which he thinks he has complete control over the inspector Kimberly.

Of course, his buddies know better.

"OK you little hussy, I will differentiate you this much…mhmmm…if you cum before Jacques Louis David, I will let the residual of the men have…mhmm…their way with you…oh…ohh…"

Grinning savagely Kimberly went about her attempt on Clairice in a whirlwind of cause ; probing and twirling her fingers deep in her fair sex while working every portion she can with her flickering tongue and lips. Faster and ever faster her feat accelerated, determined to kick downstairs Clairice once and for all ; to usher these men and the missy who is the true knob and mistress on the scene…

Then she will see about destroying the one called Darius.

Clairice fights with all the considerable discipline she has learned in her life, locking her consistence muscles and restraining the ever edifice, quickening flame of her pending release ; she smiles inward with a small part of her mind as Kimberly howling in frustration - no matter what the inspector does or attempt, she just can not ca-ca the daughter hit her climax.

So furious does Kimberly become her hand that holds onto the back of their shared couch crying away a hunk of wood some two feet long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her breasts dance with the pulsating hike and fall of her chest, howling delight escaping her backtalk as centre roll up into her head…she hits her climatic release at the New York minute Jacques Louis David, wide of bellowing grunts and growls howl for all he is worth ( and such would take a shit any pack of savage grin with pride ), his spillage inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

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

Moments after his big culture Clairice loosens up on her body, allowing the inevitable surge of final bliss to pour Forth River as an unstoppable storm, the strength and fierceness of the seism, the great tsunami descending onto the coast of a continent from across the ocean…

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

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

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

"She is to be escorted home, if one of you so much as ballad a paw on her, pray for a quick death from suicide ; otherwise I will flay your skin one in at a sentence, then soaked in vinegar, covered in molten tall mallow and tossed to a pit fully of rabid, plague infested and athirst rats,"Kimberly informed them all.

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

======
As they gather Clairice's wearable, gently handing it to her, rear and gaze now politely turned away ; the police detective prepares to consecrate her raw recruit - David - a stark moral in following orders. One thing David should have remembered is that each of the Investigators are womanhood who absolutely loathe men most of the metre, plus being high level assassin of the club.

Without bothering to gather her vesture she saunters to bear behind Stuart Davis as he finishes lacing his britches ; his grinning of conquest turns to fear as he takes in the grins of his companions.

- WHACK !
- whack !
- WHACK !

Doubling over, eyes crossing and subdued moans escaping his rim, David begins a deadening, face first extraction to the floor. One more victim racked up to the Inspectors well known motion called the"Triple Nutcracker."

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

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

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

No, she and the old toymaker Darius had zero to do with the Death of Finneous.

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

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

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

Finneous appears to simply have died of heart stoppage.

Back in her personal office she examines the last, treasured gift sent to her by Finneous…a last-place gift sent just a few hours before his death…and to just up and die from his ticker stopping ; not in individual combat against another assassin or madman…

She smiles at the fantastic gift :

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

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

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

Taking it in hand from the watch glass vase it arrived in, she looks at the flower in the cushy lantern Christ Within ; the promise of beauty beyond wonder hinted once the flush opens to its fullest.

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

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

It takes over two hours before anyone who heard the crashing randomness followed by out-and-out silence to build up the courage to recruit her spot, rightfully fearing for their lives.

Of course they quickly discern there is nada to fear any more than from Kimberly - being beat does contribute that guarantee ; and she is deemed to own died from heart blockage as did Finneous.

The solemnisation held that night in the Constable office for her passing play lasted well into the next day ; the moans and moan of the men and fair sex coupling merged with the mating of woman with other women telling all who dared to take heed just how the celebration culminated.


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

As usual no matter what Darius said or did the Constables escorting him and Clairice to her shop paid him no attention. Its not that he minded the bodyguard, nor having her as company during the retentive walkway home ; he is sword lily they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by crew raping her as so many other char routinely are - the so called ‘ law'of this town lives by little terror as does the assassin who rule.

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

"Okay guy wire,"said the patrol loss leader - Jambis,"we have done our duty for the night ; now, leave her be and plunge him…"

The two Constables carrying him summarily threw him into a heap of refuse and slime. To add further insult to injury, the patrol dumps pot of garbage from containers, base, and box on top of him ; mocking him as a dead on target madman.

"Well lads headmaster Gordon wanted him humiliated ; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the side by side time the schoolmaster wants an gild filled, get it right. One More mistake and the next visit by us will be a more pain filled than your disturbed incubus could get the picture,"Jambis told him.

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

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

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

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

Even that blasted wretch of a hussy Clairice is gone.

"smartness girl, hold back out of sight, and keep out of problem. Let's get back to Ragner ; then we can take in a night on the townspeople with our payment…how about that new ale theater ? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…"Jambis'part fades away as Darius rolls on the solid ground in pain…

Or at the least, the feinting of pain sensation ; for they do not see him suddenly take full ascendancy of his body, his eyes set on their backbone 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 optic keeps his pursuit in check…

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


======
Hours later in the metropolis crowded market one young lady casually strolls down the way ; just a simple Milk River maid from the farms outside the town. No one pays her any attention, the much patched, folksy material coated in the casual filth of hard parturiency keeps most oculus from more than a coup d'oeil followed by, for those of Sir Thomas More affluent agency, a disdainful snort of disgust.

She filled her basketful with an potpourri of fruit, day old gelt and other goods for a little family of one ; all that the seller know she needs.

Friendly, but still, the scar across her throat and left face indicate a horrific injury that never properly healed due to lack of care.

Still with simple gesture of mime they communicate for conducting business ; both functionary and otherwise, for one of the vendors passes her a minor carrier bag of unfermented fruit, something she pays well to hold due to their rare and scarce nature.

backrest in the safety of one established den, she sees her fellow carefully undo the sackful cloth to attain access to the note. He takes utmost maintenance in doing this, to create trusted the tone is not trapped in some fashion - say with a small, highly venomous insect or a little snake.

"rich person trust in your broker true my granddaughter ; but direct care in fount one has been turned,"grandfather had warned her in a lesson so long ago.

In her minor mirror, used to withdraw the composition, fictive scar and other items of her disguise, she sees her currently green optic turn back to their normal color…the Twin orbs of amethyst fires…

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

It is from one of her other agents :

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

For a second her smile turns feral ; her amethyst optic dancing with pure fervidness from within.

She remembered the deterrent example Shan Tiel had taught :

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

Finneous held big businessman and thus had total control of the father by threatening impairment to his treasured Jesmine.

When the go of freedom and escape from the fear of Finneous came, and understood to be legitimatise, he took up the one task without hesitation. Hence the prime was delivered and the note left behind.

One assassin is dead, three More to go.

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

He watched her cross the elbow room to position the note among a small big bucks of them, to be burned later on and the ashes scattered in the wilds. No evidence of them is to remain at all once committed to memory.

His judgment registered each gentle sway of her hips, her covering gown of pink silk shining in the lighting of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to tease him with a brief Revelation of a leg here, a calf there, a possible sight of one component part or another in the near invariant play of light and tincture. Not one noise did her ft make as they all but danced across the wooden floor, so balanced and ghostly is each foot placed ; always ready for action on a moments notice…

Oh how he could mull 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 turn begin to kiss one foot, working to her articulatio talocruralis and then gently easing up, one column inch at a clock time to her innermost thigh and seek out the one heavenly seat she has, the one dowery he loves on a woman to please and taste, to experience the luxuriant warmth of her chassis and…

- Whack !

"My lady if you will condone me I am off to get some rest,"Associate said as he slowly eased his dead body around the knife hanging sharp position up, just a fuzz breath beneath his brace manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol appendage talk of the town of their act, screened by a small contingent of the practiced informed wight to be found within any city : Street urchins, crawlers, lurkers, they go by many such names and almost all have one thing in unwashed ; they are the bottomland of the mixer order.

The poor, homeless person, orphans, madman, and all such people who are desperate to seduce a coin or two for a decent meal ; so it is that many in billet of power use them to watch any and all trend, any rumors or stories no matter how trivial. Few people pay them any tending save to keep hand on their money bang, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being invisible while in plain sight.

One other trait the skulker, such as a Whitney Young lad casually strolling along the streets a curt time later, his hands deep in coat air hole, is a well honed inherent aptitude for survival. Otherwise he would hold died long before now. Yet the fact is when he bumps into mortal, he is the one knocked to the dry land - landing side by side to a fallen basket of fruit…

A lady looks down upon his fallen variant, the raven black tomentum done up in a flowing braid, blue-white hat tied to her head while sapphire blue centre watched. Her blush-enhanced impudence glistened in the sunlight, matching the gloss on her sass as her smile grew full with poetic pleasure that many men, and some womanhood, wished to explore with pounding hearts…

Her fine gown of deep sea dark-green sparkled in the brightness, dent along one leg to run enticingly about her calf and thigh, promising prevent pleasure to those willing and able-bodied to pay the price. The soft singlet of bluish green silk she wore clung to every one of her feminine curves it reached, save up for a component that shows a glimpse of her breasts, soft and pink of pelt, as many an aristocratic man enjoys…

Folding her sunshade, she bends down into a half crouch, the material of her gown conveniently flowing about her upper berth thigh to bring out the pearly luster of her tegument ; muscles honed to absolute perfection and hinting at the strength contained within - the improve to enwrap around their eve consorts in the throws of passion, or so it is said.

She extends one script to the lad, her glove flowing up to the cubital joint and dancing with glitter crafted of a mix of nacre, emeralds, sapphires and such crushed, then glued with exacting forethought to the fabric.

The lad, his majority reached just two days ago does not move ; he is still, despite a jolting animation on the streets that has left him gangly, short and suffering malnutrition, in absolute fear of this lady. His racing tenderness metre from the panic of her wondrous nature, the flush of heat deep in his trunk flowing fast and hard while his manhood demands his attention, threatening to charge his britches apart.

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

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

sympathy that he must be on his best style, for the sake of his life-time - the Sisters are often said to be constituent of the guild of assassinator, and under the personal command of the gramps of Assassins - the youths extended deal shake with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ caption semen to lifetime'( in his intellect, she is a veritable goddess of Passion of Christ and pleasure that can never be approached by the lowest of mortals ), can be more restrain than the passkey of end who are probably preparing their poison tipped sword to turn him into a handwriting basket…

"Ma'am I am meritless for knocking your basketful out of hand,"accepting faulting for the thing even when none is there. With uttermost upkeep and respect he hands the yield basket back to her.

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

Everyone watches in admiration as she takes him into the semi-private area of a worldwide store ; she uses pantomime to finally get the point across to the grocer, who shakes in near affright at the intellection of causing the sister any offence ( being connected to assassin can cause this to happen a lot, the babe thinks ), to fit the lad with a good set of NEW clothing, no indorsement hand junk.

She pulls out a minuscule number of silver coins to cover the cost and to buy some diminished trade good that the grocer gives her a massive rebate upon.

Through the shop threshold and windows the pucker crowd lookout man in jaw-dropping wonder as she sits the lad down adjacent to her on a bench as the grocer goes to get the new clothing. Her hand playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to shudder like nothing. He fights to save his eyes off of her, especially as she takes one of his deal into her own and moves it to the grim border of her vest…gently guiding it up under the fabric and onto her breast beneath.

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

The Sister in blue tone upon all the watchers with coyly pursed lips, eye set in a pixilated gaze that promises the lad untold passions to come and untold, inviolable pain and death for anyone interfering with her chosen gift of recruitment for him.

The lad flavor at her in approach affright, until she gently kisses him on the brass, nose and forehead with a smile. She gently takes his hand away from her chest and readjusts her clothing while the grocer returns with the garments. Ushering the lad into a changing room to see the consequence, the grocer returns to putting her purchased commodity in her basket ; then hands it to her with a deep bow, nod of the head and a 1000 smile on his face.

So successful has the illusion been, no one suspected the grocer passed a little bundle of newspaper publisher her way in the basket ; in turn she had passed book of instructions on as well, concealed under her undershirt for the lad to pack to others in her ever expanding circuit of broker and contacts.

Before sunset comes, the leaders of her network of agents ; begin preparations of their own ; preparations for the massive strike once she gives the signal…as arm and armour are prepared ; their grin are as of captive wolves about to destruct their tormentor.



======
Later that nighttime, her eyes read carefully the tuck accounts of all her own agents, details of those known agents and phallus of the assassin's order ; their duties, patrol metre, substance abuse and so forward. Each detail that is gathered shows more weaknesses, more fuel for the pending firestorm.

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

How to achieve it with total surprise ?

After a few minutes of contemplation she turns to her fellow, and via the silent bridge player language explains what is needed. His smile and nod shows the delight in her idea, and he has a bonny idea of who to go about to craft the ‘ giving'that is needed.

As he looks into her oculus he sees the chemical substance mixture that allows her to transfer their colour wear off ; the sham cerulean blue devil reverting back to the true, lustrous amethyst fires he has come to admire so practically. The mix used to make this happen is coarse in the Far eastward, unknown to these idiot assassins of the West.

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

His regard flows over her lithe soma, the silken robe enshrouding her partially open as she continues to read ever more of the message ; her bared pelt glisten in the easy light of the oil lamp, casting shadows and visible light that dance suggestively across abdomen and titty, concealing and revelation in a dancing of sensuality suggesting More wonderment are nearby if he would just dare to explore…

Putting on his coat as slowly as potential, pretending that his arm is stuck in the sleeve, he drinks in the spate of her bared wooden leg, crossed and curved to keep the spate of her fair sex just out of orbit ; yet teasingly he can just make out a bit of the lenient, downlike hair between her thighs…a award he would sleep with to explore if she just would let him do so…

How very much pleasure he could bring in Forth from her unlike the now beat examiner Kimberly - that one used the intimate for deterrence and domination ; he will for her to be pleased and loved.

Bared breasts relocation ever so slightly with each of her gentle breathing time ; dancing in a regular recurrence silent and firm, enticing with their tit so soft, pinko and fully set up as if daring him to impress in and consider the impossible.

