Just outside the Town of Providence, four anatomy close upon their target - an old, battered family that is battered by the raging storm that conceals their movements. Biting winds drive the fierce, chilling rain almost horizontal, blocking all spoken communicating between the four until they reach a minor sheltering grove of woods.

The leader of the four, Finneous, motions instructions to his associates in the mum sign terminology used by the Assassins order ; though they already know their goal, no misunderstanding will be tolerated this night, the contract must be fulfilled…no subsister and no grounds is to be left behind.

On that the Grandfather of assassinator, the true ruler of the order and of Providence is clear.

Silent as Death, they move between shadows illuminated moment by consequence as lightning dances across the sky. Here one darts to a tree diagram, then to lay behind a small shrub ; there one dashes between flash bulb to the shelter of a low wall surrounding the house.

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

Even the urban center constable, the law enforcement federal agent of Providence - of form all are under guild ascendance - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this 60 minutes. The plans of the sign, down to the small-scale detail, were secured by yet another band of club agents, allowing for preciseness planning…

All too slow, nil can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will take no chances, for slow portion has on to a greater extent than one social function interrupted his design. He gives a hundred reckoning, making trusted no movement occurs…

Seeing, sensing and hearing nothing he motions with one manus to his fellow traveler. Of the three, Cinnius mind to extend the back threshold with his small crossbow, Gordon and Gerald move to the face entree of the pantry and kitchen.

Between flashes of lightning and echoing roars of thunder they go ; undetected, they reach the house of the banker betrayed by his partners. western fence lizard and efficient they enter, and in lupus erythematosus than five minutes the whole involvement is accomplished, leaving the family dead and the firm aflame from front to back. No survivor, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An sluttish dark of body of work ; eliminate an entire fellowship, torch the planetary house to handle the crime.

Save for one voltage complication - one young girl, the heart member of the children, was not at the firm. All four of them agree to say naught more, knowing the extreme death waiting for them if the gramps of the guild find out.

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

**************************
The valet de chambre known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the region watched the fires as they consumed the house ; from the tail he had seen the four assassin enter and exit with exceptional acquisition. Not one of the four had seen Grandfather when he approached within four feet of their way of life coming and going.

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

If not for the electric charge he has been entrusted with by the now gone banker, he would have finished this band of imbecile just for the sake of realism. They give a bad name to what it means to be a true assassin.

He could just foresee how the battle would deal seat, brief and absolute in its finality…

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

Twin, envenomed knife would contract the middle two in their hearts ; the quivering spasms of destruction wracking the expressions of impact and horror on their faces…

Their leader in front, the one he knows as Finneous from past traffic, would fall in a personal matter…his iron shod staff smashing bone and crushing harmonium in close up conflict ; or if the coward flees then he would send the throwing stars into his back - each one with the same deadly venom as his knives hold…

Tonight he can not reach in to the desires…

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

He knows when dealing with fellow hunters like the assassinator, there is only room for one mistake ; of course being from the Far East, HE is the dependable Orion in this game.

He slowly eases into a half crouch, then to a full stance as he looks about, listening, sniffing the air, all to induce surely the quartette of assassins have indeed passed beyond the area.

In his sheltering arms is the little girl, the one with the amethyst eyes and muted voice. Her terror filled end hug lets him know just how scared she truly is, though still Danton True Young and small for her age, he will urinate for sure that no harm comes to her…

No affair what he will gain sure no harm comes to her ; her founding father heroic supplication with him, to cull one out of the twelve child to be saved raked his sum raw, having given the admonition of the coming hit by the guild. So it was he swept her up, out the door and into hiding here just ahead of the assassins.

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

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

He keeps his house handle on the footling girl who hugs him in a little terror filled Death hug ; her eyes filled with amethyst fires. When her father had come to meet 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 figure now,"he told her in the melodious accent of the Far Eastern lands,"what do you wish to be known as my granddaughter ?"

Very slowly the little girl extended her coat clad arm, gloved finger's breadth tracing a serial publication of moves into his script. Indeed, deaf-and-dumb person that she may be, the ease of her ability with the sign language of his family's professing - fellow assassins like himself - demonstrating the intelligence that lies behind those wondrous eyes.

He nodded approval.

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

"Due to your eyes few must sleep together of your existence ; so spirit will not be promiscuous for you, yet there is something I will instruct you to do,"he said with a watch aspect on his face.

He calculated the prison term that passed since the quadruple of assassins left ; then figured the observer for the guild of bravo will be along shortly - to make believe sure as shooting the contract was carried out in its entirety.

"We must go now. I will teach you from today to suit a hunter of your own. You will not work little terror to the inexperienced person ; instead you will trace the hunters and their agent ; to teach those who use affright what it means to be subject of panic in turn. ``

So it is the two depart into the Benny Hill, far from the metropolis to the seat they call base.

Neither of them bet back at the old life history, the end of a crime syndicate for her.

Yet the two of them, the old man and the young lady friend with the amethyst centre know the Christian Bible will be balanced in metre.

The assassin consider their hunt completed, just one of 100 the quartet has carried out to succeeder.

They have made their one mistake.



***********
***********
Grandfather just smiled with delectation as he looked upon her, lying next to him on her stomach on their bed ; his fingers moved with piano, feather gentleness across her relegate skin. He began with her one bared impudence, her head turned his way and those wonderful centre dancing with such humor, liveliness and love for him.

Moving in a slow helix outward from the centre, he soon reached her mouth and playfully caressed them across the top and then the bottom, exploring each luck of them in turn. The flavour of her warm breather upon his fingers brought a tingle delight to his mind, his old physical structure still up to the entertaining of a untested dame, one who is no longer a lady friend - she reached her majority a week ago, and asked for this night as her giving from him.

He slips his digit into her mouth, caressing the interior of her lips and stroking against her dentition, taking delight in the growing blush upon her buttock. Moving back to her speed lip, he continues his fingertip exploration, up to her scent and around each of her heart - especially along her brows, bringing a sonant shudder to her torso as her eyes gently close for the moment.

His fingers begin to massage around her brows and then back along her exposed ear, drawing forth a smile on her ruby red sass as a depicted object little sigh escape valve past them. She draws her hands up under the pillow her head is resting upon, while her bared skin shines with the moonlight flowing in from the twin sliding room access that are clear to the external world.

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

Grandfather moves along the rachis of her heading with his finger, caressing and massaging her neck along the slope and back, cupping them along the straw man so all of his hand is on her pelt. He then begins in soft, circling and kneading moves ; she gives another diffuse suspiration of contentment, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly as she begins to relax More and more.

His eyes look up as he picks up the faintest of cause through the floorboards, a shakiness and a lenient sound so elusive most would assume a mouse had scampered across the room.

Running his hand down along both face of her spur, he uses the other hand to back his leaning mannikin ; this movement also brings him closer to one of his hidden throwing tongue - envenomed of course - to dole out with any unseen attacker…

The young gentlewoman turns her head away from him, muscleman on her back twitching in pleasure from his caressing jot. Once More there is a soft sigh that escapes her lips.

Bending down he places his lips on her cutis, kissing inch by salty tasting column inch from mid shoulder to the lower cover ; all the while his eyes lookout man for the succeeding fantasm to strike, ears listening for the succeeding sound to be made as the unknown intruder approaches.

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

A faint sound comes forth through the wall, telling him the demand location of the intruder.

It also provides the information to another as well…

Faster than a serpent's smash her arm shoots out, helping hand releasing the slender knife into the stroke.

The sharp, cracking retort of the blade biting through the wood is heard by both of them.

burial itself to the blade hilt, she sees that her aim has been true. She then resumes her well-fixed spatial relation on the feathery mat, hands back under the pillow, waiting for Grandfather to continue his ministrations.


======
The interloper, the man of mystery from the Far east simply known as the companion - and designated assistant for the one with the amethyst eye, calmly stands in his place, one leg in one-half step, foot prepared to step across the walls frame to another modest joint projecting slightly outward.

Such a move on this outer wall, along the structures fourth flooring and some three hundred understructure over a cliff to the jagged rock 'n' roll below would be child's gambling.

He wanted to see the gift being given by granddad to the young lady.

He has to remember, as of today he is HER comrade, despite her gens being forbidden to him, as he has denied his own name until the blot on his and the family accolade has been expunged. Normally he would work alone to cause his revenge, yet granddad - to whom his menage owes an old debt - has him working with her.

He had regarded her as null to a greater extent than a plaything for the old man ; even as quick witted and concise as the plan she has developed for their job in Providence…

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

His gaze is drawn back to the point of a blade extending a finger length through the wood ; the gleaming poison on its bright aerofoil authorize to his trained eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his humanity by a hair breadth.

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

No more curiosity for him, he will now concentre solely on the mission, and the justice long denied to him for the criminal offence committed by the order Grandfather of Assassins.

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


======
Grandfather just chuckled as she rolled onto her back, those bright amethyst eyes alive with humor ; his delight in her actions is obvious as she holds her weaponry out for him, the invitation loud and clear in their mute dance of love.

Easing his robe off, he carefully lies across her body, supporting the bulk of his weight upon his slender, old and iron unassailable subdivision while she parts her branch, sliding them gently around his hips, and begins to proceed them in caressing movements along his own.

He begins to kiss her lips, which she returns with fiery intensity, the glow of her nerve deepening with each passing moment. candy kiss after gentle, pecking kiss embraces her cheeks and then along the jaw to her Kuki, her smile concealing a barely visible draft while one hand moves to stroke her cervix ; generating a pocket-sized shudder and twitching of her consistence, a silent giggle parting her lips while arms and legs writhe in joyous, phrenetic bliss.

One small tickling follows a minute, then three more than, resulting in greater and greater revolution from she with the amethyst optic. Tears of joy welled in those eyes, flowing down cheek to the waiting mouth of grandpa who pressed his rim gently on each driblet - his smile shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling odour of grandad while he is so penny-pinching ; often she has been next to him in sleep, but never in such a mode as this…the thought process of what is to come so soon filled her with a bit of dread and expectation of ecstatic bliss…the last mystery story of mystery to be explored.

Her centre closed as his helping hand cuffed the backbone of her cervix, supporting it with great strength and gentle, warming touch ; the minor vibrating movement of each finger muscle told of his Fe control of the consistency, massaging and finding each sensuous spunk in the area, bringing an unexpected spate of euphoric heat from deep within and down below, where she feels the outset of a wetness build…

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

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

Sharp and confection, fancy woman and tangy, dull and dense ; words without manakin for belief that can not be described but only imagined in a harmony like a series of streams forging into a mighty river as all join together. One sharp inhalation of breath bringing a heavenly richness of scent - the lingering steam and droplets of water from the washup room nearby ; the slim suggestion of old cologne and musk, of earthly plentiful men odor, and forest heathers of char who have been here in the room many centuries of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened palm, easing along the edge of her knocker, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in modest, ennoble circles. One tour became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the same. Twice more this intertwine symbol of infinity proceeded ; the hand caressed and massaged Sir Thomas More and More area of each breasts.

She heard and felt her breath speedup, her read/write head making a diminished circle as electrical charges of saturated bliss tingled their way up in her body ; each one in act unleashed a pleasant surge of get-up-and-go, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of lifespan made realism. Stroke by docile stroke the uncounted pattern flowed, kneading and shaping her tit until they crossed the erect nipple ; that firstly gracing striking sent a coursing pulse rate of passion along all the paths of her body, surging and rebounding until it returned a 100 fold in strength that almost became overwhelming.

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

Unto its journey the deal continued, seeking out with almost heroic haste the former nipple ; its trail a unclouded path illuminated by fervor of bliss as it moved along my peel. pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to run outward as the ripples on a pond, yet with the power of a cascade among a mighty river.

Just short of middleman her body could use up no Sir Thomas More, pushed to the boundary faster than even grandpa had figured as her body moved in excited, euphoric apparent movement ; one silent cry of primal passion after another expressed on her parted lips until her climax hit, being released in one import of level best Shangri-la bliss.

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

Her mitt lantern slide along his backbone, teasing and hugging, until they meet with the finger entwining to hold him securely in position. She closes her oculus, neck arching slightly in reply to the kisses he now places along it, while a series of delicate suspiration escape her lips that open and close in unsounded calls of building lust.

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

Her face scrimped in pain as he continued to iron out inward…

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

From his gentle and firm action, move after move, she begins to feel a fiery bliss flow up her physical structure like a river of meld metal ; the heating system and intensity redoubling with each inch it passes unto her mastermind. Her breathing place quickens as she lays there, ears listening to the gentle, steady respiration of Grandfather.

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

All too soon the wonderment of this time of pleasure comes to an end, as he reaches the demarcation line of his body's endurance and restraint, sending his lifespan seed thick into her body.

"I'm sorry it did not net as long, or would be as enjoyable as it should have been Granddaughter ; the kickoff clip for any man or woman is the most awkward, until the mystery is passed and the populace widens for them both,"he explained to her.

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

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

His paw encompassed hers, allowing him to use up joy in the fogginess of her hide, the fragile perspiration on the surface.

"So you and your associate parting for capital of Rhode Island soon ?"he asked.

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

She looks upon the one who she loves so much with wonder, hoping to parcel so many more such moment as this Night before the William Holman Hunt begins.

For the last ten class he has raised her, teaching her languages and written material, the art of interpersonal chemistry belonging to the assassins of the Far East. The way of the sword and the bow, the throwing ace and daggers ; many weapon for all place she may encounter…and so much more.

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

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

In unforesightful, he taught her how to live and relish lifetime day by day.

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

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

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

Her dreams recall those times, from the first sense of taste of grandfathers humanness 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 left over sentence together will be wonderful.

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


======
Her familiar stands silently off to the side of the minor shrine where Grandfathers ash have been laid to perch, the two horses he holds, their mounts, remain silent as if paying respect to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just shakes his nous, amazed that the one he is to mold with display such a range of emotions ; he made the hope to never undervalue her again, yet the sheer exhibit of skill in her programme - and the contingencies for events and opportunities that may rebel, is the study of a admittedly master.

Only the slightest glimmer of a split shows as it flows down her buttock ; the only helplessness he has seen in her during the prison term they have come to have sex one another.

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

Let the time to come come as it does, right now other subject need to be focused upon…such as the pets he needs to buy once in Ithiel Town ; procure their shelter and stool sure they are sufficiently thirsty for when the prison term comes to deliver his revenge…

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

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


*******************
*******************
In the astuteness of a vacant store, one long boarded up, shelf thick with dust and cobwebs the sole speech sound to be heard is the oceanic abyss, rasping, moaning gasps of an honest-to-goodness man. Dressed in a wellspring tailored suit of clothes, well-nigh would assume him to be a servant for one of the rich merchandiser of Providence ; yet if they knew his straight post, they would run off screaming…to an early, pain filled expiry as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then endure the Saame fate.

He is the butler and aright bridge player man of Master Gordon of the guild of assassin, not to mention being a virulent killer in his own right.

His hands grip the shop dusty counter that pushes into his back as he fights to remain upright ; waves of giddy, pulsating, undulating heat and electrical like sentiency of delight flow into his judgment ; too many years have passed since he has felt this way, and now to bear such a Lady as this take such involvement in him, for such a fairly cheap price as well…

One of the legendary Sister of the amobarbital sodium, a small gather of courtesans renowned for their mastery of the erotic and Tantrik artwork, showing stake in HIM ! ! !

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

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

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the Sister's lips play along the distance of his manhood ; pausing to snog and swirl around the sensitive base of its head. With a whirlwind of small, precise chance event of her lingua she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading wave into his body along the specialize ravines of his nervous system ; one wave upon the other ; building into a tsunami of force and concupiscent fires, threatening to ram his idea ; with oblivion coming then and there from excitement matching that of a unwarranted stallion proclaiming triumph for dominance of a ruck of mares.

For the first fourth dimension in years he feels so disengage and TRULY ALIVE ! ! !

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

He has to discover out ?

oink after grunt reverberation around the empty shop, his fists commence to pounding upon the counter as he strains to harbour back the growing atmospheric pressure upon his humanness. He understands that for so long he has been an cattle, who by pick and parturiency in the residence of his gaffer, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such fine fleshly pleasures as this…

Oh the heady perfume she wears, indulgent and gentle yet being hard as iron and unyielding as the cryptical gem in the earth ; elusive as a ghost while being here and now as a moment of time 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 modest surprisal prevarication just within her fingernails edge. If this man dares to get the enshroud set of blades or the fine wire garrote up his left field sleeve, then the poison will kill him within seconds, thus forcing a small change in her design for the close future.

His laugh grows from a small series of chuckles to wild, manic, hysterically insane sounds carrying loud and tenacious outside the shop class ; though no one in the area dares to pay aid - ignore such sounds that may mean guild business is going on and you stay active for today…maybe…

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

For the second time he counts his blessed luck at having a Sister of the blue air come to HIM for so low of a price ; one simple changeover and future tense meetings such as this will become ever prosperous to arrange.

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

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

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

Of line 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 means possible…if he was lucky, being flayed of all skin, doused in acetum and then covered in cheese to be fed to rabid bum would be a dead on target blessing.

But that will not find, his schoolmaster may be a powerful figure in the guild, yet HE, the Samuel Butler, controls the day to day issue at master Gordon's estate - no one will make love, just as he has smuggled and embezzled gazillion of amber coins, gems and art over the class, others paying the price for his actions…

He easily could bear afforded one of the baby at their formula, usurious fees of ten or more year's salary for a normal worker, just for one hour of ‘ entertainment'by them. Some mass have become so indebted to them, that they in bit become handmaid of the sister, forever.

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

Those who control the babe make sure they never learn to convey in any means, reading, writing, or such save by a limited polarity language centered on the sexual humanistic discipline. Though they are free in how to pleasure and delight their clientele, they shall never be release of the sinewy influence and control condition of the lodge that dominates their stallion lives.

Secrets and boasts prophylactic with the Sister ; so be it.

The butler spends some time explaining to her as she gently strokes his manhood, rapturous attention paid to him as he tells story after taradiddle about the society and their wafture of scourge and murder used for control ; her grinning shows the exhilaration brewing deep in her consistence, seeing him as a admirer of champions against those who dare to defend the way things are - the gild of Assassins regulation, null else can put back it.

Or so he assumes.

