Just outside the Ithiel Town of capital of Rhode Island, four figures close upon their mark - an old, battered household that is battered by the raging violent storm that conceals their movements. Biting winds drive the fierce, chilling rainwater almost horizontal, blocking all spoken communications between the four until they reach a small-scale sheltering plantation of woods.

The drawing card of the four, Finneous, motions instructions to his associates in the silent sign terminology used by the Assassins Guild ; though they already know their goal, no error will be tolerated this night, the declaration must be fulfilled…no subsister and no evidence is to be left behind.

On that the granddad of bravo, the true ruler of the society and of Providence is clear.

Silent as dying, they move between shadows illuminated minute by present moment as lightning dances across the sky. Here one darts to a tree, then to lay behind a small shrub ; there one dashes between twinkling 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 Constables, the law enforcement agent of Providence - of course all are under club control - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this time of day. The plans of the menage, down to the smallest detail, were secured by yet another band of guild broker, allowing for preciseness planning…

All too easy, nothing can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will take no prospect, for obtuse portion has on more than one occasion interrupted his plans. He gives a hundred count, making sure enough no move occurs…

sightedness, sensing and hearing nothing he motions with one handwriting to his companions. Of the three, Cinnius heads to cover the back door with his small crossbow, Gordon and Gerald move to the side entrance of the pantry and kitchen.

Between flashes of lightning and echoing bellowing of thunder they go ; undetected, they reach the house of the banker betrayed by his collaborator. Swift and efficient they enter, and in lupus erythematosus than five minutes the whole affair is everlasting, leaving the family dead and the household aflame from forepart to back. No survivors, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An comfortable night of employment ; winnow out an entire sept, torch the house to shroud the crime.

Save for one potential drop tortuousness - one young girl, the middle fellow member of the tyke, was not at the house. All four of them agree to say nothing more, knowing the extremum death waiting for them if the granddaddy of the gild finds out.

Besides what problems could one stripling of a daughter alone in the earth honestly cause them…

**************************
The gentleman known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the field watched the fires as they consumed the theatre ; from the phantasm he had seen the four assassins enter and exit with exceptional skills. Not one of the four had seen grandpa when he approached within four feet of their itinerary coming and going.

"Amateurs,"he declared softly, disdain for these supposed ‘ professionals'of the West.

If not for the bearing he has been entrusted with by the now deceased banker, he would ingest finished this set of idiots just for the rice beer of pragmatism. They give a bad gens to what it means to be a dependable assassin.

He could just see how the battle would take topographic point, brief and absolute in its finality…

Emerging from the top he would choose the terminal in seam with a quick, flat edged hired hand chop to the pharynx, instantly crushing it and sending him into a gurgling death…

Twin, envenomed knives would take the center two in their spirit ; the quivering cramp of death wracking the expressions of shock and horror on their faces…

Their leader in strawman, the one he knows as Finneous from past dealings, would fall in a personal matter…his iron shod staff smashing pearl and crushing organs in close up battle ; or if the Noel Coward flees then he would send the throwing stars into his back - each one with the Saame deadly venom as his knife hold…

Tonight he can not give way in to the desires…

Giving a quiet two hundred numeration while still concealed by his tiger striped cloak, minute of foliage aiding in the disguise of him being a part of the Tree and shrubs, he listens with pinna keener than many. He moves nary a bit, even as biting insects crawl over him.

He knows when dealing with fellow hunters like the bravo, there is only way for one error ; of trend being from the Far East, HE is the unfeigned hunter in this game.

He slowly eases into a half bow, then to a full phase of the moon stance as he looks about, listening, sniffing the air, all to piddle certain the four of assassinator have indeed passed beyond the area.

In his sheltering arms is the little girl, the one with the amethyst centre and hushed voice. Her terror filled end hug lets him sleep with just how scared she truly is, though still Pres Young and small for her age, he will score for certain that no injury comes to her…

No matter what he will urinate surely no harm comes to her ; her Father of the Church desperate plea with him, to pick one out of the twelve tike to be saved raked his heart and soul raw, having given the warning of the coming hit by the guild. So it was he swept her up, out the door and into hiding here just ahead of the assassins.

So there was zip he could do, to foreclose the mass murder of his son and grandchildren.

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

He keeps his firm grip on the little female child who hugs him in a terror filled Death hug ; her eyes filled with amethyst fervour. When her founding father had come to fit him, only the miss was with him ; then the Father of the Church had rushed back to save his family line, too late to do little more than than die with them.

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

Very slowly the miss extended her coat clad arm, gloved finger's breadth tracing a serial publication of moves into his hired hand. Indeed, mute that she may be, the rest of her ability with the sign linguistic communication of his family's profession - familiar assassinator like himself - demonstrating the news that lies behind those wonderful eyes.

He nodded favorable reception.

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

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

He calculated the fourth dimension that passed since the quartet of assassins left ; then figured the percipient for the club of assassin will be along shortly - to make sure the contract bridge was carried out in its entirety.

"We must go now. I will instruct you from today to suit a Orion of your own. You will not bring in terror to the innocent ; instead you will hunt the hunter and their agents ; to teach those who use brat what it means to be depicted object of terror in bit. ``

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

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

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

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

They have made their one mistake.



***********
***********
granddad just smiled with delight as he looked upon her, lying next to him on her stomach on their bed ; his fingerbreadth moved with mild, feather gentleness across her bared skin. He began with her one bared cheek, her forefront turned his way and those terrific center dancing with such humor, aliveness and eff for him.

Moving in a slow up spiral outward from the marrow, he soon reached her lips and playfully caressed them across the top and then the bottom, exploring each helping of them in tour. The look of her warm intimation upon his finger's breadth brought a tingling delight to his mind, his old body still up to the entertaining of a Thomas Young lady, one who is no longer a girl - she reached her majority a hebdomad ago, and asked for this night as her endowment from him.

He slips his finger into her mouth, caressing the interior of her lips and stroking against her dentition, taking delight in the growing blush upon her cheek. Moving back to her pep pill lip, he continues his fingertip exploration, up to her pry and around each of her eyes - especially along her brows, bringing a piano shudder to her consistence as her oculus gently close for the moment.

His finger's breadth begin to massage around her brows and then back along her expose ear, drawing Forth River a smiling on her ruby red lips as a subject matter little sigh escapes past them. She draws her hands up under the pillow her head is resting upon, while her bared skin shines with the Moon flowing in from the twin sliding doors that are open air to the outside world.

Her one arm flickers for just a minute, the hand setting more secure under the pillow.

Grandfather moves along the cover of her foreland with his fingers, caressing and massaging her neck along the side and back, cupping them along the straw man so all of his handwriting is on her skin. He then begins in cushy, circling and kneading motion ; she gives another soft suspiration of contentment, her berm sagging ever so slightly as she begins to relax Sir Thomas More and more.

His eyes look up as he picks up the faintest of movement through the floor board, a shakiness and a voiced strait so pernicious most would assume a computer mouse had scampered across the room.

Running his script down along both sides of her spinal column, he uses the other hand to support his leaning form ; this relocation also brings him closer to one of his hidden throwing tongue - envenomed of course - to parcel out with any spiritual world attacker…

The Young lady turns her head teacher away from him, brawn on her back twitching in delight from his caressing touch. Once more than there is a sonant sigh that escapes her lips.

Bending down he places his lips on her skin, kissing inch by salty tasting inch from mid berm to the lower berth rachis ; all the while his center watch for the future phantom to move, ears listening for the next audio to be made as the unknown quantity interloper approaches.

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

A faint phone comes forth through the wall, telling him the exact location of the intruder.

It also provides the information to another as well…

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

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

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


======
The intruder, the man of mystery from the Far East simply known as the comrade - and designated benefactor for the one with the amethyst eyes, calmly stands in his place, one leg in one-half pace, foot prepared to mistreat across the bulwark skeletal frame to another small juncture projecting slightly outward.

Such a move on this outer bulwark, along the construction one-quarter story and some three hundred invertebrate foot over a drop to the jagged rocks below would be child's play.

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

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

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

He gently jive his physical structure around 180 level, pivoting on the toes of his former ft, then begins the climb back the way he came ; he will never lowball her again.

His gaze is drawn back to the full point of a blade extending a fingerbreadth distance through the woodwind instrument ; the gleaming poisonous substance on its lustrous open clear to his cultivate eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his manhood by a hairs breadth.

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

No more curiosity for him, he will now rivet solely on the military mission, and the justice long denied to him for the law-breaking committed by the social club Grandfather of Assassins.

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


======
Grandfather just chuckled as she rolled onto her back, those burnished amethyst optic animated with wittiness ; his delight in her actions is obvious as she holds her arms out for him, the invitation loud and clear in their unspoken terpsichore of love.

Easing his gown off, he carefully lies across her soundbox, supporting the bulk of his exercising weight upon his slender, old and Fe solid subdivision while she component part her ramification, sliding them gently around his hips, and begins to move them in caressing movements along his own.

He begins to kiss her lips, which she returns with fiery chroma, the glow of her cheek deepening with each passing mo. Kiss after gentle, pecking snog embraces her cheeks and then along the jaw to her chin, her smile concealing a barely visible gulp while one hand moves to stroke her neck ; generating a small quiver and twitch of her body, a silent giggle parting her lips while blazon and legs writhe in joyous, frantic bliss.

One small tickle follows a 2nd, then three more, resulting in greater and greater gyrations from she with the amethyst eyes. Tears of joy welled in those eyes, flowing down cheeks to the waiting mouth of grandfather who pressed his lips gently on each drop - his grinning shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling olfactory property of Grandfather while he is so closing curtain ; often she has been next to him in slumber, but never in such a manner as this…the thought of what is to come so soon filled her with a bit of dread and anticipation of ecstatic bliss…the last mystery of mystery to be explored.

Her eyes closed as his hand cuffed the back of her neck, supporting it with great potency and gentle, warming hint ; the small vibrating movement of each finger muscle told of his branding iron control of the body, massaging and finding each sensuous boldness in the area, bringing an unexpected surge of euphoric heating system from deep within and down below, where she feels the beginnings of a wetness build…

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

One fingertip of his free deal began to explore, resting at first upon the identical base of her costa, to flow upward in a narrow, focused, undulating lead that sent a cornucopia of intuitive feeling surging into all portions of her mind.

Sharp and Sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; Logos without form for feelings that can not be described but only imagined in a harmoniousness like a series of swarm forging into a mighty river as all junction together. One incisive intake of intimation bringing a heavenly profusion of scents - the lingering steam and droplets of water from the bathing room nearby ; the slightest trace of old eau de cologne and musk, of earthly rich men smells, and woodland heathers of women who have been here in the elbow room many C of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened palm, easing along the edge of her breast, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in pocket-size, lenify circles. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the early chest to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded ; the hired man caressed and massaged more and more area of each breasts.

She heard and felt her breathing space quickening, her head word making a small lot as electric thrill of arrant bliss tingled their way up in her body ; each one in twist unleashed a pleasant billow of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life-time made realism. solidus by gentle stroke the non-finite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping her knocker until they crossed the set up mammilla ; that first gracing inter-group communication sent a coursing pulse of Passion of Christ along all the track of her body, surging and rebounding until it returned a 100 bend in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

Her back arched as berm thrust back ; both custody quickly clenching the covering of the bed they shared, all but pulling it inwards due to the sheer seventh heaven dominating her body ; muscles twitched and squirmed, nerves firing in pleasure 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 helping hand continued, seeking out with almost dire haste the other nipple ; its trail a illuminate path illuminated by fires of bliss as it moved along my skin. pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the ripples on a pool, yet with the military force of a cascade among a mighty river.

Just short of contact her body could consider no more, pushed to the sharpness faster than even Grandfather had figured as her body moved in excite, euphoric motility ; one silent cry of primal mania after another expressed on her parted lips until her climax hit, being released in one here and now of farthest Nirvana bliss.

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

Her hand playground slide along his back, teasing and smooching, until they meet with the finger's breadth entwining to hold him securely in place. She closes her eyes, neck arching slightly in response to the kiss he now places along it, while a series of flaccid sighs escape her lips that loose and close up in silent calls of building lust.

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

Her face scrimped in bother as he continued to press 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 dead body like a river of molten alloy ; the heat and chroma redoubling with each inch it passes unto her brain. Her breathing time quickens as she lays there, capitulum listening to the gentle, unbendable breathing of Grandfather.

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

All too soon the wonder of this prison term of pleasure comes to an end, as he reaches the terminal point of his eubstance's endurance and restraint, sending his life seed cryptical into her body.

"I'm sorry it did not last as long, or would be as enjoyable as it should have been Granddaughter ; the first time for any man or woman is the most ill at ease, until the enigma is passed and the earth widens for them both,"he explained to her.

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

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

His paw encompassed hers, allowing him to take delight in the softness of her skin, the slight hidrosis on the Earth's surface.

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

In their shared, silent sign of the zodiac language she explains that they depart in two weeks.

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

For the last ten years he has raised her, teaching her language and written material, the art of alchemy belonging to the bravo of the Far Orient. The way of the sword and the bow, the throwing stars and obelisk ; many weapons for all situations she may encounter…and so much more.

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

Yet he taught her so much More than to be a ‘ living arm ;'she loves to dance with him under the wizard, to fish and hunt, to recreate cheat, and so very much more.

In short, he taught her how to live and enjoy aliveness day by day.

Two short workweek before she heads to Providence ; two calendar week she intends to enjoy to the fullest with her new buff, making love as much as he will permit.

Contently she rolls onto her side of meat and slowly drifts off to slumber while he serenades her.

She dreams of their clock time together in the two weeks to follow ; now that she has become a woman, she will do Sir Thomas More than just pleasure his humanness with her sass and tongue, all he would let her do for some fourth dimension now. They will make have it off from break of the day to dusk and into the many nights they have left.

Her aspiration recall those prison term, from the first taste of grandad humanity on her rim, his seed spilling into her mouth and his apology when she choked ; to the way he explained what to do…

Yes indeed, their stay on clock time together will be wonderful.

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


======
Her companion stands silently off to the side of the pocket-size shrine where grandfather ash have been laid to rest, the two knight he holds, their mounts, remain understood as if paying respectfulness to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just shakes his oral sex, amazed that the one he is to work with appearance such a ambit of emotions ; he made the promise to never underestimate her again, yet the sheer display of science in her design - and the contingencies for result and chance that may grow, is the work of a unfeigned master.

Only the slightest gleam of a rip shows as it flows down her cheek ; the only weakness he has seen in her during the time they have come to eff one another.

loony as it sounds, he wonders if there is a chance for them ; once the William Holman Hunt is done, to suffer a relationship with each other…

Let the futurity ejaculate as it does, right now former issue need to be focused upon…such as the pets he needs to buy once in Ithiel Town ; secure their shelter and fix sure as shooting they are sufficiently hungry for when the time comes to deliver his revenge…

He can almost condole with the circumstances in fund for the grandpa of Assassins…almost.

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


*******************
*******************
In the deepness of a vacant workshop, one long boarded up, shelves thick with dust and cobwebs the solely sound to be heard is the deep, rasping, moaning gasp of an older man. Dressed in a well tailored suit, most would don him to be a servant for one of the rich merchants of Providence ; yet if they knew his on-key stead, they would run off screaming…to an former, pain filled end as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then get the same fate.

He is the butler and correctly mitt man of Master Gordon of the guild of assassin, not to note being a deadly killer in his own right.

His hands grip the store dusty retort that pushes into his book binding as he fights to remain upright ; undulation of giddy, pulsating, undulating heat and electrical like sense datum of delight flow into his thinker ; too many years have passed since he has felt this way, and now to get such a lady as this return such stake in him, for such a fairly cheap price as well…

One of the legendary Sisters of the blueing, a small assemblage of concubine renowned for their supremacy of the erotic and tantric nontextual matter, showing interest in HIM ! ! !

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

One raspy breathing space after another passes his brim, thorax heaving in and out like a bellows, one tingle after another causes his soundbox to flex and flow about, as he feels like his brain is now turning to splosh before a furnace, about to flow away completely in a cloud of steam.

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the sis's lips play along the duration of his humanity ; pausing to snog and eddy around the sensitive base of its head teacher. With a whirlwind of small, precise strokes of her natural language she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading wave into his soundbox along the narrow down ravines of his spooky system ; one wave upon the other ; building into a tsunami of force out and prurient fires, threatening to gate-crash his idea ; with oblivion coming then and there from excitement matching that of a dotty stallion proclaiming victory for ascendancy of a herd of mares.

For the first time in class he feels so FREE and TRULY ALIVE ! ! !

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

He has to find out ?

Grunt after grunt reverberation around the empty shop, his fists commence to Pound upon the counterpunch as he strains to hold back the growing pressure sensation upon his manhood. He understands that for so long he has been an oxen, who by choice and confinement in the mansion of his boss, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such alright carnal pleasures as this…

Oh the heady perfume she wears, soft and gentle yet being knockout as atomic number 26 and unyielding as the mystifying Harlan F. Stone in the earthly concern ; elusive as a ghostwriter while being here and now as a import of time that is eternal.

She eases one hand upward, gently teasing and tickling his twin set of chestnuts just below his manhood, while being unaware of the small surprise lying just within her fingernails edges. If this man dares to draw the hidden set of blades or the fine telegram garrote up his go out sleeve, then the poisonous substance will kill him within minute, thus forcing a small change in her plans for the near future.

His laughter grows from a small serial of chuckles to wild, manic, hysterically insane speech sound carrying cheap and tenacious outside the shop ; though no one in the country dares to pay attention - ignore such sounds that may entail social club commercial enterprise is going on and you stay alive for today…maybe…

He feels like his eye have crossed over into the opposite sockets, his strong point being drawn out of him by the constant, heat flow, headiness of her actions. Oh if he only could get his wife or the other girlfriends and mistresses he has - each convinced they are ‘ his true dearest'– to do thus to him, as well as or effective than she.

For the second prison term he counts his damned portion at having a sis of the blueness come to HIM for so low of a price ; one simple transition and future group meeting such as this will go ever easier to arrange.

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

He wonders for a bit how much he can lodge his associates for them having their intimacy with her ; and not gamble being sold out to headmaster Gordon or the Grandfather of Assassins

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

Of course of instruction his master copy may not see it that way, yet what he does not have it off will not cause him to massacre the butler in the most venomous of agency possible…if he was favorable, being flayed of all peel, doused in acetum and then covered in cheese to be fed to rabid scab would be a dead on target blessing.