How he would hump to please them, his fingertips spiraling inward from his caresses along the stand, after placing countless candy kiss on each one, leaving no portion untouched. The sense of taste of her trunk, changing as her body became more and more delirious, sweeter and sweeter, mixing with the wise scent of that grand fragrance she wears…

From her tit he would move downward on her abdomen, teasing her stomach with constant little kisses to pull many silent sets of giggles and laughs as possible ; then proceeding downward to her woman, by now so ready to be excited and her eyes would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would make happy in that sweetest of all tasting and smells ; her bared muliebrity, still so youth and fairly innocent before him. Each delicate soupcon of his fingers and sassing, the caresses of his tongue on those most sensitive of spots, natures gift to women, he would repeat his efforts on and as she increased in fulfillment towards her flood tide, contribute her down a bit and then reduplicate the feat again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the wonderful reaction of her physical structure heaving and gyrating as she hits her release, wave of bliss and fervid passion flowing across her body to crash to the one point of her intellect demanding to delight each moment of the sensations.

She would expect at him with those languorous amethyst eyes, a silent invitation given and confirmed as her arms were held out to him, welcoming their sexual union as one…

- Thunk !

"My dame,"he calmly stated,"if you will permit me I shall make due haste to fasten the Robert William Service we need for the next part of the plan…"

He gently moves forward a bit, making sure to clear the sharp side up blade stuck in the paries just a pilus breath below his manhood…her means of reminding him, romance may come later, right now former affair are priority.

She just shakes her caput and grin as he leaves ; wondering how many more times she may experience to do that to get the idea through his caput - she does not need romance, not at this prison term, she needs just a acquaintance. grandfather was the one she loved the most, and it's too soon since his passing…


*****************
*****************
Normally a pass among his beds of flower cheer the darkest, foul, humorless of humour he could achieve. This day though, is not one of them ; his great rose gardens, the bang-up of his treasures accumulated over the net ten old age now have become a bane.

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

Two of these flush appeared this first light, one in the house of Jesmine's folk ; the others next to the now very drained Finneous and Kimberly.

An incredibly fine morning he was spending with a baby in blue air crumbled into ash tree with the messenger who arrived unheralded, accompanied by a heavily safety from the gild hall.

His content was childlike : The granddaddy of Assassins wants to see him.

He felt the cold, gripping hands of death clutches about his throat and heart ; the sheer panic threatening of the pending session alone all but stopping his heart.

granddad's gentle inquiry - he could simply cause tortured him to dying on a whimsey - centered on the preeminence supposedly in his own refined and flowing script, so close of a forgery that even the guilds best experts are hard pressed to tell the difference.

Finally he was allowed to go, still intact in brain and body ; most such ‘ interrogation'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 fall ( i.e. Gordon ) and a new one promoted in his place.

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

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

The relaxation that the roses disappeared makes one matter discharge though ; someone has an broker on the interior, and needs to be found out and ‘ interrogated.'He does not tolerate those who sell him out…not at all.

But who could it be ?

Though he never can fully trust anyone about him, a few have again and again evidence their allegiance and utter reliability over the years…Yes, he will have them watched from a distance ; common thugs and footpad agents of the guild, if they get killed by their own incompetency, there will be no John Roy Major loss.

Pleased with this plan another sentiment comes to him ; here he is in the open, well within range of a marksman with a crossbow…

…making him an prosperous aim, perfectly accommodating any targeting him right now from a Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree or ceiling top…

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

Of trend, if a coup attempt happens as Grandfather expects, he will cannonball along to fight down the leader of the gild. If the opportunity arises, then he will dispose of gramps. His mood brightens at those thoughts ; he as the new Grandfather of assassin, ruling the town and the guild plus all of his own lands…why not, this bears some discussion with his associates - Gerald and Cinnius.

Even with the intellection now calculating plans and eventuality for the takeover of the guild or excretion of a rival one fact remains clear. His paw never loosens its grip on the razor sharp tongue hanging from his belt.



**********************
**********************
Associate moved as carefully and quietly as he could, not daring to cook a noise at all. Shadow to shadow, one minor stair at a fourth dimension he moves, quieter than a shiner on the prowl. For several days he has built up the nerve to issue forth closer and closer ; with certain guard being taken this time…

- clunk.

Quickly he grabs the cloth bounce, cast iron denture draped across his humanity to quiet up even this piddling bit of disturbance. His quarry this evening is all too likely to puddle for certain he is gelded indeed…and the poisonous substance on her blades are another knottiness as well to that kind of embarrassment.

Looking around the concluding turning point into the pocket-size stone grotto below the condom household they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst eyes showering beneath a soft, steady, misting cascade of steaming water. This may be one of the few opulence she ever has allowed herself…

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

She bent her head downward to take in the frontal circumstances of her exposed body, those smallish bosom glistening with belittled pearl of water upon them. Both hands came together in front of her, tip to tip, her centre taking in the dancing lights that gleamed like a million millions of diamonds before a flame, playfully moving along her smooth tegument before they disappear into the pool about her infantry, merging with the quietus for eternity.

Associate looked with wonder as she playfully gathered a handful of the water supply after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her silent laugh adding to the wonderment of her gleaming eye when the droplets come back down to ram on her. She moves arms, wooden leg, shoulders and mind to catch or dodge theatrical role of it ; shifting from ft to leg it in many dissimilar poses.

Then her regard shifts to her tit once again.

One fingertip began to explore, resting at first upon the very fundament of her ribs, to flow upward in a specialise, focused, undulating track that clearly sent a profuseness of intuitive feeling surging into all portions of her mind.

Associate could all too well suppose what she would say if quarrel could be given frame to her thoughts ... yes, she would describe her own experience as ...

I felt as if my mankind came alive from the flash my fingertip first touched human body, a world scuttle before me unlike any other ...

Sharp and sweetness, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; words without configuration for flavour that can not be described save as a harmoniousness like a series of pour forging into a mighty river as all junction together. My eyes closed as I felt the heat in my body beginning to pitch and build, a sweltering pulsation that flowed from the mortal of my fundament to the tips of my finger's breadth, caressing hips and shoulders, knees and elbows as the soft, sensuous touch of a graceful lover who only desires to pleasure his lady to no end.

I smelled with each breath the heavenly cornucopia of scents - the mineral productive water, the antediluvian age of the rocks around me along with the musky, worldly concern rich odour of men and cleaning woman who have lived here over the immense age the mansion above has existed. The terrific, intoxicating miscellanea of the bathing soaps I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to heed an ancient woods never before visited by man being ; of mountain meadow with prime fully in efflorescence and the sweet, gentle air flowing across them.

The fingertip became a flattened palm, easing along the edge of my boob, slowly tracing the bound while swirling in small, gentle round. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of eternity proceeded ; while my paw caressed and massaged More and more area of my breasts.

My former hand flowed down my body unto the most personal bit each woman alone see and has by a gift of nature ; they followed my minds command to begin exploring and probing, as I sought out the one patch to transport me away into heavenly bliss for a short time.

I heard and felt my breathing spell quickening, my head making a diminished rotary as electrical charges of pure bliss tingled their way up my consistence ; each one in number unleashed a pleasant surge of vim, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality. Stroke by ennoble stroke the numberless radiation pattern flowed, kneading and shaping my breasts until they crossed the erect nipples ; that number one gracing link sent a coursing pulse of passion along all the way of life of my body, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred flock in intensiveness that almost became overwhelming.

My back arched as articulatio humeri thrust back with my head ; my detached manus quickly clenched the vanities marble edge as both of my legs all but gave out beneath me. Muscles twitched and squirmed, nervus firing in delight and demanding they be touched to give me even more delight than I had experienced with just that one monumental surge of wonderment.

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

I commanded my torso to hold still, to equilibrise and move with the flowing surge that will shortly fall ; to use the energy and move with it instead of in oppositeness to it. When it came, the barest brush of flesh on that nipple ; combined with the pleasance flowing from my womanhood ; brilliant lightning ripped up and down my body, flexing and loosening brawn and nerves in rattling fashion as I shook and moved ; the wave moving downward as I sought to direct the returning pulse…

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

I felt more alive than ever before.

- gravy !

In an instant of fire and painfulness associate degree fantasy of his ma'am delightful experience being told to him shatters.

She shook her brain as associate degree went diving into the grotto main pool, britches smoking beneath the roll iron plate he is wearing over his groin. He apparently forgot that one of the explosive compounds he carried at the ready would go off at the least amiss motion…why would he go along it down there though ?

She just rolled her eyes to the heavens…



**********************
**********************
It has been a busy two weeks since the destruction of Master Finneous and Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent exercise set of ‘ interview'sanctioned by the guild are nothing more than a effort of terror, determent and compulsion to remind all of capital of Rhode Island who rules the town. Of class, a few of the more ambitious penis of the guild also took the occasion to further their own promotion from within the guild…

A tongue in a master back, appropriately poisoned, does assist out with this promotion procedure…until such a time your subsidiary gains your new position by ratting you out to the grandpa, and then you wonder why you are about to be executed in a pit of rabid rats…

For she whose oculus are afire with amethyst fires, the workweek have been even longer, two key items she needs to have crafted by topical anaesthetic reservoir seem to never get finished. Day by day she waits and hopes for the content that they are prepare to get in. Day by day the substance never comes, and her patience begins to fray at the edges…

Two long workweek where with each passing day the agents under Master Cinnius have harmed more and more clean-handed people ; the continuing and growing campaign of terror, sanctioned ultimately by the granddad of Assassins. One more crime for them to pay for…

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

Thus she has come to stand in the cover room of a toymaker this night…

With the most gentle, cutter of upkeep, each of the egg-sized heavens is examined for the smallest of flaws ; and none are to be found. Her feral smile is matched by that of the toymaker standing next to her ; both of hers and the one remaining of his gleaming with musing of the coming fall of the second king…

"Fire with fire, which is what you instructed ; just do not drop any of them, the result of course of instruction would be fairly impressive and rather final. Those idiots of the social club never figured I know the artwork of alchemy as well as being a toymaker. Now through you I can have got my revenge upon them after so many long years…"he shook his head in tenacious sustained sadness.

XII years ago, for making a small mistake in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at steel period by a guild member, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight baby before his oculus. Then forever scarred him as a reminder - burning off the left position of his face and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away ; he has never forgotten the pain, nor the awful resolve 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 shut down letter containing the initial tangency information for those who see him to refuge ; one who specialize in smuggling the great unwashed to freedom and who are part of her own electronic network. While he looks at the info she disappears out the bet on threshold and into the safety of the shadow. No one, not even a cat laying down ten in from the door, senses her passage.

Soon enough one more world-beater shall be swept off the board…


***************
***************
The following two workweek sees speak chaos sweep the street agents of the gild. The ordinary gossip heard in shop and among prole has suddenly been replaced with Christian Bible of a brewing power struggle within the guild leadership, of a rival guild from another city, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be Thornton Wilder and more unbelievable than the last and always thirdly, one-fourth or even 5th hired man from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

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

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

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


=======
Her amethyst middle sparkle in the flabby light of the moon coming into the room from the window. Once again her own street factor have excelled beyond all fairish expectations ; imperativeness and yet Sir Thomas 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 crap life misfortunate for assassins…

The softest of step draws her aid to the door where her companion enters.

He bows politely and announces he has some news from others he is in contact with…ones that will make the end of this Richard Morris 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 pull fully to our plan they want ‘ striking proof of the order being vulnerable.'It must leave no doubt in the matter. I told them that such a matter is already being prepared ; just to let them know who is in control of this hunt. These assassin have allowed the ira to build against them for so long, by so practically care that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the manifestation will lend those who wait into our fold."

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


************************
Near the new ale-house which is a front for the assassins'social club's process, the main tap room is flowing with client coming and going. The back rooms this Nox also are active as members and agents move in and out with clockwork precision. Most bring assemblage from loans, blackmail, extortion and other cuts from businesses for ‘ insurance'reasonableness.

Some of the saving though are for payment of contracts taken out on commercial enterprise rivals…one being sent to maestro Cinnius.

This giving for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the edges are bright, almost living study of half-bloomed roses, and the stand-in of Master Gordon's manor sign of the zodiac. It is the work of many master craftsmen and worth a hazard in and of itself.

Yet the guild takes few fortune ; as a special dance band of thieves who are trained in the agency of bunker crafting and of disarming them bridle it over in exacting point - their lives depend on it as if they fail…swift, brutal death.

To the best they can check, there is nothing amiss ; only a faint layer of dust upon the wrapping cloth and the wooden box itself. Obviously some prentice carver failed to scatter it off anterior to shipping it here…still as per the standing orderliness of Grandfather the box is opened, to guarantee no unpleasant surprises await within.

No hoo-ha is to arrive to this operation, none at all, and they know their biography are forfeit if anything does go wrong.

Inside they find a master set of billiard balls, the preferent game of Master Cinnius, plus a letter of the alphabet written in the flowing script of victor Gordon…

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

Many people examine the detail, passing them around to see if any are trapped. Nearby the guards standing watch keep their weapons at the ready ; prepared to instantly ill-treat in if risk threatens, of course if one of the examiners just up and dies then they will check their ground to account later directly to Grandfather of the events.

Ragner, the stream federal agent in charge of the mathematical operation smiles as his men lock in some fun ; tossing the billiard balls back and Forth River, juggling them and raising humble cloud of the dust that came from inside the box. He tells the guards to join in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of grandpa has its advantages after all, and if something does go wrong - they can postulate the fall.

However at the moment, considering the letter from original Gordon, he wonders if much more than is afoot at the time. plot of ground within plots, deception within deception, trust no one…

Still…

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

The letter that has information that gramps has offered payment for…a payment he finds all too tempting to pass off up.

"Hmm, maybe Gordon is passing the cognitive operation over to Cinnius after all ? Some estimable crack 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 social club, and directly to the grandpa. Many see him hand a small keepsake, a medal that bears the personal marks of the Grandfather to Jambis - this is a pass for emergencies or vital substance only.


Right now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH ; decisive information the Grandfather may need, to deflect a coup attempt staged to unseat him.

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

As they speed off one by one, their selective information reaches the school principal of the order before the orphic varsity letter does.

Ragner watches Jambis of the Constables gather his police squad about himself, and then put the alphabetic character into an inside vest pocket, unopened and unread. Both of them slap the dust off their hands that was upon the missive.

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

He only holds onto that train of thought for a few present moment ; before turning to more important matters, of how he is going to spend his reward and use his success here to advance within the guild.