Gently she teases the very tip of his humanity with the tip of a fingernail, drawing him to the edge of rage and back again and again ; her smile of wonderful blissfulness combined with rapt attending to the pigs constant stream of sham heroics masks the utmost contempt she feels to him…

And wonders if it would not be unspoilt to simply scratch a bit too knockout, jump off back and ticker as the poison goes into effect…no not yet ; the clock time for such petty affair is not at hand.

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

His rasping breath continues to heighten, eyes crossing as he nears his peak.

She slides his humanness back between those moist, soft, commanding sass and continues onward, until with a half-grunted call he hits his spill spilling his life history semen into her mouth.

His roar of triumph is matched by the sudden, unexpected setback 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 first hint of betrayal at all…"he finished with a motion of his manus across his throat, fires alight in his eyes.

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

As per their pile, she opens her mouth to show his integral lifetime seeded player 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 beast of an animal, castration would be too good for him…give him over to a band of wild fair sex, wielding knives and they will have him as the primary class at a banquet…

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her temper in chip ; despite that she will be spewing her catgut out for the succeeding pair of hours when she gets house, the overall gains are worth it.

retaliation will come soon enough.

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

"My dearest baby in amobarbital sodium, the next clip you wish to have more pink wine, let me know. I will gladly bring them to you for an ‘ telephone exchange of serve'such as you provided tonight,"the butler stated.

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

"The first base time I feel you have betrayed me in the least, your end will be most enjoyable for me,"he stated.

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

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

She has expressed pastime in the newest roses Master Gordon has been developing, single like the three he has given to the Sister in Blue. Yes, he shall get his demands known soon enough, and may have another one to add to his mistresses - or he may just kill her outright, depending on his fussy whim of the moment.

Yes life is thoroughly and Master Gordon will never eff of the missing flowers being by his own hands.

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

If he understood the role he unknowingly plays in the"Sisters"secret plan ; the terror would have his kernel to stop on the spot.



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

Indeed, ten years is a foresightful time, now he had power, social status and wealth known only to a few ; those who part ways to let him blow over, his membership exonerated by the finest of black case encompassing his iron-trimmed muscular frame. For the suicidal who may take exception him, the small crossbow bounce at his hip - always loaded with a poison deadbolt - is ready.

None dare to dispute him, for he is one of the Masters of the Guild of assassinator ; one of the hunky-dory and of the deadliest, only rivaled by Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius his old associates…and of course the Grandfather of assassin and his ever shifting plots within plots…

…no that one he will never challenge, preferring the luxury of sprightliness to the conclusiveness of dying after hideous amounts of torture…

The thought of the last execution he had seen, a man covered in unfreeze cheese and lowered head first into a pit filled with hungry, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he ; the shrieking gave him nightmares for weeks afterwards…as the granddad of Assassins intended, a warning as well as punishment…

Yes here in his sphere he is safe, based on his ability to check others by their fears - of death, pain, and of penalisation or fierce acquisition in blade, knife and a hundred early weapons. By controlling their fright, he has controller of all those around him.

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

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


======
Two bent of eyes watch as Finneous fountainhead down the street, following the same pattern each day. Same clip, road, move, 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 understood language of hand apparent motion ; if all goes well, they will need to move quick.


======
Two flaccid, gentle eyes watch as the assassin point down the street ; day after day he follows the same set road, no departure and secure in his own personal domain. Indeed in this country of Providence he is a king, and genuine to style, the watcher here has a talent for him.

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


======
Finneous passing game by one of the few privately owned shops in the arena, the little gem construction is home to a new florist, who also deals in odds and ends she trades for from other merchant. Such is the budding reputation of her workplace that many the great unwashed of influence and power, not to mention members of the gild, visit to purchase her creations.

Her only known comrade is that old and completely insane toymaker Darius ; his wiz for making appliance and mechanical contraptions is just as legendary, as he has the gold opportunity to behold first of all hand.

Darius shows the girl…lets see, what her name…Clairice is, yes Clairice, which is her name…a minor, egg-sized ballock in one of his deal that slowly move and shifts. Gradually it becomes a mechanically skillful canary that starts to tattle.

So sweet and true is the strain that many real canaries in nearby trees join in the song.

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

header over, he gives a soft cough to make his presence known, and indicates the mechanical bird with one mitt. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the creature ; Darius bristles until the girl locks him in place with a truly nates gaze, thus saving the assassin the need to bolt down him for a minor insult.

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

When he gives her the coins for the purchase she bows to relieve herself then goes back into the shop. Darius just shrugs his berm and heads off on whatever business his fury holds, his deep blue gown covered in Weird mathematic symbolization flowing about him in the breeze.

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


======
The two who watch the advance of Finneous up the street have another quick conversation in the silent hand linguistic communication ; the second of the two bows slightly, then takings to return his ‘ gift,'knowing that there will be little clock time as affair come to a head.

The first continues to watch out Finneous, seeing him sham interest in the mechanical bird, and the true stake he shows in the ‘ game of ambush'both play each day ; not to mention the special ‘ natural endowment'that goes to him today as well…these assassins, such amateurs…



======
As on each day, the ‘ ambuscade'occurs right on prison term, the footling young lady with the soft eye dance step out in front of him with her arms filled with efflorescence."near sir, would you like a peak today ?"

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

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

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

As Jesmine runs off to devote the funds to her sire 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 twist that will gain body of water for them. A clearly example in the fine art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can make water wonderful toy.

His schoolmarm will absolutely get it on this mechanical bird.

A second glimpse at Darius display he is trying to dance with the tree, and doing so badly. When a bunch of leaves fall over his head, he begins to fence about some ‘ slight of pureness from the forests of the world'and then challenges each tree to a duel of honor…a admittedly lunatic indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

The flower smells so terrific ; the rose is sweeter than any other he has found before, and figures it must follow from one of the big estates his friends have nearby. Probably Gordon and that new short letter of blush wine he has worked ten year on.

"I will have to find out."

Too bad he never got a fortune to rule out.


======
The gathered crowd voice for the approach shot of the Constables ; no one has come to the aid of the fallen man, and the patrol of the Constable blanches when they see whom it is. Doubled over is the assassin, his crossbow still loaded and at the ready next to his hip ; the mechanical birdie lying atop the one-half bloomed flower, singing away as it was designed to do.

"Go and get the duty headwaiter,"shouted the patrol sergeant to his auxiliary,"tell him what we have here at once, the rest of you secure the domain, five gait out and no one touches anything ; when the Grandfather of bravo finds out about this we may have major problems."

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

All hail the tycoon for he is now dead.

One has fallen, three More left.


*********************
*********************
The cities police military force - the police constable have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her family. Everything in their house is intact, no house of flutter, worry, clog looseness or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their final stage ready repast, still cooling down from provision, remains uneaten on the mesa plus an expensive wine bottle chilling in a bucket of ice…

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

most of these were of business transactions for the family ; one was very, very odd…

shuffling sure that Finneous has access to these bloom during his morning walkway, one is to be sent to his kept woman as well ; remember I will tolerate no more mistakes. If per chance he does ask where they are from, tell him directly they come from my land gardens, in honor of our ten years of common muteness - Gordon.

Quickly this bank bill made its way into the paw of the assassinator social club ; the leaders waiting to see what their unspoilt inspector could retrieve, which for the most part appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a series of low, unseeable writing emerges from the slight heating of the parchment.

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

safe house prepared, flee when Finneous given flowers, no indisposition, follow directions to the varsity letter on pain in the neck of death for everyone - Gordon

"Round up everyone who may be remotely connected to this matter, and turn them over to the John Constable for the interrogative sentence. Make sure as shooting they are reminded to last out quieten, no doubtfulness, no mention of lodge byplay at all under pain of death,"ordered the grandpa of Assassins.

turn to the loss leader of his personal bodyguard item he gives one explicit order,"Find the ones who run this net of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be Master Gordon, a tycoon dramatic play seems to be brewing, and so those traitors have only one close task to perform…food for my collection of Tamil Tigers in the dungeons…and make sure they die slowly…I want to discover their screams."

Most in all likelihood this is a power gaming, a series of excreting of competition and fourth-year grade appendage to open the way for lower ranks to be promoted - that is the way of the guild, to elevate you dispose of those above you or die in the process.

The Grandfather decides a minuscule talking with Master Gordon could not injure. Just to make surely he is mindful that if he is seeking to unseat him, it will come to a bad ending for Gordon. And if he is not plotting against Grandfather, then it will alert him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

Among the assassins there is one normal - you have no admirer ; 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 reliance, no award to be found among the members of the club ; with assassins there is grudging respect for their superiors mixed with ambition to succeed them after a well placed blow that finishes them, if possible.

Indeed, dedicate them the respectfulness 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 soul terror, wondering what was going on…Finneous is perfectly, a letter he supposedly wrote according to the messenger after a nice bribe, plus the offset rustle on the street of people inquiring more and more about his family and use in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his butler ?

plot within plots, move and sideboard motility ; that is the lot of anyone who is a phallus of the Guild…HIS life, the accumulation of power and control until eliminated by a rival from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the granddaddy of assassinator fears 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 expectations ; by far it is different.

Here she is, laying back on a put, those soft doe like eyes closed, head turned to one position as her back talk silently spread out and close from waves of lightning like pleasure surging with top executive and force up her body, to crash with deafening retorts in her brain.

Those lenify hands grip the back and incline of the put with vice like intensity, fighting to control off the force of each thrill, arching of her back and wiggling of her hips from the attention being given to a especial division of her body…

Just the thought of it, not to mention what is going on causes her already deep blush on face, browned and nose to deepen further ; so intense is it that anyone watching would feel waves of heat and desire shimmering off of her skin in waves, threatening to have all who dare to venture near.

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

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

The one who is conducting this alone style of ‘ interrogation'is the gaffer research worker Kimberly, who takes her time to ‘ investigate'and ‘ examine'each part of Clairice's woman. Each and every inch, fold and hidden deepness she kisses, licks, or child's play with via her fingers ; time after fourth dimension she manages to bring in Clairice to the very edge of orgasm, threatening to aim her over the edge only to bring her John L. H. Down and then back to the edge.

Kimberly's cruel grin shows as she playfully and forcefully teases them across one medium are of Clairice's woman, drawing out a stream of spastic hip driving force and arching of her back, legs squirming about as she covers her backtalk with both custody clenched into fists.

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

None will comment on the techniques used by Kimberly, nor on her bared body ; her bronzed hide, perfectly formed face with those vicious gray eyes and cherubic expression - complete with a sprinkling of freckles, and her massive, perfect breasts any man would smother between with happiness on his final locution, makes a thoroughgoing model any sculptor would be majestic to hold created.

Yet the bronze Death masks of the last twenty men to so gloss knack on the bulwark nearby ; each mask showing the absolute vision of horror their faces had attained at the mo of their deaths in the most heinous of elbow room one could imagine…chewed on by rat, boiled in oil, crucifixion, demise by 500 eyelash of a party whip, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will dare lay a hand on Clairice either, nor make any form of threatening movement ; the lot of those who do is terra incognita save for thus : the day after they made the final exam misunderstanding in the presence of Kimberly their humanness was found in the streets near their rest home, and no other remains.

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

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

Rubbing her fingers rapidly over the miss's fair sex, she grins wickedly back at her men ; then she moves back down again, playing her spit across it in rapid, precise strokes and letter patterns of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the finger's breadth of both bridge player worming their way inside her tight faithful.

"Oh how I love those girl who are still fairly clean-handed,"she declared.

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

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

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

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

The torturers though just could not crack his already harebrained brain ; he continued to argue with the post, some topic of math and mechanic. Each shot of the party whip drew only a small slash on his exposed back, plenty to inflict maximal pain, yet did not check him.

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

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

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

No one knows what happened, former than they gazed top dog long into the insanity of Darius ; then smacked their blazon as if bitten by some sort of louse ...

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

Kimberly continuing her maddening efforts on her, determined to extract every bit of pleasure out of this little prostitute, continuing to refuse her the expiration her body demands.

Again and again her hips thrust upward as undulation of fiery bliss shoot along her body and threaten to collapse her idea. Waves of volcanic heat flow and ebb along every fiber of her being ; surging and exploding with every case of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rhapsodic bliss !

A swirling, dazzling kaleidoscope of colour vortex into being, parting and shifting with each new blissful moment sweeping up from her womanhood ; to merge yet again into a new form and being, a cycle that is repeated over and over again, a thousand metre for each passing measure of her het up heart.

One silent gulp followed by another and yet a third becomes a steady stream for some fourth dimension as one item smudge is touched just so by Kimberly's tongue ; causing her pelvis to throw up, back bend and knocker heaving with the sudden influx of air her heated, burning body is demanding…

The inspector's hired hand move up and caress her breasts yet again, not bothering to be gentle either ; three time she draws mum screams out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving bruises of her fingers and ribbon on each one, relishing the torture she can inflict on such an innocent and cowardly girl…

If she only knew how fast the fickle hand of gentlewoman circumstances can turn…

The animalistic oink and slapping of flesh on flesh of David entering into Kimberly merged with her call of delight, aloud and angry like a camp of wolf. He showed no restraint, 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 buddy know better.

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

grinning savagely Kimberly went about her efforts on Clairice in a whirlwind of feat ; probing and twirling her digit deep in her womanhood while working every destiny she can with her flickering natural language and rim. Faster and ever faster her drive accelerated, determined to break Clairice once and for all ; to show these men and the girl 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 biography, locking her consistence musculus and restraining the ever building, quickening fires of her pending release ; she smiles inward with a small fortune of her intellect as Kimberly howls in thwarting - no topic what the inspector does or tries, she just can not make the girlfriend hit her climax.

So furious does Kimberly get her hand that holds onto the cover of their shared lounge rip away a lump of wood some two fundament long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her breasts dance with the pulsating rise and fall of her chest, howling delectation escaping her brim as optic roll up into her head…she hits her climatic acquittance at the flash David, full phase of the moon of bellowing grunts and growls howl for all he is worth ( and such would draw any pack of Wolf grin with pridefulness ), his exit inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

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

Moments after his big finish Clairice loosens up on her consistence, allowing the inevitable upsurge of final examination bliss to pullulate Forth as an unstoppable violent storm, the personnel and fury of the earthquake, the great tsunami descending onto the coast of a continent from across the ocean…

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

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

Kimberly just looked at her with Fe in her inhuman Lady Jane Grey eye,"There will be another though, and who knows ; I may let my boys have their fun with you…"

"She is to be escorted rest home, if one of you so much as lays a hand on her, pray for a quickly death from felo-de-se ; otherwise I will flay your skin one inch at a clock time, then soaked in vinegar, covered in molten cheese and tossed to a pit wax of rabid, plague infested and hungry rats,"Kimberly informed them all.

Everyone quickly nodded in statement ; knowing their boss is all too open of carrying out that menace.

======
As they gather Clairice's habiliment, gently handing it to her, dorsum and gazes now politely turned away ; the Investigator prepares to leave her newest recruit - David - a stern lesson in following orders. One thing St. David should have remembered is that each of the Investigators are womanhood who absolutely loathe men most of the time, plus being high up level bravo of the guild.

Without bothering to get together her clothing she saunters to endure behind Davis as he finishes lacing his britches ; his smiling of conquering turns to concern as he takes in the smile of his companions.

- WHACK !
- WHACK !
- whack !

Doubling over, oculus crossing and lenient groan escaping his lips, Saint David begins a slow, facial expression first blood line to the floor. One more victim racked up to the examiner well known move called the"Triple Nutcracker."

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

Of grade by now, laying on the floor while making soft, mewing and whimpering sounds, he is beyond any conscious persuasion or complaint.

Kimberly catches the subtle bemused smile and laughter of Clairice's eyes ; that is all the thanks the mute lady friend is capable of giving, she had seen the horrific mark upon her pharynx.

No, she and the old toymaker Darius had cypher to do with the destruction of Finneous.

Her duty is done though in this subject - orders from above in the guild told her to get hold out if the female child Clairice and Darius had anything to do with the death of Finneous. Pure act, lay aside for the fact that the torturers had run off for some cause - that had unnerved Kimberly completely for a moment or two ; the lady friend should count what bit of mercy she has been shown, as many of the others brought in for the ‘ investigation'will never impart alive.

That is the way of the guild run Constable and their Investigators ; they control the township folk music through fear.

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

Finneous appears to simply have got died of eye stoppage.

Back in her personal office she examines the last, precious talent sent to her by Finneous…a last talent sent just a few hours before his death…and to just up and die from his philia stopping ; not in mortal combat against another assassinator or madman…

She smiles at the wonderful talent :

A simple, unity, 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 vulgar : A erotic love for roses of all kinds.

In fact he had one near him at the meter of his end, and then this endowment came for her a short sentence afterwards.

Taking it in hired man from the watch glass vase it arrived in, she looks at the blossom in the soft lantern visible light ; the promise of beauty beyond wonder hinted once the blossom opens to its fullest.

Bringing it to her nose she savors the foolhardy odor that mix together - rose lips, 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 big businessman ransom or more from its grower…

It takes over two hours before anyone who heard the crashing stochasticity followed by absolute silence to build up the braveness to insert her spot, rightfully fearing for their lives.

Of track they quickly discern there is cipher to reverence any more than from Kimberly - being abruptly does give that warrantee ; and she is deemed to have died from heart arrest as did Finneous.

The solemnization held that night in the Constables part for her passing lasted well into the succeeding day ; the moans and groans of the men and womanhood coupling merged with the coupling of charwoman with other womanhood telling all who dared to listen just how the celebration culminated.


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

As usual no affair what Darius said or did the police constable escorting him and Clairice to her shop paid him no aid. Its not that he minded the accompaniment, nor having her as company during the tenacious paseo home ; he is glad they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by gang raping her as so many other cleaning lady routinely are - the so called ‘ law'of this Town lives by terror as does the bravo who rule.

What really is bothering him is being carried hog-tied to a yearn Pole carried between two John Constable ; they had the audaciousness to do so with his now cut up robes as well, leaving him wearing only a pair of thread bare britches in a deathly shivering night.

"OK hombre,"said the patrol drawing card - Jambis,"we have done our duty for the night ; now, leave her be and dump him…"

The two police constable carrying him summarily threw him into a cumulus of garbage and slime. To add further insult to injury, the patrol dumps tidy sum of garbage from containers, bags, and corner on top of him ; mocking him as a true madman.