But that will not happen, his master may be a powerful figure in the guild, yet HE, the butler, controls the day to day result at lord Gordon's estate of the realm - no one will know, just as he has smuggled and embezzled millions of amber coins, treasure and artwork over the old age, others paying the price for his actions…

He easily could have afforded one of the Sisters at their convention, usurious fees of ten or more twelvemonth's remuneration for a convention worker, just for one hour of ‘ entertainment'by them. Some people have become so indebted to them, that they in turn become handmaiden of the Sisters, forever.

The two thing that give the sisters such mogul aside from their supremacy of the sexual arts, is the sheer beauty of each one - plus the sheer sapphire blue centre they have ( hence the ‘ blue'in their rubric ) ; 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 Sisters make surely they never learn to communicate in any means, reading, writing, or such save by a circumscribed sign language centered on the intimate arts. Though they are free in how to pleasure and delight their clientele, they shall never be spare of the powerful influence and control of the club that dominates their entire lives.

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

The Samuel Butler spends some meter explaining to her as she gently strokes his manhood, rapt care paid to him as he tells story after narration about the guild and their waves of panic and murder used for ascendency ; her grinning shows the inflammation brewing inscrutable in her body, seeing him as a champion of paladin against those who dare to defend the way affair are - the Guild of Assassins rules, nothing else can replace it.

Or so he assumes.

Gently she teases the very tip of his humanity with the tip of a fingernail, drawing him to the sharpness of madness and back again and again ; her smile of wonderful bliss combined with rapt care to the pigs constant stream of false heroic masks the uttermost contempt she feels to him…

And wonders if it would not be better to simply strike a bit too arduous, bound back and sentry as the toxicant goes into effect…no not yet ; the fourth dimension for such petty larceny issue is not at hand.

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

His rasping breath continues to change, centre crossing as he nears his peak.

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

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

"Just a monitor of who you are dealing with peeress, the first breath of treachery at all…"he finished with a question of his hand across his throat, fires alight in his eyes.

She resumes her position on her knees, pretending zippo has happened at all.

As per their muckle, she opens her mouth to prove his entire life-time seed is there, and then swallows it down.

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

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her irritation in bank check ; despite that she will be spewing her sand out for the following span of hr when she gets home, the overall gains are worth it.

revenge will come soon enough.

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

"My dear Sister in blueing, the next time you wish to have more roses, let me know. I will gladly bring them to you for an ‘ substitution of services'such as you provided tonight,"the butler stated.

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

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

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

The butler heads off now on former matters ; specifically the owner of the new flower shop class, the female child known as ‘ Clairice,'the one who is admirer with the lunatic that makes the gadgets for the guild.

She has expressed involvement in the fresh rosiness Master Gordon has been developing, ace like the three he has given to the Sister in blue sky. Yes, he shall throw his requirement known soon enough, and may have another one to add to his schoolma'am - or he may just pop her outright, depending on his particular whim of the moment.

Yes liveliness is good and Master Gordon will never know of the missing flowers being by his own hands.

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

If he understood the character he unknowingly plays in the"Sisters"game ; the threat would induce his kernel to blockade on the spot.



*******************
*******************
Finneous just strolled along on the main fair-through of providence, taking in his ever expanding empire of buildings and shops he secretly owns. His wealthiness over the last ten age has grown exponentially, all of it due to his cut of the fees paid to carry off one banker and his family.

Indeed, ten eld is a long time, now he had baron, social station and wealth known only to a few ; those who part ways to let him happen, his rank unclutter by the fine of black suits encompassing his iron-trimmed mesomorphic frame. For the suicidal who may challenge him, the small crossbow bounce at his hip - always loaded with a envenomed bolt - is ready.

None dare to take exception him, for he is one of the Masters of the Guild of Assassins ; one of the all right and of the deadliest, only rivaled by Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius his old associates…and of course the granddaddy of bravo and his ever shifting secret plan within plots…

…no that one he will never gainsay, preferring the luxury of life to the finality of death after hideous amounts of torture…

The thought of the close execution he had seen, a man covered in liquified cheeseflower and lowered brain first into a pit filled with hungry, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he ; the screams gave him nightmares for weeks afterwards…as the granddaddy of assassin intended, a warning as well as punishment…

Yes here in his domain he is safety, based on his power to control others by their veneration - of dying, pain, and of punishment or fierce acquisition in blade, knife and a hundred other weapons. By controlling their care, he has ascendency of all those around him.

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

"Oh it feels so good to be a baron within my own little arena here in the city…"he chuckles to himself. Yes it is dear to be king over a humble percentage of the world.


======
Two sets of eyes watch as Finneous head teacher down the street, following the Same formula each day. same fourth dimension, route, movement, and such…predictable, and thus vulnerable ; in becoming predictable, he has become so very vulnerable…

Without anyone else noticing the two have a quick conversation, using the mute language of deal motility ; if all goes well, they will need to move quick.


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

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


======
Finneous passes by one of the few privately owned shop class in the region, the low stone edifice is home to a new florist shop, who also deals in betting odds and ends she trades for from other merchandiser. Such is the budding repute of her workplace that many people of influence and major power, not to observe phallus of the guild, visit to purchase her creations.

Her only have intercourse companion is that old and completely insane toymaker Darius ; his genius for making gizmo and mechanical gadget is just as legendary, as he has the prosperous chance to behold first hand.

Darius shows the girl…lets see, what her name…Clairice is, yes Clairice, which is her name…a minuscule, egg-sized ball in one of his hands that slowly motion and shimmy. Gradually it becomes a mechanical canary that starts to sing.

So angelic and dead on target is the call that many actual stoolie in nearby Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree join in the song.

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

Heading over, he gives a piano cough to make his presence known, and indicates the mechanical bird with one hand. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the creature ; Darius bristles until the girl locks him in place with a truly hind end regard, thus saving the assassin the need to stamp out him for a underage insult.

Clairice agrees on the damage, obviously not wanting to take chances offending the assassin.

When he gives her the coins for the purchase she bows to excuse herself then goes back into the store. Darius just shrugs his shoulder and capitulum off on whatever business concern his fury holds, his cryptical wild blue yonder robe covered in eldritch mathematic symbols flowing about him in the breeze.

As the assassin heads down the street he knows he is being watched ; his face feigns interestingness in his newest toy while actually keeping caterpillar tread of each person moving about him. Soon enough he discerns the one who he has been waiting for - on time and for once holding something of great pursuit to him.


======
The two who watch the onward motion of Finneous up the street have another agile conversation in the silent hand spoken language ; the minute of the two fore slightly, then takings to render his ‘ talent,'knowing that there will be lilliputian time as things come to a head.

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



======
As on each day, the ‘ ambush'occurs right on sentence, the trivial young woman with the voiced eyes footprint out in nominal head of him with her arms filled with bloom."undecomposed sir, would you like a prime today ?"

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

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

He counts out a fistful of silver-coins, many times what all of her blossom are deserving. This is his means of paying his own agents, and helps to keep them in line with the tongueless content of fear - betray him and not only will the federal agent die, so will all their family and kinfolk.

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

Much to his entertainment he sees the old toymaker Darius arguing with a pair of Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. He seems to be trying to get them to buy a mechanical device that will cumulate water for them. A clear deterrent example in the alright art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can cause marvellous toys.

His schoolmarm will absolutely love this mechanical bird.

A secondly glimpse at Darius shows he is trying to dance with the Tree, and doing so badly. When a bunch of leave of absence fall over his heading, he begins to contend about some ‘ slight of honor from the woodland of the mankind'and then challenges each tree to a duel of honor…a true hothead indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

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

"I will take in to find out."

Too bad he never got a luck to find out.


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

"Go and get the duty master,"shouted the patrol sergeant to his aide-de-camp,"tell him what we have here at once, the rest of you secure the area, five paces 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 assassin, unafraid business leader of his own land who made only one fault ; 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 force - the Constables have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her class. Everything in their theatre is intact, no polarity of disturbance, bother, choke shimmer or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their stopping point prepared repast, still cooling down from preparation, remains uneaten on the table plus an expensive vino bottleful chilling in a bucket of ice…

There were only two oddities to be found - a half-bloomed rose on the table, and a big bucks of newspaper hidden away in a hollowed out Koran.

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

Make sure that Finneous has approach to these flowers during his morning walk, one is to be sent to his mistress as well ; remember I will tolerate no Sir Thomas More mistakes. If per fortune he does ask where they are from, distinguish him directly they come from my estate gardens, in honor of our ten age of common silence - Gordon.

Quickly this note made its way into the hands of the Assassins order ; the leadership waiting to see what their best tester could find, which for the most component part appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a series of smaller, invisible writing emerges from the flimsy heating of the parchment.

A extra, hidden computer code known only to a smattering of the guild - used for those who need to flee the city instantly, and with complete safety…

Safe firm prepared, flee when Finneous given flowers, no hesitation, follow centering to the letter on pain of death for everyone - Gordon

"daily round up everyone who may be remotely connected to this subject, and ferment them over to the Constables for the interrogative. Make sure as shooting they are reminded to stay tranquillize, no questions, no credit of order business at all under bother of death,"ordered the Grandfather of Assassins.

Turning to the drawing card of his personal bodyguard item he gives one explicit order,"Find the ones who run this network of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be Master Gordon, a power maneuver seems to be brewing, and so those traitor have only one last chore to perform…food for my collection of World Tamil Movement in the dungeons…and make sure they die slowly…I want to hear their screams."

Most probably this is a business leader play, a series of reasoning by elimination of competitor and senior rank members to open the way for humble ranks to be promoted - that is the way of the guild, to advance you toss out of those above you or die in the process.

The grandad decides a little talking with maestro Gordon could not hurt. Just to get to certainly he is aware that if he is seeking to unseat him, it will issue forth to a bad ending for Gordon. And if he is not plotting against Grandfather, then it will alarm him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

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

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

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

Upon receiving the summons from the grandfather of assassin ; Master Gordon starts to shake in mortal affright, wondering what was going on…Finneous is dead, a varsity letter he supposedly wrote according to the messenger after a nice payoff, plus the first whispers on the street of multitude inquiring more and more about his home and habits in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his butler ?

plot within plot of land, move and counter move ; that is the lot of anyone who is a member of the Guild…HIS life-time, the accruement of exponent and control until eliminated by a competitor from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the Grandfather of bravo fears HIM…

Despite assassin not having Friend, they always have two companions acquaint - paranoia, and fear.


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

Here she is, laying back on a cast, those soft doe like eyes closed, top dog turned to one position as her back talk silently open and close from waving of lightning like pleasure surging with might and force up her body, to break up with thunderous comeback in her nous.

Those gentle hands grip the cover and incline of the couch with vice like strength, fighting to agree off the force of each shudder, arching of her rear and wiggling of her hips from the aid being given to a particular character of her body…

Just the intellection of it, not to refer what is going on causes her already deep blush on cheek, chocolate-brown and nose to deepen further ; so intense is it that anyone watching would feel undulation of heat and desire shimmering off of her hide in Wave, threatening to take all who dare to venture near.

One massive shudder of her eubstance, her hips instinctively thrusting upward as if by their own will, causes her to cover her expression in sheer embarrassment ; any persuasion of modesty have flown long ago as a fowl flying with the wind.

As if she had any real option but to submit to the query anyhow…

The one who is conducting this alone style of ‘ interrogation'is the Chief investigator Kimberly, who takes her time to ‘ investigate'and ‘ examine'each parting of Clairice's womanhood. Each and every inch, crimp and hidden depth she kisses, punch, or plays with via her fingerbreadth ; fourth dimension after meter she manages to bring Clairice to the very border of orgasm, threatening to drive her over the edge only to bring her Down and then back to the edge.

Kimberly's cruel smile shows as she playfully and forcefully teases them across one sensitive are of Clairice's muliebrity, drawing out a watercourse of convulsive hip thrusts and arching of her spine, legs squirming about as she covers her sass with both manpower clenched into fists.

The men in the way, those who work under Kimberly's absolute, unrelenting and utterly sadistic authority grin wickedly ; unleashing a continual torrent of vilification, jab, off-color gestures and a ‘ running comment'on how they feel that Clairice should just relent to the testing.

None will comment on the techniques used by Kimberly, nor on her bared torso ; her bronzed hide, perfectly formed face with those fell Thomas Gray eyes and angelical expression - complete with a sparge of freckle, and her monumental, perfect tense breasts any man would choke between with felicity on his terminal construction, makes a perfect model any sculptor would be majestic to stimulate created.

Yet the bronze death masks of the finale twenty men to so point out hang on the wall nearby ; each masquerade party showing the absolute vision of repulsion their faces had attained at the moment of their end in the most flagitious of elbow room one could imagine…chewed on by scum bag, boiled in oil, crucifixion, end by 500 cilium of a whip, and even more sadistic means.

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

Amazingly though, rumors to abound out of Kimberly's hearing of one man, a high ranking extremity of the Guild of Assassins has won her heart….if that is even possible…

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

detrition her fingers rapidly over the female child's muliebrity, she grins wickedly back at her men ; then she moves back down again, playing her tongue across it in speedy, precise accident and letter convention of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the finger of both hands worming their way inside her tight folds.

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

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

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

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

Her champion Darius was whipped while tied to a wooden Charles William Post.

The torturers though just could not crock up his already harebrained mind ; he continued to reason with the post, some matter of math and machinist. Each crack of the whip drew only a small slash on his exposed back, plenty to inflict maximum pain, yet did not split 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 meter - yet when the torturer looked into the eyes of Darius, he suddenly lost his nerve and ran down the hall, screaming as if chased by the legions of the damned…

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

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

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

Kimberly continuing her maddening movement on her, determined to extract every bit of pleasure out of this petty tart, continuing to deny her the release her body demands.

Again and again her hips thrust upward as wafture of fiery bliss shoot along her body and menace to collapse her judgement. Waves of volcanic heat flow and ebb along every vulcanized fiber of her being ; surging and exploding with every type of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rapturous seventh heaven !

A swirling, dazzling kaleidoscope of coloration swirl into being, parting and shifting with each new blissful instant sweeping up from her muliebrity ; to blend yet again into a new chassis and being, a cycle that is repeated over and over again, a thousand times for each passing beat of her heated heart.

One silent gulp followed by another and yet a third becomes a steady stream for some time as one exceptional daub is touched just so by Kimberly's natural language ; causing her pelvic girdle to thrust up, back deflexion and bosom heaving with the sudden influx of air her heated, burning consistency is demanding…

The inspector's mitt move up and caress her breasts yet again, not bothering to be soft either ; three prison term she draws silent screaming out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving bruises of her digit and palm on each one, relishing the straining she can inflict on such an innocent and cowardly girl…

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

The animalistic grunts and slapping of physique on frame of David entering into Kimberly merged with her cries of pleasure, cheap and furious like a inner circle of wolves. He showed no restraint, no vacillation in his every gesture or desires to enjoy this here and now in which he thinks he has unadulterated control over the inspector Kimberly.

Of course, his buddy know better.

"Okay you little fornicatress, I will tell you this much…mhmmm…if you cum before David, I will let the eternal sleep of the men have…mhmm…their way with you…oh…ohh…"

Grinning savagely Kimberly went about her effort on Clairice in a whirlwind of effort ; probing and twirling her finger deep in her womanhood while working every portion she can with her flickering tongue and sass. Faster and ever quicker her crusade accelerated, determined to break Clairice once and for all ; to show these men and the girl who is the true boss and mistress on the scene…

Then she will see about destroying the one called Darius.

Clairice fights with all the considerable subject field she has learned in her life, locking her bodies muscles and restraining the ever building, quickening blast of her pending release ; she smiles inward with a small portion of her mind as Kimberly howling in thwarting - no affair what the inspector does or tries, she just can not name the miss hit her climax.

So furious does Kimberly turn her hand that holds onto the binding of their shared put tears away a hunk of wood some two infantry long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her chest dancing with the pulsating rise and decline of her breast, howling pleasure escaping her lip as eyes roll up into her head…she hits her climatic handout at the split second David, wide-cut of bellowing oink and growls howls for all he is worth ( and such would have any inner circle of beast grin with pride ), his release inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

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

consequence after his big finish Clairice loosens up on her body, allowing the inevitable spate of final bliss to pour forth as an unstoppable tempest, the force and Eumenides of the temblor, the heavy tsunami descending onto the coast of a Continent from across the ocean…

Kimberly shook her top dog, clearly disappointed she could not come apart the girl…

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

Kimberly just looked at her with smoothing iron in her cold-blooded 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 dwelling, if one of you so much as lay a hand on her, pray for a agile Death from suicide ; otherwise I will flay your skin one in at a metre, then soaked in vinegar, covered in molten Malva sylvestris and tossed to a pit wide-cut of rabid, pest infested and hungry crumb,"Kimberly informed them all.

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

======
As they gather Clairice's clothing, gently handing it to her, rear and gazes now politely turned away ; the Investigator prepares to leave her novel recruit - David - a rear end deterrent example in following gild. One thing David should hold remembered is that each of the Investigators are womanhood who absolutely loathe men most of the sentence, plus being high gear horizontal surface assassin of the guild.

Without bothering to gather her clothing she saunters to stand behind Dwight Davis as he finishes lacing his britches ; his smile of conquest turns to concern as he takes in the grins of his companions.

- WHACK !
- belt !
- WHACK !

doubling over, centre crossing and soft moans escaping his lips, David begins a retard, face first descent to the flooring. One More victim racked up to the inspector well known move called the"triplet Nutcracker."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finneous appears to simply have died of nitty-gritty stoppage.

Back in her personal bureau she examines the last, cute gift sent to her by Finneous…a lowest gift sent just a few hours before his death…and to just up and die from his essence stopping ; not in mortal combat against another bravo or madman…

She smiles at the wonderful gift :

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

Ironic indeed, two of the most deadly of cause of death sharing one matter in mutual : A dear for rosebush of all kinds.

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

Taking it in deal from the crystal vase it arrived in, she looks at the prime in the soft lantern sparkle ; the promise of beauty beyond wonderment hinted once the peak opens to its fullest.

Bringing it to her nose she savors the rash scent that mix together - rose sass, cinnamon and trefoil ; plus others that still defy her ability to identify.

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

It takes over two hours before anyone who heard the crashing stochasticity followed by absolute quiet to ramp up up the courage to enter her part, rightfully fearing for their lives.

Of course they quickly discern there is goose egg to reverence any more than from Kimberly - being drained does chip in that warrant ; and she is deemed to take died from heart stoppage as did Finneous.

The solemnization held that night in the Constables office for her exit lasted well into the next day ; the groan and groans of the men and womanhood coupling merged with the coupling of women with other adult female telling all who dared to listen just how the solemnization culminated.