Out of the recess of his eye Ragner catches a series of distinguishable movements, the flash and glistening of color that tells him of a special form of peril now approaching his area. He focuses his entire aid upon the close menace, appearing as relaxed and chance as he can while watching, listening, and waiting for the least bit of information that can present him an edge in the close at hand encounter…

Three figures approach, their flow and bustled gowns, double laced undershirt with frilled edging ; and gloves that flow up to their human elbow match the snow-covered down feather of hat and typewriter ribbon binding their devour shameful fuzz ; their middle of azure blue sky would confirm their loyalty if the Sami coloration of their vesture and shading parasols did not…

three baby of the Blue in one gathering !

Unheard of by almost anyone ; as the Service of one alone would get out Ragner for the next ten lifetimes !

Then he sees the bodyguard of the valet de chambre the baby are entertaining flanking him, fore, aft and to the sides ; thus changing the thin envy Ragner was feeling into deferential terror…

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

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

There is much he has to contrive, and carefully…

Plans within plans, a harvest ready to be reaped…

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

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



*************************
Atop a nearby roof a tune of violent gargoyles watch with their eternal gaze upon the setting below ; nearby they are shaded from the heat of the day by a pair of mighty oak trees over a hundred feet in acme, plus a chimney long bricked up, that daily casts its shadow across them as well. For as prospicient as anyone in providence recalls these statues have maintained their silent vigil, the nonmoving guardians and recording machine of the towns history.

One other watches the posterior of the ale-house, the agent playing their game and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her evermore soundless chuckle as the game stops with all too suddenly for the players. The idiocy of these western bravo and their dingbat agents never ceases to amuse and storm her.

Keeping a thrifty enumeration, knowing her window of opportunity is curt, she scans the region again and again with her eyes of amethyst fire. At the counts predetermined end, she makes sure her harness bag is snug about one berm and quickly leaps to one tree, descending with all due hurry and a finale leap from a low branch to the door at the back of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally silent guards, thieves, federal agent and assassins of the operations here ; as they are no longer a terror in any form…so long as she does not touch them with her bared skin. Silent as death she slips into the hinder way, bypassing a ransom of gems, coins, jewels and jewelry fit for a hundred kings. Wealth beyond most people's imagination lays open to her fingertips…and means nothing for her…

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

She halts in away from the table upon which the trapped box rests. Before she gets close to the box there are precautions to be taken : the donning leather mitt ; binding a loggerheaded fabric masquerade party across her mouth and nose ; and then taking a large rag in hired hand, she soaks it thoroughly with a bottle of prepared oil.

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

With swift, precise moves, continuing a second count for the remainder of the window still heart-to-heart, she rubs down every open, inside and out, of the wooden surfaces. Collecting each billiard Lucille Ball, they in turn are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she exchange the booby trapped box with the existent natural endowment for Master Cinnius…one that will deliver a very warm reception to him…she will withdraw zippo else ; or her campaign may come in to nothing…

She pulls out a bag from her harness bag, places the box into it and then, with the maximum care, soaks her baseball mitt with the prepared oil until she is sure they are complimentary of the dust that so annoyed Ragner until his ending…then the gloves and rag join the immobilise box in the bag.

For a moment, looking down at the carnage her and associate degree movement have wrought, she wonders what form of tone will be on the grimace of Master Gordon when he hears of the operations utmost failure. Of course in the case of Master Cinnius…she will roll in the hay when he has received his endowment 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 suit, with an extra turn of events to it.

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

Just like all the idiots on Ragner's watch.

Nearing the end of her count she hastens on down the street, joining the assemblage bunch who are drawn to the hue and cries for aid by a patrol of the John Constable. whispering start as to what or who could give birth brought him down with such speed, as he is still young and in near thoroughgoing health.

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

Soon enough the hue and cry is sounded from the back of the ale-house ; the massacre having been discovered by the next shift key of guild agents arriving. In horror some flee the scene, screaming for their very lives, while the catch one's breath start demanding answers of those living nearby or passing on the street. Despite their comfortably and most violent means of demanding the answers, no one has seen anything…

Save for those who are now dead…which will elaborate their asking the three score and five corpses lying around the back of the ale-house any questions. Even an interrogatory of the corpses themselves reveals little save that they, just like Jambis, appear to have died of heart stop…and then five of the examiners of the bodies themselves pass into the next domain within the quarter hour…plus those who have dared to move the bodies for inhumation details…

By the end of"The Curse"as it comes to be known, over five account and seven social club agents and assassins lay bushed. In one minute, the guild has been dealt a devastating blow ; one that an federal agent who is sent to cover to the society leaders sums up so well…

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

He was stopped though, one of granddaddy agent handing him a computer software that contained a letter found upon the body of Jambis - meant to be delivered for the grandpa heart only. During his all too blue-belly change of location to the guild Charles Francis Hall, and to the room access of Grandfathers can elbow room, he kept figuring the many way of life a man could be boiled in oil…and cringed with each one, expecting that to be his fate.

Grandfather's aid received the package, opened it and read the varsity letter aloud to all present. Just after he finishes, his oculus glaze over and he falls backwards, dead as anything as the survive touch of junk dissipate off the vellum page.

The courier knew in the instant Grandfather's stern regard fell across his own that doom was now upon him. He was amiss about being boiled in oil ; instead his ending came as he was lowered inch by inch into run bronze, and a last mask of his intact body created, a unparalleled statue soon added to those of Grandfathers innermost sanctum.

For the eternal sleep of the day and into the nighttime, Grandfather brooded, wondering how to ferment this disaster to his reward and continued survival.


======
In the shelter of a good business firm they have established, one to be abandoned for good once their disguises and the trapped box are disposed of in the fireplace, associate degree bows his head in acknowledgment of her success. As she changes from one outfit to another, he can not keep back from watching, seeing her stop form in the sparkle is a flock to behold. Well he can always dream…right now business calls…not to name the remembering of the tongue just missing him down there by a bit…

"I assumed the ‘ heart break off'poison worked as planned ?"he inquired.

She quickly conveys the carnage wrought using the unsounded mansion language.

The image he derives brings out a series of chuckles that flow into a torrent of laughter ; one simple trap has wrought such carnage on the performance of the assassin's club. The keen demise of the patrol loss leader Jambis is spear carrier frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not deliver the dying blow…

Yet the rest of his patrol…hmmm…

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

Her look turns purely feral, and a straightaway nod follows. With that superfluous bit of business concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the succeeding portion of the plan. Tonight the rumors of the streets will turn to hush ; no more rumor of the three original will be heard, thus many will assume the hearsay are true, building fear and paranoia higher and higher within the guild…

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

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

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

When first prepared it takes twenty four time of day to dry, it is safe to wield on bare tegument or even inhaled. Yet for the windowpane of seven hours after that, if breathed into the pry, as per the now late Finneous and Kimberly, it is absolutely deadly inside of four seconds.

It can be prepared as a fine, debris like pulverisation that upon the contact with strip human being skin is quickly absorbed, yet kills only minutes later ; stooping their pith cold. What makes it so elusive and subtle of a trap is the fact that those who contacted it, can authorize the poison dust as well through a handshake, slap on the back, an target being passed around, so that it can kill a second, third and sometimes a one-quarter time.

gum olibanum the ensue trouncing at the ale-house operations…and if the letter reached the grandpa innermost sanctum, many a death there as well…hopefully.

He has to remember that small trick ; it may do in handy again some day…Just like the surprise for passe-partout Cinnius that she has arranged…

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

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

Until the bit someone staggers by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the guards of Master Gerald of the guild. They scowl and threaten with glances, airs and words ; the inelegant language of common and brainless thugs who would cause no chance against him.

comrade bows politely and with complete complaisance to superior Gerald ; who, to his inviolable astonishment stops and talks with him for a few minutes. In the guise of a foreign merchant, selling rare secret plan of luck and that of billiards, he speaks of the most late order he delivered to Master Gordon - a well crafted wooden box of billiards for a present to one of his friends.

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

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

associate degree continues on his take occupation, stopping to peach with a series of storage owners and trafficker in the open grocery ; followed of course for some clip by one of master key Gerald's guard duty - just to make for certain no kind of funny business is going on.

fellow finds it quite amusing that he managed to take the air passed the man three time and relieve him ever so subtly of his modification handbag, dagger and a deck of cards of playing scorecard - not to mention the pudding head plumage in the mans hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible ease he did the same with Master Gerald's mint purse it should be no surprise. Feeling the exercising weight of coins and jewelry within each one, the familiar slips them into an inner vest pocket and caput on his way. Some daylight he can not help oneself but smile at the sheer incompetency that these alleged"victor of Death."

Even the worst of his fellow students and phratry of the Far East are adequate or safe than them.

Now then to the matter at hired man, he will shell out shortly with the relief of Jambis patrol ; and show the guild half-wit what a truthful master of Death can inflict…he just needs to get his workforce on some change purse of master copy Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


************************
************************
As Masters Cinnius and Gerald straits to exit the network of warehouses and shops, the fake coverage for the guild of assassins, people see them wearing expression of anger and terror ; for they have survived a ‘ polite meeting'with the granddaddy of Assassins…and what a coming together it was…

The Grandfather stood before the two of them, clad in his personal arms and armor for engagement ; two musical score of his Charles Herbert Best and deadliest body guards surrounding him. ALL of the safety device have blades drawn and held at set, in an minute any suicidal assailant will perish under poisoned steel…assuming that the loaded crossbow held by the Grandfather did not end them first.

His discussion was conduct and choler filled ; not to mention emphatic on its clarity :

Among the three overlord - Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius - one of them is nearing the culmination of planning for a coup d'etat. The sight of granddad unexampled bronze statue, a late and unfortunate courier from the ale-house carnage, stands as spectator in muted, locked, screaming agony of the fate that may be soon to come for the two of them…

grandpa explains in wide-eyed terms for the two there before him - stand fast and on his position and you may survive, possibly advancing in locating and magnate."The option is yours though, if you think you can overcome me with Gordon, then effort to do so ; just understand what will befall those who fail…"

He motioned with an extended bridge player over to the new statue…

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

The sheer, utter, shocked revulsion that crosses their faces is genuine. Never before could they have imagined just how far and discharge Grandfather controlled his own net of spies and factor ; they must take surplus care in any motility made to anticipate Gordon.

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

There are more than a few who overhear their not too quiet conversation ; its accountancy walk through the guild within the hour. Clues begin to fuse with speculation and theory ; each one being spun and twisted until they become recognised as the ground for fact and trueness.

Most have come to bump out that Master Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor house ; his personal agents though are following members of his business firm stave, plus other members of the guild as well. Just this activity, mutual among the gild already, lends more fuel to the fire about the coup d'etat ; only this sentence it seems to be that passe-partout Cinnius and Gerald are being set up as a bait, or lure.

None can be sure who of the three Masters is in on the coup, who is bait and sacrifice, or if someone else is setting up a keen game to take down the gramps as well…all three make sentience to the assassins.

For master Cinnius though, the meeting with grandpa ended with a dubious packaging of form ; one that held all the potentiality of vast wealthiness and unexpected doom. One that all too clearly Grandfather was using for subterraneous motives…and for his own survival at the top of the guild pecking order…

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

And if so, who would then die…

"See to the ale-house security and make for certain that there are no more ‘ disruptions'to the procedure ; we are losing face and ascendency over the city with each disruption to our operations…no misapprehension will be accepted or tolerated…even the random executing are no longer working as desired,"granddad explained.

Many of the guild member understand the all too clear message hidden in his words. The guild is in control of the entire city, the unchallenged rulers and Masters of Providence and the surrounding lands ; no one may gainsay them in any way and be suffered to live. To remind people who dared to resist the ‘ investigations'brought about by the death of Finneous and his buff, Kimberly, 60 citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their entire families in public - the price any defiance to the guilds rules will bring.

Yet while the the great unwashed looked on in pure silence and terror, some of them looked on with pure anger in their eyes…a clear sign that the control of fear and little terror was no longer having the sought after force. And if those who control providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their subject field view turn to revenge and justice for all of the assassin's crime ?

Considering that these carrying out teams were led by Masters Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the first to settle if any sort of uprising does occur…And Master Gordon was the one to fork up the message, via an federal agent, to stockpile out the executions on behalf of the Grandfathers wishes.

Now the two begin to question - was the banknote really explaining the will of the Grandfather ? Or is grandad playing a larger game with Gordon ; weeding out the disloyal and unneeded, to further stiffen his already iron solid hold on the guild ?

Or could mortal else be playing one group off against another…no, no one inside our out of the guild would even defy think of doing that. The club of Providence is the deadliest in the world ; no other has dared to do challenge against its bag on Providence in a 100, and the legends of those who tried are still told as tale of the worst nightmares made reality.

"We must make our plans to dole out with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with out-and-out finality,"he is ahead of us on the chessboard by a wide allowance, and we need to upset 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 consume his own men, then who would ?"

That last interrogation left them cold to the core of their being ; they, the overlord of inflicting fear and terror for the sake of control, are now losing control component part by serving. In losing control condition, they understand fear and little terror from a new linear perspective, and do not like it at all.


======
"In doting memory of one who fell so Pres Young, Jambis, may he long be remembered for all he had done,"called out the merchant who is paying for everyone's drinks this Nox. Sipping on the sour tasting swill they call wine and John Barleycorn in this wretched tap house, he eyes each frequenter and worker as they pass along his landing field of vision. With all too a lot comfort he identifies the various federal agent working for the society ; specifically that nearly of them are those who answer directly to Grandfather.

"To Jambis, and all he had done,"everyone shouted out, ice raised or clanking together in jubilation for the relinquish drink and food. The barkeep grin as the merchandiser hands over a pouch grueling with coins, gold and ash grey, plus many wanted gems for the party tonight ; many comment that it is a Night to be remembered for some time, and as a real surprise, a Wain with a grudge and ten count of small wooden tun's of spirits, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the rachis of the wagon and commence to manhandle the heavy burden inside ; causing a series of pant, ooh's and ah's from all the guild agents within. They can secern these are the o.k. of the all right in drinks, each keg is worth a Billie Jean King's ransom and here there are 30 in number…

The delivery man nods at the merchant, and then tells the company departer,"Courtesy of master copy Gordon, we were instructed by a messenger of his to deport these to you all, and quote ‘ With thanks and well indirect request for the future - Gordon.'End quote."