"Well lads Master Gordon wanted him humiliated ; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the side by side clock time the master wants an orderliness filled, get it right. One more than fault and the next visit by us will be a more hurting filled than your demented incubus could comprehend,"Jambis told him.

"Really, I look forward to giving you instructions in such nightmares some time then,"he said with such coldness, voice devoid of all emotion, that the full 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 bang with an branding iron tipped rush to Darius's head.

Having finished with their line 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 patronage and you then stay awake for another day…usually.

Even that blasted wretch of a adulteress Clairice is gone.

"Smart girl, keep out of slew, and go along out of hassle. Let's get back to Ragner ; then we can have a night on the town with our payment…how about that new ale house ? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…"Jambis'phonation fades away as Darius rolls on the basis in pain…

Or at the to the lowest degree, the feinting of pain ; for they do not see him suddenly take full control condition of his soundbox, his eyes set on their back in a topic that promises death to each one of the patrol.

Only the opening of the workshop threshold and a gesture of her with the amethyst centre keeps his sideline in check…

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


======
Hours later in the cities crowded food market one young lady casually strolls down the way ; just a simple milk maid from the farms outside the Ithiel Town. No one pays her any attention, the much patched, slubbed fabric coated in the day-after-day grime of hard labor keeps most eyes from more than a glance followed by, for those of More affluent means, a swaggering snort of disgust.

She filled her basket with an assortment of yield, day old clams and other goodness for a small family of one ; all that the trafficker know she needs.

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

Still with simple motion of pantomime they communicate for conducting line of work ; both prescribed and otherwise, for one of the trafficker passes her a small sack of fresh fruit, something she pays well to find due to their rarified and scarce nature.

Back in the rubber of one established hideout, she sees her associate degree carefully undo the dismissal cloth to gain access to the distinction. He takes extreme caution in doing this, to make sure as shooting the note is not trapped in some manner - say with a humble, highly vicious insect or a lowly snake.

"wealthy person cartel in your agents truthful my granddaughter ; but take care in case one has been turned,"grandfather had warned her in a lesson so long ago.

In her humble mirror, used to take away the makeup, treacherously scars and former items of her disguises, she sees her currently green eyes turn back to their convention color…the counterpart ball of amethyst fires…

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

It is from one of her early factor :

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

For a here and now her grinning turns feral ; her amethyst eyes dancing with arrant fires from within.

She remembered the object lesson Shan Tiel had taught :

The assassin controls agentive role through hope of wealthiness for success, and promise of Death for failure. Find the aim he threatens death to, the key to ensure over the syndicate - once found, prepare the folk escape. When the agent of the assassin no longer is controlled by fear, their reverence now becomes a burning desire for revenge. Thus the bravo in now vulnerable, and when you are ready, he will die.

Finneous held top executive and thus had total ascendance of the Father-God by threatening trauma to his precious Jesmine.

When the offer of freedom and escape from the awe of Finneous came, and understood to be decriminalise, he took up the one labor without hesitation. Hence the heyday was delivered and the short letter left behind.

One assassin is drained, three Sir Thomas More to go.

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

He watched her cross the way to position the Federal Reserve note among a small bundle of them, to be burned later on and the ash scattered in the wild. No evidence of them is to remain at all once committed to memory.

His judgement registered each gruntle tilt of her hips, her covering robe of pink silk shining in the light of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to fluff him with a brief revelation of a leg here, a sura there, a possible sight of one portion or another in the near invariant maneuver of visible light and shadow. Not one noise did her feet make as they all but danced across the wooden floor, so equilibrize and ghostly is each foot placed ; always ready for action on a moments notice…

Oh how he could contemplate what it would be like to feel his humanness being rubbed and tenderly teased to its utmost likely by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in spell begin to buss one metrical foot, working to her ankle and then gently easing up, one in at a clip to her innermost thigh and attempt out the one heavenly lieu she has, the one constituent he loves on a cleaning lady to please and taste, to experience the elaborate warmth of her anatomy and…

- Whack !

"My lady if you will excuse me I am off to get some relaxation,"Associate said as he slowly eased his torso around the tongue hanging sharp face up, just a tomentum breath beneath his elicit manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol members talk of their deeds, screened by a small contingent of the best informed tool to be found within any city : Street urchins, red worm, lurkers, they go by many such names and almost all have one matter in uncouth ; they are the bottom of the societal edict.

The poor, homeless, orphans, lunatic, and all such people who are desperate to make a coin or two for a decent meal ; so it is that many in positions of ability use them to watch any and all drive, any rumour or level no matter how piddling. Few people pay them any attention save to hold back hand on their money belts, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being invisible while in plain sight.

One former trait the skulker, such as a untested lad casually strolling along the streets a short fourth dimension later, his script deep in coating air hole, is a well honed inherent aptitude for selection. Otherwise he would bear died long before now. Yet the fact is when he bumps into someone, he is the one knocked to the background - landing next to a fallen field goal of fruit…

A Lady looks down upon his devolve form, the raven black hair done up in a flowing plait, blue-white hat tied to her foreland while sapphire blue eyes watched. Her blush-enhanced cheeks glistened in the sun, matching the burnish on her lips as her smile grew panoptic with poetic pleasance that many men, and some women, wished to explore with pounding hearts…

Her ticket gown of deep sea green sparkled in the Light Within, slit along one leg to flow enticingly about her calfskin and thigh, promising veto delights to those willing and able to pay the price. The indulgent vest of blue-green silk she wore clung to every one of her womanly curve ball it reached, save for a portion that shows a glance of her breasts, cushy and garden pink of skin, as many an gentle man enjoys…

folding her parasol, she bends down into a half crouch, the material of her gown conveniently flowing about her upper thigh to reveal the chopper luster of her hide ; muscles honed to absolute perfection and hinting at the forcefulness contained within - the serious to wrap around their evenings consorts in the throws of passion, or so it is said.

She extends one hand to the lad, her glove flowing up to the elbow and dancing with scintillation crafted of a mix of nacre, emeralds, sapphire and such crushed, then glued with exacting care to the fabric.

The lad, his legal age reached just two twenty-four hours ago does not locomote ; he is still, despite a scratchy life on the streets that has left him gangly, short and suffering malnutrition, in out-and-out awe of this ma'am. His racing heart beats from the panic of her wondrous nature, the blossom of estrus oceanic abyss in his body flowing fast and hard while his manhood demands his attention, threatening to tear his britches apart.

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

Across the way, a quadruple of the sisters pass by, stopping only long enough to see the military action 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.

Understanding that he must be on his best manners, for the interest of his life history - the Sisters are often said to be part of the guild of assassins, and under the personal dictation of the grandad of Assassins - the youths extended hand shakes with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ legend come to life'( in his mind, she is a unquestionable goddess of passion and joy that can never be approached by the small of mortals ), can be more intimidating than the captain of death who are probably preparing their poison tipped steel to turn him into a manus basket…

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

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

Everyone watches in wonder as she takes him into the semi-private area of a oecumenical store ; she uses dumb show to finally get the point across to the grocer, who shakes in cheeseparing panic at the idea of causing the Sister any offense ( being connected to assassin can cause this to materialise a lot, the Sister thinks ), to outfit the lad with a to the full set of NEW habiliment, no second hand junk.

She pulls out a small number of Ag coins to plow the monetary value and to buy some little goods that the grocer gives her a massive discount upon.

Through the shop door and windows the gathered bunch watches in jaw-dropping wonder as she sits the lad down succeeding to her on a work bench as the grocer goes to get the new article of clothing. Her paw playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to throb like aught. He fights to keep his eye off of her, especially as she takes one of his hands into her own and moves it to the low-down boundary of her vest…gently guiding it up under the fabric and onto her breast beneath.

His jaw dither unfastened and closed repeatedly as the warmth of her physique, the yielding mildness of it, catches him by surprise - no ma'am has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone cognise, assassinator and the convention folks of providence, that the lad is now a personal agent of her own ; to harm or touch him in any way is to hazard the retribution of the Assassins…maybe, as no one can really be sure as shooting who she works for…

The Sister in puritanic facial expression upon all the security guard with coyly pursed sassing, eyes set in a prankish gaze that promises the lad untold love to come and untold, right-down pain and death for anyone interfering with her chosen gift of enlisting for him.

The lad looks at her in near panic, until she gently kisses him on the nerve, nose and hilltop with a smile. She gently takes his hand away from her breast and readjusts her clothing while the grocer returns with the garments. Ushering the lad into a changing room to see the solution, the grocer returns to putting her purchased goods in her hoop ; then hands it to her with a recondite bow, nod of the head and a sublime smiling on his face.

So successful has the deception been, no one suspected the grocer passed a small big bucks of papers her way in the basket ; in turn she had passed instructions on as well, concealed under her vest for the lad to carry to others in her ever expanding circle of agents and contacts.

Before sundown comes, the loss leader of her web of federal agent ; begin preparedness of their own ; provision for the massive work stoppage once she gives the signal…as arms and armor are prepared ; their grinning are as of captive wildcat about to put down their tormentor.



======
Later that nighttime, her oculus read carefully the conglomerate accounts of all her own agent, item of those known federal agent and members of the assassin's guild ; their duty, patrol times, habits and so forth. Each particular that is gathered shows more weaknesses, more than fuel for the pending firestorm.

Among all these clew, facts and information there stands out one portion - a Chinaman in the enemies'armor ; the way one helplessness can be so dramatically exploited.

How to achieve it with come surprise ?

After a few minutes of rumination she turns to her Associate, and via the dumb hand terminology explains what is needed. His smile and nod shows the delight in her idea, and he has a reasonable approximation of who to approach to craft the ‘ gift'that is needed.

As he looks into her eyes he sees the chemical mixing that allows her to switch their colour wear off ; the fake sapphire bluing reverting back to the true, lustrous amethyst firing he has come to admire so a great deal. The mix used to make this happen is common in the Far due east, unknown to these idiot assassinator of the West.

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

His gaze flows over her slender form, the silklike robe enshrouding her partially opened as she continues to read ever more of the message ; her bared skin glistens in the lenify lighter of the oil lamp, casting shadows and light that dance suggestively across abdomen and boob, hiding and revealing in a terpsichore of sensualness suggesting more marvel are nearby if he would just dare to explore…

Putting on his coat as slowly as possible, pretending that his arm is stuck in the sleeve, he drinks in the sight of her exclude stage, crossed and curved to keep the sight of her womanhood just out of reach ; yet teasingly he can just make out a bit of the gentle, fluffy hair between her thighs…a prize he would love to research if she just would let him do so…

How often joy he could bring Forth from her unlike the now beat Inspector Kimberly - that one used the sexual for intimidation and domination ; he will for her to be pleased and loved.

Bared breasts movement ever so slightly with each of her lenify breaths ; dancing in a rhythm silent and steady, enticing with their teat so piano, garden pink and fully erect as if daring him to move in and consider the impossible.

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

From her boob he would move downward on her abdominal cavity, teasing her stomach with changeless little osculation to pull many silent solidifying of giggles and laughs as possible ; then proceeding downward to her womanhood, by now so quick to be charge up and her center would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would revel in that sweetest of all tastes and smell ; her bared womanhood, still so young and fairly innocent before him. Each soft tactual sensation of his fingers and lips, the caresses of his tongue on those most sensitive of smudge, natures gift to cleaning lady, he would double his efforts on and as she increased in fulfillment towards her sexual climax, bring her down a bit and then double the efforts again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the terrific reaction of her body panting and gyrating as she hits her outlet, wave of bliss and torrid passion flowing across her consistence to break apart to the one peak of her judgment demanding to enjoy each instant of the sensations.

She would look at him with those dreamy amethyst eyes, a understood invitation given and confirmed as her coat of arms were held out to him, welcoming their coupling as one…

- Thunk !

"My lady,"he calmly stated,"if you will permit me I shall ca-ca due haste to assure the service of process we need for the following character of the plan…"

He gently moves forward a bit, making sure to light up the sharp incline up blade stuck in the rampart just a tomentum hint below his manhood…her means of reminding him, romance may come later, right now former things are priority.

She just shakes her head and grinning as he leaves ; wondering how many more multiplication she may feature to do that to get the thought through his head - she does not want romance, not at this meter, she needs just a friend. Grandfather was the one she loved the most, and it's too soon since his passing…


*****************
*****************
Normally a walk among his bed of peak cheer the darkest, foulest, humorless of moods he could reach. This day though, is not one of them ; his great rose gardens, the enceinte of his hoarded wealth accumulated over the concluding ten old age now have become a bane.

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

Two of these flowers appeared this morning, one in the star sign of Jesmine's family ; the others next to the now very suddenly Finneous and Kimberly.

An incredibly o.k. morning he was spending with a Sister in blue angel crumbled into ash with the messenger who arrived unheralded, accompanied by a overweight guard from the guild hall.

His subject matter was unsubdivided : The Grandfather of bravo wants to see him.

He felt the cold, gripping handwriting of death clinch about his throat and sum ; the sheer brat threatening of the pending seance alone all but stopping his heart.

grandpa's pacify interrogation - he could simply throw tortured him to decease on a whim - centered on the note supposedly in his own refined and flowing playscript, so close of a counterfeit that even the guilds best experts are hard pressed to tell the difference of opinion.

Finally he was allowed to go, still integral in mind and consistency ; most such ‘ interrogative sentence'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 d'etat from within, or to see if a sealed master copy will fall ( i.e. Gordon ) and a new one promoted in his place.

This secret is driving him to the brink of insaneness ; the denotation again of ten years of secrecy, only two others still alive know what happened all those years ago with the contract on the banker and his family.

So either one of them has slipped the Son 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 rest that the roses disappeared makes one matter clear though ; someone has an agent on the interior, and needs to be found out and ‘ interrogated.'He does not support those who sell him out…not at all.

But who could it be ?

Though he never can fully trust anyone about him, a few have again and again proven their trueness and perfect reliability over the years…Yes, he will ingest them watched from a aloofness ; common toughie and footpad agents of the gild, if they get killed by their own incompetence, there will be no John Major loss.

Pleased with this design another intellection comes to him ; here he is in the opened, well within range of a marksman with a crossbow…

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

He retreats back into the manor, swiftly closing and barring the massive iron door. The watch is doubled and the place is to be searched from top to bottom twice over. Pure justificative metre if his hunch of a strike at him is mighty.

Of course, if a coup endeavour happens as grandfather expects, he will rush to fend for the drawing card of the guild. If the opportunity arises, then he will dispose of grandfather. His humor brightens at those mentation ; he as the new grandfather of Assassins, ruling the township and the guild plus all of his own lands…why not, this bears some discussion with his fellow - Gerald and Cinnius.

Even with the thoughts now calculating design and contingencies for the coup d'etat of the guild or elimination of a rival one fact remains shed light on. His paw never loosens its hold on the razor acuate tongue hanging from his belt.



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

- clunk.

Quickly he grabs the cloth bound, cast iron denture draped across his manhood to quiet up even this little bit of noise. His prey this evening is all too in all probability to make sure he is gelded indeed…and the poison on her blades are another complication as well to that kind of embarrassment.

Looking around the final nook into the small Oliver Stone grot below the safety sign they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst eyes showering beneath a indulgent, becalm, misting cascade of steaming pee. This may be one of the few opulence she ever has allowed herself…

Associate of trend, just grinning, as he sees the display is about to begin…

She bent her brain downward to convey in the head-on portion of her scupper trunk, those smallish breasts glistening with pocket-sized beads of H2O upon them. Both hands came together in front man of her, tip to tip, her oculus taking in the dancing Inner Light that gleamed like a million millions of diamonds before a flaming, playfully moving along her smooth skin before they disappear into the pool about her foundation, merging with the rest for eternity.

Associate looked with curiosity as she playfully gathered a handful of the water after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her mute laugh adding to the wonderment of her gleaming eyes when the droplets come back down to crash on her. She moves arms, branch, shoulders and capitulum to enchant or put off contribution of it ; shifting from foot to foot in many different poses.

Then her gaze shift key to her breasts once again.

One fingertip began to search, resting at firstly upon the very base of her costa, to run upward in a peg down, focused, undulating trail that clearly sent a cornucopia of feelings surging into all portions of her mind.

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

I felt as if my reality came alive from the instant my fingertip first touched flesh, a earth opening move before me unlike any former ...

Sharp and sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; Book without form for feeling that can not be described keep as a harmony like a series of rain buckets forging into a mighty river as all join together. My eyes closed as I felt the heat in my body beginning to shift and build, a sweltering pulsation that flowed from the soulfulness of my groundwork to the tips of my finger's breadth, caressing coxa and shoulder, genu and elbows as the soft, sensuous touch of a graceful lover who only desires to pleasure his madam to no end.

I smelled with each intimation the heavenly profusion of scents - the mineral plentiful piddle, the antediluvian age of the rock-and-roll around me along with the musky, solid ground rich people odour of men and women who have lived here over the vast age the house above has existed. The wonderful, heady mixing of the bathing liquid ecstasy I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to mind an ancient wood never before visited by man beings ; of mountain meadows with peak fully in bloom and the Sweet, lenify breeze flowing across them.

The fingertip became a flattened decoration, easing along the edge of my bosom, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in small-scale, gentle circles. One electrical circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded ; while my handwriting caressed and massaged more and more area of my breasts.

My former mitt flowed down my body unto the most personal spot each woman alone sympathise and has by a gift of nature ; they followed my mind command to get down exploring and probing, as I sought out the one spot to send me away into celestial bliss for a short-change time.

I heard and felt my breath quickening, my principal making a low circle as electrical charges of pure seventh heaven tingled their way up my dead body ; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant surge of zip, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality. diagonal by pacify stroke the innumerable pattern flowed, kneading and shaping my tit until they crossed the erect nipples ; that first gracing middleman sent a coursing pulse of mania along all the course of my physical structure, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred fold in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

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

Unto its journey my hand continued, seeking out with almost desperate haste the other nipple ; its track a open route illuminated by fires of cloud nine as it moved along my peel. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journeying to flow outward as the wavelet on a pond, yet with the force of a cascade among a mighty river.

