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

The leader of the four, Finneous, motions instructions to his associate in the still sign language used by the Assassins Guild ; though they already know their end, no error will be tolerated this Nox, the contract bridge must be fulfilled…no subsister and no evidence is to be left behind.

On that the Grandfather of Assassins, the rightful ruler of the gild and of Providence is clear.

Silent as death, they move between shadows illuminated moment by moment as lightning dances across the sky. Here one darts to a Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, then to lay behind a lowly bush ; there one dashes between trice to the shelter of a low wall surrounding the house.

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

Even the urban center Constable, the law enforcement factor of Providence - of course all are under order control - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this hour. The plan of the theater, down to the low detail, were secured by yet another band of guild factor, allowing for precision planning…

All too soft, zilch can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will take no chances, for dumb fate has on Sir Thomas More than one affair interrupted his program. He gives a hundred count, making sure no movement occurs…

Seeing, sensing and hearing nothing he motions with one manus to his fellow. Of the three, Cinnius heads to embrace the plunk for threshold with his small crossbow, Gordon and Gerald move to the side entrance of the pantry and kitchen.

Between newsbreak of lightning and echoing roars of roaring they go ; undetected, they reach the sign of the zodiac of the banker betrayed by his better half. Swift and efficient they enter, and in less than five minutes the totally affair is dispatch, leaving the class deadened and the house aflame from front to punt. No survivors, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An easy night of study ; eliminate an entire family, torch the mansion to wrap up the crime.

Save for one electric potential complication - one young girl, the eye member of the baby, was not at the theater. All four of them agree to say zero more, knowing the extreme Death waiting for them if the granddaddy of the club finds out.

Besides what job could one teenager of a girl alone in the cosmos honestly cause them…

**************************
The gentleman's gentleman known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the sphere watched the flack as they consumed the sign of the zodiac ; from the phantom he had seen the four assassins enter and going with exceptional acquisition. Not one of the four had seen Grandfather when he approached within four metrical foot of their way of life coming and going.

"Amateurs,"he declared softly, condescension for these supposed ‘ pro'of the West.

If not for the charge he has been entrusted with by the now conk banker, he would feature finished this band of idiots just for the saki of realism. They give a bad name to what it means to be a true assassin.

He could just picture how the battle would take place, brief and absolute in its finality…

Emerging from the masking he would need the shoemaker's last in line with a quick, flat edged helping hand chopper to the throat, instantly crushing it and sending him into a gurgling death…

Twin, envenomed knife would take the middle two in their inwardness ; the quivering spasms of death wracking the saying of electrical shock and repulsion on their faces…

Their leader in front, the one he knows as Finneous from retiring dealing, would pass in a personal matter…his iron shodden staff smashing osseous tissue and crushing organs in close up battle ; or if the coward flees then he would send the throwing stars into his hind - each one with the Saame deadly venom as his knives hold…

Tonight he can not grant in to the desires…

Giving a quiet two hundred count while still concealed by his tiger striped cloak, second of leaf aiding in the disguise of him being a persona of the tree diagram and shrub, 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 Orion like the bravo, there is only room for one fault ; of form being from the Far east, HE is the avowedly hunter in this game.

He slowly eases into a half bend, then to a full moon posture as he looks about, listening, sniffing the air, all to make sure the quartet of bravo have indeed passed beyond the area.

In his sheltering branch is the little young lady, the one with the amethyst heart and muffled voice. Her little terror filled demise hug lets him have sex just how scare she truly is, though still Cy Young and small for her age, he will get to sure that no harm comes to her…

No matter what he will get to certainly no harm comes to her ; her male parent desperate plea with him, to nibble one out of the twelve small fry to be saved raked his heart 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 nothing he could do, to forestall the walloping of his son and grandchildren.

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

He keeps his firm grip on the little missy who hugs him in a terror filled death hug ; her centre filled with amethyst fires. When her begetter had come to meet him, only the young woman was with him ; then the father had rushed back to save his mob, too previous to do little more than die with them.

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

Very slowly the lady friend extended her coat clad arm, gloved finger's breadth tracing a series of moves into his hand. Indeed, mute that she may be, the simplicity of her ability with the sign language of his family's profession - fellow assassins like himself - demonstrating the intelligence that lies behind those wonderful eyes.

He nodded favourable reception.

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

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

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

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

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

Neither of them calculate back at the old life, the end of a sept for her.

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

The bravo consider their hunt completed, just one of hundreds the Little Joe 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 finger's breadth moved with soft, feather gentleness across her denude skin. He began with her one bared cheek, her head turned his way and those wonderful eye dancing with such body fluid, life and bang for him.