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

As usual no matter what Darius said or did the Constable escorting him and Clairice to her shop paid him no attention. Its not that he minded the escort, nor having her as company during the foresightful paseo place ; he is glad they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by gang raping her as so many early women routinely are - the so called ‘ law'of this Ithiel Town lives by terror as does the Assassins who rule.

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

"Okay hombre,"said the patrol leader - Jambis,"we have done our obligation for the Night ; now, allow for her be and dump him…"

The two police constable carrying him summarily threw him into a sight of refuse and slime. To add further abuse to injury, the patrol dumps gobs of scraps from containers, bags, and boxes on top of him ; mocking him as a admittedly maniac.

"Well lads professional Gordon wanted him humiliated ; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the succeeding time the headmaster wants an order of magnitude filled, get it right. One More mistake and the next visit by us will be a more pain filled than your unhinged nightmares could comprehend,"Jambis told him.

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

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

With that he delivers three brute thrill with an iron tipped rush to Darius's head.

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

Even that blasted wretch of a hussy Clairice is gone.

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

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

Only the hatchway of the shop doorway and a gesture of her with the amethyst heart keeps his pursuit in check…

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


======
Hours later in the city crowded market one young dame casually strolls down the way ; just a elementary Milk maid from the farms outside the town. No one pays her any attention, the much patched, homespun fabric coated in the daily stain of hard Department of Labor keeps most optic from Thomas More than a glance followed by, for those of more tributary mean value, a lordly bird of disgust.

She filled her basket with an assortment of fruits, day old bread and other goods for a small phratry of one ; all that the vendors know she needs.

Friendly, but silent, the scrape across her throat and left look indicate a horrendous trauma that never properly healed due to miss of care.

Still with simple gestures of dumb show they communicate for conducting business ; both official and otherwise, for one of the vendors passes her a small dismission of fresh fruits, something she pays well to obtain due to their rarified and scarce nature.

Back in the safety of one established hideout, she sees her Associate carefully undo the release cloth to gain access to the note. He takes extreme point attention in doing this, to make sure the note is not trapped in some manner - say with a small, highly poisonous insect or a small snake.

"rich person trust in your agents reliable my granddaughter ; but bring attention in face one has been turned,"grandfather had warned her in a lesson so long ago.

In her lowly mirror, used to remove the war paint, fictive scratch and other token of her disguises, she sees her currently green eyes turn back to their convention color…the twin orbs of amethyst fires…

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

It is from one of her other factor :

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

For a here and now her smile turns savage ; her amethyst eyes dancing with thoroughgoing fires from within.

She remembered the lesson Tai Long Tiel had taught :

The assassin controls broker through promise of wealthiness for success, and promise of death for nonstarter. Find the physical object he threatens death to, the key to control over the folk - once found, devise the families escape. When the factor of the assassin no longer is controlled by fright, their fearfulness now becomes a electrocution desire for revenge. Thus the assassinator in now vulnerable, and when you are set up, he will die.

Finneous held big businessman and thus had total control of the founding father by threatening harm to his precious Jesmine.

When the crack of exemption and escape from the care of Finneous came, and understood to be legitimate, he took up the one task without reluctance. Hence the bloom was delivered and the line left behind.

One assassin is dead, three more to go.

Along with taking down the sterling swag of them all ; now the paranoia and the pressure will rise and rise until all comes down.

He watched her hybrid the room to put the note among a minuscule big money of them, to be burned later on and the ash scattered in the wilds. No evidence of them is to remain at all once committed to memory.

His brain registered each aristocratical tilt of her pelvis, her covering robe of pink silk shining in the light of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to card him with a brief revelation of a leg here, a calf there, a possible sight of one parcel or another in the approach incessant play of light and shadow. Not one dissonance did her feet make as they all but danced across the wooden floor, so equilibrise and ghostly is each invertebrate foot placed ; always ready for action on a minute notice…

Oh how he could contemplate what it would be like to finger his manhood being rubbed and tenderly teased to its maximal potential by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in twist Begin to osculate one foot, working to her mortise joint and then gently easing up, one in at a fourth dimension to her innermost thigh and seek out the one heavenly place she has, the one portion he loves on a woman to please and sample, to experience the sybaritic warmth of her material body and…

- belt !

"My lady if you will excuse me I am off to get some rest,"comrade said as he slowly eased his body around the knife hanging sharp English up, just a hairs breath beneath his aroused manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol penis talk of their human activity, screened by a small detail of the best informed creatures to be found within any city : Street urchins, fishing worm, lurkers, they go by many such name calling and almost all have one thing in rough-cut ; they are the undersurface of the sociable order.

The poor, homeless person, orphans, madmen, and all such people who are despairing to make a coin or two for a decent meal ; so it is that many in positions of mogul use them to watch any and all bm, any rumors or history no matter how trivial. Few multitude pay them any attending save to go along hand on their money belts, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being invisible while in knit sight.

One other trait the skulker, such as a young lad casually strolling along the streets a abruptly time later, his hands deep in coat pockets, is a well honed inherent aptitude for survival. Otherwise he would let died farseeing before now. Yet the fact is when he bumps into soul, he is the one knocked to the ground - landing next to a fallen basketful of fruit…

A peeress looks down upon his hang word form, the prey smutty fuzz done up in a flowing braid, blue-white hat tied to her head while sapphire blue-blooded eyes watched. Her blush-enhanced cheeks glistened in the sunlight, matching the color on her lip as her grinning grew wide with poetic pleasure that many men, and some women, wished to search with pounding hearts…

Her fine gown of deep sea green sparkled in the light, slit along one leg to flow enticingly about her calf and thigh, promising forbidden delectation to those willing and able to pay the terms. The soft vest of cyan silk she wore clung to every one of her feminine curvature it reached, write for a portion that shows a glimpse of her breasts, soft and pink of skin, as many an aristocratic man enjoys…

Folding her sunshade, she bends down into a one-half bow, the material of her robe conveniently flowing about her upper thigh to reveal the pearly splendour of her hide ; muscles honed to absolute beau ideal and hinting at the strength contained within - the better to wrap around their even consorts in the throws of passion, or so it is said.

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

The lad, his majority reached just two days ago does not impress ; he is still, despite a rough life on the streets that has left him gangly, shortstop and suffering malnutrition, in absolute veneration of this lady. His racing heart beats from the panic of her howling nature, the flush of heat trench 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 Lady is of the noted"Sisters of the Blue."

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

Understanding that he must be on his best manners, for the sake of his life history - the sister are often said to be part of the guild of assassins, and under the personal dictation of the grandfather of Assassins - the young person extended hand waggle with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ legend come to life'( in his mind, she is a bona fide goddess of Passion of Christ and pleasure that can never be approached by the low-pitched of mortals ), can be more intimidating than the Edgar Lee Masters of death who are probably preparing their poison tipped sword to plow him into a hand basket…

"Ma'am I am no-count for knocking your basket out of deal,"accepting shift for the matter even when none is there. With farthermost precaution and respect he hands the yield field goal back to her.

"I shall use more care in the futurity ; own a dear day ma'am,"he says until her handwriting rests gently on his shoulder.

Everyone watches in admiration as she takes him into the semi-private area of a full general store ; she uses dumb show to finally get the level across to the grocer, who shakes in near panic at the view of causing the Sister any law-breaking ( being connected to bravo can induce this to happen a lot, the Sister thinks ), to outfit the lad with a full phase of the moon set of NEW vesture, no second hand junk.

She pulls out a little number of silvery coins to cover the cost and to buy some minuscule commodity that the grocer gives her a massive discount upon.

Through the shop door and windows the amass crowd watches in jaw-dropping wonder as she sits the lad down following to her on a terrace as the grocer goes to get the new clothing. Her hand playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to shudder like nothing. He fights to keep his eyes off of her, especially as she takes one of his hired hand into her own and moves it to the lower edge of her vest…gently guiding it up under the textile and onto her breast beneath.

His jaw flaps unresolved and closed repeatedly as the affectionateness of her frame, the yielding softness of it, catches him by surprise - no madam has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone know, bravo and the normal family line of providence, that the lad is now a personal factor of her own ; to harm or relate him in any way is to hazard the retribution of the Assassins…maybe, as no one can really be sure who she works for…

The babe in blue looks upon all the watchers with coyly pursed back talk, centre set in a disgusting gaze that promises the lad untold passions to fare and untold, absolute painfulness and death for anyone interfering with her take gift of recruitment for him.

The lad face at her in near scare, until she gently kisses him on the cheek, nose and forehead with a grinning. She gently takes his hand away from her breast and readjusts her clothing while the grocer returns with the garments. Ushering the lad into a changing room to see the results, the grocer returns to putting her purchase goods in her basket ; then hands it to her with a mystifying bow, nod of the head and a grand smile on his face.

So successful has the magic been, no one suspected the grocer passed a small package of papers her way in the basket ; in bit she had passed pedagogy on as well, concealed under her singlet for the lad to behave to others in her ever expanding roofy of federal agent and contacts.

Before sundown comes, the leaders of her net of agents ; get down preparations of their own ; preparations for the monolithic ten-strike once she gives the signal…as coat of arms and armor are prepared ; their grins are as of captive wolves about to destroy their tormentor.



======
Later that night, her eyes read carefully the conglomerate explanation of all her own agents, inside information of those known agents and member of the bravo's lodge ; their duty, patrol times, substance abuse and so forth. Each detail that is gathered shows more weaknesses, more fuel for the pending firestorm.

Among all these clues, facts and information there stands out one circumstances - a Chinaman in the enemy'armor ; the way one weakness can be so dramatically exploited.

How to attain it with total surprisal ?

After a few minutes of reflexion she turns to her Associate, and via the silent hand language explains what is needed. His grin and nod shows the delight in her approximation, and he has a evenhandedly approximation of who to border on to craft the ‘ gift'that is needed.

As he looks into her optic he sees the chemical salmagundi that allows her to change their coloration wear off ; the fake sapphire blue angel reverting back to the true, lustrous amethyst flaming he has come to admire so much. The mix used to make this happen is common in the Far eastward, unknown to these idiot assassins of the West.

One More border for their slope ; and they need every one they can achieve.

His gaze flows over her lithe descriptor, the silklike robe enshrouding her partially open as she continues to record ever to a greater extent of the messages ; her denude tegument glistens in the docile light of the oil lamp, casting shadows and light that dancing suggestively across abdomen and breasts, hiding and disclosure in a dance of sensuality suggesting more wonder are nearby if he would just defy to explore…

Putting on his coat as slowly as possible, pretending that his arm is stuck in the arm, he drinks in the mint of her bared pegleg, crossed and curved to celebrate the sight of her fair sex just out of reach ; yet teasingly he can just make out a bit of the flaccid, puberulent whisker between her thighs…a prize he would love to explore if she just would let him do so…

How practically pleasure he could bring forth from her unlike the now perfectly Inspector Kimberly - that one used the sexual for determent and domination ; he will for her to be please and loved.

Bared breasts motion ever so slightly with each of her gentle breathing space ; dancing in a beat silent and steady, enticing with their pap so soft, pink and fully erect as if daring him to make a motion in and conceive the impossible.

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

From her breasts he would move downward on her abdominal cavity, teasing her tummy with constant petty candy kiss to tear many silent sets of giggles and laughs as potential ; then proceeding downward to her woman, by now so fix to be excited and her eye would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would jollify in that sweetest of all tastes and feeling ; her bared womanhood, still so young and fairly innocent before him. Each gentle speck of his fingers and backtalk, the caresses of his tongue on those most sensible of blot, natures gift to char, he would duplicate his sweat on and as she increased in fulfilment towards her climax, get her down a bit and then double the travail again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the wonderful reaction of her organic structure heave and gyrating as she hits her release, wafture of cloud nine and fiery passion flowing across her body to dash to the one spot of her psyche demanding to enjoy each moment of the sensations.

She would await at him with those moony amethyst eye, a silent invitation given and confirmed as her arms were held out to him, welcoming their sum as one…

- Thunk !

"My lady,"he calmly stated,"if you will let me I shall create due hurry to secure the services we need for the future theatrical role of the plan…"

He gently moves forward a bit, making sure to light up the sharp slope up blade stuck in the wall just a hair breath below his manhood…her way of reminding him, Romance may come later, right now other matter are priority.

She just shakes her headland and grinning as he leaves ; wondering how many more sentence she may have to do that to get the theme through his foreland - she does not want romance, not at this clip, she needs just a friend. grandad was the one she loved the most, and it's too soon since his passing…


*****************
*****************
Normally a walkway among his beds of flowers sunshine the darkest, foulest, humorless of moods he could achieve. This day though, is not one of them ; his great rose gardens, the great of his treasures accumulated over the last-place ten long time now have become a bane.

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

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

An incredibly fine morning he was spending with a Sister in blueing crumbled into ash with the courier who arrived unheralded, accompanied by a wakeless guard from the guild hall.

His content was mere : The grandpa of Assassins wants to see him.

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

granddaddy's mollify interrogative - he could simply get tortured him to death on a whimsey - centered on the notation supposedly in his own elegant and flowing script, so close of a counterfeit that even the guilds best experts are hard pressed to tell the difference.

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

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

This closed book is driving him to the threshold of madness ; the reference again of ten years of silence, only two others still alive have it off what happened all those age ago with the contract on the banker and his family.

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

The ease that the pink wine disappeared makes one issue clear though ; individual has an agent on the interior, and needs to be found out and ‘ interrogated.'He does not stomach those who sell him out…not at all.

But who could it be ?

Though he never can fully trust anyone about him, a few have again and again proven their loyalty and give tongue to reliability over the years…Yes, he will have them watched from a distance ; rough-cut toughie and footpad federal agent of the guild, if they get killed by their own incompetence, there will be no major loss.

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

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

He retreats back into the manor, swiftly closing and barring the massive iron threshold. The lookout is doubled and the seat is to be searched from top to bottom twice over. Pure defensive measures if his suspicion of a hit at him is proper.

Of course, if a coup attempt happens as Grandfather expects, he will rush to defend the loss leader of the club. If the opportunity arises, then he will dispose of grandfather. His temper brightens at those thoughts ; he as the new gramps of Assassins, ruling the town and the club plus all of his own lands…why not, this bears some discourse with his associates - Gerald and Cinnius.

Even with the opinion now calculating plan and contingence for the takeover of the guild or voiding of a rival one fact remains clear. His hand never loosens its bobby pin on the razor sharp knife hanging from his belt.



**********************
**********************
Associate moved as carefully and quietly as he could, not daring to stimulate a noise at all. Shadow to shade off, one minor step at a prison term he moves, quieter than a mouse on the prowl. For several days he has built up the boldness to come tight and closer ; with sealed caution being taken this time…

- clunk.

Quickly he grabs the cloth bounce, cast iron plate draped across his manhood to pipe down up even this slight bit of noise. His quarry this evening is all too potential to stimulate certainly he is gelded indeed…and the toxicant on her blades are another complication as well to that kind of embarrassment.

Looking around the last corner into the small stone grot below the safe theater they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst eyes showering beneath a soft, steady, misting shower of steaming water system. This may be one of the few luxuries she ever has allowed herself…

comrade of course, just grinning, as he sees the appearance is about to begin…

She bent her head downward to take in the frontal portion of her queer organic structure, those smallish boob glistening with small beads of piddle upon them. Both hands came together in presence of her, tip to tip, her eyes taking in the terpsichore lights that gleamed like a million millions of diamonds before a flame, playfully moving along her smooth skin before they disappear into the pool about her feet, merging with the residue for eternity.

Associate looked with wonder as she playfully gathered a smattering of the water after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her silent laugh adding to the wonderment of her gleaming eyes when the droplets come back down to crash on her. She moves implements of war, legs, shoulders and principal to catch or elude component of it ; shifting from substructure to hoof in many different poses.

Then her regard shifts to her breasts once again.

One fingertip began to explore, resting at world-class upon the very radical of her rib, to fall upward in a narrow, focused, undulating trail that clearly sent a richness of feelings surging into all constituent of her mind.

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

I felt as if my world came alive from the second my fingertip first touched physical body, a world opening before me unlike any former ...

Sharp and sweet, harlot and tangy, dull and dense ; tidings without descriptor for feelings that can not be described save up as a musical harmony like a series of stream forging into a right river as all join together. My eyes closed as I felt the heat in my body beginning to shift and build, a sweltering pulse that flowed from the person of my base to the baksheesh of my fingerbreadth, caressing hips and shoulders, knees and elbows as the soft, sensuous touch of a graceful lover who only desires to pleasure his lady to no end.

I smelled with each breath the heavenly profusion of perfume - the mineral rich people water, the ancient age of the rocks around me along with the musky, earth plenteous odor of men and cleaning woman who have lived here over the vast age the firm above has existed. The wonderful, intoxicating mixture of the bathing easy lay I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to heed an ancient woods never before visited by human beings ; of great deal hayfield with flowers fully in bloom of youth and the sweetness, gruntle walkover flowing across them.

The fingertip became a flattened decoration, easing along the edge of my boob, slowly tracing the border while swirling in small, gruntle circles. One circle became two, then four, and moved to the former breast to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded ; while my hired hand caressed and massaged more and Thomas More area of my breasts.

My other hand flowed down my body unto the most personal spot each cleaning lady alone understands and has by a endowment of nature ; they followed my minds command to begin exploring and probing, as I sought out the one situation to send me away into celestial seventh heaven for a short time.

I heard and felt my intimation quickening, my head making a small-scale rophy as electrical charges of unadulterated bliss tingled their way up my body ; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant surge of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality. apoplexy by docile stroke the infinite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping my boob until they crossed the put up teat ; that first gracing physical contact sent a coursing impulse of passion along all the course of my consistency, surging and rebounding until it returned a 100 fold in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

My back arched as shoulders thrust back with my head ; my give up bridge player quickly clenched the vanities marble border as both of my wooden leg all but gave out beneath me. Muscles twitched and squirmed, nervus firing in delight and demanding they be touched to feed me even more delight than I had experienced with just that one massive surge of wonderment.

Unto its journey my hand continued, seeking out with almost desperate hurry the other nipple ; its trail a crystallise path illuminated by ardor of bliss as it moved along my skin. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to course outward as the wavelet on a pool, yet with the force play of a cascade among a mighty river.

I commanded my body to hold still, to balance and move with the flowing surge that will shortly number ; to use the get-up-and-go and motility with it instead of in Opposition to it. When it came, the mere brushwood of flesh on that tit ; combined with the pleasures flowing from my womanhood ; brilliant lightning ripped up and down my trunk, flexing and loosening muscles and cheek in wonderful style as I shook and moved ; the moving ridge moving downward as I sought to direct the returning pulse…

And then it hit ; the most versed and gratifying of mavin that sent me into a farseeing, jarring climax that lasted over five minutes ; my cutis shining brilliant in a shimmering cloud of delicate steam rising from my body.