I commanded my body to hold still, to balance and proceed with the flowing surge that will shortly come ; to use the zip and motion with it instead of in confrontation to it. When it came, the unsheathed brush of chassis on that nipple ; combined with the delight flowing from my womanhood ; glorious lightning ripped up and down my body, flexing and loosening muscles and nerve in wonderful mode as I shook and moved ; the moving ridge moving downward as I sought to place the returning pulse…

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

I felt more alive than ever before.

- BOOM !

In an New York minute of fire and pain companion phantasy of his madam delightful experience being told to him shatters.

She shook her headland as Associate went diving into the grottos main pool, britches smoking beneath the cast of characters iron plate he is wearing over his inguen. He apparently forgot that one of the explosive compounds he carried at the ready would go off at the least damage motion…why would he sustain it down there though ?

She just rolled her centre to the heavens…



**********************
**********************
It has been a busy two weeks since the deaths of Master Finneous and Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent band of ‘ consultation'sanctioned by the order are zippo more than a campaign of terror, deterrence and compulsion to prompt all of Providence who rules the town. Of course, a few of the more challenging members of the guild also took the occasion to promote their own promotion from within the guild…

A tongue in a Superior back, appropriately poisoned, does serve out with this promotion procedure…until such a time your underling gain your new position by ratting you out to the grandad, and then you wonder why you are about to be executed in a pit of rabid rats…

For she whose eye are climb down with amethyst fires, the weeks have been even longer, two key items she needs to have crafted by topical anaesthetic rootage seem to never get finished. Day by day she waits and hopes for the message that they are ready to arrive. Day by day the substance never comes, and her forbearance begins to fray at the edges…

Two longsighted weeks where with each passing day the federal agent under skipper Cinnius have harmed to a greater extent and more innocent people ; the continuing and growing run of terror, sanctioned ultimately by the granddaddy of Assassins. One more criminal offence for them to pay for…

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

gum olibanum she has come to stomach in the vertebral column way of a toymaker this night…

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

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

Twelve years ago, for making a small mistake in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at blade point by a guild appendage, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight kid before his optic. Then forever scarred him as a reminder - burning off the left position of his facial expression and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away ; he has never forgotten the painful sensation, nor the atrocious declaration for revenge to be exacted on the tormenter of his - Cinnius - if the opportunity arrived.

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

She hands him a folded letter containing the initial contact selective information for those who see him to safety ; ones who specialize in smuggling mass to freedom and who are share of her own mesh. While he looks at the information she disappears out the gage door and into the safety of the shadows. No one, not even a cat laying down ten in from the door, senses her passage.

Soon enough one more top executive shall be swept off the board…


***************
***************
The postdate two weeks sees express pandemonium sweep the street federal agent of the Guild. The ordinary bicycle tittle-tattle heard in shops and among workers has suddenly been replaced with word of a brewing magnate battle within the guild leadership, of a contender guild from another city, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be groundless and more unbelievable than the hold up and always third base, fourth or even fifth hand from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

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

The more that the grandad hears of these rumor, the more he wonders if there is a coup d'etat 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 social club for his own broker to obtain the sources of these rumors, or face the most outrageous death that they could imagine…


=======
Her amethyst eyes sparkle in the sonant visible light of the moonlight coming into the room from the window. Once again her own street agents have excelled beyond all sane expected value ; pressure and yet more air pressure is being put on the social club broker as they hunt for the truth…or what they perceive as the truth behind the rumors…

Paranoia can be so William Christopher Handy to make life story miserable for assassins…

The softest of footfalls draws her attention to the doorway where her fellow enters.

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

"My dame,"he said,"I have come from the leaders of those who are in waiting, before they will commit fully to our architectural plan they want ‘ dramatic substantiation of the society being vulnerable.'It must leave no uncertainty in the matter. I told them that such a subject is already being prepared ; just to let them know who is in ascendency of this hunt. These assassins have allowed the anger to build against them for so long, by so lots fear that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the presentation will get 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'gild's operation, the briny tap room is flowing with customer coming and going. The back suite this nighttime also are participating as members and agent move in and out with clockwork preciseness. Most bring collection from loans, blackmail, extortion and former snub from businesses for ‘ insurance'reasons.

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

This gift for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the edges are brilliant, almost living full treatment of half-bloomed roses, and the rilievo of Master Gordon's manor house. It is the piece of work of many master craftsman and worth a fortune in and of itself.

Yet the guild takes few probability ; as a special circle of thieves who are trained in the ways of sand trap crafting and of disarming them check mark it over in exacting detail - their lives depend on it as if they fail…swift, brutal death.

To the best they can determine, there is zero amiss ; only a faint bed of detritus upon the wrapping cloth and the wooden box itself. Obviously some learner carver failed to disperse it off prior to shipping it here…still as per the standing orders of gramps the box is opened, to see to it no unpleasant surprise await within.

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

interior they find a master set of billiard balls, the favored game of Master Cinnius, plus a letter written in the flowing handwriting of headmaster Gordon…

My comrade Cinnius - the letter opens - please accept this as my endowment for ten days of quiet body of work. Soon we shall glean the harvest home of our efforts ; may you revel the many game to be played with this billiards set - Gordon.

Many people examine the items, passing them around to see if any are trapped. Nearby the guards standing scout celebrate their weapons at the ready ; prepared to instantly step in if danger threatens, of class if one of the examiners just up and dies then they will arrest their ground to report later directly to granddaddy of the events.

Ragner, the current agent in charge of the operations smiles as his men engage in some fun ; tossing the billiard balls back and Forth, juggling them and raising low clouds of the dust that came from inside the box. He tells the precaution to bring together in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of Grandfather has its advantages after all, and if something does go wrong - they can ingest the fall.

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

Still…

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

The alphabetic character that has data that granddaddy has offered payment for…a payment he finds all too tempting to devolve up.

"Hmm, maybe Gordon is passing the operation over to Cinnius after all ? Some intimately offer coming in turning to the honcho ?"he speculates aloud.

Turning to his own agent Jambis, he hands the letter to him with statement that this is to get back to the guild, and directly to the grandad. Many see him hand a small keepsake, a ribbon that bears the personal score of the granddad to Jambis - this is a qualifying for emergencies or vital message only.


right wing now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH ; vital information the grandad may postulate, to avoid a coup effort staged to unseat him.

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

As they speed off one by one, their selective information reaches the head teacher of the gild before the mysterious alphabetic character does.

Ragner watches Jambis of the police constable meet his squad about himself, and then put the missive into an interior waistcoat pouch, unopened and unread. Both of them slap the rubble off their hands that was upon the missive.

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

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

Out of the corner of his eye Ragner catches a series of decided campaign, the flashing and glistening of color that tells him of a exceptional kind of danger now approaching his area. He focuses his entire tending upon the closing threat, appearing as relaxed and casual as he can while watching, listening, and waiting for the least bit of selective information that can feed him an edge in the impending encounter…

Three figures approach, their flow and bustled gowns, double laced vests with frilled edging ; and gloves that flow up to their cubital joint match the snow-white down of hats and typewriter ribbon binding their prey Black hair ; their center of sapphire blue devil would reassert their allegiance if the same coloration of their article of clothing and shading parasol did not…

THREE baby of the Amytal in one gathering !

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

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

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

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

There is much he has to plan, and carefully…

Plans within plans, a harvest ready to be reaped…

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

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



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

One former watches the backside of the ale-house, the broker playing their biz and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her eternally unsounded chuckle as the biz stops with all too suddenly for the thespian. The idiocy of these westerly assassins and their dingbat agentive role never ceases to divert and surprise her.

Keeping a careful enumeration, knowing her window of chance is short, she scans the country again and again with her oculus of amethyst firing. At the counts predetermined end, she makes sure her harness bag is snug about one shoulder joint and quickly leaps to one tree, descending with all due hastiness and a final leap from a low subdivision to the threshold at the back of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally silent sentry go, thieves, agents and assassins of the operations here ; as they are no longer a threat in any form…so long as she does not touch them with her bared pelt. Silent as death she slips into the back way, bypassing a ransom money of gems, coins, jewel and jewelry fit for a hundred power. riches beyond most multitude's imagination lays open to her fingertips…and means nothing for her…

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

She halts inch away from the table upon which the trapped box eternal sleep. Before she gets close to the box there are forethought to be taken : the donning leather glove ; binding a thick cloth masque across her sassing and nose ; and then taking a tumid rag in paw, she soaks it thoroughly with a nursing bottle of develop oil.

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

With Gustavus Franklin Swift, precise moves, continuing a second base tally for the remainder of the window still open, she rubs down every airfoil, inside and out, of the wooden open. Collecting each billiard egg, they in act are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she exchanges the booby trapped box with the real gift for Master Cinnius…one that will deliver a very warm receipt to him…she will subscribe to goose egg else ; or her exploit may come to nothing…

She pulls out a bag from her harness bag, places the box into it and then, with the utmost care, soaks her gloves with the machinate oil until she is certain they are free of the dust that so annoyed Ragner until his ending…then the boxing glove and rag join the trapped box in the bag.

For a moment, looking down at the carnage her and fellow efforts have wrought, she wonders what kind of looking at will be on the face of Master Gordon when he hears of the operations uttermost nonstarter. Of trend in the grammatical case of Master Cinnius…she will know when he has received his natural endowment in a special mode indeed ...

"flame with flaming,"is what the alchemist declared back when she picked up the little surprise for Cinnius. Oh how dependable that shall become, with an spare twist to it.

One rule the bravo forget when they come into post of say-so and power : Never become predictable in any mode ; for predictability makes one vulnerable, and soon enough all too dead…

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

Nearing the end of her tally she hastens on down the street, joining the gathering crowds who are drawn to the hue and cries for aid by a patrol of the Constables. susurration start as to what or who could have brought him down with such speed, as he is still Lester Willis Young and in near everlasting health.

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

Soon enough the hue and cry is sounded from the backrest of the ale-house ; the carnage having been discovered by the next shift of guild agents arriving. In repulsion some flee the scene, screaming for their very lives, while the relief starting line demanding resolution of those living nearby or passing on the street. Despite their honorable and most violent means of demanding the response, no one has seen anything…

Save for those who are now dead…which will complicate their asking the three score and five stiff lying around the dorsum of the ale-house any dubiousness. Even an exam 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 earthly concern within the twenty-five percent hour…plus those who have dared to travel the soundbox for burial details…

By the end of"The execration"as it comes to be known, over five score and seven order agents and assassins lay dead. In one moment, the social club has been dealt a scourge shock ; one that an agent who is sent to report to the guild leadership sums up so well…

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

He was stopped though, one of granddaddy agents handing him a software that contained a letter of the alphabet found upon the trunk of Jambis - meant to be delivered for the grandpa eyes only. During his all too swift travel to the guild Granville Stanley Hall, and to the room access of grandpa can elbow room, he kept figuring the many ways a man could be boiled in oil…and cringed with each one, expecting that to be his fate.

Grandfather's aid received the software system, opened it and read the letter aloud to all present. Just after he finishes, his center glaze over and he falls backwards, numb as anything as the cobbler's last hint of sprinkle dissipate off the vellum page.

The messenger knew in the instant granddaddy's stern gaze fell across his own that end of the world was now upon him. He was wrong about being boiled in oil ; instead his ending came as he was lowered in by inch into molten bronze, and a expiry mask of his entire body created, a unparalleled statue soon added to those of granddaddy innermost sanctum.

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


======
In the protection of a safe planetary house they have established, one to be abandoned for good once their disguises and the trapped box are disposed of in the fireplace, companion bows his head in acknowledgment of her success. As she changes from one outfit to another, he can not go along from watching, seeing her bared form in the light is a plenty to behold. Well he can always dream…right now business calls…not to name the memory of the tongue just missing him down there by a bit…

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

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

The image he derives brings out a serial publication of chuckle that flow into a torrent of laughter ; one simple ambush has wrought such butchery on the operations of the assassinator's guild. The dainty demise of the patrol leader Jambis is extra frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not deliver the death blow…

Yet the rest of his patrol…hmmm…

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

Her expression turns purely ferine, and a quick nod follows. With that extra bit of business organization concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the next portion of the plan. Tonight the hearsay of the streets will turn over to silence ; no more rumour of the three original will be heard, thus many will acquire the rumour are true, building fear and paranoia higher and higher within the guild…

As if the gob in the ale-house could not inhale more fear…such a dewy-eyed, elegant trap…

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

eye plosive speech sound is one of the most insidious of poison from the Far East that few of the amateurs here in the West would lie with or even dream, to live. Indeed, his lady has learned her lessons well…

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

It can be prepared as a o.k., dust like powder that upon the liaison with bare human skin is quickly absorbed, yet kills only minutes later ; stooping their hearts coldness. What makes it so subtle and insidious of a maw is the fact that those who contacted it, can overtake the poison dust as well through a handshake, slap on the back, an object being passed around, so that it can kill a second, third and sometimes a fourth time.

frankincense the resulting slaughter at the ale-house operations…and if the letter reached the Grandfathers innermost holy, many a death there as well…hopefully.

He has to commemorate that picayune trick ; it may add up in William Christopher Handy again some day…Just like the surprisal for sea captain Cinnius that she has arranged…

Just like the luck that is coming for the patrol of Jambis ; he intends to savor each and every one of their thigh-slapper and supplication for mercifulness. Hopefully though in the end, unlikely as it seems, some of them will die with self-worth and just assume their fate…his pets will be hungry enough…

As he heads down the street, he weaves and dodges among the many kinsfolk going about their usual day to day bit of business and workplace. His inter-group communication on the street provide the placement of the patrol with effective, elegant DOE in mere minutes…thus telling him just where to go about his business…

Until the moment person staggers by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the guards of Master Gerald of the guild. They scowl and threaten with glance, pose and intelligence ; the inelegant language of common and brainless thugs who would have no fortune against him.

familiar bows politely and with complete deference to passe-partout Gerald ; who, to his rank amazement stoppage and negotiation with him for a few arcminute. In the guise of a alien merchandiser, selling rarified games of prospect and that of billiards, he speaks of the most recent 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 favored one of maestro Cinnius ; and confirmed by Associate in his claim of being told thus by Master Gordon as well.

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

associate continues on his assumed business, stopping to talk with a serial publication of store owners and vendors in the assailable food market ; followed of course for some clip by one of victor Gerald's safety device - just to gain trusted no sort of funny stage business is going on.

Associate finds it quite amusing that he managed to walk passed the man three meter and relieve him ever so subtly of his change pocketbook, obelisk and a deck of playing cards - not to name the stupid plumage in the Man hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible easiness he did the same with maestro Gerald's coin bag it should be no surprisal. Feeling the exercising weight of coins and jewellery within each one, the associate slips them into an inner vest pocket and caput on his way. Some day he can not help oneself but smile at the sheer incompetence that these so-called"Masters of Death."

Even the sorry of his fellow bookman and family of the Far east are equal or better than them.

Now then to the matter at hand, he will cover shortly with the rest of Jambis patrol ; and show the guild imbecile what a true master of destruction can inflict…he just needs to get his hands on some change purses of Master Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


************************
************************
As victor Cinnius and Gerald point to exit the network of warehouses and shops, the imitation coverage for the guild of bravo, the great unwashed see them wearing looks of anger and little terror ; for they have survived a ‘ polite meeting'with the Grandfather of Assassins…and what a meeting it was…

The grandpa stood before the two of them, clad in his personal arms and armor for battle ; two scores of his best and deathly dead body safety surrounding him. ALL of the guards have sword drawn and held at ready, in an instant any self-destructive attacker will drop dead under poisoned steel…assuming that the soaked crossbow held by the Grandfather did not end them first.

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

Among the three superior - Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius - one of them is nearing the completion of planning for a putsch. The raft of Grandfathers fresh bronze statue, a late and unfortunate courier from the ale-house mass murder, stands as witnesser in muted, locked, screaming torture of the fortune that may be soon to come for the two of them…

Grandfather explains in unsubdivided terms for the two there before him - stand firm and on his slope and you may survive, possibly advancing in position and mightiness."The choice is yours though, if you think you can overcome me with Gordon, then try to do so ; just understand what will befall those who fail…"

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

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

The sheer, utter, shocked horror that crosses their faces is true. Never before could they have imagined just how far and complete grandpa controlled his own web of spies and agentive role ; they must take duplicate maintenance in any motility made to counter Gordon.

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

There are more than a few who overhear their not too quiet conversation ; its accounting crack through the guild within the minute. Clues begin to fuse with speculation and theories ; each one being spun and twisted until they become recognized as the basis for fact and truth.

Most have come to witness out that Master Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor house ; his personal agents though are following phallus of his house staff, plus other members of the guild as well. Just this bodily process, common among the society already, lends more fuel to the fire about the coup ; only this time it seems to be that Edgar Lee Masters Cinnius and Gerald are being set up as a bait, or bait.

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

For superior Cinnius though, the meeting with Grandfather ended with a dubious promotion of sorting ; one that held all the potential of vast wealth and unexpected day of reckoning. One that all too clearly granddaddy was using for ulterior motives…and for his own survival at the top of the guild pecking order…

"Cinnius,"grandad began,"The restoration of the assemblage 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 helping hand, then slapped them together in a affirmation of finality, leading the balance of those present to wonder if a death conviction has just been passed…

And if so, who would then die…

"See to the ale-house security and progress to sure as shooting that there are no more ‘ commotion'to the operation ; we are losing face and control over the metropolis with each perturbation to our operations…no mistakes will be accepted or tolerated…even the random death penalty are no longer working as desired,"grandpa explained.

Many of the guild extremity understand the all too make message hidden in his tidings. The guild is in control of the integral urban center, the undisputed rulers and masters of Providence and the surrounding domain ; no one may challenge them in any way and be suffered to dwell. To remind people who dared to resist the ‘ probe'brought about by the demise of Finneous and his lover, Kimberly, LX citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their total families in public - the price any rebelliousness to the guilds pattern will bring.

Yet while the people looked on in double-dyed secretiveness and terror, some of them looked on with consummate ire in their eyes…a clear preindication that the control of fear and little terror was no longer having the desired effect. And if those who control Providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their subjects thoughts turn to revenge and justice for all of the bravo's crimes ?

Considering that these performance teams were led by Masters Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the first to fall if any kind of uprising does occur…And Master Gordon was the one to deliver the substance, via an agentive role, to carry out the executions on behalf of the gramps wishes.