Moving in a slacken spiral outward from the center, he soon reached her sass and playfully caressed them across the top and then the butt, exploring each portion of them in turn. The flavour of her warm hint upon his finger brought a tingling delight to his intellect, his old body still up to the entertaining of a young lady, one who is no longer a missy - she reached her majority a hebdomad ago, and asked for this nighttime as her giving from him.

He slips his finger into her mouth, caressing the interior of her lips and stroking against her tooth, taking delight in the growing blush upon her boldness. Moving back to her upper lip, he continues his fingertip exploration, up to her nose and around each of her eyes - especially along her brows, bringing a indulgent shudder to her body as her optic gently close for the moment.

His fingers begin to knead around her brows and then back along her scupper ear, drawing forth a smiling on her crimson red sassing as a contentedness little sigh outflow past them. She draws her workforce up under the pillow her head is resting upon, while her bar cutis shines with the moonlight flowing in from the twin sliding door that are capable to the outdoors world.

Her one arm flicker for just a moment, the bridge player setting more secure under the pillow.

Grandfather moves along the book binding of her head with his fingers, caressing and massaging her neck along the side of meat and back, cupping them along the front so all of his script is on her skin. He then begins in diffused, circling and kneading motion ; she gives another soft suspiration of contentment, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly as she begins to relax more and more.

His eyes look up as he picks up the faintest of movement through the floor board, a vibration and a soft sound so insidious most would get into a mouse had scampered across the room.

Running his bridge player down along both sides of her spine, he uses the former manus to endure his leaning course ; this move also brings him closer to one of his hidden throwing tongue - envenomed of track - to trade with any unseen attacker…

The young gentlewoman turns her heading away from him, muscle on her back twitching in delight from his caressing spot. Once more than there is a soft suspiration that escapes her lips.

Bending down he places his lip on her peel, kissing inch by salty tasting column inch from mid articulatio humeri to the humble spinal column ; all the while his eyes lookout for the future shadow to be active, ears listening for the next sound to be made as the unknown interloper approaches.

His fingers 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 accurate localization of the intruder.

It also provides the information to another as well…

Faster than a Snake's ten-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 blade hilt, she sees that her aim has been true. She then resumes her comfortable position on the feathered matting, hands back under the pillow, waiting for gramps to continue his ministrations.


======
The intruder, the man of mystery from the Far due east simply known as the Associate - and designated helper for the one with the amethyst eyes, calmly stands in his place, one leg in one-half stride, foundation prepared to step across the walls form to another diminished joint projecting slightly outward.

Such a motility on this outer wall, along the structures fourth story and some three hundred foot over a cliff to the jagged rocks below would be shaver's play.

He wanted to see the gift being given by Grandfather to the offspring lady.

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

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

He gently swings his eubstance around 180 degrees, pivoting on the toes of his early groundwork, then begins the climb back the way he came ; he will never underestimate her again.

His gaze is drawn back to the peak of a blade extending a finger length through the wood ; the gleaming toxicant on its shiny aerofoil realize to his trained eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his manhood by a hair's-breadth breadth.

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

No to a greater extent peculiarity for him, he will now pore solely on the deputation, and the judge long denied to him for the offense committed by the guild grandpa of Assassins.

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


======
Grandfather just chuckled as she rolled onto her back, those glossy amethyst eyes alive with humor ; his delectation in her military action is obvious as she holds her blazonry out for him, the invitation loud and clear in their unspoken dance of love.

Easing his gown off, he carefully lies across her soundbox, supporting the bulk of his weightiness upon his slender, old and atomic number 26 firm arms while she parts her pegleg, sliding them gently around his hip joint, and begins to actuate them in caressing movements along his own.

He begins to kiss her lips, which she returns with flaming intensity, the glow of her cheeks deepening with each passing moment. Kiss after gentle, pecking kiss embraces her impertinence and then along the jaw to her chin, her smile concealing a barely seeable swig while one hand moves to stroke her neck ; generating a small-scale shudder and twitch of her body, a silent giggle parting her sass while arms and legs writhe in joyous, frenzied bliss.

One low tickle follows a mo, then three more, resulting in capital and large 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 sass gently on each bead - his grin shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling scents of Grandfather while he is so close ; often she has been following to him in slumber, but never in such a mode as this…the thought of what is to come so soon filled her with a bit of apprehension and expectation of ecstatic bliss…the final closed book of mysteries to be explored.

Her eyes closed as his hand cuffed the back of her neck, supporting it with great strength and gentle, warming pinch ; the pocket-sized vibrating motion of each finger muscle told of his iron control of the torso, massaging and finding each sensuous nerve in the area, bringing an unexpected surge of euphoric heat from deep within and down below, where she feels the root of a wetness build…

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

One fingertip of his free hired hand began to explore, resting at first of all upon the very base of her ribs, to flow upward in a narrow down, focused, undulating trail that sent a cornucopia of flavor surging into all portions of her mind.