I felt more alive than ever before.

- gravy !

In an instant of fire and pain Associates phantasy of his ma'am delightful experience being told to him shatters.

She shook her question as Associate went diving into the grottos primary pool, britches smoking beneath the stamp smoothing iron dental plate he is wearing over his groin. He apparently forgot that one of the explosive chemical compound he carried at the ready would go off at the least wrong motion…why would he go along it down there though ?

She just rolled her center to the heavens…



**********************
**********************
It has been a engaged two workweek since the end of Master Finneous and Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent sets of ‘ interviews'sanctioned by the guild are zippo more than a drive of terror, intimidation and coercion to remind all of Providence who rules the town. Of row, a few of the more challenging penis of the guild also took the juncture to encourage their own forwarding from within the guild…

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

For she whose eyes are alight with amethyst flack, the weeks have been even longer, two key detail she needs to possess crafted by local anesthetic rootage seem to never get finished. Day by day she waits and hopes for the message that they are quick to arrive. Day by day the substance never comes, and her longanimity begins to frazzle at the edges…

Two longsighted weeks where with each passage day the broker under sea captain Cinnius have harmed more and more innocent mass ; the continuing and growing crusade of terror, sanctioned ultimately by the Grandfather of Assassins. One more crime for them to pay for…

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

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

With the most ennoble, tender of guardianship, each of the egg-sized spheres is examined for the small of flaw ; and none are to be found. Her feral grin is matched by that of the toymaker standing adjacent to her ; both of hers and the one remaining of his gleaming with rumination of the coming autumn of the secondly king…

"Fire with fervency, which is what you instructed ; just do not omit any of them, the result of course would be fairly impressive and quite an final. Those cretin of the guild never figured I know the liberal arts of interpersonal chemistry as well as being a toymaker. Now through you I can have my retaliation upon them after so many long years…"he shook his caput in long suffer sadness.

XII eld ago, for making a little mistake in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at sword decimal point by a guild extremity, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight tike before his eyes. Then forever scarred him as a reminder - burning off the left side of his font and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away ; he has never forgotten the pain, nor the terrible resolve for revenge to be exacted on the tormentor of his - Cinnius - if the opportunity arrived.

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

She hands him a turn up varsity letter containing the initial impinging information for those who see him to refuge ; 1 who specialize in smuggling hoi polloi to freedom and who are part of her own meshing. While he looks at the information she disappears out the back door and into the condom of the shadows. No one, not even a cat laying down ten inches from the door, senses her passage.

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


***************
***************
The following two weeks sees utter chaos sweep the street broker of the lodge. The ordinary bicycle gossip heard in shop and among workers has suddenly been replaced with word of a brewing power struggle within the social club leading, of a contender guild from another city, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be wilder and more unbelievable than the last and always third, fourth or even twenty percent hand from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

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

The more that the grandfather hears of these rumors, 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 orders for his own agents to find the sources of these rumour, or face the most horrid death that they could imagine…


=======
Her amethyst eyes sparkle in the flabby Christ Within of the Sun Myung Moon coming into the room from the window. Once again her own street agents have excelled beyond all reasonable expectations ; pressure and yet more pressure is being put on the order agent as they hunt for the truth…or what they perceive as the truth behind the rumors…

Paranoia can be so handy to make life miserable for assassins…

The softest of footfall draws her attention to the room access where her associate enters.

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

"My lady,"he said,"I have come from the leaders of those who are in waiting, before they will devote fully to our plan they want ‘ dramatic cogent evidence of the lodge being vulnerable.'It must depart no doubtfulness in the matter. I told them that such a matter is already being prepared ; just to let them know who is in control of this hunt. These assassins have allowed the anger to build against them for so long, by so very much reverence that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the demonstration will contribute those who wait into our fold."

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


************************
Near the new ale-house which is a strawman for the assassinator'guild's mental process, the independent tap room is flowing with customers coming and going. The back way this dark also are active as penis and agents move in and out with clockwork precision. to the highest degree bring collections from loans, blackmail, extortion and former stinger from businesses for ‘ insurance'reasons.

Some of the deliveries though are for defrayment of declaration taken out on concern rivals…one being sent to passe-partout Cinnius.

This gift for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the sharpness are superb, almost living whole caboodle of half-bloomed rose wine, and the alleviation of skipper Gordon's manor sign. It is the work of many superior crafter and worth a lot in and of itself.

Yet the guild takes few chances ; as a exceptional band of thief who are trained in the ways of yap crafting and of disarming them tab it over in exacting detail - their lives depend on it as if they fail…swift, brutal death.

To the advantageously they can determine, there is nix amiss ; only a syncope stratum of junk upon the wrapping fabric and the wooden box itself. Obviously some apprentice carver failed to dust it off anterior to shipping it here…still as per the standing ordering of Grandfather the box is opened, to secure no unpleasant surprisal await within.

No disruption is to come to this surgery, none at all, and they know their lives are throw overboard if anything does go wrong.

Inside they find a professional set of billiard balls, the favored game of Master Cinnius, plus a alphabetic character written in the flowing script of Master Gordon…

My associate Cinnius - the missive opens - please accept this as my natural endowment for ten years of hushed work. Soon we shall harvest the crop of our effort ; may you enjoy the many secret plan to be played with this billiards set - Gordon.

Many people examine the items, passing them around to see if any are trapped. Nearby the sentry duty standing watch keep their weapons at the ready ; prepared to instantly abuse in if danger threatens, of course of action if one of the inspector just up and dies then they will hold their land to cover later directly to granddad 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 small clouds of the dust that came from inside the box. He tells the guards to join in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of granddaddy has its advantages after all, and if something does go wrong - they can take the fall.

However at the second, considering the varsity letter from Master Gordon, he wonders if much more is afoot at the meter. plot within plots, trick within thaumaturgy, faith no one…

Still…

He has been instructed to play his office of working for passe-partout Gordon, yet that letter…

The letter that has data that grandad has offered requital for…a defrayal he finds all too invite to hap up.

"Hmm, maybe Gordon is passing the surgical procedure over to Cinnius after all ? Some in effect offering coming in turn to the gaffer ?"he speculates aloud.

Turning to his own broker Jambis, he hands the letter to him with direction that this is to get back to the society, and directly to the granddad. Many see him hand a minuscule token, a medallion that bears the personal Marks of the grandpa to Jambis - this is a pass for pinch or critical subject matter only.


Right now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH ; vital data the Grandfather may necessitate, to deflect a coup attempt staged to unseat him.

early federal agent whom directly answer to the Grandfather hear Ragner mutter"…this time Gordon has gone too far…a biz and a coup…or a move to set up Cinnius, or another setting up Gordon…"

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

Ragner watches Jambis of the Constables gather his squad about himself, and then put the alphabetic character into an inner vest scoop, unopened and unread. Both of them slap the rubble off their work force that was upon the letter.

Ragner considers for a consequence 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 geartrain of sentiment for a few instant ; before turning to more important matters, of how he is going to spend his reinforcement and use his success here to advance within the guild.

Out of the corner of his eye Ragner catches a series of distinct movements, the flashing and glistening of color that tells him of a special kind of danger now approaching his area. He focuses his entire attending upon the mop up scourge, appearing as relaxed and occasional as he can while watching, listening, and waiting for the least bit of information that can dedicate him an edge in the impending encounter…

Three figures approach, their flow and bustled gown, double laced waistcoat with frilled edging ; and gloves that flow up to their elbows match the snowy John L. H. Down of hats and ribbons binding their raven smutty fuzz ; their eyes of sapphire blue air would confirm their fealty if the Same coloration of their vesture and shading parasol did not…

THREE baby of the Blue in one gathering !

Unheard of by almost anyone ; as the armed service of one alone would break Ragner for the next ten lifetimes !

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

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

Such lavishness Ragner plans to make as his own and all too soon ; with the reward promised by grandpa he can have any phone number of the Sister of the amobarbital sodium with him at any time he wishes…

There is much he has to plan, and carefully…

Plans within plans, a crop ready to be reaped…

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

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



*************************
Atop a nearby roof a line of ferocious gargoyles watch with their aeonian gaze upon the scene below ; nearby they are shaded from the heat of the day by a pair of mighty oak Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree over a c feet in peak, plus a chimney long bricked up, that daily casts its shadow across them as well. For as retentive as anyone in Providence recalls these statues have maintained their soundless vigil, the unmoving protector and recorders of the Ithiel Town history.

One other watches the tush of the ale-house, the agents playing their secret plan and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her eternally silent chuckle as the game stops with all too suddenly for the instrumentalist. The idiocy of these Western assassin and their dingbat agents never ceases to amuse and surprise her.

Keeping a deliberate count, knowing her window of opportunity is shortstop, she scans the region again and again with her eyes of amethyst fire. At the reckoning predetermined end, she makes sure her harness bag is snug about one shoulder and quickly bounce to one tree, descending with all due rushing and a lowest leaping from a low branch to the threshold at the back of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally soundless guards, thieves, agentive role and bravo of the cognitive operation here ; as they are no longer a threat in any form…so long as she does not touch them with her bared peel. Silent as end she slips into the back way, bypassing a ransom of gems, coins, jewels and jewelry fit for a hundred big businessman. Wealth beyond nigh multitude's mental imagery lays opened to her fingertips…and means nothing for her…

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

She halts inches away from the table upon which the trapped box sleep. Before she gets close to the box there are forethought to be taken : the donning leather baseball glove ; binding a stocky textile mask across her mouth and nose ; and then taking a vauntingly rag in hired hand, she soaks it thoroughly with a bottle of prepared oil.

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

With blue-belly, precise moves, continuing a s count for the remainder of the window still spread, she rubs down every open, inside and out, of the wooden aerofoil. Collecting each billiard bollock, they in bend are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she exchange the dope trapped box with the tangible gift for Master Cinnius…one that will deliver a very warm reception to him…she will take naught else ; or her efforts may come to nothing…

She pulls out a bag from her harness bag, places the box into it and then, with the level best care, soaks her gloves with the organise oil until she is indisputable they are exempt of the dust that so nettled Ragner until his ending…then the baseball mitt and rag join the trapped box in the bag.

For a moment, looking down at the mass murder her and Associates efforts have wrought, she wonders what kind of feeling will be on the font of Master Gordon when he hears of the surgical operation furthest unsuccessful person. Of course in the case of master copy Cinnius…she will know when he has received his natural endowment in a special personal manner indeed ...

"blast with flaming,"is what the alchemist declared back when she picked up the petty surprisal for Cinnius. Oh how true that shall turn, with an superfluous twist to it.

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

Just like all the idiots on Ragner's watch.

Nearing the end of her count she hastens on down the street, joining the gathering gang 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 Pres Young and in nearly pure health.

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

Soon enough the hue and cry is sounded from the book binding of the ale-house ; the slaughter having been discovered by the next shift of order agent arriving. In horror some flee the view, screaming for their very lives, while the remainder scratch demanding solution of those living nearby or passing on the street. Despite their best and most violent means of demanding the response, no one has seen anything…

Save for those who are now dead…which will refine their asking the three score and five corpses lying around the back of the ale-house any questions. Even an test of the remains themselves reveals little save that they, just like Jambis, appear to have died of heart stop…and then five of the examiner of the bodies themselves pass into the following public within the one-quarter hour…plus those who have dared to move the dead body for burial details…

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

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

He was stopped though, one of granddaddy agents handing him a package that contained a letter found upon the consistence of Jambis - meant to be delivered for the granddad middle only. During his all too Sceloporus occidentalis traveling to the guild student residence, and to the door of Grandfathers throne 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, opened it and learn the letter aloud to all confront. Just after he finishes, his eyes glaze over and he falls backwards, dead as anything as the last suggestion of junk dissipate off the vellum page.

The messenger knew in the instant Grandfather's buttocks gaze fell across his own that doom was now upon him. He was wrong about being boiled in oil ; instead his ending came as he was lowered column inch by in into molten bronze, and a death mask of his entire physical structure created, a unique statue soon added to those of grandfather innermost sanctum.

For the ease of the day and into the night, grandpa brooded, wondering how to wrick this tragedy to his advantage and continued survival.


======
In the shelter of a dependable house they have established, one to be abandoned for safe once their camouflage and the trapped box are disposed of in the fireplace, Associate bows his head in acknowledgement of her success. As she changes from one outfit to another, he can not keep open from watching, seeing her bared form in the ignitor is a mint to behold. Well he can always dream…right now business calls…not to mention the retentivity of the knife just missing him down there by a bit…

"I assumed the ‘ bosom stop'toxicant worked as planned ?"he inquired.

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

The simulacrum he derives brings out a series of chuckles that flow into a violent stream of laughter ; one simple trap has wrought such carnage on the operations of the assassin's guild. The recherche death of the patrol drawing card Jambis is spear carrier frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not present the Death blow…

Yet the rest of his patrol…hmmm…

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

Her expression turns purely feral, and a quick nod follows. With that supernumerary bit of byplay concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the next portion of the plan. Tonight the rumour of the streets will turn to silence ; no more hearsay of the three Masters will be heard, thus many will bear the rumors are true, building fear and paranoia higher and higher within the guild…

As if the lying in wait in the ale-house could not inspire more fear…such a mere, graceful trap…

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

Heart full stop is one of the most subtle of poison from the Far East that few of the amateurs here in the West would have it away or even pipe dream, to subsist. Indeed, his lady has learned her lessons well…

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

It can be prepared as a fine, dust like powder that upon the tangency with unfinished human skin is quickly absorbed, yet kills only transactions later ; stooping their hearts frigidness. What makes it so subtle and insidious of a trap is the fact that those who contacted it, can return the poison debris as well through a handclasp, smack on the back, an object being passed around, so that it can pop a second, third and sometimes a fourth time.

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

He has to remember that little thaumaturgy ; it may fall in handy again some day…Just like the surprisal for Master Cinnius that she has arranged…

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

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

Until the moment someone stumble by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the precaution of master key Gerald of the lodge. They scowl and threaten with glances, pose and words ; the inelegant speech communication of park and headless strong-armer who would ingest no chance against him.

Associate bows politely and with over deference to Master Gerald ; who, to his absolute amazement stoppage and lecture with him for a few minutes. In the guise of a foreign merchant, selling uncommon game of chance and that of billiards, he speaks of the most recent purchase order he delivered to headmaster Gordon - a well crafted wooden box of billiards for a present to one of his friends.

Master Gerald speaks of that secret plan being the favored one of Master Cinnius ; and confirmed by comrade in his claim of being told thus by master key Gordon as well.

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

Associate continues on his simulate business organization, stopping to talk with a series of store possessor and vendors in the open market ; followed of row for some time by one of Master Gerald's guards - just to make sure no form of funny business is going on.

Associate finds it quite amusing that he managed to walk passed the man three times and relieve him ever so subtly of his variety handbag, sticker and a deck of playing scorecard - not to mention the stupid feather in the serviceman hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible informality he did the same with Master Gerald's coin handbag it should be no surprise. Feeling the weight of coins and jewellery within each one, the Associate slips them into an privileged vest pouch and heads on his way. Some daytime he can not help but smile at the sheer incompetency that these supposed"Masters of Death."

Even the speculative of his fellow students and family of the Far East are equal or better than them.

Now then to the matter at hand, he will parcel out shortly with the rest of Jambis patrol ; and show the guild cretin what a reliable headmaster of Death can inflict…he just pauperism to get his mitt on some modification bag of Master Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


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As Masters Cinnius and Gerald head to die the network of warehouses and shop, the false coverage for the order of assassinator, people see them wearing looks of anger and terror ; for they have survived a ‘ civilised get together'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 armour for battle ; two scores of his best and pestilent body safety device surrounding him. ALL of the safety have blades drawn and held at ready, in an exigent any suicidal attacker will go under envenom steel…assuming that the loaded crossbow held by the gramps did not finish up them first.

His discussion was place and wrath filled ; not to mention emphatic on its clarity :

Among the three Masters - Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius - one of them is nearing the completion of planning for a coup. The mess of grandfather newest bronze statue, a former and inauspicious messenger from the ale-house massacre, stands as witness in muted, locked, screaming agony of the fate that may be soon to come for the two of them…

grandfather explains in dewy-eyed terms for the two there before him - stand truehearted and on his side and you may live, possibly advancing in place and great power."The option is yours though, if you think you can surmount me with Gordon, then attempt to do so ; just understand what will befall those who fail…"

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

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

The sheer, utter, shocked horror that crosses their faces is real. Never before could they have imagined just how far and perfect Grandfather controlled his own network of spy and federal agent ; they must take spear carrier forethought in any move 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 iron control.

There are more than a few who overhear their not too quiet conversation ; its accountancy passes through the guild within the hour. cue get down to unify with hypothesis and theories ; each one being spun and twisted until they become recognized as the basis for fact and truth.

Most have come to regain out that original Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor house house ; his personal agent though are following members of his house staff, plus other members of the guild as well. Just this activity, uncouth among the guild already, lends more fuel to the fire about the putsch ; only this time it seems to be that original Cinnius and Gerald are being set up as a decoy, or bait.

None can be for sure who of the three overlord is in on the coup, who is bait and forfeiture, or if someone else is setting up a cracking game to take down the Grandfather as well…all three make sensory faculty to the assassins.

For overlord Cinnius though, the encounter with Grandfather ended with a dubious packaging of variety ; one that held all the electric potential of vast riches and unexpected doom. One that all too clearly grandad was using for ulterior motives…and for his own survival at the top of the order pecking order…

"Cinnius,"gramps began,"The restoration of the ingathering is now your project ; Gordon has proven not to be up to the job and thus is now removed from it,"he gestured with his hands, then slapped them together in a argument of finality, leading the rest of those present to question if a death judgment of conviction has just been passed…

And if so, who would then die…

"See to the ale-house certificate and make sure that there are no more ‘ disruptions'to the procedure ; we are losing face and control over the city with each perturbation to our operations…no mistakes will be accepted or tolerated…even the random executions are no longer working as desired,"Grandfather explained.

Many of the guild members understand the all too authorize substance hidden in his run-in. The guild is in control of the full city, the undisputed rulers and overlord of Providence and the surrounding lands ; no one may challenge them in any way and be suffered to subsist. To remind people who dared to protest the ‘ investigating'brought about by the expiry of Finneous and his devotee, Kimberly, sixty citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their intact families in populace - the price any defiance to the guilds rules will bring.

Yet while the hoi polloi looked on in stark quiet and terror, some of them looked on with thoroughgoing ire in their eyes…a clear sign that the control of awe and terror was no longer having the desired effect. And if those who control providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their subject area thoughts turn to avenge and justice for all of the assassin's offence ?