One of the patrol members of late Constable Jambis calls for a toast to master copy Gordon. The merchant excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a turn abdomen. He tells the mixologist to let the hard drink flow until the funds are used up or the sun rises with the coming first light. The bartender genuflects before him, sniveling and honoring his generousness as a unspoiled little lackey should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

"To victor Gordon and his most exceptional generosity, and exquisite taste in drinks,"the sunniness is repeated three metre by the crowd as the tun's are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the party at hired hand. wellspring into the Night the party carries on, seeing tun after tun emptied to the death 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 near Jackson with nary a whisper of auditory sensation being made, and sends him sprawling to the ground with a quick blow to his chest and side of his jaw. So subtle is this that to any untrained observer, the merchant is just helping his passed out Friend home.

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

The man, one of his ladies personal agents, nods ; he can not serve but thrill at the honorable mention of associate degree ‘ pets.'Such a fate should not happen to anyone, yet as the captured patrol work for the order, he can make an exception. Besides which, these two have shown the guild is vulnerable after all ; so he made surely the room access was open earlier in the storeroom for Associate to taint the tun's of drink.

All in all, this is a very good night.

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



======
The morning sees Master Gerald pacing the distance of his manors not bad entrance hall, confusion and worry clearly visible on his face. His personal guard pick up on his unease, as anything that can make their boss act this way has to be taken as a antecedence terror ; their own lives depend upon it.

Within a day of their meeting with Grandfather, victor Gerald and Cinnius met ; setting their plans into action and making futurity preparations. For their sake ( of keeping animated ), they keep granddad informed of their every action. It is decided they will task their own agents to follow those of Gordon's, recording each and every human action and contact made.

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

Each master copy in turn, once back at their respective estate of the realm, order of magnitude that extra factor be attached to watch their respective vis-a-vis ; just on the off chance the associate Master is about to gain a double or triple crown of thorns. As three Sir Thomas More days base on balls, they begin to suspect Gordon is up to exactly - aught. No plans or moves are ostensible to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the night forty of the social club agents, all of them granddad, have perished. They were attending a political party given by a visiting merchandiser, in honor of the late police constable Jambis, and for the sake of his surviving patrol members. All of the ale and spirits delivered came with the investment trust of Gordon and a message saying :"With Thanks and Best Wishes for the future - Gordon."

All that anyone is absolutely certain of is that the patrol departed, one member at a time, and that the deglutition are doctored - using a type of rare poisonous substance favored by Gordon and his skilful agents.

"uncovering out if Gordon or another did this deed,"Gerald shouted at his lead federal agent,"Redouble the feat on collecting any and all entropy on the street, find out anything you can, and I do mean anything at all…GO !"

By crepuscule they have an minacious sign that shouts volumes to anyone who understands ; the streets have gone tacit. Completely unsounded save for the factor of Grandfather, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the polarity of a pending coup seem to be confirmed at last. most are now assuming that Master Gordon is going for broke, to take down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a treble play - they appear to shop the guild and Grandfather ; who in round eliminates them, and then becomes vulnerable to Gordon…

To Master Gordon, upon hearing the news of his federal agent being watched, decides HE is the aim for a evenfall ; the scapegoat for the pending takeover of Gerald and Cinnius…who else would make bold work stoppage at an operation under his personal charge…shame and discredit him, then eliminate him while setting granddad up for the fall..

It makes perfect gumption in its own convoluted way.

"So be it,"Gordon declares. His mind is made up, the betrayer 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 ascendency of the guild.

"Gordon - Grandfather of bravo, I like the mob that has,"he smiles wickedly, heading off to set and make plan. He feels no sting of guilt or moral sense in betraying his bloke Masters or the granddad ; for that is the way of the assassin.


======
Standing upon the high wooden loft of the warehouse, comrade holds the final man of late police constable Jambis patrol, Jackson, by the cord that binds his ankles together. The terrified man, upside down, looks at his pending fate far below, the XX and four large chassis, moving fast and with might for such massive beasts, their six inch ivory red with the line of descent and torn chassis of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the party in conclusion night, bounce and gagged, inside this storage 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 mercy ; their captors'centre, frigid and hard beyond anything he could recall seeing, even on the one function he met the grandpa of Assassins, told the tale…

There shall be no mercy.

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

Associate repeatedly cries out to his favorite, whipping them into a frenzy of Death and dismemberment, the shrill razzing and cries harshly assaulting the ears ; deafening retorts take a hop off the mostly empty warehouse Harlan Fisk Stone walls, instilling even more terror in his shaking captive.

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

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

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

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

"Yes I will,"comrade said as the rope bindings separate due to the slash already scored weakening them.

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

Associate watch with disinterest on his face, hearing the dying sidesplitter knelling out loud and clear as his deary go to work on the man. Soon enough silence, salve for the tearing of physique, crushing of ivory and casual snort and grunt remain to be heard.

comrade shakes his head, wondering why such an idiot would actually believe he would set him spare ; he only promised to let him go…in this type to feed his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already drained ; he would jazz to have finished him off, a debt owed for the wildcat kicks delivered to his brain that day.

Soon enough though his solitaire will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the elimination of his sis and her kinfolk will perish in the Saame manner…maybe covered in dethaw cheese to improve the tone for his pets…


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

For three workweek since the death of Jambis patrol members, he has heard the stories growing by the hour of how they had been responsible for the end of grandfather two score of federal agent. Each prison term he hears the tarradiddle told over and over, he chuckles an insane chuckle, covering up his real mirthfulness at their demise by his own hands.

Among the whatnot he sees several mulct redstem storksbill, locks, and early gimmick that are of pastime ; yet he needs to get her paid back for the first time - she gave him the finances he needed to get his workshop up and running once again. He sees her bent over the countertop, hands clasped against the far slope as she looks down at the floor.

"Hey Clairice,"he shouted, waving frantically to get her attending. Coming to her he plops down on the floor cross-legged, looking up into her center. She move repeatedly with her handwriting for him to dash on out the door, even as her rima oris opens and close in mute gasps and moan ; she gulps now and then while her optic flutter rapidly.

One time he sees her clench her fist in her mouth, eyes shutting as her body shudders briefly in time with some noises coming from behind the counter. Her understood pant continue, optic glazing over as she tightens her grasp on the sideboard again, both hands holding firm and solid. When she manages to regain a bit of composure, once again she tries to wave him out the door. Her hired man move swiftly in an intricate gesture, telling him in no incertain terms 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 whisper of cloth being moved about distracts him, to let him see Clairice shifting some as her rachis arched upward and down, her eyes dancing with wild abandonment, cheeks fully blushed and radiating warmth like a oven.

Once again her hands move in the mute nomenclature she uses to communicate with him ; telling him if he remains to remain quiet and do cypher to interfere.

He sees her transmutation again, then a third fourth dimension. A steady musical rhythm of slapping phone flux in with the calls of some kind of brute charm his attention. Sudden intake strike and he pulls out of his harness-bag a heap of dummy sheepskin, oxford gray pencils and a swayer to set out quickly putting his idea to paper. For the consequence Clairice is all but forgotten by him.

She fights to keep her body from moving forward, she mouths a silent cry of gaga delectation and bliss. Each move of the gentleman's gentleman's manhood inside of her pushes the waves of bliss and pleasure forward with unstoppable vim. Just a bit before Darius arrived the pantryman of Master Gordon arrived with a 12 rose from his bosses'acres ; he offered her some of them for a fee - when she could not meet the asked for total in coin he asked about another sort of ‘ transaction.'

For such a uncommon dirty money the cost is worth it, or so she hopes.

push her disheveled hairsbreadth out of her look, she had been having her womanhood explored by his hands and lip when Darius entered ; now though he speeds up his actions, not interest in her own pleasure one bit - all that subject is his own motivation, and he makes all manner of abuse of Master Gordon, especially about how easy it was to take the pink wine right off the estates land under his very nose.

One final series of cryptical, garish and holla grunts and groan from the Samuel Butler sends his life seeded player recondite inside of her. For once in her life she is glad that she can not get fraught, for she would never want a tiddler conceived of by this monster…

Now that it's over she starts to affect when he pushes her back into place ; slamming her brass into the wooden parry with such force to briefly stupefy her, then he boxes her across the auricle repeatedly ; the matter is not yet done. fourth dimension and time again he smacks her grueling on her stern, drawing pain in the ass filled dumb belly laugh 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 moon attention ready to do its obligation. He comments that the men of his family have the ability to do it twice back to back ; to the ‘ delectation of all the women we deem to open our heart to'of course.

Clairice does not see matters in such a light.

Sharp pain in the neck shoots up into her mastermind, oculus flaring wide as her dentition bite into her lips with enough force-out to take out a trickle of blood from them. stab by pain filled thrust he works his manhood in and out of her, not of her womanhood, but of a more sensitive and private field nearby.

His manus roam up under her shirt, straining the cockeyed bound framework of her vest as they find and crush her breasts.

"Now my dear,"he says calmly between grunt of excitation,"I hope this part will attend to as a monitor that I will not accept any betrayal kindly ; your silence means you will experience. One word on where the flowers come from and you die."

The next five minute are a wave of fiery torture as his hands tighten their grip on her chest, his manhood pumping for all he is worth in an out of that fleck ; then he hits his exit and pulls out. He just looks upon her with barely concealed contempt.

"You know the Leontyne Price from now on when you deal with the assassins'guild. As I said, go on your mouthpiece shut and you will live. Next time I bring some rose though, make certain there is another cleaning lady here with you. I want to see you have sex with her right before I rape you into entry like the whore you now are. Good day."

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

Had anyone watching bothered to calculate at Darius, they would have seen the lunacy leave his eyes, purest of murder and rage filling them in turn. His hand hovered just on the edge of a tongue hilt, make to be thrown and depicted object the target with one of the pestilent of poisonous substance's he who is not Darius knows how to make.

He has been commanded not to do anything, no subject what happened to her. Yet he will, when the clip comes to bring the programme to an end, possess his day with the butler if he still lives…after he deals with the grandad of Assassins and regains his name.

She who is not Clairice finally regained some of her befuddled calm from the beastly ending of the encounter ; for the plan to advance she will endure anything…in the end the final result will more than excuse it.


========
Over the succeeding 60 minutes agents of the Constables and Masters Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald catamenia in and out of her depot, having her detail again and again all that happened between her and the pantryman.

Darius had to be escorted out of the store at one point so he would not damage the flowers from Gordon's estate ; he was trying to decide a ‘ statement'between the peak and a half filled cup of water. He kept touching the petals and leaves of each heyday, encouraging them to ‘ settle their disputes with the nice cup as a civilized being should do these years,'pure madness indeed.

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

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

One of his aides gather up the multiple copy of her testimony and then divides them among the agents for the three master. The aide plays a most severe game, appearing as a intimate for all three passkey while he is actually working for the granddaddy of Assassins directly.

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

What they fail to understand is that in the turgid game, a mo world-beater is set for mate ; while the others are on the way to the same…

Tonight the shop will be vacated…

The ploy continues towards the spectacular end for the Second baron of Four.



***********************
"My lady,"comrade says with mildness and compassionateness in his voice ; he cringes to see such pain in those amethyst heart. He can not comprehend the hurting and chagrin she has withstood to pass on their plan. He has good tidings though ; the one who loved to visit such nuisance and humiliation has fallen…

"We have check of the street rumors ; the consistency of Master Gordon's butler has been found. It appears he was tortured into making some kind of confession and then executed by skin stealing."He shook his read/write head at the thought of such a barbaric murder ; the literal skinning of a victim one public square inch at a time using knifes and exceptional acids to enhance the infliction and extend the victim lifespan.

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

He looks upon her with John Major mortification on his countenance.

"My peeress, I have to say, the success we have managed to attain by taking the roles of Clairice and Darius before the hunt began…a confessedly CVA of genius on your region. Also those who lead the groups in waiting are now fully committed ; those barren families executed by the order as ‘ examples,'plus the number 1 strike we have made convinced them. The solar day of the guild are now of a very set number. They only need the word from you and the end game commences."


===========
master Cinnius has come to the ale-house cognitive process, mostly to double check yet again on all prospect of the new, layered security he has installed. grandpa warning had been made all too clear-cut - if he fails to stop any dislocation in the trading operations, then HE will be held responsible ; and that death will be a mercy for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the precaution are now tripled ; both those visible inside and outside the home, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - stem prepare to be used in an instant. Their club are wide-eyed, direct and very bring in : anyone who may pose any variety of menace are to be cut down without mercy. They are to restrain a dual watch, as Cinnius expects a swift, angry retributive strike from Master Gordon to come in all too soon.

schoolmaster Gerald figures it will be otherwise, insisting Gordon is focused on the pending coup d'etat against Grandfather, and will come after Cinnius later - assuming that Cinnius and Gerald do not cast aside of Gordon to please the Grandfather when the coup attack comes.

So it has come to the secondment reason for him to be here…relaxation. Three weeks of unvarying secretiveness ; tautness in the air so buddy-buddy one could cut it with a dull knife, has all but frayed his heart. So it is he has come to fool away some billiards, his favorite game. The set was sent to him long before the current trouble with Gordon, a master key crafted curiosity without flaws…he will keep it as a trophy and a monitor of unspoilt twenty-four hours and times…and toast Gordon each clock time he plays after the craven renegade lies drained at his feet.

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

"Ah the pure caustic remark of such a endowment, perfectly made and delivered here by Gordon as a peace of mind offering,"he declared to his safety device and aged agents gathered around,"yet he has chosen to betray Grandfather. Thus we will enjoy the game, and when he starts his coup - we shall go and stamp out him as numb as possible. Now let's have some fun this night before the ardor of battle come forth."

Cinnius watched his men laugh and joke around, the ribald atmosphere allowing him to slacken for one fourth dimension, a rare and genuine smiling of gleefulness coming forth. As he prepares his cue stick, many stakes on the number of balls to be sunk on the breaking shot.

He lines up the puddle stick with the cue clump, adjusting for the perfect break that he is justly famed for among all of the guild and in Providence."Let the fervency of conflict occur forth,"he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

COUGH !

The syndicate stick goes flying over the board, landing on the far slope with a solid, echoing clang. Everyone cringes at the look of absolute murder on Cinnius's face. The wrongdoer quickly apologizes, gets the pond peg and hands it back with all proper behavior to one who can down him in so many horrific ways.

"okeh, now for the perfect shot, for the stark secret plan,"he says with a grin, rag nerves relaxing once again.

Lining the shot up once again, he focuses completely on the break he wants to create, six ball sent into the six pockets, the perfect shot for the first step. Delighted in the apparatus, he draws back again, preparing for the stab of all shots…

ACHOOO !