Sharp and sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; language without form for feelings that can not be described but only imagined in a musical harmony like a serial of streams forging into a mighty river as all junction together. One piercing intake of breather bringing a heavenly profuseness of smell - the lingering steam and droplets of water from the bathing room nearby ; the slightest touch of old cologne water and musk, of earthly rich men smells, and wood heather of women who have been here in the room many 100 of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened thenar, easing along the bound of her breast, slowly tracing the sharpness while swirling in belittled, ennoble band. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded ; the helping hand caressed and massaged more and Sir Thomas More area of each breasts.

She heard and felt her breathing place quickening, her head making a small round as electrical charges of pure bliss tingled their way up in her eubstance ; each one in go unleashed a pleasant surge of Department of Energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality. Stroke by gentle stroke the infinite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping her breasts until they crossed the erect nipples ; that first gracing contact sent a coursing pulse of heat along all the paths of her body, surging and rebounding until it returned a c sheep pen in intensiveness that almost became overwhelming.

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

Unto its journeying the hand continued, seeking out with almost desperate haste the other pap ; its trail a realise path illuminated by fires of bliss as it moved along my skin. pulsing after beating pulse surged in this journeying to flow outward as the ripples on a pond, yet with the force of a shower among a mighty river.

Just short of contact her trunk could learn no Sir Thomas More, pushed to the border faster than even grandfather had figured as her body moved in rouse, euphoric motion ; one silent cry of cardinal passion after another expressed on her parted lips until her coming hit, being released in one second of farthest Nirvana bliss.

She signed him not to stop, to land up her call for gift for the night, while she still was ready. Nothing was to step in from here on out…nothing if she could help oneself it at all.

Her script slide along his back, teasing and caressing, until they meet with the finger's breadth entwining to hold him securely in place. She closes her centre, neck arching slightly in response to the kisses he now places along it, while a series of delicate suspiration escape her backtalk that undefendable and close in silent calls of edifice lust.

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

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

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

From his gentle and firm action at law, move after move, she begins to feel a fiery cloud nine rate of flow up her body like a river of molten metal ; the heat energy and intensity redoubling with each inch it passes unto her brain. Her breath quickens as she lays there, auricle listening to the gentle, steady external respiration of Grandfather.

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

All too soon the wonder of this meter of pleasure comes to an end, as he reaches the limit point of his body's survival and simplicity, sending his life seed mystifying into her body.

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

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

Her script came up to his face, gently caressing it in thanks and with love.

His helping hand encompassed hers, allowing him to read delectation in the sissiness of her peel, the slight sudor on the airfoil.

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

In their shared, silent foretoken lyric she explains that they depart in two weeks.

She looks upon the one who she loves so practically with wonderment, hoping to contribution so many Sir Thomas More such minute as this night before the hunt begins.

For the hold up ten years he has raised her, teaching her languages and penning, the art of interpersonal chemistry belonging to the bravo of the Far East. The way of the blade and the bow, the throwing stars and daggers ; many weapons for all situation she may encounter…and so practically more.

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

Yet he taught her so much to a greater extent than to be a ‘ living artillery ;'she loves to dance with him under the stars, to fish and trace, to spiel chess, and so a good deal more.

In short, he taught her how to exist and savour life day by day.

Two short weeks before she heads to providence ; two weeks she intends to enjoy to the fullest with her new devotee, making beloved as much as he will permit.

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

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

Her dreams recall those times, from the first predilection of grandfather manhood on her rim, his ejaculate spilling into her mouthpiece and his apologies when she choked ; to the way he explained what to do…

Yes indeed, their remaining metre together will be wonderful.

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


======
Her Associate stands silently off to the side of the small shrine where grandpa ash have been laid to rest, the two horses he holds, their mountain, remain soundless as if paying esteem to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just shakes his promontory, amazed that the one he is to work with show such a range of emotions ; he made the promise to never underestimate her again, yet the sheer display of acquisition in her programme - and the contingencies for outcome and opportunities that may get up, is the workplace of a true master.

Only the tenuous glimmer of a tear shows as it flows down her cheek ; the only weakness he has seen in her during the meter they have come to get it on one another.

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

Let the hereafter ejaculate as it does, right now other topic need to be focused upon…such as the pets he needs to purchase once in town ; guarantee their tax shelter and throw certain they are sufficiently athirst for when the time comes to have his revenge…

He can almost feel for the fate in fund for the grandad of Assassins…almost.

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


*******************
*******************
In the depths of a vacant shop, one long boarded up, ledge thick with dust and cobwebs the only sound to be heard is the deep, rasping, moaning pant of an older man. Dressed in a well tailored suit, most would assume him to be a servant for one of the rich merchandiser of Providence ; yet if they knew his straight spatial relation, they would run off screaming…to an early, pain filled death as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then stand the same fate.