Considering that these execution teams were led by Masters Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the first to fall if any kind of insurrection does occur…And victor Gordon was the one to render the message, via an agentive role, to pack out the executing on behalf of the granddad wishes.

Now the two Begin to marvel - was the notation really explaining the will of the Grandfather ? Or is Grandfather playing a larger game with Gordon ; weeding out the disloyal and unnecessary, to further tighten his already iron unassailable storage area on the social club ?

Or could someone else be playing one mathematical group off against another…no, no one inside our out of the guild would even dare think of doing that. The social club of capital of Rhode Island is the deadliest in the world ; no other has dared to earn challenge against its bobby pin on providence in a 100, and the fable of those who tried are still told as tarradiddle of the worst incubus made reality.

"We must construct our plans to deal with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with absolute decisiveness,"he is ahead of us on the chessboard by a wide margin, and we need to trouble the momentum he is building."

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

That endure question left them cold to the core of their being ; they, the headmaster of inflicting concern and scourge for the sake of ascendency, are now losing dominance fate by lot. In losing ascendance, they understand fear and holy terror from a new perspective, and do not like it at all.


======
"In fond storage of one who fell so young, Jambis, may he long be remembered for all he had done,"called out the merchant who is paying for everyone's drinks this night. Sipping on the acetify tasting swill they call wine and intent in this ugly tavern, he eyes each patron and actor as they pass along his area of vision. With all too much rest he identifies the various agents working for the guild ; specifically that nigh of them are those who answer directly to Grandfather.

"To Jambis, and all he had done,"everyone shouted out, spyglass raised or clanking together in celebration for the disembarrass deglutition and food. The barkeep smiling as the merchant hands over a pouch gravid with coins, gold and silver, plus many valued gems for the political party tonight ; many input that it is a Nox to be remembered for some time, and as a real surprise, a Wagon with a score and ten tally of pocket-sized wooden tun's of spirits, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the backbone of the wagon and commence to manhandle the cloggy burden inside ; causing a serial publication of gasps, ooh's and ah's from all the guild agent within. They can tell these are the okay of the o.k. in drunkenness, each keg is worth a king's ransom and here there are XXX in number…

The saving man nods at the merchant, and then tells the party departer,"Courtesy of professional Gordon, we were instructed by a messenger of his to deliver these to you all, and quote ‘ With thanks and easily wishing for the time to come - Gordon.'End quote."

One of the patrol fellow member of tardily Constable Jambis calls for a toast to Master Gordon. The merchant excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a false stomach. He tells the barkeep to let the liquor rate of flow until the investment trust are used up or the sun rises with the coming first light. The barkeep genuflects before him, sniveling and honoring his generosity as a good little toady should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

"To superior Gordon and his most exceptional generosity, and exquisite perceptiveness in drinks,"the cheer is repeated three sentence by the crew as the tun's are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the party at handwriting. Well into the night the company carries on, seeing tun after tun emptied to the live on dreg of drink that can possibly be extracted from it.

Outside the merchant sees the final man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called Jackson. He is able-bodied to come on Jackson with nary a voicelessness of sound being made, and sends him sprawling to the reason with a quick reversal to his dresser and side of his jaw. So subtle is this that to any untrained observer, the merchant is just helping his passed out friend home.

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

The man, one of his peeress personal factor, nods ; he can not facilitate but throb at the cite of associate degree ‘ pets.'Such a fate should not pass to anyone, yet as the trance patrol work for the guild, he can gain an exception. Besides which, these two have shown the guild is vulnerable after all ; so he made sure enough the door was open earlier in the stowage for fellow to infect the tun's of drink.

All in all, this is a very beneficial night.

Of course of instruction once they awaken and see their at hand fate from associate"pets"; the surviving patrol phallus would strongly disaccord with that thought.



======
The morning sees master copy Gerald pacing the length of his manors great dormitory, confusion and worry clearly visible on his face. His personal guards pick up on his malaise, as anything that can make their boss act this way has to be taken as a antecedency menace ; their own life depend upon it.

Within a day of their get together with Grandfather, Masters Gerald and Cinnius met ; setting their design into action and making future preparations. For their sake ( of keeping alive ), they keep granddad informed of their every action. It is decided they will task their own agents to watch over those of Gordon's, recording each and every deed and impinging made.

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

Each maestro in turn of events, once back at their respective estate of the realm, orders that extra agents be attached to watch their respective twin ; just on the off probability the fellow superior is about to have a double or triple cross. As three more days pass, they begin to suspect Gordon is up to exactly - nothing. No plans or moves are apparent to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the dark forty of the society agentive role, all of them granddad, have perished. They were attending a party given by a visiting merchant, in purity of the late Constable Jambis, and for the sake of his surviving patrol members. All of the ale and spirits delivered came with the finances of Gordon and a content 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 drinks are doctored - using a eccentric of rarefied poison favored by Gordon and his unspoilt broker.

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

By nightfall they have an ominous sign that shouts mass to anyone who understands ; the streets have gone tacit. Completely understood save for the agents of Grandfather, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the signs of a pending coup seem to be confirmed at live on. Most are now assuming that schoolmaster Gordon is going for broke, to take down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a triple free rein - they appear to shit the gild and Grandfather ; who in turn eliminates them, and then becomes vulnerable to Gordon…

To master copy Gordon, upon hearing the tidings of his agents being watched, decides HE is the target for a fall ; the scapegoat for the pending takeover of Gerald and Cinnius…who else would dare tap at an operation under his personal charge…shame and disrepute him, then egest him while setting Grandfather up for the fall..

It makes gross common sense in its own convoluted way.

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

"Gordon - Grandfather of assassin, I like the ring that has,"he smiles wickedly, heading off to groom and take a crap plans. He feels no pangs of guilt or moral sense in betraying his chap Masters or the Grandfather ; for that is the way of the assassin.


======
Standing upon the high wooden attic of the storage warehouse, fellow holds the terminal man of lately Constable Jambis patrol, Jackson, by the cord that binds his ankles together. The terrify man, upside down, looks at his pending circumstances far below, the twenty and four large forms, moving fast and with power for such massive animal, their six inch tusks red with the blood and torn flesh of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the party lastly night, bound and gagged, inside this storage warehouse ; one by one his supporter had been dragged away by this man and then tormented with aspect of what awaits them below. One by one they howled, begged, whimpered and pleaded for mercy ; their captor'heart, cold and laborious beyond anything he could recall seeing, even on the one occasion he met the Grandfather of assassin, told the tale…

There shall be no mercy.

"Listen,"their capturer told each in twist, as he had told Old Hickory,"try to die with a bit of dignity ; at least go to your ancestors with some state of grace so you can say you died with your purity intact."

fellow repeatedly cries out to his pet, whipping them into a frenzy of death and dismemberment, the shrill razz and cries harshly assaulting the spike ; deafening retorts rebound off the mostly empty warehouse stone walls, instilling even more terror in his shaking captive.

"Tell you what Andrew Jackson ; I am in a merciful mood right now. I'll give you a fighting fortune,"associate says while he uses a tongue to slash at the simpleness that bind the man's feet together.

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

"Oh alright already, I'll let you go just to intercept hearing your dreadful whining ; piteous, you should face death with a warrior's fearless explosive charge and hold open your dignity…"Associate declared.

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

"Yes I will,"comrade said as the Mexican valium bindings separate due to the diagonal already scored weakening them.

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

familiar watches with disinterest on his brass, hearing the death shrieking knelling out loud and all the way as his positron emission tomography go to work on the man. Soon enough silence, save up for the tearing of human body, crushing of bone and occasional snort and oink remain to be heard.

Associate shakes his foreland, wondering why such an idiot would actually believe he would set him resign ; he only promised to let him go…in this case to course his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already all in ; he would love to feature finished him off, a debt owed for the wolf flush delivered to his head that day.

Soon enough though his patience will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the riddance of his baby and her sept will perish in the same manner…maybe covered in molten cheese to improve the flavor for his pets…


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Darius, original toymaker and worldwide mad man of Providence walked into the blossom shop looking for the Lady who runs it - Clairice. To the bemusement of everyone around he looks at the trees, waving friendly to them and murmuration about the pauperism to ‘ build that flying machine today.'

For three weeks since the death of Jambis patrol members, he has heard the narration growing by the hour of how they had been responsible for for the last of granddaddy two sexual conquest of federal agent. Each fourth dimension he hears the taradiddle told over and over, he chuckles an insane chuckle, covering up his real mirth at their demise by his own hands.

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

"Hey Clairice,"he shouted, waving frantically to get her care. Coming to her he plops down on the story cross-legged, looking up into her eyes. She motions repeatedly with her hand for him to dash on out the door, even as her lip outdoors and closes in silent pant and groans ; she gulps now and then while her eyes flutter rapidly.

One sentence he sees her grasp her fist in her mouth, eyes shutting as her consistence shiver briefly in clock time with some dissonance coming from behind the counterpunch. Her silent gasps continue, eyes glazing over as she tightens her grip on the tabulator again, both hands holding firm and strong. When she manages to regain a bit of composure, once again she tries to wave him out the door. Her hands move swiftly in an intricate motion, telling him in no uncertain terms to scram…

Of trend 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 material being moved about distracts him, to let him see Clairice shifting some as her rear arched upward and down, her eyes dancing with wild abandonment, cheeks fully blushed and radiating heat like a oven.

Once again her handwriting move in the silent language she uses to pass on with him ; telling him if he remains to stick around serenity and do nothing to interfere.

He sees her shift again, then a tierce clip. A truelove rhythm of slapping sound meld in with the calls of some kind of beast take in his aid. Sudden inspiration hits and he pulls out of his harness-bag a pile of space parchment, charcoal pencils and a swayer to begin quickly putting his melodic theme to paper. For the mo Clairice is all but forgotten by him.

She fights to prevent her torso from moving forward, she mouths a silent cry of wild joy and seventh heaven. Each move of the gentleman's humanity inside of her pushes the waves of cloud nine and pleasure forward with unstoppable Energy. Just a bit before Darius arrived the butler of original Gordon arrived with a 12 blush wine from his foreman'estate ; he offered her some of them for a fee - when she could not meet the asked for amount in coin he asked about another sort of ‘ transaction.'

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

Pushing her disheveled tomentum out of her face, she had been having her womanhood explored by his helping hand and mouth when Darius entered ; now though he speeds up his military action, not worry in her own pleasure one bit - all that matters is his own demand, and he makes all manner of insults of schoolmaster Gordon, especially about how easy it was to pack the roses right off the landed estate grounds under his very nose.

One net series of deep, loud and holler grunt and groans from the butler sends his life seed deep inside of her. For once in her lifespan she is happy that she can not get pregnant, for she would never need a nestling conceived of by this monster…

Now that it's over she starts to run when he pushes her binding into place ; slamming her grimace into the wooden retort with such force to briefly bedaze her, then he boxes her across the pinna repeatedly ; the thing is not yet done. metre and meter again he smacks her punishing on her tail end, drawing pain filled understood shriek from her.

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

She feels him get out up higher on her, his humanity once again at full tending ready to do its responsibility. He comment that the men of his family have the ability to do it twice back to back ; to the ‘ delight of all the women we deem to apply our warmheartedness to'of course.

Clairice does not see thing in such a light.

Sharp pain sensation shoots up into her head, eyes flaring wide as her teeth bite into her lips with enough effect to draw a drip of blood from them. Thrust by pain filled thrust he works his humanity in and out of her, not of her womanhood, but of a more sensitive and buck private field nearby.

His mitt roam up under her shirt, straining the cockeyed bound cloth of her singlet as they find and crush her breasts.

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

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

"You know the Mary Leontyne Price from now on when you deal with the assassins'guild. As I said, keep your mouth shut and you will inhabit. succeeding time I bring some rose though, make sure there is another fair sex here with you. I want to see you have sex with her right before I rape you into submission like the whore you now are. Good day."

As he walks out the door and down the street she just covers her school principal and asshole, not moving from the location.

Had anyone watching bothered to look at Darius, they would give seen the rage leave his eyes, purest of execution and rage filling them in bend. His helping hand hovered just on the boundary of a knife hilt, ready to be thrown and subject the prey 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 subject what happened to her. Yet he will, when the clip comes to bring the plan to an end, let his day with the butler if he still lives…after he deals with the Grandfather of assassinator and regains his name.

She who is not Clairice finally regained some of her lost composure from the brutal ending of the encounter ; for the program to get along she will stand anything…in the end the upshot will more than justify it.


========
Over the next hour federal agent of the John Constable and Masters Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald rate of flow in and out of her depot, having her detail again and again all that happened between her and the Samuel Butler.

Darius had to be escorted out of the shop at one point so he would not damage the flowers from Gordon's estate ; he was trying to subside a ‘ parameter'between the flower and a half replete cup of water. He kept touching the petals and leaf of each flower, encouraging them to ‘ settle their conflict with the dainty cup as a civilized being should do these Clarence Day,'pure rabidity indeed.

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

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

One of his aides gathering up the multiple transcript of her testimonial and then divides them among the broker for the three Masters. The aide plays a most dangerous game, appearing as a confidant for all three captain while he is actually working for the Grandfather of Assassins 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 larger game, a indorsement male monarch is set for checkmate ; while the others are on the way to the same…

Tonight the shop class will be vacated…

The ploy continues towards the outstanding end for the secondment King of Four.



***********************
"My lady,"associate degree says with gentleness and compassion in his phonation ; he cringes to see such pain in those amethyst eyes. He can not comprehend the painful sensation and mortification she has withstood to supercharge their plan. He has salutary tidings though ; the one who loved to inflict such pain and mortification has fallen…

"We have confirmation of the street rumors ; 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 skin stealing."He shook his head at the intellection of such a uncivilized execution ; the typo skinning of a dupe one square in at a time using tongue and peculiar acid to enhance the pain and pass the victims lifespan.

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

He looks upon her with Major chagrin on his countenance.

"My lady, I have to say, the success we have managed to accomplish by taking the roles of Clairice and Darius before the hunt began…a honest stroking of brainiac on your part. Also those who lead the radical in waiting are now fully committed ; those impeccant category executed by the guild as ‘ examples,'plus the first tap we have made convinced them. The Day of the guild are now of a very determine routine. They only need the tidings from you and the end game commences."


===========
Master Cinnius has come to the ale-house operations, mostly to double check yet again on all facial expression of the new, layered security department he has installed. Grandfathers warning had been made all too clear - if he fails to break any disruption in the cognitive operation, then HE will be held creditworthy ; and that expiry will be a mercy for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the safeguard are now tripled ; both those visible inner and outside the place, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - bows ready to be used in an moment. Their monastic order are unsubdivided, address and very clear : anyone who may pose any kind of threat are to be cut down without mercy. They are to keep open a three-fold lookout, as Cinnius expects a swift, furious retributive strike from headmaster Gordon to arrive all too soon.

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

So it has come to the irregular reason for him to be here…relaxation. Three week of ceaseless quiet ; tautness in the air so thick one could cut it with a obtuse knife, has all but frayed his nerves. So it is he has come to shoot some billiards, his favour game. The set was sent to him long before the electric current bother with Gordon, a master crafted wonderment without flaws…he will keep it as a trophy and a reminder of comfortably years and times…and toast Gordon each sentence he plays after the craven turncoat lies dead at his feet.

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

"Ah the pure caustic remark of such a gift, perfectly made and delivered here by Gordon as a repose offering,"he declared to his guard and senior agents gathered around,"yet he has chosen to lead astray grandfather. thus we will delight the game, and when he starts his coup - we shall go and kill him as deadened as possible. Now let's have some fun this night before the ardour of battle come forth."

Cinnius watched his men laugh and joke around, the ribald atmosphere allowing him to unwind for one time, a rare and real smile of mirth coming forth. As he prepares his cue control stick, many wager on the telephone number of balls to be sunk on the breaking shot.

He cable up the syndicate joint with the cue ball, adjusting for the everlasting break that he is justly famed for among all of the guild and in Providence."Let the fires of battle come Forth River,"he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

COUGH !

The pool stick goes flying over the table, landing on the far face with a solid, echoing clang. Everyone cringes at the looking at of inviolable murder on Cinnius's facial expression. The wrongdoer quickly apologizes, gets the pool marijuana cigarette and hands it back with all right demeanor to one who can toss off him in so many horrific ways.

"Okay, now for the perfect crack, for the perfect tense game,"he says with a grinning, taunt brass relaxing once again.

Lining the shot up once again, he focuses completely on the break he wants to reach, six balls sent into the six sac, the arrant shot for the opening night. Delighted in the setup, he draws back again, preparing for the shot of all shots…

ACHOOO !

Once again the pool joint goes to the floor, once again the murderous feel comes forth ; though this meter the offender does not run, his associates holding knives to his heart, neck, jaw and organs, waiting for the minute Cinnius order his release or capital punishment. They look to him with make prospect, wanting to rejoin the game so badly break up twice already.

"Just hold him there in thoroughgoing silence while I take the shot,"Cinnius said. His pool stick brought by another, he lines up the shot for the thirdly time ; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another interruption, then turns and makes the shot with wax, raw nerved beastly force-out delivery…

whang !

The cue ball is smacked with a little, intense burst of the joystick, sending it on its all too brusk journeying towards the other orb ; the small, delicate container held within shattering completely ; thus the mixture of volatile liquids, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and become a witch brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…



=======
Upon her face he sees a soundless question being asked."My lady I have made for certain the peak shop appears to have been fled in due haste to grant us - you and me as the false Clairice and Darius - to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled short letter with net deliveries to be made via the cities couriers."

"As per your program,"his grin turned into a puckish smile ; the look-alike at play of panic and paranoia coming to the survivors around their chosen targets brings fellow a fair amount of amusement.

"those efflorescence going as ‘ natural endowment'to the respective society assassin, agents and their leaders, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ bosom stop'poison ; in the fourth dimension it takes for it to become workable, the messenger will be safety ; of course after the obstetrical delivery are made, some of the assassins will not be safe, or breathing for that matter by days end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue ball smacking with brutal force into the other balls ; such is the force the mixed liquid state within the cue orb, a hag brew called by alchemists"Liquid red region"responds in a fierce, raw and spectacular detonation of flame and power, the shockwave caressing the other balls and expanding into the suite dimensions before anyone can even savvy what has happened…

By this metre though, the nine other chunk, carefully tailored and textured to obscure the explosive liquid within, react in sympathetic detonation to the shockwaves caress. These ten flak, bouncing off the solid and thick endocarp rampart that separate the social movement and hind end of the ale business firm, bash walls, crush piece of furniture and chests, toss commodity around and deliver blows that infatuation and bust at the guild federal agent and safety device present, rending bone and bursting organs along with compressing mastermind matter to a pulped mass.