Now the two begin to enquire - was the note really explaining the will of the Grandfather ? Or is Grandfather playing a heavy game with Gordon ; weeding out the disloyal and unneeded, to further reduce his already iron warm grip on the guild ?

Or could individual else be playing one group off against another…no, no one inside our out of the guild would even dare think of doing that. The guild of Providence is the deadliest in the world ; no other has dared to make challenge against its grip on capital of Rhode Island in a one C, and the fable of those who tried are still told as tales of the forged nightmares made reality.

"We must cause our programme to conduct with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with absolute finality,"he is ahead of us on the chess board by a widely leeway, 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 devastate his own men, then who would ?"

That final stage question left them cold to the core of their being ; they, the masters of inflicting fear and terror for the rice beer of ascendency, are now losing dominance portion by portion. In losing restraint, they understand concern and terror from a new perspective, and do not like it at all.


======
"In fond remembering of one who fell so vernal, Jambis, may he long be remembered for all he had done,"called out the merchant who is paying for everyone's drinks this dark. Sipping on the dark tasting swill they call wine and intent in this deplorable tavern, he eyes each patron and worker as they pass along his field of vision. With all too lots easiness he identifies the various agents working for the society ; specifically that most of them are those who answer directly to Grandfather.

"To Jambis, and all he had done,"everyone shouted out, glasses raised or clanking together in jubilation for the free drink and food. The barkeep smiles as the merchant hands over a pouch sonorous with coins, gold and silver, plus many treasured precious stone for the party tonight ; many comment that it is a night to be remembered for some clock time, and as a real number surprise, a Wagon with a score and ten counting of small wooden tun's of life, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the back of the Wain and commence to manhandle the lumbering load inside ; causing a series of gasp, ooh's and ah's from all the guild agentive role within. They can separate these are the fine of the o.k. in drinks, each keg is worth a queen's ransom and here there are XXX in number…

The pitch man nods at the merchant, and then tells the party departer,"Courtesy of sea captain Gordon, we were instructed by a messenger of his to deliver these to you all, and quote ‘ With thanks and easily wishes for the future - Gordon.'End quote."

One of the patrol fellow member of late John Constable Jambis calls for a toast to Master Gordon. The merchant excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a sour stomach. He tells the barman to let the pot likker catamenia until the stock are used up or the sun rises with the coming dawn. The barkeep genuflects before him, sniveling and honoring his generosity as a good little ass-kisser should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

"To overlord Gordon and his most olympian generosity, and exquisite gustatory perception in drinks,"the cheerfulness is repeated three multiplication by the crowd as the tun's are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the party at mitt. well into the night the political party carries on, seeing tun after tun emptied to the last dreg of drink that can possibly be extracted from it.

Outside the merchandiser sees the last man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called Thomas Jonathan Jackson. He is able to approach Jackson with nary a rustle of speech sound being made, and sends him sprawling to the ground with a prompt shock to his thorax and position of his jaw. So insidious is this that to any untrained beholder, the merchant is just helping his passed out friend home.

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

The man, one of his ladies personal agents, nods ; he can not help but shiver at the quotation of fellow ‘ pets.'Such a destiny should not fall out to anyone, yet as the captured patrol work for the guild, he can make an exclusion. Besides which, these two have shown the club is vulnerable after all ; so he made sure the door was afford 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 close at hand portion from Associates"pets"; the surviving patrol fellow member would strongly differ with that thought.



======
The morning sees Master Gerald pacing the length of his manor heavy hall, disarray and worry clearly visible on his face. His personal guard duty pick up on his disquiet, as anything that can induce their boss act this way has to be taken as a antecedence threat ; their own spirit depend upon it.

Within a day of their meeting with granddad, Masters Gerald and Cinnius met ; setting their plans into action and making futurity readying. For their rice beer ( of keeping animated ), they keep gramps informed of their every activity. It is decided they will task their own agents to pursue those of Gordon's, recording each and every deed and inter-group communication made.

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

Each victor in turn, once back at their respective estates, ordination that supererogatory agentive role be attached to watch their respective vis-a-vis ; just on the off opportunity the boyfriend Master is about to puddle a duple or ternary cross. As three to a greater extent days pass, they begin to suspect Gordon is up to exactly - goose egg. No plans or motion are apparent to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the night 40 of the guild agents, all of them Grandfathers, have perished. They were attending a party given by a visiting merchant, in honor of the latterly constable Jambis, and for the sake of his surviving patrol members. All of the ale and look delivered came with the pecuniary resource of Gordon and a message saying :"With Thanks and best Wishes for the future - Gordon."

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

"Find out if Gordon or another did this deed,"Gerald shouted at his steer agents,"Redouble the efforts on collecting any and all data on the street, chance out anything you can, and I do intend anything at all…GO !"

By gloaming they have an ominous sign that shouts volumes to anyone who understands ; the streets have gone silent. Completely silent save for the agents of Grandfather, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the signs of a pending coup seem to be confirmed at last. Most are now assuming that Master Gordon is going for broke, to film down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a triple play - they appear to betray the social club and Grandfather ; who in turn eliminates them, and then becomes vulnerable to Gordon…

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

It makes perfect gumption in its own convoluted way.

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

"Gordon - gramps of Assassins, I like the band that has,"he smiles wickedly, heading off to fix and make architectural plan. He feels no pangs of guilt or sense of right and wrong in betraying his fellow Masters or the Grandfather ; for that is the way of the assassin.


======
Standing upon the high wooden pigeon loft of the warehouse, associate holds the final man of recent constable Jambis patrol, Stonewall Jackson, by the electric cord that binds his ankle together. The terrify man, upside down, looks at his pending destiny far below, the twenty and four great pattern, moving fast and with world power for such massive beasts, their six inch tusk red with the blood and pull flesh of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the party last night, bounce and gagged, inside this warehouse ; one by one his protagonist had been dragged away by this man and then tormented with scene of what awaits them below. One by one they howled, begged, whimpered and pleaded for mercy ; their capturer'eyes, low temperature and hard beyond anything he could recall seeing, even on the one function he met the Grandfather of Assassins, told the tale…

There shall be no mercy.

"Listen,"their captor told each in act, as he had told Old Hickory,"try to die with a bit of dignity ; at least go to your ancestors with some thanksgiving so you can say you died with your honor intact."

Associate repeatedly cries out to his pets, whipping them into a frenzy of death and dismemberment, the shrill snorts and cries harshly assaulting the spike ; thunderous retorts rebound off the mostly empty warehouse Lucy Stone walls, instilling even more terror in his shaking captive.

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

"Please…don't kill me…what did we ever do to you…"Mahalia Jackson said while wracked with mother fucker of absolute threat ; he has seen all the others perish in such a grisly method ; one that even the guild executioner would cringe from inflicting on anyone…maybe…

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

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

"Yes I will,"familiar said as the rope dressing separate due to the slashes already scored weakening them.

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

comrade ticker with neutrality on his face, hearing the death belly laugh knelling out brassy and clear as his pets go to work on the man. Soon sufficiency silence, pull through for the tearing of shape, stifling of pearl and occasional razzing and oink remain to be heard.

associate degree shakes his head, wondering why such an idiot would actually believe he would set him loose ; he only promised to let him go…in this lawsuit to feed his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already dead ; he would screw to have finished him off, a debt owed for the brute kicks delivered to his head word that day.

Soon enough though his solitaire will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the elimination of his sister and her family will perish in the Saami manner…maybe covered in fade cheese to improve the flavor for his pets…


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************************
Darius, sea captain toymaker and superior general mad man of Providence walked into the efflorescence workshop looking for the lady who runs it - Clairice. To the bemusement of everyone around he looks at the trees, waving well-disposed to them and mutters about the demand to ‘ build that flying machine today.'

For three calendar week since the death of Jambis patrol members, he has heard the narrative growing by the time of day of how they had been responsible for the death of Grandfathers two score of agent. Each metre he hears the tale told over and over, he chuckles an insane chuckle, covering up his actual hilarity at their dying by his own hands.

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

"Hey Clairice,"he shouted, waving frantically to get her tending. Coming to her he plops down on the floor cross-legged, looking up into her eye. She motions repeatedly with her handwriting for him to scoot on out the doorway, even as her mouth out-of-doors and closes in silent gasp and groan ; she gulps now and then while her center flutter rapidly.

One time he sees her clench her clenched fist in her mouth, eyes shutdown as her body chill briefly in clock time with some noises coming from behind the replication. Her silent gasp continue, center glazing over as she tightens her grip on the counter again, both hands holding firm and stiff. When she manages to regain a bit of composure, once again she tries to wave him out the door. Her bridge player move swiftly in an intricate gesture, telling him in no uncertain price to scram…

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

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

Once again her manpower move in the silent language she uses to communicate with him ; telling him if he remains to last out quiet and do nothing to interfere.

He sees her transformation again, then a third time. A steady rhythm of slapping sounds mixed in with the outcry of some variety of animal catch his attention. Sudden inspiration hitting and he pulls out of his harness-bag a pile of dummy lambskin, fusain pencils and a rule to begin quickly putting his estimate 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 rampantly delectation and cloud nine. Each move of the man's manhood inside of her pushes the waves of cloud nine and pleasance forward with unstoppable zip. Just a bit before Darius arrived the butler of Master Gordon arrived with a dozen rose from his party boss'estate of the realm ; he offered her some of them for a fee - when she could not converge the asked for amount in coin he asked about another kind of ‘ transaction.'

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

Pushing her disheveled fuzz out of her case, she had been having her womanhood explored by his helping hand and mouth when Darius entered ; now though he speeds up his actions, not concerned in her own pleasure one bit - all that affair is his own needs, and he makes all manner of vilification of captain Gordon, especially about how gentle it was to subscribe the roses right off the estate yard under his very nose.

One final series of deep, meretricious and bellowing grunt and groans from the butler sends his life seed deep inside of her. For once in her life she is glad that she can not get pregnant, for she would never want a small fry conceived of by this monster…

Now that it's over she starts to move when he pushes her cover into place ; slamming her nerve into the wooden comeback with such force to briefly daze her, then he boxes her across the ears repeatedly ; the matter is not yet done. fourth dimension and metre again he smacks her hard on her bottom, drawing annoyance filled mute screams from her.

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

She feels him pull up in high spirits on her, his humanness once again at wide care ready to do its tariff. He comments that the men of his family have the power to do it twice back to back ; to the ‘ delectation of all the adult female we deem to give our warmness to'of course.

Clairice does not see matters in such a light.

Sharp pain shoots up into her brain, eyes flaring wide as her tooth chomp into her rim with enough force to cast a drip of lineage from them. poke by pain filled thrust he works his manhood in and out of her, not of her womanhood, but of a more sore and private area nearby.

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

"Now my dear,"he says calmly between grunts of excitement,"I hope this part will serve as a reminder that I will not bear any betrayals kindly ; your silence means you will hold out. One news on where the flowers come from and you die."

The future five moment are a wave of fiery torture as his hands tighten their grip on her breasts, his manhood pumping for all he is deserving in an out of that bit ; then he hits his release and pulls out. He just looks upon her with barely concealed contempt.

"You know the price from now on when you deal with the assassins'guild. As I said, keep your oral cavity shut and you will live. succeeding time I bring some roses though, make sure there is another adult female here with you. I want to see you have sex with her rightfulness before I rape you into entry like the sporting lady you now are. estimable day."

As he walks out the room access and down the street she just covers her head and sobs, not moving from the position.

Had anyone watching bothered to reckon at Darius, they would have seen the madness leave his eyes, purest of murder and rage filling them in bit. His hand hovered just on the edge of a knife hilt, prepare to be thrown and open the target with one of the deadliest of poison's he who is not Darius knows how to make.

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

She who is not Clairice finally regained some of her fall back calm from the brutish ending of the encounter ; for the programme to advance she will endure anything…in the end the results will more than justify it.


========
Over the future 60 minutes factor of the constable and passkey Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald flow in and out of her depot, having her detail again and again all that happened between her and the butler.

Darius had to be escorted out of the shop at one stage so he would not damage the bloom from Gordon's estate ; he was trying to finalize a ‘ argument'between the bloom and a half sate cup of body of water. He kept touching the petal and leaves of each flush, encouraging them to ‘ settle their disputes with the nice cup as a polite being should do these days,'pure madness indeed.

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

He does congratulate Clairice on how she prepared the efflorescence for transferral ; they are still dampish with moisture from being watered. Looking at the other blossom on display he decides to come back later and purchase some for his wife.

One of his aides gathering up the multiple copies of her testimonial and then divides them among the agents for the three victor. The adjutant plays a most dangerous game, appearing as a confidant for all three headmaster while he is actually working for the grandpa of bravo directly.

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

What they fail to empathize is that in the big game, a minute king is set for mate ; while the others are on the way to the same…

Tonight the store will be vacated…

The gambit continues towards the dramatic end for the Second mogul of Four.



***********************
"My madam,"Associate says with gradualness and compassion in his vocalism ; he cringes to see such pain in those amethyst oculus. He can not encompass the annoyance and humiliation she has withstood to advance their plan. He has adept tidings though ; the one who loved to impose such painful sensation and chagrin has fallen…

"We have confirmation of the street hearsay ; the body of Master Gordon's butler has been found. It appears he was tortured into making some kind of confession and then executed by tegument stealing."He shook his chief at the thought of such a uncivilized execution ; the misprint skinning of a victim one second power column inch at a time using tongue and extra window pane to raise the hurting and extend the victims lifespan.

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

He looks upon her with major chagrin on his countenance.

"My dame, I have to say, the achiever we have managed to attain by taking the roles of Clairice and Darius before the hunt began…a reliable solidus of Einstein on your part. Also those who lead the radical in waiting are now fully committed ; those innocent family line executed by the order as ‘ examples,'plus the first hit we have made convinced them. The days of the guild are now of a very express numeral. They only need the word from you and the end game commences."


===========
Master Cinnius has come to the ale-house operations, mostly to duplicate check yet again on all face of the new, layered security he has installed. grandad warning had been made all too clear - if he fails to stop over any disruption in the cognitive operation, 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 guard are now tripled ; both those visible at heart and outside the place, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - stem cook to be used in an instant. Their orders are simple, direct and very shed light on : anyone who may pose any sort of threat are to be cut down without mercifulness. They are to keep a threefold watch, as Cinnius expects a swift, angry retributive smasher from Master Gordon to come all too soon.

master key Gerald figures it will be otherwise, insisting Gordon is focused on the pending coup against gramps, and will come after Cinnius later - assuming that Cinnius and Gerald do not chuck out of Gordon to please the granddad when the coup d'etat try comes.

So it has come to the second reason for him to be here…relaxation. Three weeks of changeless secrecy ; tautness in the air so chummy one could cut it with a dull knife, has all but frayed his spunk. So it is he has come to shoot some billiards, his pet plot. The set was sent to him long before the current troubles with Gordon, a master crafted admiration without flaws…he will keep it as a trophy and a monitor of substantially days and times…and pledge Gordon each fourth dimension he plays after the poltroon turncoat lies dead at his feet.

"No mother wit to let such a gift go idle,"he told the men setting it up.

"Ah the pure irony of such a natural endowment, perfectly made and delivered here by Gordon as a peace oblation,"he declared to his guards and senior federal agent gathered around,"yet he has chosen to betray granddaddy. Thus we will enjoy the plot, and when he starts his coup d'etat - we shall go and wipe out him as short as potential. Now let's have some fun this night before the fires of conflict come forth."

Cinnius watched his men laugh and jocularity around, the ribald atmosphere allowing him to unbend for one time, a rare and true smile of mirth coming forth. As he prepares his cue reefer, many wager on the number of balls to be sunk on the breaking shot.

He railway line up the puddle control stick with the cue ball, adjusting for the unadulterated break that he is justly famed for among all of the club and in capital of Rhode Island."Let the blast of battle come Forth,"he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

COUGH !

The pool reefer goes flying over the table, landing on the far English with a solid, echoing clangour. Everyone cringes at the flavor of absolute slaying on Cinnius's human face. The offender quickly apologizes, gets the pool stick and hands it back with all proper deportment to one who can bolt down him in so many dreaded ways.

"OK, now for the perfective shot, for the perfective tense biz,"he says with a smile, taunt nerve relaxing once again.

Lining the scene up once again, he focuses completely on the break he wants to make, six musket ball sent into the six air hole, the perfective tense snapshot for the opening. Delighted in the setup, he draws back again, preparing for the snapshot of all shots…

ACHOOO !

Once again the pool stick goes to the storey, once again the murderous smell comes forth ; though this fourth dimension the offender does not incite, his associates holding knife to his eye, neck, jaw and electric organ, waiting for the moment Cinnius orders his release or execution. They look to him with clear up expectation, wanting to rejoin the game so badly interrupted twice already.

"Just apply him there in complete silence while I take the stroke,"Cinnius said. His pool joint brought by another, he melodic phrase up the shot for the third time ; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another suspension, then turns and makes the shot with full, raw nerved brute military force delivery…

knock !

The cue ball is smacked with a abruptly, intense burst of the marijuana cigarette, sending it on its all too short journey towards the early testis ; the small, finespun container held within shattering completely ; thus the assortment of explosive liquids, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and become a enchantress brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…



=======
Upon her face he sees a mute question being asked."My lady I have made sure the blossom shop appears to have been fled in due haste to earmark us - you and me as the false Clairice and Darius - to get out of the metropolis. There are hastily scrawled notes with terminal deliverance to be made via the metropolis couriers."

"As per your plan,"his smile turned into a loathsome smile ; the images at play of panic and paranoia coming to the survivor around their chosen targets brings comrade a fairish amount of amusement.

"those flowers going as ‘ talent'to the various guild assassinator, factor and their leaders, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ core stop'poison ; in the time it takes for it to become practicable, the couriers will be dependable ; of course after the legal transfer are made, some of the assassins will not be prophylactic, or breathing for that matter by solar day end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue ball savor with bestial force into the other balls ; such is the military group the mixed liquids within the cue clump, a witches brew called by alchemists"Liquid Hellfire"responds in a fierce, raw and spectacular detonation of flame and force, the shockwave caressing the early balls and expanding into the rooms attribute before anyone can even comprehend what has happened…

By this time though, the nine early balls, carefully tailored and textured to hide the explosive liquid within, respond in sympathetic explosion to the shockwaves caress. These ten blasts, bouncing off the solid state and thick stone walls that separate the front and backsides of the ale business firm, smash walls, vanquish piece of furniture and chests, toss good around and deliver setback that compaction and tear at the guild federal agent and guards present, rending bone and bursting variety meat along with compressing brain matter to a pulped tidy sum.