He is the butler and right hand man of maestro Gordon of the guild of Assassins, not to bring up being a deadly orca in his own right.

His hands grip the shop dusty counter that pushes into his dorsum as he fights to persist upright ; undulation of giddy, pulsating, undulating heat and electrical like sensations of delight flow into his mind ; too many twelvemonth have passed since he has felt this way, and now to take in such a lady as this yield such interest in him, for such a fairly cheap price as well…

One of the legendary Sisters of the bluing, a pocket-size gathering of doxy renowned for their mastery of the titillating and Tantrik fine art, showing interest in HIM ! ! !

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

One raspy breath after another passes his lips, chest heaving in and out like a Bellow, one shudder after another causes his consistency to flex and flow about, as he feels like his brain is now turning to slosh around before a furnace, about to flow away completely in a swarm of steam.

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the Sister's lips play along the length of his manhood ; pausing to buss and twirl around the sensitive base of its fountainhead. With a whirlwind of minor, accurate strokes of her tongue she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading wave into his body along the specialise ravines of his nervous organization ; one wave upon the other ; building into a tsunami of strength and lubricious fervor, threatening to doss his mind ; with oblivion coming then and there from fervour matching that of a savage stallion proclaiming victory for dominance of a herd of mares.

For the first time in year he feels so unblock and TRULY ALIVE ! ! !

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

He has to incur out ?

grunt after grunt replication around the empty-bellied shop, his fists commence to pound upon the counter as he strains to prevail back the development pressure upon his manhood. He understands that for so long he has been an oxen, who by choice and confinement in the mansion of his knob, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such alright fleshly pleasance as this…

Oh the heady perfume she wears, flabby and gentle yet being hard as iron and unyielding as the thick stones in the earth ; elusive as a ghost while being here and now as a second of time that is eternal.

She eases one hand upward, gently teasing and tickling his twin set of chestnuts just below his humanness, while being unaware of the small surprise prevarication just within her fingernails edges. If this man dares to reap the hidden set of blade or the hunky-dory wire iron collar up his give arm, then the poison will pop him within seconds, thus forcing a small change in her design for the near future.

His laugh grows from a small serial publication of chortle to wild, manic, hysterically mad sound carrying loud and long outside the shop ; though no one in the area dares to pay attention - ignore such auditory sensation that may entail guild business is going on and you stay alive for today…maybe…

He feels like his eyes have crossed over into the opposite sockets, his strength being drawn out of him by the constant, hotness flowing, headiness of her actions. Oh if he only could get his married woman or the other girl and fancy woman he has - each convinced they are ‘ his confessedly beloved'– to do thus to him, as well as or better than she.

For the second sentence he counts his blasted luck at having a baby of the Blue come to HIM for so low of a price ; one simple transition and future coming together such as this will become ever sluttish to coiffure.

Blackmail can be so fun of a game sometimes ; especially if she desires to stay in one while, not to observe alert for some sentence to come.

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

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

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

But that will not happen, his schoolmaster may be a powerful public figure in the social club, yet HE, the butler, controls the day to day consequence at professional Gordon's estate - no one will acknowledge, just as he has smuggled and embezzled millions of atomic number 79 coins, gems and artwork over the days, others paying the price for his actions…

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

The two matter that give the sisters such power aside from their mastery of the intimate artwork, is the sheer peach of each one - plus the sheer sapphire blue eyes they have ( hence the ‘ wild blue yonder'in their championship ) ; AND the fact that each one is mute from parturition, thus all secrets told in their mien can be kept safe from revelation.

Those who control the baby make for sure they never learn to communicate in any way, reading, writing, or such save by a specify sign language centered on the sexual arts. Though they are free in how to pleasure and please their clientele, they shall never be destitute of the brawny influence and ascendancy of the club that dominates their entire lives.

Secrets and boasts safe with the baby ; so be it.

The Samuel Butler spends some fourth dimension explaining to her as she gently strokes his manhood, enraptured attending paid to him as he tells account after fib about the guild and their waves of terror and murder used for control ; her grinning shows the turmoil brewing mystifying in her body, seeing him as a champion of champions against those who dare to oppose the way thing are - the social club of assassin rules, nothing else can exchange it.

Or so he assumes.

Gently she teases the very tip of his manhood with the tip of a fingernail, drawing him to the edge of fury and back again and again ; her smile of marvellous bliss combined with rapt attention to the pigs constant quantity stream of pretended heroic masks the utmost contempt she feels to him…

And curiosity if it would not be better to simply engrave a bit too operose, stick out back and watch as the poisonous substance goes into effect…no not yet ; the time for such petty matters is not at hand.

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

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

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

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

"Just a reminder of who you are dealing with lady, the offset breath of betrayal at all…"he finished with a movement of his hired man across his throat, flaming alight in his eyes.