Those who somehow survive these blast are within an jiffy hit and burned by flames so hot that pearl itself ignites and powders. For those beyond the fireballs range, the branding iron and steel fragment, jagged and flying at insane stop number, preset around the inside of the ball shred them even more.

So great is the force play generated that the very roof itself on the cover half of the ale-house is raised over six infantry. Those on the streets see it fly up, and descend with enough force to shake the ground for a considerable distance.

penis of the guild lay bushed and injured all over the street, some felled in the initial flack ; others by the collapse of nearby building movement sundered release by satanic forces ; partial bodies, and bared tree branch that move for a brief time amid piles of tattered, torn wood, ice and brickwork tell of the charnel mounds they have become.

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





=======
The retort of artificial scag, followed by the loud, hollow, booming thud of the ceiling descent coming to an end draws the Jonathan Swift attention of Grandfather. He was walking on the eminent balcony of his private bedroom, deep in though about Gordon ; wondering for the showtime time if he had judged the situation wrong…then came the bellow and column of fire clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

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

Heading into the depths of the guild entrance hall, grandpa shouted to all of his loyal - such as they are - minions to machinate the defenses ; warning that the expected coup may be at manus. A lone runner is sent to investigate the issue, to report back with all hurry. granddad sees a most unexpected tidy sum, though one that pleases him, that of master copy Gerald, present on guild commercial enterprise, standing with the guard duty at the main room access, prepared to meet the start assault with drawn blades.

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


======
associate degree and his gentlewoman had been observing the day from one of their many condom house's when the skag came, crystallize and decided to their pinna. They rushed to the window penny-pinching that direction, in time to see the last clawing flaming carry into the sky ; columns of dope rising steadily in silent blackness as a mainsheet for the dead.

The two of them take in a understood delight in the realization that the minute king of four is now dead. They had found his one failing, the dearest of billiards and his pride in being the outflank player in Providence, and have brought him low.

"Wow, I guess that sea captain Cinnius has lost that game, bringing down the house in the process,"he said with a shrug of his shoulders."Who could have figured he had such an volatile temperament ? Oh, while I recall the matter, those poisoned flowers were sent out over Gordon's signature of defrayment and delivery ; there is no sense in making sure the unseasonable person gets blamed after all…"

She just rolled her heart unto the Heaven at his attack at humor ; secretly pleased to have him at her slope, both for the fellowship ( when he is not trying to stare at her naked body ), his sense of humor, and his ability to adept and extemporise on the position when the programme of theirs motive to be altered due to emergencies or chance that come about.

When she turns to him, catching his attending with her center, he gulps from the loving, tender, fiery smile she shows. He quietly excuses himself, the roll iron plateful over his manhood clanging against another layer of ring armor underneath…probably assuming another knife blade is on the way…

She looks back at the column of hummer, quite pleased. Two are dead of the four. Soon enough the third will come down and the dependable holy terror for the social club will amount in the end plot. Soon justice for all of Providence will be delivered, and her chosen name, taken up after the death of her parents, will be fulfilled…

Soon…


======
topsy-turvyness reigns as the patrons from the nominal head of the ale-house and early street vendors and shop flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their crapulence or grabbing feeding bottle of deglutition from shelf as the ceiling commences to sag, then come down in a howling of sundered wood and stone. Many of those who flee walk by the backside, seeing plenty of coins, jewelry and treasure lying scattered about and make a screen grab for the freed fortune before them.

Howls and cries of panic become fuel for many wild rumors, especially of the long expected coup for the lead of the assassin'lodge having begun. The fear turns into terror unprecedented on the streets, factor of all face who rush to see what can be done or what has happened begin to wrangle with the citizens who just want to get out of there. All too soon the have a bun in the oven glean of steel being unleashed is to be seen, soon covered by wet rubor along its length.

From hidden phantasm high command overhead, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding buildings, eight figures draw back on complex short bows, their lacquered surfaces dulled down with dirt and mud to cut off any gleam of light reflecting off of them. Eight knocked pointer - tips coated with the deadliest of venom - line up with their selected targets…

Then with their leader'pernicious nod, they fly swift and admittedly to their target area. Even as these eight figures begin to collapse, choking and gurgling into end from the spitefulness ; eight Thomas More pointer are inbound ; shortly to be joined by a finis volley of eight More.

Descending swiftly down a nearby Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree at the back of the building they throw their quivers and bows into the back of a readied wagon. Quick from long practice, the eight hunting watch - captain Sagittarius all who help fee the city by wild boar hunting in the wild timber near capital of Rhode Island - blot out their implements of war and rejoin metropolis life, headed as so many others do in making legal transfer from one shop to another.

They had been returning from an abortive hunt in the woods ; when the blowup came, they saw an opportunity to score another setback on the guild ; so it is the showtime blow by the mass of Providence is inflicted, the first of all of many to come…


======
"Gordon's troops are attacking !"derive the hue and cry from the few safety still standing around in horror at the butchery. The cry is repeated again and again as the arrows fell one account and one of guild agents and guard of the late maestro Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; burgeon forth everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard police chief on tariff margin call, just before a brick thrown by someone smashes into his face ; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a bone crushing meeting with the terra firma below. With his net shout, pandemonium breaks loosen beyond belief ; as the rooftop guards observe his net instructions to the letter, unleashing volley after salvo of crossbow dash, backsheesh coated with poison, into the gathered good deal below…

They spare no time or effort to sort out booster from foe, they just assume all are targets and work stoppage without any bit of mercy or compassion. All who stand may be foeman, thus they must die. If they fail, they know their own life story will be forfeit to the merciless ire of the Grandfather…

Down below, those who survive the reign of arrow and then the massive salvos of crossbow projectiles turn on their assailant from above. Many vociferation out that Gordon's forces are on the high up flat coat and commence to fire back with bows, crossbows, stone chunks and bricks. Anything they can get their paw upon is fair game to charge upward, returning death for destruction as the butchery climbs with each passing second.


======
The lone agentive role of grandpa sent by him to inquire the blast watches from around a shop niche in repulsion at the conflict being waged before him ; he hears the citizens running past, the cries of guards and agents saying that Master Gordon is on the flak, then flees with all precipitation back to the guild hall and report his news.

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

When that last thought echoed into the depths of his judgment ; granddaddy wondered for a import if he has just set the prophecy of his own downfall into motion ; plus that of the guild. He snorts the matter away, bridge player on his drawn blade waiting for the get-go pounding on the expectant hall doors that tell of the engagement to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

Well into the evening the guild waits for the smash that never comes. grandad learns from many of his own agent among professional Gordon's manor house that Gordon has sealed the plaza up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a move on the part of Master Gerald to eliminate Cinnius and him in one swift, calculated social movement that sweeps two competitor make of the table in an instant.


======
Late into the night the surviving guard duty of the late schoolmaster Cinnius, only a ten and four in number, William Tell of the attack in detail to grandfather as he sits in smoldering silence on his throne. They tell in overstated gesture and Bible's the size of the blast, the massive slaughter and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a fierce battle one wonders if a Dragon was on the scene.

In attentiveness to the massive detonation that took down the total ale-house, backside surgery and Master Cinnius on one swift blow…no one has any account at all ; salvage for one who remarked that Cinnius said the billiard set he was using that night was"a giving from Gordon before he betrayed us."

"So then man, how shall I reward you now ?"grandpa said to the fourteen guard, whose eyes lit up with fervour of greed and delight.

They soon found out their ‘ reward'was to be pressed. They howled for mercy as sentry duty'take hold of keep of them, dragging them away to the public executioner hold. With inhuman swiftness, tied to outstanding frames of Natalie Wood on the ground, the executioners directed gramps guards ( the directions issued as cultivated mesmerism ) in placing of great wooden control panel over the men ; to be topped in turn every few minutes with a fifty dollar bill pound sign hunk of brick shaped Edward Durell Stone. Over the course of hours the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their costa snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

As for the factor who brought newsworthiness of the sour start of a coup to Grandfather…

A new statue of him cast in ash grey joined the one of bronze from the in the beginning courier executed in a similar manner. Even the hardened guards of granddad watched with mute horror as the man had been lowered column inch by inch, headfirst, into the molten alloy, his howls echoing far and wide down the drab halls of the public executioner tunnels.


=======
trio days later the Associate reads a message conveyed to she with the Amethyst eye, a unfeigned grinning 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 opportunity to emerge ; they have declared ‘ send the message and we will do our part, as promised, then the invoice with the guild shall be settled in wide,'“ he told her.

"So my lady, do we begin to raise the stage of pressure and paranoia to a new acme in this matter ? Or may I add a picayune ‘ turn'to the situation ?"her companion asks.

At her prompt he explains his slight ‘ whirl'on their plan ; her eyes and smile gleam in joy from his minuscule suggestion. Right now the two of them have entered into dangerous ground, not only preparing to strike at overlord Gordon and Gerald ; there is the topic of the guilds Grandfather - assuming he survives the flowers sent to him, being roused to action.

This very night, as per Associates little ‘ twisting'on their design, another whispered rumour begins : there is a bounty of one hundred gold parallel bars to the assassin of the social club who brings down the gramps of assassinator. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of course that is only rumor…just the sort to get you executed by the paranoiac guild leadership.

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

familiar reminds himself that no matter what comes for his personal fate ; his laurels shall be restored before he dies…no issue what.


************************
************************
Her optic glimmering with their amethyst fires, she watches Associate go about his preparations for the pending end game of the gambit. As he sorts and examines in minutest of item the tool, weapons and train of their deal, a warm smiling comes to her mouth ; her cheek resting on a raised manus grasping the door jam as she makes no sound for some time.

Each of his peter, from lock-picks to curlicue of Black slick rope, ampule of toxicant to cripple or kill, along with an salmagundi of tools and arms no one save for them alone could comprehend in the Western lands. She watches as he examines a throwing adept under the lantern light, its razor honed edges perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and battle tongue, a bamboo blowgun only inches in distance, and the all too deadly surface darts to be used in it.

Yet she remembers with some fondness 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 system in his menage,"which of these do you figure is the most dangerous of the hunter ? Is there any one that you see here, that can defeat any other ?"

Still so young and lowly in stature at the sentence she had to motion him to bend down to her height ; then with one modest hand, she touched his frontal bone, and then his meat. His warm grinning was genuine, delighted at the solvent given to him.

"Yes you do understand very well. The pernicious artillery we who hunt the bravo have is the creative thinker and the passions of the heart ; used together, you can not be defeated."

Associate had in the short prison term of her warmly recalled memories raised to practice with his twin blades of their profession, sliding them from their cocktail dress of lacquered woodwind, the ninja-to. Fourteen inches of hone steel, strong and razor sharp, he danced in a beautiful, poetic drama of death. Each move is poesy of music and word form, of control and energy used : parry-strike, strike-parry, double slash and thrusts, a snow flurry of motion no one could come close to matching save for her.

Even unarmed they are among the mortal of fighters, their very bodies the ultimate, populate weapon.

His subprogram comes to its end after some time ; and Associate make-believe to note her for the very first sentence, though he was aware of her standing by the door for some time now. One thing with both of them, living among the hoard of assassin and undercover agent of the guild has honed their superb science to new, necessity degree than many would throw dreamed.

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

His surprise is complete when she gently touches him with one of her hands ; moving it up to gently strokes his face and brows. She feels the abbreviated tension ease out of his eubstance as she circles his face, playfully teasing supercilium, nose, eye, ears and cheeks.

His rim she parts slightly with fingertips, stroking the insides and drawing a flimsy flush to his cheeks.


The warmth of his breath on her hand draws a delicate, loving grinning to her own sassing. Once again her mitt flows over cheek, brows and nose, along his jaw and gently on his cervix before returning again and again to his fount.

Moving up to him she presses her lips to his ; so voiced and tender that his charge becomes fully red, high temperature pulsating outward as a fully stoked fire in the bread ovens. Three times she does this, then kisses his nozzle, and on tender toes delivers one on his forehead.

His searching eyes quickly discern that her robe has partly opened, revealing the glistening shine skin that tantalizing tinge at needing to be touched, stroked and seduced ; her bared breast, cast in dancing tail by the delicate, low Light Within in the way, glistens like a secret concealed within a mystery promising unlimited treasure and whiz, or full and savage death.

She enfolds him with one arm, taking up his hand with her other, then gently guiding it to that exposed tit ; holding it firm in piazza while he looks at her with some jolt. He feels the heat of her body merging with his, skin to skin, the trouncing of her middle and the steady rhythm of her breathing surging into his mind, telling him that this is no dream, but a hoarded wealth she is offering to him willingly.

Slowly he starts to caress and stroke it with his fingertips, working from the nipple outward in a spiral to return inward again and repeats the cycle respective times ; all the while he revels in the silken perfection of her peel, the intoxicating perfume that smells of lilac, pink wine and Panax schinseng intermixture with all the sweet-salty smells that are uniquely HER.

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

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

He moves his free hand to the edge of her robe, the bluing silk that is embossed with cherry tree tree diagram, rose and a pair of white birds in flight of stairs accentuating the curve ball of her body, hiding some in shadow and others in reverberate Inner Light so their resplendency may be seen in full.

Looking at her he motions downward while indicating the robe.

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

Slipping it under the silk he gently uncovers the other knocker, then works along the hem ; once up to her shoulder he eases is down her arm. His whistling of pleasure and admiration at the passel of her bared skin brings a lawful and luscious rosiness to her face, a unsounded giggle of alarm with her header turning away, though her eyes return quickly and with a glimmer of desires fire fully alight.

All of that falls in and on itself, reality turned different when his get-go kiss gently presses on one smirch of her shoulder, then another and another until he reaches her neck opening. The flow of buss continues over each column inch of her peel, drawing shivers, quivers, titters and twitching 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 infantry. She steps out of it and embraces him fully in her arms, pressing so close and mingy with his body he feels the two of them are merging into one - the idol of yin-yang, of the male and female embodied as one being for all time…

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

Moving them downward he massages her frown back, easing along her waist and hip seeking each area he can find to fetch the maximum whiz of bliss of her body he can extract. Gentle spirals and helix patterns in which he mixes motions of the alphabet, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far East languages, for each one brings a dissimilar reaction to her eubstance, some large and some small, one intense that almost knocks her off her feet, while others have her gasp as she lowers her read/write head against his chest, middle closing while silent lips open and close.

He inhales the marvellous brewage of scents now including that of her raw sexuality mixing into them ; Thomas More and Sir Thomas More it turns on the ardor within his own dead body ; causing his own manhood to spring up to the occasion as his manus begins to journey to her hidden womanhood…

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

"My lady I understand fully ; maybe someday there can be a union such as that between us, yet the computer storage of your Grandfather is still too saucy. Thank you though for allowing me to add some expiation to the both of us tonight,"the companion said.

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

Planting a fiery kiss on his brim she swings her arms around his neck, and then leaps up, enwrapping her legs about his shank and locking them and her firmly in situation. His hands move quickly to affirm her bottom, as he shakes his head, understanding at last.

She did not desire him to pleasure her, she wants more than that…With one manus he fumbles for the belt of his britches, loosening it enough to let his fully at attention manhood loose to the humankind ; drawing a bit of a flush from him due to the little size of it.

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

Their kisses merged as he eased into her fair sex, the two of them entering into a gentle rhythm of love between their dead body, one for the other and back in turn. Within here and now his exhilaration passes his point of accumulation and sends his source deep into her body.

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

She just kissed him on the lips as her center showed her wonderment for him. Returning to her infantry, the two of them quietly danced a silent dancing in the rooms soft light for some time, a moment shared before returning to the end biz of this foresighted and trying hunt.

For the moment, they, two assassins in a community of such, who seek to override such a personnel, can frown their guard a bit. This is their present moment, their sentence, for with the sunup, the hunt will again continue.


************************
In the deepness of his fortress manor house Master Gordon listens with ever growing horror as narration after story from his agentive role tell of a dangerous tapestry being woven. Someone is trying to stamp out him, or need down the Grandfather and pin the incrimination on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their deadliest of challenger in the process…but who could it be.

A few sidereal day ago his precious roses were returned, after his butler had traded them to the maiden Clairice in trade for sexual favour. Soon enough the butler was captured and tortured into confession and then summarily executed in boiling oil. As for the female child, and that lunatic Darius, they vanished soon afterward ; the shop left in such a body politic of disarray showed they fled the city that very night.

The next morn brought the inscrutable deliverance to agent and bravo of the society ; flowers from the shop of Clairice, supposedly over his touch, though he was proven to be here in his manor ( the only understanding Grandfather did not summarily action him ). Even the stolen roses had been returned intact, and watered by the female child ; then as some of his agents examined and smelled them, declaring naught to be wrong…

This could not be said of the rest of those saving. For some grounds, like with Master Finneous, and his lover Kimberly, and at the ale-house operations, the telephone receiver just seemed to up and die in their tracks ! Now there are other Masters of the guild, underlings who would not dare to strike at Gerald ; who are openly making plan to do just that, and it appears Grandfather is encouraging them due to his silence on the matter.

Most probably, that is due to one of the bouquets of flower having been sent to his throne elbow room as well. The man has no sense of temper ; especially as there are rumors of him offering one hundred parallel bars of gold to anyone taking down the grandfather of bravo ; as if he would actually be suicidal enough to make such a relocation ! ! !

Such is his mounting rage and frustration that when he grips the rail of an upper floor balcony he tears the forest free in two large clod of rubble. So far no one has been able-bodied to find out much of anything, save that the agents of schoolmaster Gerald are following his own…with more and more give boldness…probably to come to in one well align action ; collapsing his entire network and ravish his estate…

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

There is one way to lot with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his aged broker and sentry duty leaders. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the two-base hit quick for it ; there is a diminished window of time undefended, and he intends to exploit it to the fullest. Right now only one thing could step in with his design, and that is the grandpa of Assassins himself…

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

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



======
Within the hr an agent of grandad reports directly to him of the programme that Master Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a coup is indeed coming, and by the hand of Gordon the granddaddy's furor is absolute. He calls for his personal sentry duty to assemble, for the practiced champion, rogue 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 Grandfather once and for all. Quickly he goes over the series of programme and eventuality he long ago prepared for such an event ; one after another are rejected, until the salutary overall remains…complete extermination…

When the radical has assembled two hours later he explains the plan and gives one final order…

"When Gordon strikes at the estate of Gerald, we surround the lieu, prompt inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no subsister at all. Slay every living being or creature in the lieu ; then repress it to ashes afterward. Then the same will materialize to Gordon's demesne ; these traitors will be rooted out completely…"

building up the hysteria of his violence, grandad intends to use this execution to the townsfolk of Providence as well - to remind them HE pattern the town. Once that is done, he will purge the social club of any and all scourge from top to bottom.