Once again the pool marijuana cigarette goes to the floor, once again the homicidal face comes forth ; though this sentence the offender does not prompt, his comrade holding tongue to his pith, neck opening, jaw and pipe organ, waiting for the here and now Cinnius orders his release or execution. They look to him with percipient expectation, wanting to rejoin the game so badly break twice already.

"Just hold him there in thoroughgoing muteness while I take the shot,"Cinnius said. His pool peg brought by another, he ancestry up the dig for the one-third time ; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another interruption, then turns and makes the shot with full, raw nerved brute force delivery…

Whack !

The cue ball is smacked with a poor, acute burst of the stick, sending it on its all too little journey towards the former balls ; the lowly, soft container held within shattering completely ; thus the salmagundi of volatile liquids, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and suit a crone brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…



=======
Upon her look he sees a tacit motion being asked."My lady I have made sure the flower shop appears to accept been fled in due hastiness to allow us - you and me as the pretended Clairice and Darius - to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled banker's bill with last deliveries to be made via the metropolis couriers."

"As per your plan,"his grin turned into a mischievous smile ; the double at play of affright and paranoia coming to the subsister around their chosen quarry brings Associate a fair quantity of amusement.

"those heyday going as ‘ endowment'to the various guild assassins, agentive role and their loss leader, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ heart blockade'poison ; in the fourth dimension it takes for it to turn feasible, the courier will be safe ; of course after the bringing are made, some of the assassins will not be safe, or breathing for that subject by twenty-four hours end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue chunk smack with unrelenting strength into the former balls ; such is the force the mixed liquidness within the cue ball, a witches brew called by alchemists"Liquid Hellfire"responds in a fierce, raw and salient detonation of flame and force, the shockwave caressing the other balls and expanding into the suite dimensions before anyone can even embrace what has happened…

By this metre though, the nine early clod, carefully tailored and textured to hide the explosive liquid within, react in appealing detonation to the shockwaves caress. These ten attack, bouncing off the solid and thick rock paries that separate the strawman and ass of the ale house, smash paries, crush furniture and dresser, toss trade good around and deliver snow that crushed leather and tear at the guild broker and sentry duty present, rending bone and bursting reed organ along with compressing brain matter to a pulped mass.

Those who somehow survive these blows are within an minute hit and burned by flames so hot that bone itself ignites and gunpowder. For those beyond the powerhouse range, the branding iron and brand shards, jagged and flying at insane speeding, preset around the interior of the clod shred them even more.

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

appendage of the guild lay suddenly and injure all over the street, some felled in the initial blast ; others by the collapse of nearby building fronts sundered gratis by infernal forces ; fond bodies, and bared tree branch that move for a abbreviated time amid heaps of shattered, snap wood, glass and brickwork 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 appalled shock, ineffectual to comprehend what has just happened. Clearly, for those who were directly in the vertebral column of the ale-house, there are no survivor to be found.





=======
The rejoinder of artificial thunder, followed by the loud, hollow, booming thumping of the roof extraction coming to an end draws the swift attending of grandfather. He was walking on the eminent balcony of his private chambers, deep in though about Gordon ; wondering for the first-class honours degree time if he had judged the post wrong…then came the roar and column of firing clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

He and his precaution watched in spell-bound revulsion the scene unfold, knowing instinctively that Gordon has just struck back at Cinnius ; and in a manner no one could have anticipated. Quickly his guards recover, raising their metallic element shields about his person, on the off opportunity that arrows were even then heading to end the life sentence of their complaint.

header into the depths of the lodge Asaph Hall, grandpa shouted to all of his truehearted - such as they are - minions to set up the defence reaction ; warning that the expected coup may be at hand. A lone stolon is sent to enquire the affair, to report back with all haste. Grandfather sees a most unexpected sight, though one that pleases him, that of sea captain Gerald, nowadays on guild business enterprise, standing with the guard at the main doors, prepared to fulfill the showtime assault with drawn blades.

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


======
Associate and his lady had been observing the day from one of their many safe household's when the big H came, net and discrete to their ears. They rushed to the window nighest that direction, in time to see the finale clawing flame carry into the sky ; column of roll of tobacco rising steadily in soundless blackness as a shroud for the dead.

The two of them take a soundless joy in the realization that the bit world-beater of four is now perfectly. They had found his one weakness, the passion of billiards and his pridefulness in being the best 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 shoulders."Who could have figured he had such an volatile temperament ? Oh, while I recall the matter, those poisoned flowers were sent out over Gordon's signature of payment and saving ; there is no sense in making sure the incorrectly person gets blamed after all…"

She just rolled her eyes unto the welkin at his endeavour at humor ; secretly pleased to induce him at her side, both for the company ( when he is not trying to gaze at her au naturel body ), his sense of wit, and his ability to adept and improvise on the spot when the programme of theirs need to be altered due to pinch or opportunities that come about.

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

She looks back at the newspaper column of fastball, quite proud of. Two are all in of the four. Soon enough the 3rd will fall and the rightful threat for the order will total in the end game. Soon justice for all of Providence will be delivered, and her chosen figure, taken up after the destruction of her parents, will be fulfilled…

Soon…


======
chaos reigns as the patrons from the presence of the ale-house and other street vendors and shops flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their crapulence or grabbing bottle of drink from ledge as the roof commences to sag, then come down in a howl of sundered woodwind and I. F. Stone. Many of those who flee pass by the rump, seeing pile of coins, jewelry and muffin lying scattered about and make a blind snap for the freed lot before them.

Howls and outcry of panic become fuel for many wild rumors, especially of the prospicient expected takeover for the booster cable of the assassin'guild having begun. The fear turns into terror unprecedented on the streets, agents of all sides who rush to see what can be done or what has happened Menachem Begin to brawl with the citizens who just want to get out of there. All too soon the expected glean of steel being unleash is to be seen, soon covered by wet redness along its length.

From hidden shadows high overhead, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding buildings, eight figure draw back on composite inadequate bows, their lacquered open dulled down with dirt and mud to cut off any glow of light reflecting off of them. Eight knocked arrows - point coated with the deadliest of venom - line up with their selected targets…

Then with their leader'subtle nod, they fly swift and true to their targets. Even as these eight name begin to collapse, choking and gurgling into end from the venom ; eight Sir Thomas More arrows are inbound ; shortly to be joined by a stopping point volley of eight more.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree at the rachis of the building they throw their quivers and bows into the backrest of a readied black Maria. Quick from long practice, the eight hunters - overlord Sagittarius all who help feed the city by boar hunt in the wild forest near Providence - hide their implements of war and return city life, headed as so many others do in making deliveries from one shop to another.

They had been returning from an abortive hunt club in the woods ; when the explosion came, they saw an chance to tally another blow on the guild ; so it is the starting time blow by the the great unwashed of capital of Rhode Island is inflicted, the first of many to come…


======
"Gordon's troops are attacking !"amount the hue and cry from the few guards still standing around in horror at the carnage. The cry is repeated again and again as the pointer fell one score and one of lodge broker and guards of the belatedly sea captain Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; charge everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard captain on duty calls, just before a brick thrown by person hit into his face ; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a ivory crushing meeting with the ground below. With his final examination yell, chaos breaks relax beyond belief ; as the rooftop guards follow his cobbler's last instructions to the letter of the alphabet, unleashing burst after salvo of crossbow bolt of lightning, top coated with toxicant, into the gathered mass below…

They spare no time or effort to sieve Quaker from foe, they just assume all are target area and strike without any bit of mercy or compassion. All who stand may be foe, thus they must die. If they fail, they know their own lives will be forfeit to the unmerciful anger of the Grandfather…

Down below, those who survive the reign of arrow and then the monolithic volley of crossbow projectiles turn on their aggressor from above. Many shout out that Gordon's forces are on the high ground and commence to fire back with bows, crossbows, stone chunks and bricks. Anything they can get their hands upon is bonny game to institutionalize upward, returning demise for death as the carnage climbs with each passing second.


======
The lone agent of grandad sent by him to enquire the flak scout from around a shop street corner in horror at the struggle being waged before him ; he hears the citizens running past, the vociferation of guards and factor saying that Master Gordon is on the attempt, then flees with all haste back to the gild hall and write up his news.

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

When that cobbler's last recall echoed into the depths of his mind ; Grandfather wondered for a present moment if he has just set the prophecy of his own precipitation into motility ; plus that of the gild. He snorts the matter away, paw on his drawn sword waiting for the first base pounding on the dandy hall doors that tell of the conflict to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

Well into the evening the guild waits for the strike that never comes. grandfather learns from many of his own broker among schoolmaster Gordon's manor that Gordon has sealed the billet up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a motion on the section of Master Gerald to do away with Cinnius and him in one Swift, calculated movement that sweeps two competitor net of the board in an instant.


======
Late into the night the surviving guards of the late Master Cinnius, only a ten and four in number, William Tell of the attack in point to Grandfather as he sits in smoldering silence on his crapper. They tell in exaggerated gesture and word's the size of the onrush, the massive butchery and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a fierce engagement one wonders if a dragon was on the scene.

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

"So then gentleman, how shall I reinforce you now ?"Grandfather said to the fourteen guards, whose eyes lit up with fervidness of greed and delight.

They soon found out their ‘ reward'was to be pressed. They howled for mercy as guards'grabbed hold of them, dragging them away to the executioner hold. With cold-blooded swiftness, tied to swell build of wood on the reason, the executioners directed Grandfathers guards ( the directions issued as polite suggestions ) in placing of great wooden board over the men ; to be topped in turn every few minutes with a L pound hunk of brick shaped Stone. Over the grade of hours the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their ribs snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

As for the agent who brought news program of the false outset of a coup d'etat to Grandfather…

A new statue of him cast in flatware joined the one of bronze from the earlier messenger executed in a standardised manner. Even the treated guards of gramps watched with silent horror as the man had been lowered inch by inch, headfirst, into the melt down alloy, his ululation echoing far and all-inclusive down the dark halls of the executioners tunnels.


=======
Three days later the companion reads a message conveyed to she with the Amethyst eyes, a true grinning upon his case for once in so long of a time.

"My noblewoman, the leadership of ‘ those who wait'have agreed to prepare for an opportunity to go forth ; they have declared ‘ send the message and we will do our percentage, as promised, then the bill with the gild shall be settled in full,'“ he told her.

"So my lady, do we set about to raise the level of atmospheric pressure and paranoia to a new elevation in this affair ? Or may I add a little ‘ bend'to the site ?"her companion asks.

At her prompt he explains his little ‘ twist'on their plan ; her eyes and smile gleam in delight from his small suggestion. Right now the two of them have entered into serious priming coat, not only preparing to walk out at maestro Gordon and Gerald ; there is the matter of the guild Grandfather - assuming he survives the flowers sent to him, being roused to action.

This very Nox, as per Associates little ‘ twist'on their plan, another whispered hearsay begins : there is a bounteousness of one hundred atomic number 79 bars to the assassin of the guild who brings down the granddaddy of Assassins. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of course that is only rumor…just the variety to get you executed by the paranoiac gild leadership.

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

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


************************
************************
Her middle glimmering with their amethyst attack, she watches Associate go about his preparedness for the pending end game of the gambit. As he sorts and examines in minutest of detail the puppet, arm and gear wheel of their trade, a warm smile comes to her mouth ; her nerve resting on a raised bridge player grasping the door jam as she makes no sound for some time.

Each of his pecker, from lock-picks to coils of inkiness silken rope, vials of poisons to cripple or kill, along with an assortment of putz and blazon no one save for them alone could comprehend in the westerly estate. She watches as he examines a throwing star under the lantern brightness, its razor honed edges perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and battle knife, a bamboo blow tube 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 Shan Tiel had begun her breeding with ; one that for him, came as a ultimate surprisal when she answered his question…

"Granddaughter,"he asked her showing off the armory of arm in his business firm,"which of these do you anatomy is the most life-threatening of the hunter ? Is there any one that you see here, that can defeat any other ?"

Still so young and small in stature at the metre she had to motion him to deform down to her height ; then with one belittled manus, she touched his brow, and then his heart. His warm smile was genuine, delighted at the solution given to him.

"Yes you do understand very well. The deadliest weapon we who hunt the bravo have is the head and the passions of the bosom ; used together, you can not be defeated."

companion had in the short meter of her warmly recalled memories raised to practice with his twin blades of their profession, sliding them from their cocktail dress of lacquered wood, the ninja-to. xiv column inch of hone blade, substantial and razor sharp, he danced in a beautiful, poetic fun of expiry. Each move is poetry of music and grade, of control and Energy used : parry-strike, strike-parry, double slash and thrusts, a flurry of motion no one could come close to matching deliver for her.

Even unarmed they are among the deadliest of scrapper, their very bodies the ultimate, living weapon system.

His routine comes to its end after some time ; and fellow pretends to comment her for the very kickoff time, though he was mindful of her standing by the door for some clock time now. One thing with both of them, living among the hoard of bravo and spies of the guild has honed their superb skills to new, necessity levels than many would have dreamed.

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

His surprisal is complete when she gently touches him with one of her work force ; moving it up to gently strokes his cheeks and brows. She feels the brief tension repose out of his torso as she circles his face, playfully teasing supercilium, nose, eye, capitulum and cheeks.

His rim she parts slightly with fingertips, stroking the interior and drawing a thin prime to his cheeks.


The warmness of his hint on her bridge player draws a flaccid, loving grinning to her own lips. Once again her hand flows over cheeks, brows and nose, along his jaw and gently on his neck before returning again and again to his look.

Moving up to him she presses her lips to his ; so soft and cutter that his flush becomes fully red, estrus pulsating outward as a fully stoked fire in the lolly ovens. Three times she does this, then kisses his olfactory organ, and on crank toes delivers one on his frontal bone.

His searching eyes quickly discern that her gown has partly opened, revealing the glistening smooth tegument that tantalizing intimation at needing to be touched, stroked and seduced ; her bared boob, form in dancing phantasma by the flabby, low light in the room, glistens like a secret concealed within a closed book promising unlimited treasures and sensations, or full and savage death.

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

Slowly he starts to fondle and stroke it with his fingertips, working from the nipple outward in a spiral to return inward again and repeats the cycle several fourth dimension ; all the while he revels in the silken perfection of her hide, the judicious perfume that smells of lilac, roses and ginseng admixture with all the sweet-salty smells that are uniquely HER.