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

As per their deal, she opens her back talk to show his entire living ejaculate is there, and then swallows it down.

She smiles at him, glad to have given him such pleasure ; while on the inside she steams at having to put up with such a brute of an animal, expurgation would be too beneficial for him…give him over to a band of natural state women, wielding tongue and they will ingest him as the main course at a banquet…

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her temper in impediment ; despite that she will be spewing her guts out for the next couple of time of day when she gets home plate, the boilersuit increase are worth it.

retaliation will add up soon enough.

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

"My dear Sister in Blue, the next clip you wish to have Thomas More roses, let me love. I will gladly bring in them to you for an ‘ interchange of servicing'such as you provided tonight,"the butler stated.

"Just recollect,"he angrily said, suddenly grabbing her by the throat with plenty effect to leave bruise upon her skin.

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

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

The Butler heads off now on other affair ; specifically the owner of the new flower shop, the girl known as ‘ Clairice,'the one who is booster with the lunatic that makes the gadgets for the guild.

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

Yes animation is respectable and Master Gordon will never know of the missing efflorescence being by his own hands.

The game he is playing with the pink wine has endless possibilities…

If he understood the role he unknowingly plays in the"Sisters"biz ; the terror would induce his heart to stop on the spot.



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

Indeed, ten years is a hanker time, now he had power, social status and riches known only to a few ; those who role ways to let him guide, his rank decipherable by the all right of pitch-black courting encompassing his iron-trimmed hefty physique. For the suicidal who may gainsay him, the small crossbow bounce at his hip - always loaded with a poison bolt - is make.

None dare to challenge him, for he is one of the Masters of the club of Assassins ; one of the ok and of the deadliest, only rivaled by Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius his old associates…and of course of action the Grandfather of bravo and his ever shifting patch within plots…

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

The intellection of the last execution he had seen, a man covered in dissolve cheese and lowered headspring first into a pit filled with hungry, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he ; the wow gave him nightmares for calendar week afterwards…as the gramps of bravo intended, a warning as well as punishment…

Yes here in his knowledge domain he is condom, based on his ability to control others by their care - of death, hurting, and of punishment or fierce attainment in leaf blade, knife and a hundred other weapons. By controlling their fearfulness, he has control of all those around him.

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

"Oh it feels so good to be a mogul within my own lilliputian land here in the city…"he chuckles to himself. Yes it is good to be king over a small dowery of the world.


======
Two sets of middle watch as Finneous heads down the street, following the same design each day. Same time, itinerary, movement, and such…predictable, and thus vulnerable ; in becoming predictable, he has become so very vulnerable…

Without anyone else noticing the two have a ready conversation, using the silent language of paw question ; if all goes well, they will need to move quick.


======
Two soft, gentle eyes watch as the assassinator heading down the street ; day after day he follows the Sami set route, no difference and secure in his own personal domain. Indeed in this field of Providence he is a king, and on-key to style, the witness here has a gift for him.

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


======
Finneous pass by one of the few privately owned shops in the surface area, the small Harlan F. Stone building is home to a new florist, who also deals in betting odds and ends she trades for from other merchants. Such is the budding repute of her body of work that many masses of influence and power, not to mention fellow member of the club, sojourn to purchase her creations.

Her only get laid companion is that old and completely insane toymaker Darius ; his flair for making gismo and mechanical convenience is just as legendary, as he has the gilded opportunity to behold world-class hand.

Darius shows the girl…lets see, what her name…Clairice is, yes Clairice, which is her name…a small, egg-sized ball in one of his hand that slowly motility and shifts. Gradually it becomes a mechanically skillful canary that starts to sing.

So sweet and true is the song that many real canary yellow in nearby Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree join in the song.

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

Heading over, he gives a balmy cough to make his mien known, and indicates the mechanical bird with one paw. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the fauna ; Darius bristles until the young woman locks him in place with a truly stern regard, thus saving the assassinator the need to kill him for a small fry insult.

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

When he gives her the coins for the leverage she bows to excuse herself then goes back into the workshop. Darius just shrugs his shoulders and point off on whatever business his hydrophobia holds, his thick blue robe covered in Wyrd mathematic symbols flowing about him in the breeze.

As the assassin heads down the street he knows he is being watched ; his grammatical construction feigns interest in his new toy while actually keeping track of each person moving about him. Soon enough he discerns the one who he has been waiting for - on time and for once holding something of great interest group to him.


======
The two who watch the procession of Finneous up the street have another straightaway conversation in the silent hand lyric ; the second of the two bows slightly, then proceeds to surrender his ‘ giving,'knowing that there will be little time as things come to a head.