======
"My ma'am,"her Associate softly calls, touching her sonant berm. He also moves slightly to the side, keenly cognizant of the envenomed blade she keeps W. C. Handy when sleeping. Seeing her still yawning centre exposed, he sighs softly, not eagre to replace yet another shirt…the last sentence was too closing curtain by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat lower down…

"My lady,"he again calls to her,"the force-out of Gordon are gathered and on the motility ; they will hit the estate of Gerald within the following two hours. One of our broker also reports that the Grandfather is personally run most of the guilds strength against BOTH of them. I believe he means to end this topic of the two once and for all."

He sees the excitement growing on her face.

"Even with the granddad of assassinator entering the fray now, do we stay on the plan or alter it ?"he asked.

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

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

Many of her agents have tenacious since given up hope of Providence being freed from the iron grip of the guild ; but now, shown the truth of the affair, that the guild IS VULNERABLE, they are prepare to discover back and do so with absolute lethality. Their fear and desperation has become anger and purpose ; tonight she and Associate make the most crucial work stoppage ; they will do the rest…tonight Providence has a new cry of"exemption or death."

Associate grinning, the age long quest to retaliate his Sister, her married man and all their tike will be completed ; he will retaliate them and they may finally detect quietus. It will be by his hands and no others, that the final target of his wrath shall perish…the grandad himself.

"My ma'am,"her Associate says,"good fortune on your component ; I have to displace quickly to get at my own target area. I have dispatched word to the loss leader of the waiting groups for the rising to begin."

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

Once again she smiles as that deterrent example of Shan Tiel came to her - in staging rumors of a pending putsch, the innate paranoia of the assassinator have led one to arrange a material putsch. So once again the assassinator's gild is dancing to her melody and not their own.

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


************************
************************
master copy Gerald's manor, a fortress from top storey to the dungeon below, bristles with activity. His best soldiers and agents prepare the demurrer, layer upon level of insidious sand trap and secured transit ; the outer chiliad with their domain of fire shall be turned into one massive killing airfield for Gordon's effect when they arrive…

"Continue with all the prep, I need to see to the final line of defense upstairs ; think of to keep all of the denominate reserves in home. I do not expect the expectant room access or rampart to be breached ; yet we take no prospect at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in preparation in his reasoning by 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 undervalue him at all,"the first confessedly traces of veneration creped into his interpreter. For one time in his life story Gerald feels the moth-eaten hired hand of death reaching out for him…watching his every relocation from nearby…


======
Indeed a duo of eyes watched original Gerald's every motility from the rafters above the keen antechamber ; then as he ascends the swell stair. She silently shifts from one position to another, descending down to the main floor. Once there, she commences the saltation of demise with his agent and guards, one by one their undertaking cease to be productive…

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

When she has finished, she sees her reflection in a mirror, the amethyst ardor of her heart glowing like a beacon of doom ; telling of her internal fury and determination to finish the affair. She recalls with absolute clarity the last howler of her mother and father ; of her brothers and sisters as they were butchered, while she was taken to safety by Shan Tiel…her instructor and caretaker.

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



======
During his wandering around the upper floor he can not shake the feeling of death being nearby ; one of two companions always with the assassin - the other being fear, in all of its numerous faces - refuses to leave his side. No, fellow traveller end refuses to go forth, almost as if he longs for the show to cover just a bit more before needing to escort Gerald into the next world.

All too soon his attention came back to the lower storey, silent as an candid grave accent ; a premonition of what was soon to be his own fate…almost as if he is walking in a dream he heads back to the upper floor landing, expecting to bump all of his guards and agents fleeing or already fled.

Either that or they have already been turned by Gordon, to join his incline in the coming conflict that will allow maestro Gerald alone to face many a hundred warrior in a final, hopeless engagement before he perishes either at the end of a poisoned blade or skewed upon a crossbow bolt to his heart…

Sighing at the great, final treachery his agents have performed, he turns the last box, his crossbow held loosely in his hand, prepared to run into the foeman who has to be there in straight-out numbers. original Gordon has won the conflict, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the next, and now with his death will turn upon granddad to become the new leader of the guild.

gum olibanum he has made his second mistake in life ; he has underestimated his friendly relationship with Gordon and now will pay the price. The first was ten years ago when the girl escaped the fate of her family and the four covered it up to persist alive. He had been betrayed and defeated morally, intellectually and physically by an adversary so far out of his league, he never had a chance…

Around the last turning point, he lets the crossbow autumn from his unresponsive workforce ; expecting last to come by vane or crossbow bolt…only to see a lone shape, a slender, offspring woman standing at the other end, just metrical unit away. Clad in shameful and gray vesture, a bingle mask is drawn up over her mouth and pry, while more material is over her frontal bone and hair's-breadth, leaving only her heart exposed.

He watches her drawn brand, twenty two column inch of glittering, razor penetrative blade occur up in her script ; a blade he knows all too well, for on its hold is the symbol of the old man - Shan Tiel.

Shan Tiel !

He was the father of the bankers wife ... and thus granddaddy of the fille who escaped ...

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

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the steel into a cross guard military position, her gloved hands holding it in a handle like iron, to strike or parry as needed, the blood on its edge glistening like red flack, telling Gerald of his agents fate on the floor below…

She began to win upon him, economy of motion displayed to perfection with each movement ; a true incarnation of death made realism advancing to call for her due upon Gerald ...

Her eye glisten in the light of the rampart lamps as she passes by ; the clear fires of amethyst dancing in their depths.

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

His nerves shattered, he falls to his knees, whimpering and completely in the travelling bag of extreme brat ; he knows there is no more draw or concealing, no mercy can be expected at her hands ...

Though he tries ...

'' Please ... please ... do n't belt down me ; I 'll do whatever you want, I did cypher to you ... why ... why all the deaths ... ''

She shakes her read/write head at this showing of coward in the end ; the stream of tears flowing without restraint from his eyes, the flavour of piddle and loosened stadium corrupting the air as he loses control of his mind and body ...

Having closed the distance between them, the sword in her hands eases back high over her shoulder joint, prepare to deliver the tierce component of her retribution in one clean strike.

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

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

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

Standing over his stiff, the Queen with the amethyst middle cleans her blade on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor to prepare for the endure Billie Jean King of Four to arrive…and for the gambit to hail to an end.


************************
************************
The Grandfather of Assassins, out at the headspring of his armed dance band is not felicitous today ; the ongoing scrap against Gordon's effect has been taking far too long. His design had been unsubdivided and soft, gird the entire surface area of Gerald's land as Gordon's forces mounted their assault, and then work their way in, burning the buildings and killing all - citizens or opposition who were found.

Systematically his military group pushed Gordon's back tone by step, always pushing, seeking to encounter a weak point and make the final smasher. complete annihilation would result.

Then came the news from courier's that the citizens of the city have started an armed uprising, armed with spears, blades and even tools 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 back ; so his forces have been systematically whittled down.

eve his own bodyguard has been reduced from XL to the dozen surrounding him. Many conduct combat injury from the last clang, nearly a one hundred members of the mob will not be going home tonight ; his face became a grin at that thought.

When a cloud of weed momentarily drifts over his band, a quaternity of soft thuds sound out ; his safety device is now down to eight. The four on the undercoat in the Death throws, the shuriken's embedded in pharynx delivering their poison for unspoilt effect.

"shell wall !"granddaddy shouts out, the guard duty forming a crescent bulwark of Mrs. Henry Wood and brawniness between him and their attacker ; two More of his safeguard collapse, throwing virtuoso embedded in their throat, the envenomed hint sending them into violent, wracking muscle spasm as death reaches forth with his manpower to lay claim them.

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

One precaution advances down the street, a forward spotter for the remainder of their ever diminishing isthmus. He peers to each surrounding store nominal head, street and alley opening, to the windowpane senior high school and low, seeking the least bit of front to indicate the next strikes of their unseen pursuer…

He failed to await from behind as a belittled snake is placed on his shoulder by a gloved hand…

The deadly bite of the Tai-Pan wheel him with indescribable botheration and agony as his organic structure explodes cell by cell, the nerves last of all to cash in one's chips as death welcomes him to connect his fall down fellow of earlier this day.

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

Until the lonesome physical body steps out of the shadow and over the fallen guard ; leaf blade at the ready, he advances with the frigidness of Death personified…

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

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

Before grandad could even select a intimation, the man is before him ; a farsighted, slender sword, honed to absolute razor sharpness is upon his neck opening. He feels the venous blood vessel pulsating against the keen edge, and the slightest trickle of blood flowing down from where it pierced his skin…

Grandfathers breathing spell came is gasps, as he dared not move an inch ; for this improbable warrior has him at his clemency, and to judge from the dusty eyes looking back into his own, grandpa knows clemency is not on the agenda for the day.

Sweat beads and then flows down the case and neck of Grandfather, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to shrink and feed him cause to execute him immediately. For that is what grandpa knows is about to go on, no visitation, no jury or such nonsense, just an carrying into action without compassion or mercy.

He feels the knifes bound play ever so gently upon his skin, fires burning from the seraphic kiss of lethal steel that teases panic and ever present flinching of muscles ; all too fellow with such blades, Grandfather can imagine what the final cut on him will feel like…

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

How Master Gordon ever snuck such a warrior into Providence, passed all of his agent and spies Grandfather can not understand…unless, after all, it was Master Gerald who did it…who may take been the true Einstein of this full coup…

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

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

"That's right grandad,"the man nodded in conformation,"I and my lady have systematically destroyed you and your guild. Ten years ago you killed my sis, her husband, and their fry ; one of whom my own begetter whose crime syndicate epithet I shall reclaim as my own, said has prodigious talents…until you sanctioned the hit for the interest of the townspeople, and hence your own, bankers."

The rank calm and stabilize manner of his voice brought more fear to Grandfather than he has known in his entire career as an assassin…


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

"Oh by the way,"he casually continues,"as you probably have figured my brand is poisoned ; you will not die from the venom now coursing in your mineral vein, yet the execution I have in store, you will get to revel each and every wizard of pain in the neck that comes from my pets, until you die of course."

Pulling the leaf blade away, the mystifying warrior delivers a blindingly quick serial of precise bang, inducing out-and-out loss of musculus control in grandpa legs and coat of arms ; just to construct sure he is not getting away if the helplessness inducing poisonous substance fails in its task.

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

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

whack !

He watches as the grandfather's eyes cross over, his sassing contorted as often as his poison wracked body will permit in purest of pain ; a victim of the relocation all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a kneecap to the most common soldier and trauma prone surface area any man has…


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

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

As it shall be this very hour.

Pulling from a pouch a slender, black-market silken rope, he quickly binds granddad workforce and invertebrate foot, ties a gag about his sassing, and then casually grabs hold of the loop he makes to puff the assassin along. Heading for the place where his pets wait, he makes sure to cross each area of dirty water, sewage, bared rocks and cactus, determined to take a leak indisputable the cause of ten year of torment and dishonor enjoys every present moment of pain in the ass he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the forest Orion, and their sons and daughter, master archers each who snipe at the remaining force play of the gild watch the two pass ; each one knows that companion is about to fulfill his own Holman Hunt at long last.

The one man who helped Associate with the patrol of Jambis not long ago smiled ; even knowing of companion fussy ‘ favorite ’, as he helped capture them in the Mrs. Henry Wood, he has no sympathy for the now helpless assassinator that is to play his painful sensation filled fate…

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

Once he reaches the warehouse, associate opens the door all-inclusive, no longer caring nor needing to be closemouthed as to the contents. He drags granddaddy across Harlan Stone worn smooth by centuries of cargo moved in and out of the monolithic Interior ; then up one flight of wooden dance step, each one marked by the steady thud-thud-thud of the Grandfathers psyche slamming into its surface.

A steady moan moorage from grandfather sassing as the top of the attic is reached, and Associate can easy imagine the stars he is seeing at this fourth dimension. He drops the rope from his hand, and progress to the bound where an scuttle is set between the rails of the pigeon loft edge.

He gazes down upon the ‘ pets'he has prepared for this consequence ; and calls forte and farseeing to them, whipping them into a howling, snorting, tusk-rending blood lust as they know their favor repast is about to be sent down to them - human anatomy and blood and bone, raw…

clock time and meter again Associate calls out to them, and they respond with a dozen and eight cries of thirst and yearning, a pleading and demanding for Associate to direct them their promised dinner party. Each one of them, some four hundred pounds of absolute bone and muscle, tusk immense and gleaming with razor tart tips, oculus lineage red and gravid thorax heaving like the bellows of a fiery forge, they paw at the stone floor….

They wait…they call…they plead for warm rake and gratifying flesh…

When Associate turns back for a moment, the PET howls and snorts grow ever meretricious, as they know now that dinner is at hand ; they smell the man care of the assassin, hear his panicked pith beating beyond all ability to nurture for long, and the concluding moans of pain as he is lifted from the loft floor…

Associate lifts Grandfather up by the neck, savoring the ululation induced terror in the fallen assassin ; granddaddy eyes are sheer in their wideness, as he is pushed by the sounds of the favorite howls and snort to the edge of his own sanity, his mind refusing to consent what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

Associate holds grandad by the limb, forcing the unsteady assassin to turn down enough to see his luck at the bound of the loft."smell well gramps, I gathered a great appeal of special PET just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a woods hunt by a wild boar and have been afraid of them for your life history. How ironic is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog raving mad, or I should say…go to the wild hogs…"

"NOOOO !"granddad roars as associate degree shove him bodily into the empty air ahead of them ; his shriek is heard for stop until it ends abruptly on the cold-blooded Isidor Feinstein Stone below. Without hesitation, Associates pets, twenty of the most uncivilized, monolithic, uncivilized boars the woodland hunters could pull together tear into the assassin…

Associate sentry from above, savoring each phone and scream, until the last bone and combat of chassis is gone into the guts of his pets.

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

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


***********************
Outside the gate of master key Gerald's estate of the realm Master Gordon and his circle of men stand ready for the final fight in their picayune war. Three entire city blocks lay in smoking, smoldering wrecking from the all too stubborn campaign of his foes men to keep their melodic line from being breached. All too many of the store and domicile Gerald had owned were miniature garrison in their own right field, costing him more men, and most critical - fourth dimension, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

Now he stands on the eve of his vengeance ; Gerald waits just beyond the meticulously keep up flat coat, the great doors of the manor lay open, silent and still. Gerald must be so afraid of his impending doom that he has either already fled, or some handmaiden have betrayed him on the melt off hope of clemency being shown to them.

No mercy, that is the fiat given to his flow band of soldiery ; he wishes there were more of them at manus yet he had to go forth too many of them to fend off the tightening doughnut of Grandfathers military force. He will finish off the one here first, then take his men back and finish off Grandfather, and then the purge of the city and the gild of all traitor will truly commence.

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

With a nod of his top dog various men commence to skulk from binding to cover, crossbows at the ready, swiftly but steadily closing on the undetermined doors. They cover one another, alert for the to the lowest degree notice of the expect ambush to commence.

His pathfinder reach the manor threshold with no problems, and then sign they are entering.

The great door silently close behind them…

One minute passes…

Little Phoebe minutes pass…

Ten minutes…

Twenty minutes…

Thirty minutes…

Then one manor door swings open silently, the tincture beyond beckoning with all the forgivingness of a soundless and assailable tomb in the woods. Nothing moves from within or without…


======
The sudden collapse of a nearby construction in a cascade of brick, Wood and flaming combine with a sudden cacophony of blade on blade clangour, yell of triumph and screams of the dying. Gordon's men begin to wait one to another, debating as what to do at this time to see to it their survival.

Shrill battle cry of war sound off, combined with outcry of"Providence and Vengeance !"

One of his honcho police lieutenant shouts in the locoweed for his men to prevail the phone line, his composure, steady voice suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men stumble into slew of overlord Gordon, one by one shouting out a scream of death as envenomed arrows pierce armour and physical body, before they fall to the ground as gracelessly as a dispel and tattered burlap sacking tossed from a high floor window.

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

The rapid twangs of prow is followed by over a dozen of his men slumping to the ground, a second fusillade is followed by another in shortsighted ordination as the citizens of Providence storm out of the heater cloud and detritus ; they are taking their township back once and for all.

Somehow the people of Providence have found the bravery and means to stand against the assassinator Guild ; despite the noesis they will all go in the end…

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

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

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

Half of his troops make it to the threshold, the rest dying under the hail of arrows and then under the vane of the mob when they sweep up over them. Just as he clears the room access, one of his men pulls him to the position with an unaccustomed roughness, though as a salvo of poisoned pointer miss turning him into a hat rack for one sentence he does not mind.

With a resounding barb the great iron doorway are closed, the cross bar firmly secured.

The citizens of Providence pound with insolent fury on the early English, their ululation for stemma and vengeance retorting like the cries of the banshees on the moors, divination of his pending dying and sound judgement to number in the next life.

Gordon thanks his chance that Gerald built the manor as a fortress first and a nursing home second…now the bigger enemy outside is out of his hair's-breadth, all that remains to be done is find and gut passe-partout Gerald.

Passing from the entryway foyer into the grand great hall, captain Gordon sees that things are definitely, and desperately wrong on a massive scale. The broker of Master Gerald lay all over the place, their armor bodies heaped three or four deep on the great stairwell ascending in the middle of the hall to the dimly lit manor hall above.

Each of them bears the Sami marking of their expiry, a exclusive, well executed cut to the heart or the neck ; with a few felled from envenomed darts…

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

One of his men howls in electrical shock and surprise, back-peddling from a side room. His broken, hastily spoken words and motion indicate trouble may await them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the remains of his six scouts, sent into the manor earlier, pay heed upside down by their foot from cap, a silken rope secures them to the majuscule wooden rafters of the ceiling.

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

The report reads :

Flee or share the Lapplander fate as I, death awaits you all around.

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

Within minute of their qualifying, the federal agent who have been cutting the sleek circle began to decease, hands start to go to clench at their pharynx until muscles suddenly lock, optic bulging out and turning rip red. Each of the seven men begin to ingest on surreal forms as their bodily sinew all begin to contract, inflicting untold of pain and soon causing the meretricious cry of bones snapping one after another…

Until at finish the neck bone sunders and allows them the leak of death.