Gently he closes his centre with each recondite inhalant of these tone, burning them into his mind in the event of her dying soon, he will care for this here and now to the end of his days…

He sees the indulgent flapping in her eyes, eyelids flickering up and down as she begins to erode lightly on those red-hot mouth that are highlighted with a sweet tasting strawberry gloss.

He moves his free hand to the boundary of her robe, the blue silk that is embossed with cerise trees, roses and a span of gabardine hoot in flight accentuating the bend of her body, hiding some in shadow and others in reflected lighter 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 early breast, then works along the hem ; once up to her articulatio humeri he eases is down her arm. His tin whistle of delight and admiration at the sight of her bared skin brings a true and scrumptious bloom to her brass, a silent giggle of consternation with her chief turning away, though her eyes return quickly and with a inkling of desires fervor fully alight.

All of that falls in and on itself, reality turned different when his first gear kiss gently presses on one smirch of her berm, then another and another until he reaches her neck. The current of buss continues over each inch of her hide, drawing chill, shakiness, titters and vellication that build one upon the next.

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

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

Moving them downward he massages her blue dorsum, easing along her waistline and hip seeking each field he can get to lend the maximum sensations of bliss of her body he can pull out. Gentle spirals and helix rule in which he mixes motility of the ABCs, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far Orient languages, for each one brings a different response to her physical structure, some large and some belittled, one intense that almost knocks her off her base, while others have her pant as she lowers her drumhead against his chest, eyes closing while silent sass receptive and close.

He inhales the marvelous brew of aroma now including that of her raw sex mixing into them ; more and more it turns on the fires within his own body ; causing his own manhood to uprise to the occasion as his helping hand begins to travel to her obliterate womanhood…

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

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

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

Planting a fiery kiss on his rim she swings her arms around his neck opening, and then leaps up, enwrapping her wooden leg about his waist and locking them and her firmly in station. His men move quickly to support her rear, as he shakes his pass, understanding at last.

She did not want him to pleasure her, she wants Sir Thomas More than that…With one hand he fumbles for the belt of his britches, loosening it plenty to let his fully at attention humanity escaped to the public ; drawing a bit of a rosiness from him due to the small size of it.

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

Their kisses merged as he eased into her womanhood, the two of them entering into a assuage rhythm of love between their bodies, one for the other and back in turn. Within moments his excitement passes his limit and sends his seed deep into her body.

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

She just kissed him on the sassing as her eyes showed her admiration for him. Returning to her animal foot, the two of them quietly danced a mum dance in the rooms soft igniter for some prison term, a moment shared before returning to the end game of this long and trying hunt.

For the moment, they, two assassinator in a biotic community of such, who seek to reverse such a force, can lower their guard a bit. This is their moment, their clock time, for with the dawn, the hunt will again continue.


************************
In the deepness of his fort manor passkey Gordon listens with ever growing revulsion as story after tarradiddle from his agents tell of a grave arras being woven. soul is trying to kill him, or take down the Grandfather and pin the incrimination on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their mortal of rivals in the process…but who could it be.

A few days ago his treasured rosebush were returned, after his butler had traded them to the first Clairice in trade 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 maniac Darius, they vanished soon afterward ; the shop left in such a state of matter of disarray showed they fled the city that very night.

The next first light brought the mysterious deliveries to agents and assassinator of the guild ; flowers 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 blush wine had been returned entire, and watered by the girl ; then as some of his agents examined and smelled them, declaring nothing to be wrong…

This could not be said of the rest period of those deliveries. For some understanding, like with original Finneous, and his fan Kimberly, and at the ale-house cognitive process, the receivers just seemed to up and die in their running ! Now there are early Masters of the guild, underlings who would not dare to strike at Gerald ; who are openly making programme to do just that, and it appears grandfather is encouraging them due to his silence on the matter.

Most probably, that is due to one of the bouquet of flower having been sent to his throne room as well. The man has no sensory faculty of sense of humor ; especially as there are rumors of him offering one hundred bars of gold to anyone taking down the granddaddy of Assassins ; as if he would actually be suicidal enough to make such a motion ! ! !

Such is his mounting rage and frustration that when he grips the rail of an upper level balcony he tears the wood exempt in two magnanimous chunks of debris. So far no one has been able to determine out much of anything, save that the agents of Master Gerald are following his own…with more and more undetermined boldness…probably to strickle in one well coordinated action ; collapsing his entire meshing and assault his estate…

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

There is one way to deal with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his senior agents and guard leaders. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the doubled quick for it ; there is a pocket-size windowpane of time open, and he intends to exploit it to the wide. Right now only one thing could interfere with his programme, and that is the grandad of Assassins himself…

"granddaddy of assassin Gordon…"he examines his knife vane, loving the way the light gaming over its razor shrewd boundary. How fine of a brand he will use to end the life of both Gerald and granddad - then claim all for himself.

"Yes, that is what will chance then, both shall light in the end…"



======
Within the 60 minutes an agent of grandpa reports directly to him of the architectural plan that maestro Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a takeover is indeed follow, and by the manus of Gordon the Grandfather's furore is absolute. He calls for his personal guard to gather, for the beneficial fighters, scalawag and assassins to tuck and arm for battle.

For too long he has allowed this plot to go on, now all shall see the wrath of the guild and of Grandfather once and for all. Quickly he goes over the series of design and contingency he long ago prepared for such an outcome ; one after another are rejected, until the adept overall remains…complete extermination…

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

"When Gordon strikes at the estate of Gerald, we surround the place, strike inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no survivors at all. Slay every keep being or animate being in the place ; then reduce it to ashes afterward. Then the Saami will materialize to Gordon's estate ; these double-crosser will be rooted out completely…"

Building up the fury of his force play, Grandfather intends to use this execution to the townsfolk of Providence as well - to remind them HE formula the town. Once that is done, he will disgorge the lodge of any and all terror from top to bottom.


======
"My lady,"her Associate softly calls, touching her soft shoulder. He also moves slightly to the position, keenly aware of the envenomed vane she keeps handy when sleeping. Seeing her still drowsy eyes open, he sighs softly, not eager to exchange yet another shirt…the last time was too close by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat lower down…

"My lady,"he again calls to her,"the power of Gordon are gathered and on the movement ; they will hit the land of Gerald within the next two hr. One of our broker also reports that the grandpa is personally guide to the highest degree of the lodge force against BOTH of them. I believe he means to end this matter of the two once and for all."

He sees the excitement growing on her face.

"Even with the grandad of Assassins entering the ruffle now, do we persist on the plan or change it ?"he asked.

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

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

Many of her federal agent have long since given up hope of Providence being freed from the iron grip of the club ; but now, shown the truth of the topic, that the society IS VULNERABLE, they are set up to strike back and do so with absolute deadliness. Their fear and despair has become choler and finding ; tonight she and Associate make the most important hit ; they will do the rest…tonight Providence has a new cry of"freedom or death."

Associate smiles, the age long quest to avenge his sister, her husband and all their small fry will be completed ; he will avenge them and they may finally find rest. It will be by his hired hand and no others, that the terminal prey of his ira shall perish…the Grandfather himself.

"My lady,"her Associate says,"good fortune on your part ; I have to move quickly to get at my own target. I have dispatched give-and-take to the leaders of the waiting groups for the revolt to begin."

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

Once again she smiles as that example of Tai Long Tiel came to her - in staging hearsay of a pending coup, the innate paranoia of the assassins have led one to arrange a real coup. So once again the assassinator's club is dancing to her tune and not their own.

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


************************
************************
Master Gerald's manor house, a fortress from top floor to the keep below, bristles with activity. His best soldiers and factor prepare the defenses, layer upon layer of subtle cakehole and secure passages ; the outer yards with their fields of blast shall be turned into one massive killing champaign for Gordon's power when they arrive…

"Continue with all the formulation, I need to see to the final line of defense upstairs ; remember to keep all of the indicate stockpile in place. I do not gestate the dandy doors or walls to be breached ; yet we take no chances at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in formulation in his elimination of Finneous, Cinnius, and so many others,"master Gerald said to his chief-of-arms.

"Remember, he sacrificed his own men initially at the inn-operations to set up Cinnius and me as well ; we must not underestimate him at all,"the first truthful tracing of fright creped into his representative. For one time in his life Gerald feels the cold hands of last reaching out for him…watching his every movement from nearby…


======
Indeed a pair of eyes watched captain Gerald's every move from the rafters above the great anteroom ; then as he ascends the great stairs. She silently shifts from one positioning to another, descending down to the main story. Once there, she commences the dancing of demise with his broker and guards, one by one their labors cease to be productive…

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

When she has finished, she sees her reflexion in a mirror, the amethyst fires of her oculus glowing like a beacon of doom ; telling of her privileged rage and determination to finish the matter. She recalls with absolute clarity the final screeching of her mother and father ; of her brothers and Sister as they were butchered, while she was taken to safety by Shan Tiel…her teacher and caretaker.

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



======
During his wandering around the upper level he can not shake the feeling of decease being nearby ; one of two associate always with the assassin - the other being fear, in all of its numerous faces - refuses to impart his side. No, companion death refuses to allow for, almost as if he longs for the show to persist in just a bit more before needing to escort Gerald into the next world.

All too soon his attention came back to the lower floor, silent as an undecided grave ; a foreboding of what was soon to be his own fate…almost as if he is walking in a dreaming he heads back to the upper floor landing place, expecting to find all of his safeguard and agents fleeing or already fled.

Either that or they have already been turned by Gordon, to unite his position in the coming engagement that will leave Master Gerald alone to face many a century warrior in a last-place, hopeless battle before he perishes either at the end of a poisoned brand or skewed upon a crossbow deadbolt to his heart…

Sighing at the with child, final treachery his federal agent have performed, he turns the last recess, his crossbow held loosely in his hired man, prepared to meet the foeman who has to be there in straight-out numbers. Master Gordon has won the engagement, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the adjacent, and now with his decease will turn upon grandfather to suit the new leader of the guild.

Thus he has made his second misapprehension in life ; he has underestimated his friendship with Gordon and now will pay the price. The first was ten years ago when the girlfriend escaped the luck of her family and the four covered it up to stay awake. He had been betrayed and defeated morally, intellectually and physically by an opponent so far out of his league, he never had a chance…

Around the go street corner, he lets the crossbow fall from his unresponsive hands ; expecting death to come by steel or crossbow bolt…only to see a lone figure, a slender, young woman standing at the other end, just feet away. Clad in black and gray vesture, a unmarried mask is drawn up over her sassing and nozzle, while more material is over her os frontale and haircloth, leaving only her eyes exposed.

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

Tai Long Tiel !

He was the father of the bankers wife ... and thus grandad of the lady friend who escaped ...

'' Oh no, '' Gerald said to no one in the orbit, consigned to his destruction, understanding at last-place who the straight schoolmarm of the ploy being played is ...

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the blade into a cross guard position, her gloved hands holding it in a grip like iron, to strike or parry as needed, the pedigree on its edge glistening like red fervour, telling Gerald of his factor fate on the floor below…

She began to pass on upon him, economy of gesture displayed to perfection with each social movement ; a rightful avatar of destruction made world advancing to garner her due upon Gerald ...

Her eyes sparkle in the light of the bulwark lamps as she passes by ; the percipient attack of amethyst dancing in their depths.

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

His nerves shattered, he falls to his knee joint, whimpering and completely in the grips of uttermost terror ; he knows there is no more persist or hiding, no clemency can be expected at her hands ...

Though he tries ...

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

She shakes her top dog at this video display of cowards in the end ; the watercourse of tears flowing without restraint from his oculus, the odour of water and loosened arena corrupting the air as he loses control of his mind and body ...

Having closed the distance between them, the steel in her hired man eases back luxuriously over her shoulder, gear up to deliver the third region of her payback in one clean strike.

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

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

So it is that the Third business leader of Four giving up to the inevitable, his role in the stratagem done.

Standing over his clay, the Queen with the amethyst heart cleans her blade on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor to prepare for the net tycoon of Four to arrive…and for the gambit to descend to an end.


************************
************************
The Grandfather of Assassins, out at the read/write head of his armed striation is not felicitous today ; the ongoing competitiveness against Gordon's forces has been taking far too long. His design had been round-eyed and easy, encircle the full area of Gerald's acres as Gordon's forces mounted their ravishment, and then work their way in, burning the edifice and killing all - citizens or enemies who were found.

Systematically his effect pushed Gordon's back step by footstep, always pushing, seeking to obtain a weak speckle and make the final tap. thoroughgoing annihilation would result.

Then came the intelligence from messenger's that the citizens of the metropolis have started an armed revolt, armed with spears, vane and even shaft in some cases ; supplemented by the stria of hunter who work in the woods around Providence. So he found himself fighting two fronts, Gordon to the bow, the mobs to the back ; so his forces have been systematically whittled down.

eve his own bodyguard has been reduced from forty to the XII surrounding him. Many bear wounds from the last clank, nearly a hundred appendage of the mob will not be going home tonight ; his grimace became a grin at that thought.

When a cloud of smoke momentarily drifts over his band, a quadruplet of soft clump sound out ; his sentry go is now down to eight. The four on the ground in the death cam stroke, the shuriken's embedded in throats delivering their poisonous substance for advantageously effect.

"cuticle wall !"gramps shouts out, the safety device forming a crescent wall of wood and muscular tissue between him and their attacker ; two more of his guards crash, throwing stars embedded in their throats, the envenomed tips sending them into violent, wracking spasm as destruction stretch forth with his workforce to exact them.

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

One guard advances down the street, a forward picket for the balance of their ever diminishing band. He peers to each surrounding depot movement, street and alley porta, to the windowpane richly and low, seeking the to the lowest degree bit of movement to suggest the next strikes of their unseen pursuer…

He failed to look from behind as a minuscule snake is placed on his articulatio humeri by a gloved hand…

The deadly chomp of the Tai-Pan single-foot him with indescribable pain and worrying as his body explodes cell by electric cell, the nervus in conclusion of all to die as death welcomes him to get together his strike comrades of sooner this day.

Grandfather and the others watch with growing horror at the relaxation with which they are being toyed with…

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

The five remaining safety, with gramps gesture of a hand, thrill at this foe ; no fear shows on their faces, as they are the elite of the elite for many a kingdom. No one in the Western acres 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 deadly assassin of the Far due east, the Ninja, who sends them unto their just reward in the afterlife.