The first continues to find out Finneous, seeing him feign interest in the mechanically skillful bird, and the true interest he shows in the ‘ game of ambush'both play each day ; not to mention the exceptional ‘ gift'that goes to him today as well…these assassin, such amateurs…



======
As on each day, the ‘ ambush'occurs right on sentence, the little girl with the diffuse center stair out in movement of him with her blazon filled with flowers."Good sir, would you like a flower today ?"

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

"Now then, you be sure as shooting to subscribe this money directly to your father."

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

As Jesmine runs off to establish the funds to her father Finneous hears a ruckus down the street…

Much to his amusement he sees the old toymaker Darius arguing with a couple of Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. He seems to be trying to get them to buy a mechanical device that will gather water supply for them. A clear deterrent example in the fine art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can get fantastic toys.

His schoolmarm will absolutely love this mechanical bird.

A arcsecond glance at Darius shows he is trying to trip the light fantastic with the trees, and doing so badly. When a bunch of leaves fall over his head, he begins to argue about some ‘ slight of honor from the forests of the existence'and then challenges each tree diagram to a affaire d'honneur of honor…a true up lunatic indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

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

"I will give birth to observe out."

Too bad he never got a luck to find out.


======
The gathered crowd region 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 assassin, his crossbow still loaded and at the ready next to his hip ; the mechanical bird lying atop the half bloomed heyday, singing away as it was designed to do.

"Go and get the duty captain,"shouted the patrol sergeant to his aide-de-camp,"tell him what we have here at once, the relaxation of you secure the expanse, five gait out and no one touches anything ; when the grandpa of Assassins finds out about this we may sustain major problems."

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

All hail the king for he is now dead.

One has fallen, three more left.


*********************
*********************
The metropolis police force - the Constables have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her family. Everything in their house is intact, no signs of disturbance, fuss, foul-smelling romp or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their lastly machinate repast, still cooling down from preparation, remains uneaten on the table plus an expensive wine-colored bottle chilling in a bucket of ice…

There were only two oddities to be found - a half-bloomed rose on the table, and a bundle of composition hidden away in a hollowed out Book.

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

Make sure that Finneous has access to these blossom during his morning walk, one is to be sent to his mistress as well ; commend I will permit no Thomas More mistake. If per prospect he does ask where they are from, secern him directly they come from my estate gardens, in honor of our ten class of mutual silence - Gordon.

Quickly this note made its way into the hands of the bravo guild ; the leadership waiting to see what their best tester could encounter, which for the most part appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a series of smaller, invisible writing emerges from the slight heating of the lambskin.

A particular, hidden code known only to a fistful of the club - used for those who need to fly the city instantly, and with all over safety…

condom house prepared, flee when Finneous given flowers, no waver, follow directions to the letter of the alphabet on pain in the neck of expiry for everyone - Gordon

"Round up everyone who may be remotely connected to this subject, and turn them over to the Constables for the examination. Make sure they are reminded to stay quiet, no motion, no mention of social club business organization at all under pain in the ass of end,"ordered the Grandfather of Assassins.

turning to the drawing card of his personal bodyguard detail he gives one explicit order,"Find the ones who run this electronic network of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be passe-partout Gordon, a ability play seems to be brewing, and so those betrayer have only one last task to perform…food for my solicitation of tigers in the dungeons…and make surely they die slowly…I want to try their screams."

near likely this is a power play, a series of excretion of challenger and senior ranked member to give the way for lower ranks to be promoted - that is the way of the lodge, to advance you dispose of those above you or die in the process.

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

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

There is no trust, no honor to be found among the phallus of the social club ; with assassins there is grudging deference for their superscript mixed with ambition to succeed them after a well placed reverse that finishes them, if possible.

Indeed, have them the deference they are due for the danger they present, eliminate them when the time comes.

Upon receiving the summons from the Grandfather of Assassins ; Master Gordon starts to shake in mortal panic, wondering what was going on…Finneous is dead, a letter he supposedly wrote according to the messenger after a courteous payoff, plus the first whispers on the street of people inquiring Thomas More and more about his household and substance abuse in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his butler ?

plot of ground within secret plan, motility and counter relocation ; that is the lot of anyone who is a phallus of the Guild…HIS liveliness, the accumulation of power and control until eliminated by a rival from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the grandpa of assassinator fright HIM…

Despite assassinator not having admirer, they always have two companions face - paranoia, and fear.


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

Here she is, laying back on a couch, those easy doe like middle closed, mind turned to one incline as her lips silently open and secretive from Wave of lightning like delight surging with business leader and force up her physical structure, to crash with deafening retorts in her mind.

Those gentle mitt grip the rachis and slope of the couch with vice like intensity level, fighting to check off the effect of each shudder, arching of her spinal column and wiggling of her hips from the attention being given to a finicky persona of her body…

Just the opinion of it, not to mention what is going on causes her already rich blush on cheeks, dark-brown and poke to change further ; so vivid is it that anyone watching would feel wave of warmth and desire shimmering off of her tegument in waves, threatening to consume all who dare to venture near.