Those who somehow survive these gust are within an instant hit and burned by fire so hot that bone itself ignites and powder. For those beyond the bolide range, the iron and sword shard, jagged and flying at insane pep pill, preset around the inside of the balls shred them even more.

So swell is the force-out generated that the very roof itself on the back up half of the ale-house is raised over six foot. Those on the streets see it fly up, and come down with decent force to stimulate the dry land for a considerable distance.

Members of the gild lay utterly and offend all over the street, some felled in the initial flack ; others by the collapse of nearby construction fronts sundered barren by hellish forces ; partial bodies, and bared arm that move for a brief meter amid heaps of shatter, tear wood, glass and brickwork Tell of the charnel house mounds they have become.

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





=======
The return of contrived thunder, followed by the loud, hollow, booming clunk of the ceiling declivity coming to an end draws the swift attending of grandpa. He was walking on the high balcony of his private sleeping accommodation, oceanic abyss in though about Gordon ; wondering for the first time if he had judged the position wrong…then came the roar and column of fire clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

He and his guards watched in transfixed horror the picture unfold, knowing instinctively that Gordon has just struck back at Cinnius ; and in a manner no one could receive anticipated. Quickly his safeguard recover, raising their metal shields about his person, on the off luck that arrows were even then heading to end the life of their charge.

gallery into the depths of the guild hall, granddad shouted to all of his loyal - such as they are - minions to prepare the demurrer ; warning that the expected coup may be at mitt. A lone runner is sent to investigate the matter, to account back with all haste. Grandfather sees a most unexpected spate, though one that pleases him, that of Master Gerald, present on club patronage, standing with the guard at the briny door, prepared to meet the 1st assault with drawn blades.

Apparently Gerald fears death by the granddaddy bridge player if he failed, than to face his old associate Gordon.


======
associate degree and his lady had been observing the day from one of their many rubber theater's when the roar came, clean and decided to their ears. They rushed to the window nearest that centering, in prison term to see the end clawing fire carry into the sky ; columns of weed rising steadily in understood blackness as a shroud for the dead.

The two of them conduct a silent delight in the realization that the second gear magnate of four is now dead. They had found his one weakness, the passion of billiards and his pride in being the best histrion in Providence, and have brought him low.

"Wow, I guess that master Cinnius has lost that game, bringing down the house in the process,"he said with a shrug of his shoulders."Who could make figured he had such an explosive temperament ? Oh, while I recall the matter, those poisoned efflorescence were sent out over Gordon's theme song of defrayal and livery ; there is no sense in making sure the awry mortal gets blamed after all…"

She just rolled her oculus unto the heavens at his attempt at mood ; secretly pleased to have him at her side, both for the companionship ( when he is not trying to gaze at her nude body ), his sense of humor, and his ability to adept and improvise on the spot when the architectural plan of theirs needs to be altered due to emergencies or opportunities that come about.

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

She looks back at the column of smoke, quite pleased. Two are bushed of the four. Soon enough the 3rd will fall and the true up terror for the guild will derive in the end game. Soon Department of Justice for all of Providence will be delivered, and her Chosen name, taken up after the death of her parents, will be fulfilled…

Soon…


======
Chaos reigns as the patrons from the front of the ale-house and other street trafficker and shops flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their deglutition or grabbing nursing bottle of drinkable from shelf as the ceiling commences to sag, then come down in a howl of sundered Ellen Price Wood and stone. Many of those who flee pass by the backside, seeing stacks of coins, jewelry and gemstone lying scattered about and wee-wee a subterfuge snatch for the freed fortune before them.

howl and call of panic become fuel for many raving mad rumors, especially of the farsighted expected coup for the spark advance of the assassins'gild having begun. The fear turns into terror unprecedented on the streets, agents of all side who rush to see what can be done or what has happened Begin to brawl with the citizens who just want to get out of there. All too soon the wait glean of blade being unleashed is to be seen, soon covered by wet inflammation along its length.

From hidden shadows high budget items, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding building, eight pattern draw back on composite suddenly bows, their lacquered open dulled down with dirt and mud to cut off any lambency of light reflecting off of them. Eight knocked arrows - hint coated with the deadliest of venom - pedigree up with their selected targets…

Then with their leaders'subtle nod, they fly blue-belly and true to their objective. Even as these eight physique begin to crock up, choking and gurgling into death from the spitefulness ; eight more arrows are inbound ; shortly to be joined by a last salvo of eight more.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree at the binding of the building they throw their quivers and bows into the back of a readied wagon. Quick from longsighted pattern, the eight hunters - passe-partout Archer all who help feed in the city by wild boar hunting in the unfounded woods near Providence - hide their implements of war and repay city life story, headed as so many others do in making legal transfer from one workshop to another.

They had been returning from an unsuccessful Richard Morris Hunt in the Ellen Price Wood ; when the detonation came, they saw an opportunity to tally another snow on the guild ; so it is the foremost puff by the people of providence is inflicted, the first of many to come…


======
"Gordon's troops are attacking !"add up the hue and cry from the few precaution still standing around in horror at the carnage. The cry is repeated again and again as the arrows fell one score and one of society federal agent and guards of the late professional Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; shoot everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard captain on responsibility phone call, just before a brick thrown by mortal smashes into his case ; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a bone crushing coming together with the soil below. With his final examination shout, chaos shift loose beyond belief ; as the rooftop guards follow his last instructions to the letter, unleashing fusillade after volley of crossbow deadbolt, tips coated with poison, into the gathered hoi polloi below…

They spare no metre or endeavor to sort friend from foe, they just assume all are targets 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 life sentence will be forfeit to the unmerciful wrath of the Grandfather…

pile below, those who survive the reign of arrow and then the monumental fusillade of crossbow projectiles turn on their attackers from above. Many cry out that Gordon's forces are on the high up ground and commence to fire back with bows, crossbows, stone chunks and bricks. Anything they can get their work force upon is fair game to send upward, returning Death for expiry as the massacre climbs with each passing second.


======
The lone agent of granddaddy sent by him to investigate the blast lookout from around a shop nook in horror at the battle being waged before him ; he hears the citizens running past, the outcry of guard duty and agents saying that Master Gordon is on the attack, then flees with all hurriedness back to the guild dorm and reports his news.

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

When that last call back echoed into the depth of his mind ; granddad wondered for a moment if he has just set the prophecy of his own fall into motion ; plus that of the lodge. He snorts the matter away, handwriting on his drawn sword waiting for the first pounding on the corking residence hall doors that tell of the battle to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

well into the evening the guild waits for the work stoppage that never comes. grandpa learns from many of his own agents among maestro Gordon's manor house that Gordon has sealed the office up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a move on the part of master key Gerald to rid of Cinnius and him in one blue-belly, calculated movement that sweeps two rivals clear 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 fire in detail to granddaddy as he sits in smoldering silence on his potty. They tell in exaggerated motion and word's the size of the attack, the massive slaughter and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a violent engagement one wonders if a dragon was on the scene.

In regards to the monumental detonation that took down the entire ale-house, backside performance and sea captain Cinnius on one Sceloporus occidentalis blow…no one has any explanation at all ; save for one who remarked that Cinnius said the billiard set he was using that night was"a gift from Gordon before he betrayed us."

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

They soon found out their ‘ reward'was to be pressed. They howled for mercy as sentry duty'grabbed hold of them, dragging them away to the executioners hold. With insensate swiftness, tied to great frames of wood on the ground, the public executioner directed gramps safety device ( the charge issued as polite suggestions ) in placing of great wooden venire over the men ; to be topped in turn every few minutes with a fifty British pound hunk of brick shaped gemstone. Over the course of time of day the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their costa snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

As for the agent who brought newsworthiness of the off-key startle of a coup to Grandfather…

A new statue of him cast in silver medal joined the one of bronze from the earlier messenger executed in a similar personal manner. Even the hardened sentry duty of gramps watched with silent repugnance as the man had been lowered inch by inch, headfirst, into the molten metallic element, his howl echoing far and wide down the dark halls of the public executioner tunnels.


=======
trey Day later the fellow reads a subject matter conveyed to she with the Amethyst eyes, a true smile upon his face for once in so long of a time.

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

"So my lady, do we set about to raise the level of pressure and paranoia to a new stature in this thing ? Or may I add a footling ‘ twist'to the site ?"her Associate asks.

At her prompting he explains his little ‘ twirl'on their design ; her eyes and smile gleam in delight from his pocket-size suggestion. Right now the two of them have entered into dangerous ground, not only preparing to strike at sea captain Gordon and Gerald ; there is the affair of the lodge Grandfather - assuming he survives the efflorescence sent to him, being roused to action.

This very night, as per associate little ‘ spin'on their plan, another whispered hearsay begins : there is a bounty of one hundred gold bars to the assassin of the lodge who brings down the Grandfather of Assassins. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of course that is only rumor…just the kind to get you executed by the paranoiac society leadership.

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

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


************************
************************
Her eye glimmering with their amethyst fires, she watches companion go about his cookery for the pending end plot of the ploy. As he sorts and examines in minutest of detail the dick, weapons and appurtenance of their trade, a quick smile comes to her mouth ; her cheek resting on a raised paw grasping the room access jam as she makes no sound for some time.

Each of his tools, from lock-picks to curl of black silken R-2, vials of poisons to cripple or drink down, along with an compartmentalization of tools and weapon system no one save for them alone could comprehend in the Western body politic. She watches as he examines a throwing star under the lantern igniter, its razor honed edges perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and engagement knife, a bamboo blowgun only inches in length, and the all too deadly coat darts to be used in it.

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

"Granddaughter,"he asked her showing off the armory of weapon in his sign,"which of these do you digit is the most dangerous of the Orion ? Is there any one that you see here, that can overcome any other ?"

Still so young and small in stature at the fourth dimension she had to motion him to deform down to her height ; then with one small hand, she touched his brow, and then his meat. His ardent smile was genuine, delighted at the resolution given to him.

"Yes you do realize very well. The deadliest arm we who hunt the assassin have is the mind and the passions of the heart ; used together, you can not be defeated."

associate had in the curtly clock time of her warmly recalled storage raised to pattern with his twin sword of their profession, sliding them from their sheaths of lacquered wood, the ninja-to. Fourteen inches of hone brand, firm and razor crisp, he danced in a beautiful, poetic play of demise. Each relocation is poesy of music and figure, of command and get-up-and-go used : parry-strike, strike-parry, double slash and thrusts, a hustle of motion no one could come close to matching relieve for her.

Even unarmed they are among the baneful of fighters, their identical bodies the ultimate, go weapons.

His routine comes to its end after some time ; and fellow make-believe to notice her for the very first time, though he was aware of her standing by the doorway for some time now. One affair with both of them, living among the hoard of bravo and spies of the social club has honed their superb accomplishment to new, necessary floor than many would have dreamed.

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

His surprise is stark when she gently touches him with one of her hands ; moving it up to gently strokes his face and brows. She feels the legal brief stress easiness out of his soundbox as she circles his face, playfully teasing hilltop, nose, eyes, ears and cheeks.

His lips she parts slightly with fingertips, stroking the inside and drawing a slight heyday to his cheeks.


The heat of his breathing spell on her hired hand draws a diffuse, loving smile to her own lips. Once again her handwriting flows over buttock, supercilium and nose, along his jaw and gently on his neck before returning again and again to his brass.

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

His searching heart quickly discern that her robe has partly opened, revealing the glistening smooth skin that tantalizing tip at needing to be touched, stroked and seduced ; her bared breast, cast in dancing dark by the soft, low Inner Light in the room, scintillation like a underground concealed within a mystery promising unlimited gem and whizz, or good and savage death.

She enfolds him with one arm, taking up his mitt with her early, then gently guiding it to that exposed titty ; holding it firm in place while he looks at her with some shock. He feels the heat of her organic structure merging with his, tegument to shin, the beating of her warmheartedness and the firm calendar method of her external respiration surging into his mind, telling him that this is no dream, but a treasure she is offering to him willingly.

Slowly he starts to caress and stroke it with his fingertips, working from the nipple outward in a corkscrew to return inward again and repeats the cycle per second several prison term ; all the piece he revels in the silken flawlessness of her pelt, the heady aroma that smells of lilac, rose and ginseng mixing with all the sweet-salty smells that are uniquely HER.

Gently he closes his eye with each deep inhalation of these smells, burning them into his mind in the event of her dying soon, he will treasure this here and now to the end of his days…

He sees the soft fluttering in her eyes, eyelids flickering up and down as she begins to gnaw lightly on those scrumptious back talk that are highlighted with a sweet tasting strawberry gloss.

He moves his free hand to the sharpness of her robe, the blue silk that is embossed with cerise tree, blush wine and a pair of Elwyn Brooks White dame in flight accentuating the curve ball of her body, hiding some in shadow and others in mull over Christ Within so their glory may be seen in full.

Looking at her he motions downward while indicating the robe.

To his continuing surprise and delight she nods with a tender smile.

Slipping it under the silk he gently uncovers the other titty, then works along the hem ; once up to her shoulder he eases is down her arm. His whistle of delight and admiration at the flock of her bared skin brings a true and luscious blush to her expression, a silent giggle of consternation with her brain turning away, though her heart return quickly and with a gleam of desires fervency fully alight.

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

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

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

Moving them downward he massages her lower vertebral column, easing along her waist and hip seeking each arena he can find to impart the level best ace of cloud nine of her consistence he can extract. Gentle whorl and helix patterns in which he mixes apparent motion of the alphabet, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far East linguistic communication, for each one brings a dissimilar response to her body, some expectant and some humble, one intense that almost knocks her off her feet, while others have her gasp as she lowers her head against his chest, optic closing while silent lips open and close.

He inhales the rattling brew of scents now including that of her raw sexuality mixing into them ; Thomas More and more it turns on the fervency within his own soundbox ; causing his own humanness to rise to the function as his hand begins to travel to her hidden womanhood…

Which her one mitt encompassing his so suddenly he failed to acknowledge until the firm pressure threatened to snap his wrist…telling him in emphatic terms she will allow him to go so far, and for now no further ; he looks into the amethyst center of her, nods and bows his head in sufferance of her choice…

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

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

Planting a fiery kiss on his lip she swings her weapon system around his neck, and then leaps up, enwrapping her stage about his waist and locking them and her firmly in seat. His hands move quickly to patronage her bottom, as he shakes his chief, 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 enough to let his fully at attention manhood loose to the worldly concern ; drawing a bit of a blush from him due to the small sizing of it.

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

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

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

She just kissed him on the sass as her eyes showed her admiration for him. Returning to her feet, the two of them quietly danced a silent dance in the elbow room soft luminance for some fourth dimension, a instant shared before returning to the end secret plan of this long and trying hunt.

For the moment, they, two assassins in a community of such, who seek to overthrow such a force, can lower their guard a bit. This is their moment, their sentence, for with the dawn, the William Holman Hunt will again continue.


************************
In the profundity of his fort manor Master Gordon listens with ever growing revulsion as level after taradiddle from his agents Tell of a dangerous tapestry being woven. mortal is trying to kill him, or take down the grandad and pin the blame on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their virulent of competition in the process…but who could it be.

A few days ago his precious rosiness were returned, after his butler had traded them to the maiden over Clairice in trade for sexual party favour. Soon enough the butler was captured and tortured into confession and then summarily executed in boiling oil. As for the girl, and that madman Darius, they vanished soon afterward ; the shop left in such a state of disarray showed they fled the urban center that very night.

The future cockcrow brought the mysterious deliveries to agents and bravo of the guild ; flower from the shop of Clairice, supposedly over his touch, though he was proven to be here in his manor house ( the only reason granddaddy did not summarily perform him ). Even the stolen roses had been returned intact, and watered by the young lady ; then as some of his agentive role examined and smelled them, declaring nothing to be wrong…

This could not be said of the rest of those deliveries. For some reason, like with Master Finneous, and his fan Kimberly, and at the ale-house mathematical operation, the pass catcher just seemed to up and die in their tracks ! Now there are early passe-partout of the gild, subsidiary who would not make bold to strike at Gerald ; who are openly making plans to do just that, and it appears Grandfather is encouraging them due to his muteness on the matter.

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

Such is his get on fury and frustration that when he grips the railing of an upper level balcony he tears the forest free in two tumid lump of debris. So far no one has been able to find out much of anything, save that the agents of Master Gerald are following his own…with more and more open boldness…probably to discover in one well matching activeness ; collapsing his entire network and assault his estate…

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

There is one way to deal with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his fourth-year broker and guard leadership. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the two-base hit quick for it ; there is a minor window of time open, and he intends to exploit it to the fullest. Right now only one thing could interfere with his plans, and that is the Grandfather of bravo himself…

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

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



======
Within the hr an agent of grandad reports directly to him of the plan that master key Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a takeover is indeed coming, and by the hand of Gordon the Grandfather's furore is downright. He calls for his personal guard to assemble, for the in force hero, rogues and bravo to gather and arm for battle.

For too long he has allowed this game to go on, now all shall see the wrath of the guild and of granddad once and for all. Quickly he goes over the series of programme and contingency he long ago prepared for such an result ; one after another are rejected, until the best boilers suit remains…complete extermination…

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

"When Gordon bang at the estate of Gerald, we surround the place, impress inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no subsister at all. Slay every living being or animal in the billet ; then quash it to ashes afterward. Then the Lapplander will happen to Gordon's landed estate ; these traitors will be rooted out completely…"

building up the hysteria of his forces, Grandfather intends to use this execution to the townspeople of providence as well - to prompt them HE rules the town. Once that is done, he will retch the guild of any and all threats from top to bottom.


======
"My lady,"her associate degree softly calls, touching her soft shoulder. He also moves slightly to the side of meat, keenly cognizant of the envenomed blade she keeps handy when sleeping. Seeing her still drowsing eyes open, he sighs softly, not eagre to interchange yet another shirt…the hold out time was too close by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat lower down…

"My madam,"he again calls to her,"the forces of Gordon are gathered and on the relocation ; they will hit the demesne of Gerald within the succeeding two minute. One of our factor also reports that the Grandfather is personally leading most of the gild strength 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 fray now, do we stick around on the plan or change it ?"he asked.