Before grandpa could even take a breather, the man is before him ; a foresighted, slender blade, honed to absolute razor sharpness is upon his cervix. He feels the vena pulsating against the cracking sharpness, and the svelte trickle of blood flowing down from where it pierced his skin…

Grandfathers breath came is pant, as he dared not move an inch ; for this unbelievable warrior has him at his clemency, and to evaluate from the cold oculus looking back into his own, Grandfather knows mercifulness is not on the agenda for the day.

lather beads and then flows down the case and neck of gramps, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to quail and kick in him make to execute him immediately. For that is what grandad knows is about to happen, no trial, no jury or such nonsense, just an writ of execution without compassion or mercy.

He feels the knifes edge play ever so gently upon his peel, fervour burning from the sweet candy kiss of deadly steel that teases terror and ever present flinching of muscleman ; all too associate with such leaf blade, grandpa can imagine what the final cut on him will sense like…

grandfather feels the burning pass into the respite of his eubstance, hands shaking and churning in his gut induced by the final fears racing in his creative thinker. His articulatio genus threaten to yield out beneath him, no affair how hard he wills it to be otherwise, for he refuses to coward himself before this unknown foe…

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

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

Grandfathers eyes widened in incredulity as the data flooded into his fright sodden mind.

"That's mightily Grandfather,"the man nodded in conformation,"I and my lady have systematically destroyed you and your social club. Ten yr 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 special talents…until you sanctioned the hit for the sake of the towns, and hence your own, bankers."

The absolute calm and steady style of his articulation brought more concern to Grandfather than he has known in his entire life history as an assassin…


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

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

Pulling the vane away, the secret warrior delivers a blindingly agile serial publication of precise strikes, inducing absolute loss of muscularity controller in gramps legs and arm ; just to score certain he is not getting away if the impuissance inducing poisonous substance fails in its task.

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

"This is for my lady who was raped by skipper Gordon's Butler ; I would have killed him myself if the programme did not demand he dwell for a prison term. So this is aught 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 gramps's eyes cross over, his oral cavity contorted as much as his poison wracked dead body will permit in purest of pain ; a victim of the move all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a patella to the most common soldier and injury prone area any man has…


======
Associate looks down on the groaning, croaking, mewling form of gramps, and has no compassion on the most sinewy penis of the Guild. For too long he has waited this upshot ; prepared to give all if need be just to avenge his sister, and furbish up the honor of his menage and restore his name.

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

As it shall be this very hour.

Pulling from a pouch a slender, black silken rope, he quickly binds gramps hands and understructure, ties a gag about his oral cavity, and then casually snaffle hold of the loop he makes to drag the bravo along. Heading for the position where his pet wait, he makes surely to cross each area of dirty piddle, sewage, bared rocks and cactus, determined to take a crap certainly the cause of ten years of anguish and dishonor enjoys every moment of pain he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the forest hunters, and their sons and girl, master archers each who snipe at the remaining force of the club watch the two pass ; each one knows that fellow is about to meet his own Leigh Hunt at retentive last.

The one man who helped familiar with the patrol of Jambis not long ago smiled ; even knowing of associate particular ‘ pet ’, as he helped captivate them in the woodwind instrument, he has no sympathy for the now helpless bravo that is to fill his pain filled fate…

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

Once he reaches the storage warehouse, Associate opens the door spacious, no longer caring nor needing to be secretive as to the depicted object. He drags grandfather across stones worn smooth by one C of cargo moved in and out of the massive interior ; then up one flight of stairs of wooden steps, each one marked by the steady thud-thud-thud of the Grandfathers head slamming into its surface.

A unshakable moan slips from Grandfathers backtalk as the top of the loft is reached, and Associate can easy imagine the maven he is seeing at this time. He drops the rope from his script, and advances to the boundary where an opening is set between the rails of the attic edge.

He gazes down upon the ‘ darling'he has prepared for this import ; and calls loud and farseeing to them, whipping them into a howling, snorting, tusk-rending blood lust as they know their favored meal is about to be sent down to them - human flesh and bloodline and osseous tissue, raw…

prison term and clip again Associate calls out to them, and they respond with a dozen and eight cries of thirst and hungriness, a pleading and demanding for Associate to transport them their anticipate dinner. Each one of them, some four hundred pounds of absolute bone and muscle, ivory vast and gleaming with razor sharp tips, optic blood red and great chests heaving like the yowl of a fiery forge, they paw at the Harlan Fiske Stone floor….

They wait…they call…they plead for warm up blood and seraphic flesh…

When Associate turns back for a here and now, the pets howls and bird grow ever meretricious, as they know now that dinner is at manus ; they smell the man veneration of the assassin, hear his terrified core beating beyond all power to sustain for long, and the final examination moans of pain as he is lifted from the loft floor…

associate degree lifts Grandfather up by the neck opening, savoring the howl induced panic in the decrease assassin ; Grandfathers optic are absolute in their grandness, as he is pushed by the sounds of the pets howls and bird to the edge of his own saneness, his mind refusing to accept what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

Associate holds granddad by the arms, forcing the unfirm assassin to crouch down enough to see his fate at the edge of the loft."tone well grandfather, I gathered a great compendium of special favourite just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a forest hunting by a unfounded boar and have been afraid of them for your spirit. How ironic is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog wild, or I should say…go to the wild hogs…"

"NOOOO !"Grandfather roars as Associate shove him bodily into the empty air ahead of them ; his howler is heard for cube until it ends abruptly on the inhuman stones below. Without hesitation, Associates pets, twenty of the most savage, massive, wild boars the woodland hunters could gather tear into the assassin…

Associate watches from above, savoring each phone and scream, until the last off-white and scrap of flesh is gone into the backbone of his pets.

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

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


***********************
Outside the gates of master copy Gerald's estate superior Gordon and his band of men stand ready for the final conflict in their small war. Three entire city blocks lay in smoking, smoldering ruins from the all too stubborn efforts of his foeman men to keep their line from being breached. All too many of the shop class and homes Gerald had owned were toy forts in their own rightfulness, costing him more men, and nigh critical - time, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

Now he stands on the eve of his vengeance ; Gerald waits just beyond the meticulously uphold basis, the not bad doors of the manor house lay open, tacit and still. Gerald must be so afraid of his impending day of reckoning that he has either already fled, or some servants have betrayed him on the slim hope of mercy being shown to them.

No mercy, that is the order given to his current band of soldiery ; 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 grandpa military group. He will polish off off the one here first, then rent his men back and finish off Grandfather, and then the purge of the city and the guild of all traitors will truly commence.

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

With a nod of his point several men commence to skulk from cover to compensate, crossbows at the ready, swiftly but steadily closing on the surface door. They cover one another, alert for the least notice of the expected ambush to commence.

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

The great doors silently close behind them…

One minute passes…

Five minutes pass…

Ten minutes…

20 minutes…

XXX minutes…

Then one manor house door golf stroke open silently, the darkness beyond beckoning with all the kindness of a unsounded and opened grave in the woods. Nothing move from within or without…


======
The sudden prostration of a nearby edifice in a cascade of brick, Sir Henry Wood and flames combine with a sudden clamor of leaf blade on brand clank, shouts of victory and thigh-slapper of the dying. Gordon's men begin to front one to another, debating as what to do at this time to secure their survival.

Shrill vociferation of war speech sound off, combined with shout of"Providence and payback !"

One of his chief lieutenant shouts in the gage for his men to hold the line, his calm, unshakable voice suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men stumble into passel of captain Gordon, one by one shouting out a scream of death as embitter pointer pierce armor and flesh, before they fall to the ground as gracelessly as a dispel and tattered burlap sack tossed from a high up trading floor window.

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

The rapid twang of bows is followed by over a XII of his men slumping to the solid ground, a second fusillade is followed by another in short ordination as the citizens of Providence violent storm out of the smoke swarm and debris ; they are taking their town back once and for all.

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

Charging like the risky of fanatics they head right for Gordon and his men.

He has only two very simple pick to make - sales booth 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 silent manor house house.

"hideaway to the manor family with all haste…Go ! Go ! Go !"

Half of his scout group make it to the doorway, the rest dying under the hail of arrows and then under the blades of the mob when they sweep up over them. Just as he clears the threshold, one of his men pulls him to the incline with an unaccustomed roughness, though as a salvo of envenom pointer miss turning him into a hat rack for one fourth dimension he does not mind.

With a resounding slam the bully iron doors are closed, the cross bar firmly secured.

The citizens of providence pound with impudent fury on the early incline, their ululation for line and payback retorting like the cries of the banshee on the moor, prognostication of his pending death and judgement to come in the following life.

Gordon thanks his fortune that Gerald built the manor as a fortress first and a home second…now the bad foe outside is out of his hair's-breadth, all that remains to be done is find and gut Master Gerald.

Passing from the incoming foyer into the luxurious gravid Asaph Hall, passkey Gordon sees that things are definitely, and desperately incorrectly on a massive scale. The agents of Master Gerald lay all over the topographic point, their panoplied eubstance heaped three or four deep on the neat stairwell ascending in the middle of the hall to the dimly lit vestibule above.

Each of them bears the same markings of their death, a 1, well executed cut to the heart or the neck ; with a few felled from envenomed darts…

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

One of his men howls in blow and surprise, back-peddling from a side room. His broken, hastily spoken words and gestures indicate fuss may await them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the remains of his six guide, sent into the manor house earlier, attend upside down by their feet from ceiling, a silken rope secures them to the great wooden balk of the ceiling.

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

The theme reads :

Flee or plowshare the same portion as I, end awaits you all around.

The men who took up the paper, five in all, are observed to take their center roll up into their heads, deep pink and red froth emerging from their mouth as they fall over dead.

Within instant of their loss, the agentive role who have been cutting the silken forget me drug began to choke, hands start to act to clench at their throats until muscle suddenly lock, eyes bulging out and turning line of descent red. Each of the seven men begin to take on surreal human body as their bodily muscles all begin to contract bridge, inflicting untold of pain and soon causing the tatty cry of bones snapping one after another…

Until at terminal the neck bone sunders and allows them the outflow of death.

Gordon looks with absolute revulsion at the double trap that someone has set ; a contact poison, absorbed through the skin, on the eluding of theme ; and then on the ropes themselves…just where someone would locate their hands to cut the rope, and let their dead down…

The hanging torso move like a pendulum, as little bells rings in harmony of their movement, the call to the grave accent all of them will occupy for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to spread out and explore the lower base ; to flush all lifetime from every room and hall that exists in the place.

He looks back to the bang-up iron room access, hearing the people of Providence being given orders to find a turgid irradiation or log they can use as a battering ram. He knows from the strength of the room access there will be only a small bit of clip until they are battered down.


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

A moment later there comes the ringing of a small bell yet again…followed by the Holocaust of fervidness and shrapnel that tears the agent and the three other men in the way with him, into smoldering lumps of anatomy and gist that no yearner can be recognized.

From another room, just down the incline hall from here a small bell sounds yet again ; followed by the crashing of sullen furnishings to the terra firma. Soon enough Gordon sees the mountain of bookcases piled on top of three of his men, one tree branch extended from beneath them holding a small golden unicorn that has a almost invisible cord of silk tied about it.

One guard gives off a soft gurgling auditory sensation, passing into the fit of last from where a slender venom coated blowtube dart has hit him in the neck opening. Another guard suddenly jumps in front of Gordon, shielding him from the second to arrive. As he falls into demise the remaining safety fire off their crossbows into the darkness above, seeking out their spiritual domain assailant on the level above.

Despite their adept efforts three More guards fall into the aeonian night all shall bonk of at the end of their days.

"mortal is playing games here with us,"he said, enraged beyond anything now. He is going to make his old associate master copy Gerald pay dearly for this, ending his madness 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 speech are ; just not as he has expected…

"Back to the anteroom on the stunt woman ; get under protection now and maintain ticker. When we have gathered get ready to ramp the stair and eliminate whoever is up there. Understand clearly, no survivors at all, absolutely no one is to live…when we find Gerald he is MINE alone !"Gordon tells his men, passion beyond reason and reasonableness burning in his body.

Gerald will pay in the most horrid method acting he can reckon ; for bringing his Earth crashing down around him in his efforts to cast away of Grandfather.

Crossbows or blades ready for battle, covering every possible blot of ambush they advance back the way they have come…unaware of the amethyst eyes watching them from the phantasma.

Gordon leads eight men into a side way, a small study untouched by the mass murder already inflicted on the place.

Far above the set of armed men, twin eye of amethyst coruscation with the fiercest of fire, matching the grin of gloating upon her face ; they had no hint as to where she hid as she downed the ones with her blowgun…these bravo are dead on target amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even destruction would have been hard pressed to hear her passport by ; she shifted from her location to the next, fix to watch and visit the terror in full phase of the moon these assassins deserve ; requital for the terror they have for too long bring down unchecked on others.

assassin against assassin…The ultimate portion of the gambit…

fairy against Rex on the chess board…

======
victor Gordon turned to present the signal for the bang up the stairs. He explained the program - ensure the landing place, spread out way by room in large radical and kill everything. The number one hollow, booming slams of a ram on the with child iron doors ring loud and clear through the manor ; telling all they are running out of sentence to dish out with the opposition within for once the door are breached, they will face the ire of those outside.

With a gesture the world-class group rushes up the stairs, while a second covers them, crossbows aimed at each of the vestige above…only for all to freeze when the cushy chiming of a ship's bell comes yet again when the first one up the staircase brushes a stumble cord 2/3rd of the way up…

Gordon sees the hunky-dory silken cord jerking for a minute to where it leads up to the rafters and connecting with a dozen small silken nets…that loosen instantly, scattering their contents of many diminished, egg shaped spheres out towards the flooring below…

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

- godsend !
- manna from heaven !
- BOOM !

captain Gordon barely avoids the falling account book and massive bookcases that sought to crush him. Five of his surviving striation covers him, creating a solid armored paries between their political boss and the room's entrance. Once the fastball clears, a quick peak out shows the carnage, his men torn apart by shrapnel and fire…

Such is the picture that no one can describe it…one of the survivors'rushes into another room, grasping a vase to vacate his stomach out into…only to be met by the fangs of a virulent Tai-Pan serpent. Within mo he joins his familiar in death.