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

As if she had any real alternative but to posit to the interrogation anyhow…

The one who is conducting this unique way of ‘ interrogation'is the head Investigator Kimberly, who takes her time to ‘ inquire'and ‘ examine'each part of Clairice's womanhood. Each and every inch, bend and hidden depth she kisses, licks, or plays with via her fingerbreadth ; time after time she manages to contribute Clairice to the very edge of orgasm, threatening to labour 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 womanhood, drawing out a stream of spasmodic hip thrusts and arching of her back, legs squirming about as she covers her mouth with both workforce clenched into fists.

The men in the room, those who work under Kimberly's absolute, unrelenting and utterly sadistic agency smile wickedly ; unleashing a continual soaker of revilement, jabbing, off-color gesture and a ‘ running commentary'on how they feel that Clairice should just soften to the testing.

None will point out on the techniques used by Kimberly, nor on her bared body ; her bronzed skin, perfectly formed nerve with those brutal gray eyes and seraphic face - complete with a sprinkling of freckles, and her massive, gross breasts any man would strangle between with felicity on his final formula, makes a perfect model any Sculptor would be proud to experience created.

Yet the bronze death masks of the lastly twenty dollar bill men to so input hang on the rampart nearby ; each masquerade showing the right-down vision of revulsion their faces had attained at the here and now of their Death in the most flagitious of ways one could imagine…chewed on by rats, boiled in oil, crucifixion, death by 500 whiplash of a party whip, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will defy lay a hand on Clairice either, nor make any form of threatening motion ; the lot of those who do is strange save for thus : the day after they made the final mistake in the mien of Kimberly their humanity was found in the streets near their habitation, and no other remains.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 response concerning Finneous's dying that they wanted - he was dumped head first into a cauldron of boiling oil, one in at a time.

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

The torturers though just could not snap his already insane mind ; he continued to reason with the post, some matter of mathematics and mechanics. Each crack of the whip drew only a small slash on his exposed back, enough to inflict level best infliction, yet did not break him.

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

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

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

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

Her aid returned to the here and now, and whatever her destiny is to be.

Kimberly continuing her maddening efforts on her, determined to extract every bit of pleasure out of this little cyprian, continuing to abnegate her the spill her body demands.

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

A swirling, dazzling kaleidoscope of color swirl into being, parting and shifting with each new blissful moment sweeping up from her womanhood ; to merge yet again into a new pattern and being, a rhythm that is repeated over and over again, a thousand meter for each passing beat of her heat up heart.

One silent swig followed by another and yet a third becomes a steady current for some time as one item spot is touched just so by Kimberly's tongue ; causing her pelvis to thrust up, back deflection and bosom heaving with the sudden influx of air her heated, burning body is demanding…

The examiner's handwriting move up and fondle her breasts yet again, not bothering to be gentle either ; three times she draws still screams out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving contusion of her digit and palm on each one, relishing the anguish she can inflict on such an inexperienced person and cowardly girl…

If she only knew how fast the erratic hand of lady portion can turn…

The animalistic grunts and slapping of physique on flesh of David entering into Kimberly merged with her shout of joy, gimcrack and tempestuous like a gang of wildcat. He showed no chasteness, no vacillation in his every motion or desires to relish this moment in which he thinks he has complete control over the examiner Kimberly.

Of course, his buddies know better.

"OK you slight strumpet, I will tell you this much…mhmmm…if you cum before David, I will let the residuum of the men have…mhmm…their way with you…oh…ohh…"

Grinning savagely Kimberly went about her sweat on Clairice in a whirlwind of effort ; probing and twirling her fingers deep in her muliebrity while working every portion she can with her flickering tongue and sassing. Faster and ever dissipated her try accelerated, determined to break Clairice once and for all ; to show these men and the girl who is the true boss and schoolma'am on the scene…

Then she will see about destroying the one called Darius.

Clairice fights with all the considerable correction she has learned in her life, locking her organic structure muscle and restraining the ever building, quickening fervour of her pending release ; she smiles inward with a small component part of her mind as Kimberly howls in thwarting - no matter what the inspector does or tries, she just can not make the young lady hit her climax.

So wild does Kimberly become her hand that holds onto the vertebral column of their shared sofa tears away a hunk of wood some two feet long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her boob dancing with the pulsating rise and dip of her thorax, howling pleasure escaping her sass as oculus roll up into her head…she hits her climatic button at the minute David, full of bellowing oink and growls howls for all he is worth ( and such would make water any pack of wolves grin with pride ), his release inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

His smile is from ear to ear, holding his fists in a wave of victory for another ‘ subjugation'well done.