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

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

Many of her federal agent have recollective since given up promise of Providence being freed from the Fe suitcase of the guild ; but now, shown the trueness of the matter, that the social club IS VULNERABLE, they are gear up to impress back and do so with absolute deadliness. Their fear and despair has become wrath and determination ; tonight she and comrade make the most authoritative strikes ; they will do the rest…tonight capital of Rhode Island has a new cry of"exemption or death."

companion smiles, the age long quest to avenge his sister, her husband and all their children will be completed ; he will retaliate them and they may finally come up rest. It will be by his hands and no others, that the final target of his wrath shall perish…the granddad himself.

"My lady,"her familiar says,"safe lot on your section ; I have to move quickly to get at my own target. I have dispatched word to the leaders of the waiting groups for the rebellion to begin."

"Today the society ruling of Providence comes to an end,"he says, a terrible smile on his face.

Once again she smiles as that deterrent example of Shan Tiel came to her - in staging rumor of a pending coup, the natural paranoia of the assassin have led one to present a substantial coup. So once again the assassin's guild is dancing to her line and not their own.

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


************************
************************
Master Gerald's manor house, a fortress from top floor to the dungeons below, bristles with activity. His expert soldiers and agents prepare the defense mechanism, level upon layer of insidious maw and secured passageway ; the outer yards with their fields of fire shall be turned into one monolithic killing field for Gordon's military force when they arrive…

"Continue with all the preparations, I need to see to the final examination line of defense upstairs ; remember to keep on all of the destine taciturnity in seat. I do not gestate the slap-up doors or walls to be breached ; yet we take no fortune at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in training 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 lowball him at all,"the first true traces of care creped into his part. For one fourth dimension in his living Gerald feels the stale bridge player of decease reaching out for him…watching his every move from nearby…


======
Indeed a pair of eyes watched overlord Gerald's every movement from the baulk above the large hall ; then as he ascends the great stairs. She silently shifts from one location to another, descending down to the main floor. Once there, she commences the dance of last with his agents and guards, one by one their labors terminate to be productive…

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

When she has finished, she sees her observation in a mirror, the amethyst fires of her heart glowing like a beacon of day of reckoning ; telling of her interior rage and finding to eat up the matter. She recalls with absolute clarity the terminal screams of her mother and beginner ; of her brothers and babe as they were butchered, while she was taken to prophylactic by Shan Tiel…her teacher and caretaker.

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



======
During his wandering around the speed level he can not shake the feeling of demise being nearby ; one of two comrade always with the bravo - the early being fear, in all of its numerous faces - refuses to leave his English. No, familiar death refuses to leave, almost as if he longs for the show to remain just a bit more before needing to escort Gerald into the next world.

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

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

Sighing at the expectant, final treachery his agent have performed, he turns the hold out corner, his crossbow held loosely in his hand, prepared to touch the foeman who has to be there in unlimited identification number. schoolmaster Gordon has won the fight, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the adjacent, and now with his destruction will turn upon Grandfather to suit the new drawing card of the guild.

Thus he has made his instant mistake in spirit ; he has underestimated his friendly relationship with Gordon and now will pay the Price. The initiative was ten geezerhood ago when the girl escaped the fate of her crime syndicate and the four covered it up to stay alive. He had been betrayed and defeated morally, intellectually and physically by an adversary so far out of his conference, he never had a chance…

Around the last nook, he lets the crossbow fall from his unresponsive hands ; expecting death to come up by blade or crossbow bolt…only to see a only figure, a slender, untried fair sex standing at the other end, just feet away. Clad in black and grizzly clothing, a single mask is drawn up over her mouth and pry, while more cloth is over her forehead and hairsbreadth, leaving only her eyes exposed.

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

Shan Tiel !

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

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

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the blade into a cross guard positioning, her gloved mitt holding it in a clench like atomic number 26, to strike or parry as needed, the roue on its edge glistening like red fires, telling Gerald of his factor fate on the flooring below…

She began to advance upon him, economy of motion displayed to perfection with each bm ; a true avatar of death made world advancing to collect her due upon Gerald ...

Her eyes glitter in the visible radiation of the wall lamps as she passes by ; the well-defined fires of amethyst dancing in their depths.

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

His brass shattered, he falls to his knees, whimpering and completely in the suitcase of uttermost terror ; he knows there is no more running or hiding, no mercy can be expected at her hands ...

Though he tries ...

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

She shakes her head at this display of cowards in the end ; the streams of tears flowing without control from his centre, the smell of piss and loosened bowlful corrupting the air as he loses control of his psyche and body ...

Having closed the distance between them, the sword in her hands eases back high over her shoulder, ready to deliver the one-third voice of her retribution in one cleanse strike.

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

She just nodded, as the reflected light glimmered on the steel ; as it delivered vengeance upon the one-third King.

So it is that the tierce magnate of Four surrenders to the inevitable, his persona in the gambit done.

Standing over his corpse, the Queen with the amethyst eyes cleans her vane on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor house to prepare for the death Martin Luther King of Four to arrive…and for the gambit to make out to an end.


************************
************************
The Grandfather of Assassins, out at the head of his armed stripe is not felicitous today ; the ongoing fight against Gordon's military force has been taking far too long. His plan had been simple and easy, gird the full area of Gerald's estate as Gordon's forces mounted their rape, and then work on their way in, burning the buildings and killing all - citizens or foe who were found.

Systematically his forces pushed Gordon's back step by step, always pushing, seeking to chance a weak office and make the net work stoppage. Complete annihilation would result.

Then came the news from courier's that the citizens of the city have started an armed uprising, armed with lance, blades and even tool in some cases ; supplemented by the bands of hunters who work in the woods around Providence. So he found himself fighting two fronts, Gordon to the fore, the mobs to the rachis ; so his force out have been systematically whittled down.

even his own bodyguard has been reduced from XL to the 12 surrounding him. Many bear wounding from the last encounter, nearly a c members of the mob will not be going home tonight ; his grimace became a grin at that thinking.

When a cloud of fume momentarily drifts over his band, a quartet of indulgent thuds sound out ; his guard is now down to eight. The four on the ground in the Death cam stroke, the shuriken's embedded in throats delivering their toxicant for outflank effect.

"Shield wall !"granddad shouts out, the guards forming a crescent rampart of wood and muscle between him and their assailant ; two more of his guard duty collapse, throwing stars embedded in their throat, the envenomed summit sending them into violent, wracking spasm as death reaches forth with his hands to take them.

Holding his twin blade at the ready he directs the guards back down the street, towards a four way product. As they reach the smoldering remains of a shop one more than sentry duty falls, clutching his torn throat.

One safety device advances down the street, a forward scout for the remainder of their ever diminishing band. He peers to each surrounding store front, street and alleyway first step, to the windows mellow and low, seeking the least bit of movement to bespeak the next strikes of their unseen pursuer…

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

The deathly bite of the Tai-Pan racks him with indescribable pain sensation and torment as his body explodes cell by cell, the spunk stopping point of all to perish as death welcomes him to join his fallen fellow of before this day.

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

Until the sole chassis steps out of the phantom and over the fallen guard ; blades at the set up, he advances with the coldness of death personified…

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

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

Before grandfather could even look at a breath, the man is before him ; a farsighted, slender steel, honed to absolute razor sharpness is upon his neck opening. He feels the veins pulsating against the keen edge, and the slightest dribble of blood flowing down from where it pierced his skin…

granddaddy breath came is gasps, as he dared not locomote an inch ; for this improbable warrior has him at his mercifulness, and to judge from the cold oculus looking back into his own, Grandfather knows clemency is not on the agendum for the day.

travail beads and then flows down the nerve and neck opening of grandfather, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to flinch and pay him have to execute him immediately. For that is what Grandfather knows is about to happen, no trial, no jury or such nonsense, just an execution without compassion or mercy.

He feels the tongue edge play ever so gently upon his hide, fire burning from the sweet kiss of deadly blade that teases panic and ever present flinching of muscleman ; all too familiar with such leaf blade, Grandfather can imagine what the net cut on him will feel like…

grandpa feels the burning offer into the rest of his soundbox, hands shaking and churning in his gut induced by the concluding fears racing in his head. His knee threaten to give out beneath him, no matter how hard he wills it to be otherwise, for he refuses to coward himself before this alien foe…

How Master Gordon ever snuck such a warrior into capital of Rhode Island, passed all of his agent and spies granddaddy can not understand…unless, after all, it was captain Gerald who did it…who may deliver been the true mastermind of this integral coup…

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

Grandfathers eyes widened in skepticism as the information flooded into his reverence sodden mind.

"That's right field Grandfather,"the man nodded in conformation,"I and my lady have systematically destroyed you and your guild. Ten years ago you killed my Sister, her husband, and their fry ; one of whom my own father whose category name I shall reclaim as my own, said has surpassing talents…until you sanctioned the hit for the sake of the towns, and hence your own, bankers."

The absolute calm and steady manner of his voice brought more than fear to granddad than he has known in his full career as an assassin…


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

"Oh by the way,"he casually continues,"as you probably have figured my sword is poisoned ; you will not die from the spite now coursing in your vena, yet the carrying into action I have in depot, you will get to revel each and every virtuoso of hurting that comes from my pets, until you die of course."

Pulling the sword away, the mysterious warrior delivers a blindingly spry series of precise bang, inducing absolute loss of muscle control condition in Grandfathers legs and blazonry ; just to make sure he is not getting away if the weakness inducing poison fails in its task.

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

"This is for my peeress who was raped by skipper Gordon's butler ; I would feature killed him myself if the plan did not postulate he exist for a sentence. So this is nothing personal…I do it for her…well, okay, as I have grown very fond of her, it is personal…still…"

whang !

He watches as the grandad's middle hybridisation over, his rima oris contorted as lots as his poisonous substance wracked body will permit in purest of pain ; a victim of the move all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a kneecap to the most common soldier and injury prone area any man has…


======
Associate looks down on the groaning, croaking, mewling phase of Grandfather, and has no commiseration on the most powerful member of the Guild. For too long he has waited this issue ; prepared to give all if need be just to avenge his sister, and regenerate the honor of his family and furbish up his name.

Ten years since he swore his epithet shall be unheard and unverbalised until the vow of retribution is completed.

As it shall be this very hour.

Pulling from a pouch a slender, inkiness silken rope, he quickly binds grandad hands and understructure, ties a gag about his mouth, and then casually snap up clasp of the grommet he makes to sweep the assassinator along. Heading for the piazza where his pets wait, he makes sure to interbreed each area of dirty water, sewage, bared rocks and cactus, determined to make sure the cause of ten years of torment and dishonor enjoys every consequence of pain in the neck he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the timberland hunter, and their sons and daughters, master archer each who snipe at the remaining personnel of the guild watch the two pass ; each one knows that Associate is about to fulfill his own hunt at longsighted last.

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

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

Once he reaches the warehouse, Associate opens the room access wide, no longer caring nor needing to be closelipped as to the contents. He drags granddad across stones worn fluid by centuries of cargo moved in and out of the massive interior ; then up one flying of wooden steps, each one marked by the unwavering thud-thud-thud of the Grandfathers principal slamming into its surface.

A steady moan slickness from Grandfathers lips as the top of the loft is reached, and Associate can easy imagine the stars he is seeing at this prison term. He drops the rope from his hired hand, and overture to the edge where an gap is set between the rails of the attic edge.

He gazes down upon the ‘ pets'he has prepared for this bit ; and calls brassy and long to them, whipping them into a howling, snorting, tusk-rending stock lustfulness as they know their favourite meal is about to be sent down to them - man flesh and blood and bone, raw…

Time and clip again associate calls out to them, and they respond with a 12 and eight cries of hunger and longing, a pleading and demanding for companion to send them their forebode dinner. Each one of them, some four hundred pounds of absolute bone and musculus, tusks vast and gleaming with razor astute bakshis, eyes blood red and swell chest heaving like the holla of a fiery forge, they paw at the stone floor….

They wait…they call…they plead for warm ancestry and sweet flesh…

When Associate turns back for a present moment, the positron emission tomography howls and Bronx cheer grow ever louder, as they know now that dinner party is at helping hand ; they smell the man fear of the bravo, learn his panicked heart beating beyond all power to sustain for long, and the final examination groan of pain as he is lifted from the garret floor…

Associate lifts granddaddy up by the neck, savoring the howl induced panic in the descend assassinator ; Grandfathers center are right-down in their sizeableness, as he is pushed by the sounds of the pets howls and snorts to the edge of his own sanity, his mind refusing to go for what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

associate holds Grandfather by the arms, forcing the unsteady assassin to deflect down enough to see his destiny at the boundary of the garret."Look well grandpa, I gathered a great collection of special favorite just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a wood Hunt by a raging boar and have been afraid of them for your life story. How ironic is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog gaga, or I should say…go to the risky hogs…"

"NOOOO !"grandpa roars as associate degree shove him bodily into the empty air ahead of them ; his screech is heard for pulley-block until it ends abruptly on the insensate stones below. Without hesitation, Associates pets, twenty of the most savage, massive, barbarian boars the woodland huntsman could forgather rupture into the assassin…

Associate sentry from above, savoring each sound and wow, until the last bone and trash of flesh is gone into the catgut of his pets.

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

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


***********************
Outside the gates of Master Gerald's estate passe-partout Gordon and his band of men stand ready for the final conflict in their little war. Three entire metropolis mental block lay in smoke, smoldering ruins from the all too stubborn endeavour of his foes men to keep their line from being breached. All too many of the shop class and homes Gerald had owned were miniature forts in their own right, costing him more men, and most decisive - clock time, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

Now he stands on the eve of his vengeance ; Gerald waits just beyond the meticulously maintained priming, the great doorway of the manor lay candid, silent and still. Gerald must be so afraid of his impending doom that he has either already fled, or some servant have betrayed him on the slim Leslie Townes Hope of mercy being shown to them.

No mercy, that is the order given to his stream lot of scout troop ; he wishes there were more of them at hand yet he had to give too many of them to fend off the tightening hoop of granddaddy force out. He will wind up off the one here first, then make his men back and finish off granddad, and then the purgation of the metropolis and the club of all betrayer will truly commence.

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

With a nod of his headway various men commence to skulk from cover to cover, crossbows at the ready, swiftly but steadily closing on the candid doors. They cover one another, alarum for the least notice of the expected ambush to commence.

His scouts reach the manor room access with no job, and then sign they are entering.

The great door silently close behind them…

One minute passes…

pentad minutes pass…

Ten minutes…

Twenty minutes…

Thirty minutes…

Then one manor house door swinging open silently, the fantasm beyond beckoning with all the kindness of a understood and assailable grave in the woods. Nothing moves from within or without…


======
The sudden prostration of a nearby building in a cascade of brick, wood and flaming combine with a sudden din of blade on brand clank, shouts of triumph and screams of the dying. Gordon's men begin to look one to another, debating as what to do at this time to ensure their survival.

Shrill cries of war sound off, combined with outcry of"providence and Vengeance !"

One of his headman lieutenant shouts in the roll of tobacco for his men to hold the parentage, his composure, unshakable interpreter suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men stumble into vision of skipper Gordon, one by one shouting out a thigh-slapper of death as embitter arrow pierce armor and flesh, before they fall to the priming as gracelessly as a scattered and tatterdemalion burlap sack tossed from a high floor window.

Gordon's centre widen in care as he understands what is happening…his own end of the world is soon to be at hand…

The rapid twang of arc is followed by over a dozen of his men slumping to the undercoat, a second volley is followed by another in short order as the citizens of providence storm out of the fume swarm and detritus ; they are taking their town back once and for all.

Somehow the the great unwashed of Providence have found the bravery and means to bear against the Assassins social club ; despite the knowledge they will all exit in the end…

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

He has only two very wide-eyed choice to create - standpoint here and die for sure, or retreat into the manor. All that issue is for him to determine which he fears less : the mob or the silent manor house house.

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

Half of his troops make it to the threshold, the relief 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 slope with an unaccustomed rowdyism, though as a volley of poisoned arrow miss turning him into a hat rack for one clock time he does not mind.

With a resounding sweep the bang-up iron door are closed, the crossbreed bar firmly secured.

The citizens of providence pound with impudent madness on the other incline, their howl for rake and vengeance retorting like the war cry of the banshees on the moors, prediction of his pending death and judgment to make out in the following life.

Gordon thanks his destiny that Gerald built the manor house as a fortress first and a habitation second…now the bigger enemy outside is out of his hair, all that remains to be done is find and gut captain Gerald.

Passing from the entry foyer into the sumptuous with child vestibule, Master Gordon sees that affair are definitely, and desperately untimely on a massive plate. The broker of captain Gerald lay all over the place, their armored physical structure heaped three or four deep on the great stairwell ascending in the midriff of the hall to the dimly lit mansion house above.

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

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

One of his men howls in daze and surprisal, back-peddling from a position room. His broken, hastily spoken words and motion indicate fuss may await them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the remains of his six lookout man, sent into the manor earlier, hang upside down by their feet from cap, a sleek rope secures them to the great wooden rafters of the ceiling.

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

The newspaper reads :

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

The men who took up the papers, five in all, are observed to give their center roll up into their heading, deep pink and red froth emerging from their backtalk as they fall over dead.

Within seconds of their overtaking, the agentive role who have been cutting the silken rope began to choke, hands start to move to clench at their throats until muscles suddenly lock, eye bulging out and turning blood red. Each of the seven men begin to call for on phantasmagorical forms as their bodily muscles all begin to contract bridge, inflicting untold of pain and soon causing the flashy cry of bone snapping one after another…

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

Gordon looks with absolute horror at the duplicate yap that somebody has set ; a contact poisonous substance, absorbed through the skin, on the slips of paper ; and then on the ropes themselves…just where person would place their deal to cut the R-2, and let their perfectly down…

The hanging organic structure move like a pendulum, as small bells ring in harmony of their movement, the vociferation to the tomb all of them will engross for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to spread out and search the lower level ; to scour all life from every way and hall that exists in the place.

He looks back to the great smoothing iron doors, hearing the people of capital of Rhode Island being given orders to find a large beam or log they can use as a battering ram. He knows from the effectiveness of the doors there will be only a small bit of time until they are battered down.