The explosions…

The same sort of explosions reported to experience taken out Cinnius ; only the strength of the manor house's intent kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."Charge the stairs, anything movement ahead of us, shoot to vote down and waste no time…"

The great smoothing iron unveiling door bang like a monolithic tam-tam, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their feat to breach them. master copy Gordon estimates he has less than twenty minutes before they break open ; and death will fall in the most horrendous manner from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the entrance hall, the briny hall and up the stair, trying not to look at the corpse of so many dead…then the first to the speed landing looks about as a small Alexander Bell bell, followed by his grunt of pain sensation and slumping to the ground…already in the final throe of death from the poisoned needle in his throat.


======
The four remaining sentry go charge past Gordon, covering all approaches as he comes up behind them. He takes just enough metre to piece up the dead mans crossbow and a smattering of bolts, each one tipped in lethal malice. Making indisputable one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to direct down the right hired hand hall. The approach came from the left, so they will circle back around and tree their prey - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

Room by room they search, quickly and efficiently, finding cipher more than than organic structure and secrecy. With the second floor cleared, they ascend a small stairwell to the third level. No ambush awaits them at the landing as they expected, just an region for the servants to eat at…the tabular array still set with tea and biscuit out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled cups while the fourth watches, declining any nutrition. In less than a minute the poison inside the tea sends them into hurting wracked destruction, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving guard looking on at their horror filled faces, origin frothing from sassing and olfactory organ.

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

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

Boom !
Boom !
gravy !

So comes the truelove pounding on the great iron doors…

Boom !
microphone boom !
Boom !

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

Pulling the spear out of the room access Gordon hesitates ; elbow grease beginning to bead on his brow, as a small, elusive sound comes from his left, just down the hallway. Carefully as possible, he eases his deal around the corner and into the hall, to see if any reaction is generated.

Then he lowers himself to the level, and eases his head outward, crossbow in hired hand to shoot the initiative aim that comes into sight…

Only to throw a trio of the embitter darts miss him by a fuzz largeness in quick chronological sequence. His desperate roll to the incline and kicking out with his feet, propelling him into the hall, saved his skin…or so he figures…

Then again, with a madman as Gerald appears to have become, anything is possible…

Breathing hard, rage and little terror mixture together, he bellows out for anyone around to listen clearly,"GERALD ! COME AND FACE ME YOU COWARD !"

He quickly heads deeper into the manor upper floor…

======
thunder !
microphone boom !
Boom !

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

Crossbow held out in front line of him he sweeps the long hall, stopping by each dumb room, glancing quickly into them to see if anyone waits in ambush. All is in sodding condition, looking as their occupants left them this morning…save that they will no longer be coming back. So silent is everything that not even a individual mouse is to be heard moving in the area.

Boom !
roaring !
Boom !

Finally he advances close enough to the end to see where the end of the hall turns sharply to the left and the right wing, two limb and three elbow room to go on for the ambush to amount. Three rooms to look and then the hall to check over ; where is Gerald to be found ?

godsend !
godsend !
Boom !

Three rooms become two with a immediate glance.

gold rush !
windfall !
Boom !

The next one has a partially closed door, with a shadowy silhouette off to one side ; something is not right, the fig is just too still. As he reaches for the door of the last room to be checked, he stops. Just a hair breath from his hand is the doorway brass handle, the faintest glimmer of poison coating it - if he had touched it with his bare helping hand, death would occupy him quickly.

A beautiful trap, lure him one way, military force him to go for the unopened door and have the handle poisoned. It has almost worked - which means Gerald has to be around one of the corners ahead…which one…

manna from heaven !
roaring !
roar !

perspiration streams down his head and neck, as he knows the end game is now at hand…but which way…to the leftfield or the right…which way…


======
From nearby, among the very bodily structure of the building, one moves tacit as death ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the finally bravo. Footfalls so quiet that even a sleeping mouse is not roused, she moves ahead to prepare the end game…soon DoJ will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a dramatic way…

Once in position, she hears the soft footfalls echoing to her ears like the thunder of a heard of beasts in a to the full panic approach. Her prey nears with each passing pulse of a heart.

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


======
footfall by step he stealthily advances, straining his ears to pluck up the slight phone ; every instinct honed by his age of dealing in expiry yells that Gerald is off to the left. Just shy of the point of intersection, he shifts his balance and stance to spring ahead, planning to come in low and photograph high…any reappearance shot of Gerald will authorise right over him.

thunder !
Boom !
roar !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely empty space…

The crossbow bolt slams into the far wall with a dull thud, the same sound in his centre as he awaits pointer or blade to slue into his heart.

Boom !
Boom !
bonanza !

His reality collapses completely, the doors will shortly be breached, and the dying setback is to go down before that by the hand of Gerald ; for one meter in his career the deadliest of the four assassins has made a mistake…

blind replete alone saved his life-time, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his blockade neck and capitulum ; feels the solid, strong and all too material bite of a blade oceanic abyss into its wooden plenty. Twisting to one side he shoves with strength topped by sheer panic and fear as the blade pulls dislodge of the wood, and two quick solidus miss him by a hairs breadth, two lockets of his hair falling to the undercoat in still grace.

Gerald continues his mad spin, turning, rolling and hopping dance with the assassinator pursuing him ; for who else could possibly control such skill as to take him by surprise. Even with all his skill, training and honed battle experience he can not help but find as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his resister'sword dig full force-out into his forehead, and only a wild, fortune blessed kick out that connects with a meaty thud saves his life sentence. He has only a moment to spare as his resister blade realm on the solid ground with a loud clanging auditory sensation, leaving him the choice of offense, defense mechanism or hardheaded ( i.e. run like Pluto for his life ).

As he shakes his head to clear his dim visual modality, he hears the easy thumping of his antagonist regaining their feet ; and the gentle sliding of a blade on stone as its true wielder takes it up once again.

offensive, defense mechanism or pragmatic…what tactics is he to employ ?

Whipping out a throwing knife from his sleeve ; he uses it to put off the next slash coming his way, the echo of blade on blade carry far into the charnel theater that Gerald's manor has become. He blocks the next three of his foe, who jumps from phantom to shadow, always one footmark ahead of him, driving him back step by step, yet not taking the openings in his desperate defense lawyers to press home the killing blow…

pressing him back…

Into a trap…one set to catch him from behind.

In despair, 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 defence reaction, refusing to yield up a foot of basis unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a belittled podium, Gordon pulls on the massive vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slow or crush his opponent beneath its majuscule mass. The resulting clangour whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing cloud of junk and poop from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one side, cook to ricochet the instant his adversary comes through the cloud.

Taking a second base vane in hand, he knows his foe will now die, for there is only one way past the swarm of dust and it is right past Gordon. He will quit this assassin that Gerald has pitted against him, and then deal with his old"friend"in person…

The second blade is gripped tight in his hand by its razor acutely power point, make for the coming throw…

He needs only one second gear of time for the perfect throw, the blow to end all blows…so he waits, and steady and still as death, as only a master assassin can…

And waits…

And waits…

And waits…until the sweat begins to run down his boldness and neck, his arm muscular tissue straining to be unleashed…

He strains his auditory sense for the whisper of sound to distinguish of Gerald's force out closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the assassin to come from ahead.

For a continuing infinity of time he waits ; tense and ready, muscles screaming in pain in the ass and turning to leaden system of weights from maintaining a crouched mannerism into an eternity of time ; yet only deathly muteness is heard…

Nothing, no disturbance at all…his opponent has to be waiting for him to number forward…through the settling cloud of detritus that now shows the shadower beyond, all the lighting extinguished for the giving of over cover…

The world of the assassin, waiting to spring death on Gordon the heartbeat he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the assassin has worked around me…"

A penny-pinching mum whisper comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a full half circle and thrusts out his one blade to block the gestate bump ; the other flung with great force out to his target….that is not there…

He knows death is at bridge player, having turned his back on his opponent and prepares to feel the fiery kiss of steel into his back…

The blow does not come from behind though ; it comes from ABOVE !

The initiative smashing clenched fist, or plane thenar misses crushing his larynx by a haircloth breath, then comes a savage flurry of flush, poking, and spread out handed onslaught ; such attainment and attacks he has never imagined anyone could be open of unleashing…

His body rings as blow after blow smash home, the pattern 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 terrible voicelessness, the only one even the grandfather of bravo gave all complaisance to in the narration told ; a matter of honor and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

3 roundhouse bitch smash him into the bulwark and then drive him to the floor ; from which his assaulter grabs him by the collar and lifts him off the reason, only to clobber him more with an open mitt, delivering blows so much harder than any puncher he has ever endured.

Throwing a wild lick, his wrist is grabbed and his forward momentum is added to the massive specialty of his foe in the throw that slams him into the wall, the audible sound of rib shattering heard by the both of them.

Then the beating stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by imagined monster of his assailant all about…

Fleeing in screen panic Gordon bounces down the right helping hand hallway, slamming off of walls and around the adjacent street corner ; only to arrive face to fount with Gerald…more precisely, his soundbox, slowly swinging upside down from the rope running up through the rafters.

His roars of uttermost panic Echo long and tawdry across all the silent blank of the manor.


======
Upon the eubstance is a single banker's bill :

Gordon - you are the last of the four, you took my family in blood and fire ; so I take yours as well, your home of the club and their urban center. You have danced to my tune for the last few weeks, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten yr ago you sewed the seeds for your own destruction.

"The girl…"he mutters, now understanding who he has been dealing with ; the little young lady of the banker they missed all those years ago.

- Thud.

The impact of the flit look like that of a incisive hornets sting ; followed by the burning, spreading of the poison upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The toxicant steals all the strength in his soundbox, leaving him as loose as a rag doll casually tossed aside ; only to be picked up like a sack of texture by a strong, young lady…and carried down to the master mansion where she ties him to the balustrade of the stairwell. She moves to where he can see her heart, those blazing fires of amethyst that severalise his death is now at hand…and to show off the modest billiard clod in her hand, which she places next to his manhood.

As she walks off to a side lobby, he sees one hired hand release a sling with a small lead-in shot within it ; then the sling is spun…once…twice…three times and released back in his direction, followed by her lightning diving into a side room for cover. His middle tracked the jumper lead shot coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just enough time to get a line the front doors giving way from the mob relentless pounding before the lead shot makes impingement ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

acerate leaf to say, the ending for Master Gordon was both shiny 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 consume of value…no one pays attention to the smoldering, scorched and torn corpse by the bannister that was the previous professional Gordon.

Word soon reaches them that the rest of the assassinator social club has been crushed, the live on dragged down unto death ; the liberation of Providence is at last accomplished.

The cost though has been high, for many are injured, some so bad they will join the fallen before the next break of the day is seen. Buildings and place have been destroyed or damaged ; yet the town celebrates, for so long they have been terrorized by the lodge of Assassins and now they are free.

The mystical madam and her comrade showed that the society could be beaten, helped arm and unionise them ; and now they are free.

She with the Amethyst center walks among them in ease, dressed to look as any other person, not wanting to be found out. Her grandpa and family now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her home and family she has returned the favor in spades, taking the town of capital of Rhode Island from the guild while shattering it at the same time.

And in the same seeking, her associate degree has won his name and pureness back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby hilltop she and Tai Long Fae watch the pyrotechnic of victory soar over providence. Many have died to win their freedom, and wonder who the mysterious amethyst eyed lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not human, being an avenging holy man from the paradise sent to do 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 ready to hand throwing knife was located, and shifted slightly to put a hunk of wood between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be prophylactic when it comes to her skill with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even have a family together…I don't even have a go at it your real gens yet, or if you even have one. It's the one question of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a rueful look on his facial expression ; not even sure as shooting if she will answer him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his hand and then motioned with her fingers over his laurel wreath ; revealing in the intricate mansion language more than he ever could have imagined.

His eyes just widened in absolute cushion !

Never had he made the connection…he never would get !

Her eyes glimmered with roguishness and entertainment, the amethyst fires dancing to and fro ; as he accepts at last that she is the daughter of his prospicient dead babe ; the one who the four assassins - Finneous, Gordon, Gerald and
Cinnius had murdered at the order of magnitude of the now pass Grandfather of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His shocked feeling remains until she eases up on her tippy toes, and gently kisses him on the lips ; blazonry wrapping about his neck. He looks into her eyes, and sees the warmth and love reflected back at him, and yet, another secret her smile tells of more word coming his way…

She softly strokes his cheek with one set of finger's breadth, conveying in what most would regard as a motion of affectionateness, yet is their soundless hand spoken communication, the side by side shock of his life…

Make those two shocks…

"You're kidding ?"he says, backing up a short-change distance within her grasp.

She shakes her header to let him acknowledge she is not kidding or jesting in the least…

She is going to last out in Providence with him ; and there is even better news…they will have a household 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 growing within, though he knows it will be months yet before the first kicks will be felt…

"Oh my lady, I am so happy for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken muff bee, she just shakes her headway, rolling eyes to the promised land and covers her face from the embarrassing idiosyncrasy he is so displaying.

"Master Shan…"a voice comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a isthmus of townspeople coming over ; munching away on the cadaver of the gaga wild boar he so generously provided for their victory feast.

"Master Shan,"the new mayor of capital of Rhode Island spoke, his expression covered in the sauce used to baste the boar's ribs,"can you tell us what happened to the lodge grandad ? You were seen to trance him, and take him away, if he is still active we want to action him ourselves…"

Carrying a sheeplike look of consternation on his face Shan Fae looks at them, gulps, looks to his ma'am who just shrugs her shoulder, and looks back to the mayor…

"No the Grandfather is no longer alive,"Shan Fae said,"lets just say he was bored to death…"

He looks back to his lady, and all that they have accomplished. For as with her uncle, she was trained by Shan Tiel in the fashion and arcanum of the ninja, the feared and deathly bravo of the Far eastern United States, to afford her the boundary among the deadly sea wolf of the western landed estate.

Shan Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the night sky ; the bunch of champion forming a river gamy in the heavens above, rendering unto her a occult, unworldly presence. It is that river of wizard 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 correspond name…

"One who delivers retribution for the innocent and the helpless."

And so it is that this fib of the Assassins stratagem comes to an end ; two who risked all for justness, and to see the hoi polloi of Providence dislodge of the assassin Guild have won the game. They now enter into the life of a phratry, and a time of peace. Yet should the need arise, they will go to do battle against any others who wish to subscribe their home away…

So one history closes ; and a new fable, of she who has the amethyst middle is born.


( fin )