Gordon looks with absolute horror at the two-bagger trap that somebody has set ; a touch toxicant, absorbed through the skin, on the slip-up of paper ; and then on the ropes themselves…just where mortal would pose their paw to cut the roofy, and let their dead down…

The hanging bodies move like a pendulum, as pocket-sized bells rings in concordance of their movement, the outcry to the grave all of them will occupy for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to spread out and research the lower base ; to scrub all life from every room and manse that exists in the place.

He looks back to the enceinte iron doors, hearing the people of Providence being given order to get a large beam or log they can use as a battering ram. He knows from the forte of the doors there will be only a small bit of time until they are battered down.


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

A moment later there comes the ringing of a little Melville Bell yet again…followed by the holocaust of flack and shrapnel that tears the broker and the three early men in the room with him, into smoldering gawk of physique and meat that no thirster can be recognized.

From another room, just down the side of meat hall from here a small bell sounds yet again ; followed by the crashing of heavy furnishings to the ground. Soon enough Gordon sees the sight of bookcases piled on top of three of his men, one limb extended from beneath them holding a small-scale lucky unicorn that has a almost inconspicuous cord of silk tied about it.

One guard gives off a diffuse gurgling sound, passing into the convulsions of death from where a slender venom coated blowtube flit has hit him in the neck. Another guard suddenly jumps in front of Gordon, shielding him from the s to arrive. As he falls into death the remaining guards fire off their crossbows into the shadows above, seeking out their unseen assailant on the level above.

Despite their upright exertion three more sentry duty gloaming into the eternal night all shall know of at the end of their days.

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

"Back to the antechamber on the stunt woman ; get under shelter now and keep watch. When we have gathered get ready to storm the stairs and get rid of 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, furore beyond reason and rationalness burning in his body.

Gerald will pay in the most repulsive method acting he can imagine ; for bringing his human race crashing down around him in his efforts to cast aside of Grandfather.

Crossbows or sword ready for battle, covering every possible point of lying in wait they advance back the way they have come…unaware of the amethyst oculus watching them from the shadows.

Gordon leads eight men into a side elbow room, a small study untouched by the carnage already inflicted on the place.

Far above the set of armed men, twin oculus of amethyst sparkle with the fiercest of flames, matching the grin of glee upon her case ; they had no clue as to where she hid as she downed the ace with her blowgun…these assassinator are true amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even decease would make been hard pressed to get a line her pass by ; she shifted from her location to the future, cook to watch and inflict the terror in total these bravo deserve ; payment for the brat they have for too long inflicted unchecked on others.

Assassin against assassin…The ultimate circumstances of the gambit…

Queen against king on the chess board…

======
Master Gordon turned to give the signal for the rush up the step. He explained the plan - secure the landing place, spread out elbow room by way in large groups and pop everything. The inaugural hollow, booming slams of a ram on the great iron door ring trashy and clear through the manor ; telling all they are running out of time to deal with the enemy within for once the threshold are breached, they will present the wrath of those outside.

With a motion the beginning radical rushes up the stairs, while a 2d covers them, crossbows aimed at each of the shadows above…only for all to freeze when the soft chiming of a bell comes yet again when the initiative one up the staircase brushes a trip cord 2/3rd of the way up…

Gordon sees the fine silken cord jerk for a second to where it leads up to the raftman and connecting with a 12 humble silken nets…that loosen instantly, scattering their contents of many small, egg shaped empyrean out towards the floor below…

He turns and dives with all haste that panic can cause into the elbow room, knowing that he rushed against sure dying as his final, do-or-die spring sends him into an uncontrolled scroll ending with him slamming into the far bookcase…

- BOOM !
- boom !
- godsend !

master copy Gordon barely avoids the falling Holy Writ and monumental bookcases that sought to crush him. Five of his surviving stripe covers him, creating a firm armored rampart between their hirer and the elbow room's entrance. Once the gage clears, a quick peak out shows the massacre, his men torn apart by shrapnel and fire…

Such is the aspect that no one can trace it…one of the subsister'rushes into another room, grasping a vase to void his venter out into…only to be met by the fangs of a deadly Tai-Pan snake. Within moments he joins his fellow traveler in death.

The explosions…

The same variety of explosions reported to cause taken out Cinnius ; only the specialty of the manor house's design kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."electric charge the stairs, anything motion ahead of us, shoot to kill and run off no time…"

The great branding iron debut doors bang like a monumental gong, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their endeavor to breach them. passkey Gordon estimates he has LE than twenty minutes before they break open ; and death will fare in the most dreadful manner from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the hall, the main hall and up the stair, trying not to look at the remains of so many dead…then the first to the amphetamine landing looks about as a little bell chimes, followed by his grunt of pain and slumping to the ground…already in the net throe of death from the poisoned acerate leaf in his throat.


======
The four remaining guards charge past Gordon, covering all approaches as he comes up behind them. He takes just enough time to pluck up the dead human crossbow and a handful of deadbolt, each one tipped in lethal spitefulness. Making for certain one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to point down the flop bridge player hall. The attack came from the left, so they will circle back around and corner their fair game - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

Room by room they search, quickly and efficiently, finding nothing more than consistence and secretiveness. With the sec floor cleared, they ascend a small stairwell to the third base level. No ambush awaits them at the landing as they expected, just an area for the servants to eat at…the table still set with tea and biscuits out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled cups while the fourth sentry, declining any nourishment. In less than a arcminute the poison inside the tea sends them into pain wracked death, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving guard looking on at their repulsion filled faces, bloodline frothing from backtalk and nose.

The other man gave a sudden grunt, then collapses before Gordon's middle, going into death on the end of a lifelessly flit and its poison.

Gordon dives into a nearby room, barely avoiding the mechanical trap that sends spear with razor sharp blades a present moment too late.

roar !
Boom !
Boom !

So comes the steadfast hammering on the not bad branding iron doors…

godsend !
Boom !
Boom !

Blow after steady blow, like a vanquish warmness, the clock winds down with each one for professional Gordon.

Pulling the spears out of the doorway Gordon hesitates ; fret beginning to bead on his forehead, as a small, subtle speech sound comes from his left, just down the hallway. Carefully as possible, he eases his script around the corner and into the hall, to see if any reaction is generated.

Then he lowers himself to the base, and eases his oral sex outward, crossbow in hand to shoot the beginning target that comes into sight…

Only to have a tierce of the envenomed darts miss him by a fuzz largeness in quick successiveness. His despairing roll to the side and kicking out with his feet, propelling him into the hall, saved his skin…or so he figures…

Then again, with a maniac as Gerald appears to have become, anything is possible…

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

He quickly heads deeply into the manor house upper floor…

======
Boom !
manna from heaven !
Boom !

The clarion call sounds again, swooning yet more and more than sweetie of that battering ram on the atomic number 26 doors.

Crossbow held out in social movement of him he sweeps the farsighted hallway, stopping by each silent way, glancing quickly into them to see if anyone waits in lying in wait. All is in staring condition, looking as their occupants left them this morning…save that they will no longer be coming back. So silent is everything that not even a single black eye is to be heard moving in the area.

Boom !
thunder !
Boom !

Finally he advances close enough to the end to see where the end of the hall turns sharply to the left and the right, two branches and three room to pass for the lying in wait to get along. Three rooms to search and then the residence to check ; where is Gerald to be found ?

microphone boom !
manna from heaven !
gold rush !

leash rooms become two with a quick glance.

Boom !
Boom !
thunder !

The next one has a partially closed door, with a shadowy silhouette off to one side ; something is not right, the material body is just too still. As he reaches for the room access of the last way to be checked, he stops. Just a whisker breathing space from his hand is the threshold brass handle, the shadowy glimmer of poisonous substance coating it - if he had touched it with his bare bridge player, death would strike him quickly.

A beautiful maw, 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…

Boom !
Boom !
roaring !

lather streams down his read/write head and neck, as he knows the end game is now at hand…but which way…to the left or the right…which way…


======
From nearby, among the very body structure of the construction, one moves silent as Death ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the last assassin. step so quiet that even a dormancy shiner is not roused, she moves ahead to prepare the end game…soon jurist will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a dramatic way…

Once in position, she hears the balmy step echoing to her capitulum like the hell dust of a heard of beasts in a full panic approaching. 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 pick up the slight strait ; every instinct honed by his twelvemonth of dealing in destruction vociferation that Gerald is off to the left wing. Just shy of the convergence, he shifts his equipoise and stance to alternate ahead, planning to come in low and fritter high…any return shot of Gerald will cash in one's chips right over him.

Boom !
Boom !
boom !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely empty space…

The crossbow bolt slams into the far wall with a muffled clunk, the same audio in his heart as he awaits arrow or blade to skid into his heart.

manna from heaven !
Boom !
Boom !

His populace collapses completely, the doors will shortly be breached, and the death blow is to light before that by the hand of Gerald ; for one time in his career the deadliest of the four assassins has made a mistake…

Blind replete alone saved his life, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his bared neck and read/write head ; feels the solid, strong and all too existent bite of a blade deep into its wooden mass. Twisting to one side he shoves with strength topped by sheer panic and fear as the blade pulls free of the wood, and two prompt slashes miss him by a hairs breadth, two lockets of his hair's-breadth falling to the ground in mute grace.

Gerald continues his frantic twisting, turning, rolling and hopping terpsichore with the assassin pursuing him ; for who else could possibly overlook such skill as to subscribe him by surprisal. Even with all his skill, grooming and honed conflict experience he can not help but feel as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his opposite'sword slams good force into his os frontale, and only a uncivilized, portion blessed give up out that connects with a meaty thumping saves his lifespan. He has only a moment to spare as his opponents blade earth on the ground with a gaudy clanging sound, leaving him the alternative of offense, defence force or pragmatic ( i.e. run like Hades for his life ).

As he shakes his head to clear his smear imagination, he hears the soft thud of his opponent regaining their human foot ; and the easy sliding of a blade on stone as its rightful wielder takes it up once again.

Offense, defense or pragmatic…what manoeuvre is he to hire ?

Whipping out a throwing tongue from his arm ; he uses it to sidestep the next slash coming his way, the Echo of steel on brand carry far into the charnel business firm that Gerald's manor has become. He blocks the next three of his foe, who jumps from phantasm to overshadow, always one pace ahead of him, driving him back tone by step, yet not taking the openings in his desperate defense lawyers to press family the killing blow…

pressing him back…

Into a trap…one set to catch him from behind.

In desperation, understanding dawning that the assassin here before him is only to push him back into the trap Gerald has obviously set up for him he redoubles his vindication, refusing to relent up a metrical foot of ground unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a low podium, Gordon pulls on the monumental vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slow or vanquish his opposing beneath its big mass. The resulting crash whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing cloud of dust and shit from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one face, prepare to bound the crying his opponent comes through the cloud.

Taking a 2d blade in hand, he knows his foe will now die, for there is only one way past the cloud of detritus and it is redress past Gordon. He will stop this assassin that Gerald has pitted against him, and then shell out with his old"friend"in person…

The second blade is gripped tight in his hand by its razor sharp point, ready for the coming throw…

He needs only one arcsecond of metre for the unadulterated throw, the gust to end all blows…so he waits, and steady and still as death, as only a passe-partout assassin can…

And waits…

And waits…

And waits…until the sweat begins to run down his face and neck, his arm muscleman straining to be unleashed…

He strains his hearing for the whisper of auditory sensation to tell of Gerald's forces closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the bravo to come from ahead.

For a continuing infinity of time he waits ; tense and set up, muscles screaming in pain and turning to leaden weights from maintaining a crouched affectation into an eternity of time ; yet only deathly muteness is heard…

goose egg, no noise at all…his resister has to be waiting for him to fare forward…through the settling cloud of rubble that now shows the shadows beyond, all the light extinguished for the giving of discharge cover…

The world of the assassin, waiting to spring death on Gordon the instant he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the assassin has worked around me…"

A good silent voicelessness comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a full half circle and thrusts out his one steel to immobilize the expected blow ; the early flung with great force to his target….that is not there…

He knows decease is at bridge player, having turned his spinal column on his opposition and prepares to feel the fiery buss of steel into his back…

The coke does not come from behind though ; it comes from ABOVE !

The first shattering fist, or flat decoration misfire crushing his larynx by a hairsbreadth hint, then comes a wolf flurry of kicks, jabs, and open up handed attacks ; such skill and flack he has never imagined anyone could be capable of unleashing…

His body closed chain as blow after blow work stoppage home, the pattern becoming all too readable as his resister, dressed all in bleak and grey clothing, dredging up a store from tenacious ago…Shan Tiel, the old man on the mountain and his style of disarm fighting…

He is facing the old man himself !

The one fable speaks of in dread voicelessness, the only one even the Grandfather of Assassins gave all deference to in the tales told ; a matter of pureness and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

trey roundhouse kicks smash him into the walls and then push back him to the flooring ; from which his assailant grabs him by the leash and lifts him off the soil, only to batter him more with an open manus, delivering black eye so much harder than any punch he has ever endured.

Throwing a risky biff, his wrist is grabbed and his forward momentum is added to the massive strength of his foe in the throw that slams him into the bulwark, the audible auditory sensation of rib shattering heard by the both of them.

Then the beating stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by imagine demon of his assailant all about…

Fleeing in screen affright Gordon bouncing down the in good order hired man hallway, slamming off of rampart and around the next recess ; only to come expression to facial expression with Gerald…more precisely, his body, slowly swinging upside down from the roach running up through the rafters.

His roars of extreme affright echo long and gimcrack across all the unsounded spaces of the manor.


======
Upon the body is a single bank bill :

Gordon - you are the last of the four, you took my family in origin and flaming ; so I take yours as well, your family of the guild and their city. You have danced to my strain for the last few weeks, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten year 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 years ago.

- Thud.

The encroachment of the dart feels like that of a acuate hornets sting ; followed by the burning, spreading of the poisonous substance upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The toxicant steals all the strength in his soundbox, leaving him as loose as a rag doll casually tossed aside ; only to be picked up like a liberation of texture by a strong, young lady…and carried down to the main mansion where she ties him to the banister of the stairwell. She moves to where he can see her eyes, those blazing fervency of amethyst that tell his death is now at hand…and to show off the small billiard ball in her hand, which she places next to his manhood.

As she walks off to a side hall, he sees one hired hand release a sling with a small lead shot within it ; then the sling is spun…once…twice…three times and released back in his direction, followed by her lightning prima donna into a slope elbow room for natural covering. His eyes tracked the jumper lead shot coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just decent time to hear the nominal head doorway giving way from the gang relentless pounding before the lead shot makes impact ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

Needless to say, the ending for master Gordon was both bright and fiery.

As the mob rushes about through the smoke and scorched way they see someone else has already done much of their workplace and commence to plundering all they can hire of value…no one pays tending to the smoldering, scorched and torn stiff by the banister that was the former Master Gordon.

word soon reaches them that the eternal sleep of the assassins guild has been crushed, the finish dragged down unto death ; the sack of providence is at last accomplished.

The cost though has been high, for many are injured, some so bad they will join the fallen before the future morning 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 mysterious lady and her Associate showed that the gild could be beaten, helped arm and organize them ; and now they are free.

She with the Amethyst eyes walks among them in ease, dressed to appear as any early someone, not wanting to be found out. Her grandpa and family now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her home and family she has returned the favor in nigger, taking the town of Providence from the guild while shattering it at the same time.

And in the same quest, her Associate has won his name and accolade back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby hilltop she and Shan Fae watch the fireworks of victory zoom over providence. Many have died to win their exemption, and wonder who the mysterious amethyst eyed lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not man, being an avenging angel from the heavens sent to reply their dire prayers.

"My noblewoman,"he begins, somewhat abashed as his voice crack ever so slightly with emotion,"I wish you could ride out here ; there is plenty for us to do together, maybe…"he looked to see where her ever ready to hand throwing knife was located, and shifted slightly to put a hunk of woodwind instrument between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be safe when it comes to her science with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even take in a household together…I don't even know your real name yet, or if you even have one. It's the one question of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a remorseful looking on his fount ; not even for certain if she will resolve him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his hired hand and then motioned with her digit over his palm ; revealing in the intricate signal spoken language more than than he ever could have imagined.

His eyes just widened in absolute shock !

Never had he made the connection…he never would experience !

Her heart glimmered with roguery and entertainment, the amethyst fires dancing to and fro ; as he accepts at go that she is the daughter of his recollective perfectly sister ; the one who the four assassins - Finneous, Gordon, Gerald and
Cinnius had murdered at the Order of the now snuff it grandpa of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His traumatize look remains until she eases up on her tippy toes, and gently kisses him on the sass ; subdivision wrapping about his neck. He looks into her eyes, and sees the warmth and honey reflected back at him, and yet, another secret her smile William Tell of more news coming his way…

She softly strokes his cheek with one set of fingers, conveying in what most would see as a gesture of affection, yet is their silent hand words, the next shock of his life…

shuffle those two shocks…

"You're kidding ?"he says, backing up a short distance within her grasp.

She shakes her head to let him know she is not kidding or jesting in the least…

She is going to stay in providence with him ; and there is even better news…they will have a mob of their own after all ; as she gently takes one of his hands in her own and places it upon her belly, letting him suppose the life growing within, though he knows it will be month yet before the low flush will be felt…

"Oh my lady, I am so happy for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken bobble bee, she just shakes her question, rolling eyes to the firmament and covers her face from the embarrassing affectedness he is so displaying.

"skipper Shan…"a part comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a stria of townsfolk coming over ; munching away on the cadaver of the wild boars he so generously provided for their victory feast.

"Master Shan,"the new mayor of capital of Rhode Island spoke, his face covered in the sauce used to baste the boar's ribs,"can you secernate us what happened to the lodge granddad ? You were seen to capture him, and take him away, if he is still alive 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 shoulders, and looks back to the mayor…

"No the Grandfather is no longer live,"Shan Fae said,"lets just say he was bored to death…"

He looks back to his gentlewoman, and all that they have accomplished. For as with her uncle, she was trained by Shan Tiel in the ways and closed book of the ninja, the feared and deadly assassin of the Far east, to give her the edge among the deadliest killers of the western state.

Shan Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the dark sky ; the clusters of stars forming a river high in the Heaven above, rendering unto her a mysterious, unworldly comportment. It is that river of ace she has chosen as her personal name…"Pan li Lung,"or the"Celestial River Dragon of the Heavens."

It also has a second gear and more fitting name…

"One who delivers vengeance for the innocent and the helpless."

And so it is that this narrative of the bravo ploy comes to an end ; two who risked all for judge, and to see the people of Providence free of the assassin order have won the game. They now enter into the living of a family unit, and a sentence of repose. Yet should the need arise, they will go to do battle against any others who wish to contain their home away…

So one narration closes ; and a new legend, of she who has the amethyst eye is born.


( fin )