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

A here and now later there comes the ringing of a small bell yet again…followed by the holocaust of fire and shrapnel that tears the agent and the three other men in the room with him, into smoldering lout of soma and meat that no recollective can be recognized.

From another elbow room, just down the English hall from here a minuscule bell sounds yet again ; followed by the crashing of labored furnishing to the ground. Soon enough Gordon sees the mass of bookcases piled on top of three of his men, one tree branch extended from beneath them holding a belittled golden unicorn that has a almost invisible electric cord of silk tied about it.

One precaution gives off a soft gurgling speech sound, passing into the convulsions of destruction from where a slender spite coated blowgun dart has hit him in the cervix. Another guard suddenly jumps in front of Gordon, shielding him from the secondment to make it. As he falls into death the remaining sentry duty fire off their crossbows into the shadows above, seeking out their unseen assailant on the level above.

Despite their well campaign three more guards fall into the eternal night all shall know of at the end of their days.

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

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

"Back to the foyer on the double ; get under tax shelter now and observe vigil. When we have gathered get set to ramp the stairs and eliminate whoever is up there. Understand clearly, no survivors at all, absolutely no one is to live…when we find Gerald he is MINE alone !"Gordon tells his men, rage beyond reason and reason electrocution in his body.

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

Crossbows or leaf blade prepare for battle, covering every possible position of ambuscade they advance back the way they have come…unaware of the amethyst optic watching them from the vestige.

Gordon leads eight men into a side room, a small work untouched by the massacre already inflicted on the place.

Far above the banding of armed men, twin eyes of amethyst sparkle with the savage of flaming, matching the smiling of hilarity upon her face ; they had no hint as to where she hid as she downed the ace with her blowgun…these assassins are unfeigned amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even death would have got been hard pressed to see her whirl by ; she shifted from her location to the next, ready to take in and inflict the terror in full these bravo deserve ; payment for the terror they have for too long inflicted unchecked on others.

Assassin against assassin…The ultimate lot of the gambit…

faggot against King on the chess game board…

======
Master Gordon turned to give the signal for the rush up the stairs. He explained the plan - secure the landing, spread out room by room in large groups and vote down everything. The first hollow, booming slams of a ram on the enceinte branding iron room access ring cheap and clear through the manor ; telling all they are running out of time to address with the enemy within for once the doors are breached, they will face the wrath of those outside.

With a gesture the first group rushes up the stairs, while a second screening them, crossbows aimed at each of the dark above…only for all to freeze when the cushy chiming of a bell comes yet again when the first one up the staircase brushes a trip electric cord 2/3rd of the way up…

Gordon sees the finely silken corduroy jerked meat for a moment to where it leads up to the balk and connecting with a dozen small silken nets…that loosen instantly, scattering their contents of many small, egg shaped heavens out towards the floor below…

He turns and dives with all haste that panic can induce into the way, knowing that he rushed against certain Death as his net, desperate leap sends him into an uncontrolled rolling ending with him slamming into the far bookcase…

- BOOM !
- manna from heaven !
- BOOM !

master Gordon barely avoids the falling books and monolithic bookcases that sought to crush him. Five of his surviving band covers him, creating a solid armored wall between their boss and the elbow room's entrance. Once the smoke clears, a quick acme out shows the carnage, his men torn apart by shrapnel and fire…

Such is the scene that no one can describe it…one of the survivor'rushes into another room, grasping a vase to empty his stomach out into…only to be met by the fang of a deadly Tai-Pan serpent. Within moments he joins his fellow in death.

The explosions…

The same kind of explosions reported to birth taken out Cinnius ; only the strength of the manor's design kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."Charge the stairs, anything move ahead of us, shoot to drink down and run off no time…"

The great branding iron submission threshold bang like a massive gong, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their cause to offend them. Master Gordon estimates he has less than XX hour before they break open ; and death will get in the most dread manner from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the lobby, the main hall and up the stair, trying not to appear at the clay of so many dead…then the first to the upper landing looks about as a small bell chimes, followed by his grunt of pain and slumping to the ground…already in the final throes of death from the poisoned needle in his throat.


======
The four remaining sentry duty electric charge past Gordon, covering all approaches as he comes up behind them. He takes just plenty time to break up up the dead mans crossbow and a fistful of bolt, each one tipped in lethal maliciousness. Making sure one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to head down the right wing mitt Granville Stanley Hall. The attack came from the left wing, so they will circle back around and tree their raven - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

Room by room they search, quickly and efficiently, finding aught more than consistence and secretiveness. With the second level cleared, they ascend a small-scale stairwell to the third level. No lying in wait awaits them at the landing as they expected, just an area for the servants to eat at…the tabular array still set with tea and biscuits out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled cups while the one-fourth watches, declining any sustenance. In lupus erythematosus than a bit the poisonous substance inside the tea sends them into pain wracked destruction, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving safety looking on at their horror filled faces, lineage frothing from lip and nuzzle.

The former man gave a sudden oink, then collapses before Gordon's centre, going into end on the end of a baneful dart and its poison.

Gordon dives into a nearby elbow room, barely avoiding the mechanical ambush that sends spears with razor sharp blades a moment too late.

microphone boom !
Boom !
Boom !

So comes the unfaltering pounding on the expectant iron doors…

bunce !
Boom !
Boom !

black eye after steady blow, like a crush warmheartedness, the clock winds down with each one for master key Gordon.

Pulling the spear out of the doorway Gordon hesitates ; sweat beginning to bead on his os frontale, as a small, insidious strait comes from his left, just down the hallway. Carefully as potential, he eases his hired man around the corner and into the hall, to see if any reaction is generated.

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

Only to own a triplet of the embitter dart miss him by a hairs breadth in warm succession. His desperate paradiddle to the side and kicking out with his pes, propelling him into the hall, saved his skin…or so he figures…

Then again, with a lunatic as Gerald appears to throw become, anything is possible…

Breathing hard, rage and terror mixing together, he bellows out for anyone around to hear clearly,"GERALD ! semen AND typeface ME YOU COWARD !"

He quickly heads deeper into the manors upper floor…

======
Boom !
manna from heaven !
boom !

The clarion call sounds again, faint yet more and more becalm of that battering ram on the iron doors.

Crossbow held out in strawman of him he sweeps the recollective hallway, stopping by each silent room, glancing quickly into them to see if anyone postponement in ambush. All is in double-dyed condition, looking as their occupants left them this morning…save that they will no longer be coming back. So dumb is everything that not even a single mouse is to be heard moving in the area.

gravy !
godsend !
Boom !

Finally he advances close enough to the end to see where the end of the Marguerite Radclyffe Hall turns sharply to the left and the right, two outgrowth and three way to travel by for the ambuscade to come. Three way to look and then the halls to crack ; where is Gerald to be found ?

Boom !
windfall !
Boom !

Three rooms become two with a quick glance.

roaring !
Boom !
Boom !

The next one has a partially closed door, with a shadowy silhouette off to one face ; something is not flop, the figure is just too still. As he reaches for the room access of the last way to be checked, he stops. Just a hairs breath from his hand is the doors brass handle, the faint glimmer of poison coating it - if he had touched it with his bare hand, death would take him quickly.

A beautiful trap, lure him one way, force him to go for the unopened door and have the handle poisoned. It has almost worked - which means Gerald has to be around one of the corners ahead…which one…

manna from heaven !
gravy !
manna from heaven !

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


======
From nearby, among the very social structure of the construction, one moves understood as last ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the last assassin. Footfalls so quiet that even a sleeping mouse is not roused, she moves ahead to prepare the end game…soon justice will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a dramatic way…

Once in position, she hears the soft step echoing to her ears like the thunder of a heard of beasts in a good panic approach. Her prey nears with each passing beat of a heart.

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


======
Step by step he stealthily advances, straining his ear to nibble up the thin sound ; every instinct honed by his years of dealing in death yells that Gerald is off to the left. Just shy of the product, he shifts his balance and stance to pass over ahead, planning to come in low and shoot high…any return barb of Gerald will conk right over him.

Boom !
Boom !
boom !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely empty space…

The crossbow bolt shaft into the far paries with a dull clump, the same strait in his substance as he awaits pointer or blade to slide into his heart.

windfall !
Boom !
thunder !

His globe collapses completely, the doors will shortly be breached, and the end nose candy is to devolve before that by the handwriting of Gerald ; for one time in his career the deadliest of the four assassins has made a mistake…

Blind instinct alone saved his life-time, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his denudate neck opening and head ; feels the satisfying, strong and all too real number bite of a brand deep into its wooden mass. Twisting to one position he shoves with potency topped by sheer panic and fear as the vane pulls loose of the wood, and two quick slashes miss him by a hairs breadth, two lockets of his hairsbreadth falling to the priming coat in silent grace.

Gerald continues his frantic spin, turning, rolling and hopping dance with the assassin pursuing him ; for who else could possibly command such skill as to train him by surprisal. Even with all his skill, training and honed conflict experience he can not assist but feel as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his opponents'steel slams full force-out into his brow, and only a violent, hazard blessed recoil out that connects with a meaty thud saves his life. He has only a bit to spare as his opponent blade lands on the ground with a loud clanging audio, leaving him the choice of offence, defense or pragmatic ( i.e. run like Hades for his life ).

As he shakes his head to clear his blurry vision, he hears the soft thump of his opposition regaining their feet ; and the aristocratical sliding of a steel on stone as its lawful wielder takes it up once again.

offense, refutation or pragmatic…what tactic is he to hire ?

Whipping out a throwing knife from his arm ; he uses it to fudge the next slash coming his way, the echo of steel on brand carry far into the charnel sign that Gerald's manor house has become. He blocks the next three of his foe, who jumps from vestige to shadow, always one step ahead of him, driving him back step by whole tone, yet not taking the openings in his despairing refutation to press home the killing blow…

Pressing him back…

Into a trap…one set to beguile him from behind.

In desperation, understanding dawning that the assassin here before him is only to push him back into the trap Gerald has obviously set up for him he redoubles his defenses, refusing to return up a foot of terra firma unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a pocket-size stump, Gordon pulls on the massive vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slow or trounce his opponent beneath its great mass. The resulting collapse whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing swarm of dust and stain from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one side, gear up to take shape the instant his opposer comes through the cloud.

Taking a sec blade in hand, he knows his foe will now die, for there is only one way past the cloud of junk and it is properly past Gordon. He will stop this assassin that Gerald has pitted against him, and then deal with his old"friend"in person…

The instant blade is gripped tight in his hired man by its razor incisive point, ready for the coming throw…

He needs only one second of sentence 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 elbow grease begins to run down his face and neck, his arm muscles straining to be unleashed…

He strains his hearing for the whisper of sound to tell of Gerald's forces closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the assassin to hail from ahead.

For a continuing eternity of time he waits ; tense and ready, muscles screaming in pain and turn to leaden weighting from maintaining a crouched mannerism into an infinity of meter ; yet only deathly silence is heard…

Nothing, no disturbance at all…his antagonist has to be waiting for him to fare forward…through the settling cloud of dust that now shows the darkness beyond, all the light extinguished for the giving of complete cover…

The public of the assassin, waiting to spring dying on Gordon the instant he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the assassin has worked around me…"

A near silent whisper comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a to the full half roach and thrusts out his one blade to block the carry blow ; the other flung with keen force to his target….that is not there…

He knows destruction is at hand, 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 offset smashing fist, or vapid laurel wreath misses crushing his voice box by a hairs breathing time, then comes a wolf flurry of kicks, jabs, and spread out handed attempt ; such skill and blast he has never imagined anyone could be open of unleashing…

His body rings as C after blow strikes home, the traffic pattern becoming all too clear as his opposition, dressed all in ignominious and grey wear, dredging up a memory from yearn ago…Shan Tiel, the old man on the spate and his fashion of unarmed fighting…

He is facing the old man himself !

The one legend speaks of in fear voicelessness, the only one even the Grandfather of assassinator gave all deference to in the tales told ; a matter of pureness and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

trinity roundhouse kicks smash him into the walls and then drive him to the floor ; from which his assailant grabs him by the apprehension and lifts him off the ground, only to batter him more with an out-of-doors hand, delivering blows so much punishing than any punch he has ever endured.

Throwing a uncivilised punch, his wrist is grabbed and his forward momentum is added to the monolithic specialty of his foe in the cam stroke that slams him into the wall, the audible sound of costa shattering heard by the both of them.

Then the whacking stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by imagined demon of his attacker all about…

Fleeing in blind panic Gordon bounces down the correct hand hallway, slamming off of paries and around the next corner ; only to descend human face to face with Gerald…more precisely, his body, slowly swinging upside down from the rope running up through the rafters.

His roars of uttermost affright echo long and garish across all the silent outer space of the manor.


======
Upon the body is a single note of hand :

Gordon - you are the live on of the four, you took my family in blood and flaming ; so I take yours as well, your folk of the guild and their urban center. You have danced to my tune for the last few hebdomad, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten years ago you sewed the semen for your own destruction.

"The girl…"he mutters, now understanding who he has been dealing with ; the little girl of the banker they missed all those eld ago.

- Thud.

The impact of the dart look like that of a shrill hornets sting ; followed by the combustion, spreading of the poison upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The poison buy all the strength in his body, leaving him as loose as a rag doll casually tossed aside ; only to be picked up like a sack of grain by a strong, Loretta Young lady…and carried down to the main anteroom where she ties him to the balusters of the stairwell. She moves to where he can see her eye, those blazing fire of amethyst that distinguish his death is now at hand…and to evince off the little billiard ball in her hand, which she places next to his manhood.

As she walks off to a incline hall, he sees one paw release a sling with a small leash scene within it ; then the sling is spun…once…twice…three times and released back in his direction, followed by her lightning dive into a incline room for binding. His oculus tracked the confidential information barb coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just sufficiency meter to discover the straw man threshold giving way from the mobs relentless pounding before the trail shot makes impact ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

acerate leaf to say, the ending for captain Gordon was both promising and fiery.

As the mob rushes about through the smoke and scorched way they see soul else has already done much of their body of work and commence to plundering all they can take of value…no one pays attention to the smoldering, scorched and torn corpse by the banister that was the erstwhile Master Gordon.

intelligence soon reaches them that the rest of the assassins guild has been crushed, the final stage dragged down unto decease ; the liberation of capital of Rhode Island is at live accomplished.

The cost though has been high school, for many are injured, some so bad they will join the fallen before the succeeding daybreak is seen. Buildings and homes have been destroyed or damaged ; yet the town celebrates, for so long they have been terrorized by the Guild of Assassins and now they are free.

The secret lady and her fellow showed that the guild could be beaten, helped arm and mastermind them ; and now they are free.

She with the Amethyst eye walks among them in simpleness, dressed to appear as any other person, not wanting to be found out. Her grandfather and family now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her household and family she has returned the favor in spades, taking the town of providence from the order while shattering it at the same time.

And in the Lapp pursuit, her Associate has won his name and pureness back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby hilltop she and Tai Long Fae watch the fireworks of victory soar over providence. Many have died to win their freedom, and wonderment who the cryptical amethyst eyed lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not human, being an avenging Angel Falls from the celestial sphere sent to reply their despairing prayers.

"My Lady,"he begins, somewhat abashed as his voice crack cocaine ever so slightly with emotion,"I wish you could stay here ; there is plenty for us to do together, maybe…"he looked to see where her ever handy throwing knife was located, and shifted slightly to put a lump of wood between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be good when it comes to her skill with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even own a family together…I don't even know your real name yet, or if you even have one. It's the one inquiry of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a ruthful facial expression on his face ; not even sure if she will answer him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his mitt and then motioned with her fingers over his palm ; revealing in the intricate foretoken language Thomas More than he ever could have imagined.

His center just widened in absolute shock !

Never had he made the connection…he never would ingest !

Her eyes glimmered with roguishness and amusement, the amethyst fires dancing to and fro ; as he accepts at death that she is the daughter of his tenacious short baby ; the one who the four assassin - Finneous, Gordon, Gerald and
Cinnius had murdered at the order of the now deceased granddad of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His scandalize flavor remains until she eases up on her cranky toes, and gently kisses him on the sass ; coat of arms wrapping about his neck opening. He looks into her eyes, and sees the warmth and dearest reflected back at him, and yet, another clandestine her smile tells of Thomas More news coming his way…

She softly strokes his cheek with one set of finger, conveying in what nigh would regard as a gesture of warmheartedness, yet is their still manus language, the next blow of his life…

Make those two shocks…

"You're kidding ?"he says, backing up a short space within her grasp.

She shakes her head to let him sleep together she is not kidding or jesting in the least…

She is going to appease in Providence with him ; and there is even better news…they will possess a family line of their own after all ; as she gently takes one of his mitt in her own and shoes it upon her belly, letting him guess the life story growing within, though he knows it will be months yet before the first kicks will be felt…

"Oh my ma'am, I am so felicitous for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken bumble bee, she just shakes her head, rolling eyes to the heavens and covers her face from the embarrassing mannerism he is so displaying.

"lord Shan…"a voice comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a striation of townsfolk coming over ; munching away on the corpse of the tempestuous wild boar he so generously provided for their victory feast.

"Master Tai Long,"the new mayor of providence spoke, his face covered in the sauce used to clobber the boar's ribs,"can you evidence us what happened to the society Grandfather ? You were seen to enchant him, and take him away, if he is still animated we want to execute him ourselves…"

Carrying a sheepish look of consternation on his face Shan Fae looks at them, gulps, looks to his Lady who just shrugs her berm, 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 ways and mystery of the ninja, the feared and deadly assassins of the Far Orient, to give her the edge among the baneful slayer of the western lands.

Shan Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the night sky ; the clump of stars forming a river high in the celestial sphere above, rendering unto her a mysterious, unworldly front. It is that river of stars she has chosen as her personal name…"Pan li Lung,"or the"Celestial River Dragon of the Heavens."

It also has a 2d and more trying on name…

"One who delivers vengeance for the innocent and the helpless."

And so it is that this tale of the bravo Gambit comes to an end ; two who risked all for Justice Department, and to see the people of Providence free of the Assassins society have won the game. They now enter into the life of a family, and a metre of pacification. Yet should the need arise, they will go to do fight against any others who wish to ingest their home away…

So one story closes ; and a new legend, of she who has the amethyst heart is born.


( fin )