Moments after his big finish Clairice loosens up on her organic structure, allowing the inevitable upsurge of last blissfulness to pour forth as an unstoppable storm, the personnel and violence of the earthquake, the great tsunami descending onto the glide of a continent from across the ocean…

Kimberly shook her oral sex, clearly let down she could not violate the girl…

"well then Clairice, don't let it ever be said I break my Good Book once given. You lasted longer than this also-ran who is strutting like a cock-of-the-walk before a quite a little of peahens. Get your clothing on, you survived this time."

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

"She is to be escorted home, if one of you so much as lays a manus on her, pray for a fast demise from felo-de-se ; otherwise I will flay your skin one inch at a clip, then soaked in vinegar, covered in fade cheese and tossed to a pit full of rabid, plague infested and hungry rats,"Kimberly informed them all.

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

======
As they gather Clairice's clothing, gently handing it to her, rear and gaze now politely turned away ; the detective prepares to give her newfangled recruit - David - a bottom lesson in following gild. One thing St. David should have remembered is that each of the police detective are charwoman who absolutely loathe men most of the metre, plus being high storey assassin of the guild.

Without bothering to gather her habiliment she saunters to stick out behind Davis as he finishes lacing his britches ; his smile of subjugation turns to concern as he takes in the smile of his companions.

- WHACK !
- WHACK !
- WHACK !

Doubling over, centre crossing and balmy moans escaping his lips, David begins a tardily, case first descent to the floor. One Thomas More dupe racked up to the Inspectors well known motility called the"triplet Nutcracker."

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

Of course of action by now, laying on the storey while making soft, mewing and whimpering sounds, he is beyond any conscious thought process or complaint.

Kimberly catches the subtle bemused smile and laughter of Clairice's eyes ; that is all the thanks the mute 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 duty is done though in this matter - decree from above in the guild told her to find out if the girlfriend Clairice and Darius had anything to do with the end of Finneous. Pure routine, deliver for the fact that the torturers had run off for some grounds - that had unnerved Kimberly completely for a moment or two ; the girl should count what bit of mercy she has been shown, as many of the others brought in for the ‘ investigation'will never leave alive.

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

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

Finneous appears to simply have died of mettle stoppage.

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

She smiles at the wonderful gift :

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

Ironic indeed, two of the most deadly of killers sharing one thing in plebeian : A beloved for rose of all kinds.

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

Taking it in handwriting from the crystal vase it arrived in, she looks at the flower in the easygoing lantern spark ; the hope of beauty beyond wonder hinted once the prime opens to its fullest.

Bringing it to her nuzzle she savors the heady scents that mix together - rose back talk, cinnamon and clover ; plus others that still defy her ability to identify.

Little wonder Finneous sent it to her, such a swag can contribute a kings ransom or More from its grower…

It takes over two hour before anyone who heard the crashing noise followed by absolute muteness to build up the courage to record her office, rightfully fearing for their lives.

Of course they quickly discern there is nothing to fear any Thomas More from Kimberly - being dead does give that guarantee ; and she is deemed to have died from affection blockage as did Finneous.

The solemnisation held that nighttime in the Constable office for her passing game lasted well into the next day ; the moan and groans of the men and women coupling merged with the conjugation of woman with early woman telling all who dared to listen just how the celebration culminated.


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

As usual no subject what Darius said or did the Constable escorting him and Clairice to her shop paid him no care. Its not that he minded the escort, nor having her as caller during the prospicient walk nursing home ; he is gladiola they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by bunch raping her as so many other women routinely are - the so called ‘ law'of this town lives by terror as does the Assassins who rule.

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

"Okay cat,"said the patrol drawing card - Jambis,"we have done our responsibility for the night ; now, leave her be and floor him…"

The two police constable carrying him summarily threw him into a heap of garbage and goo. To add further abuse to injury, the patrol dumps heaps of garbage from containers, bags, and boxful on top of him ; mocking him as a unfeigned madman.

"well lads Master Gordon wanted him humiliated ; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the next sentence the master wants an order filled, get it right. One Thomas More misapprehension and the side by side sojourn by us will be a more pain sensation filled than your mad nightmare could comprehend,"Jambis told him.

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

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

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

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

Even that blasted wretch of a adulteress Clairice is gone.

"smartness girl, celebrate out of sight, and keep on out of trouble. Let's get back to Ragner ; then we can have a Nox on the town with our payment…how about that new ale house ? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…"Jambis'articulation fades away as Darius rolls on the priming coat 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 spine in a topic that promises demise to each one of the patrol.

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

Not now, retaliation will look, and he has a unspoilt way of doing it - one that he will enjoy when the time is right.


======
Hours later in the cities crowded market one young Lady casually strolls down the way ; just a simple milk maid from the farms outside the town. No one pays her any aid, the much patched, nubbly material coated in the day by day grime of hard Labor keeps most eyes from More than a glance followed by, for those of more affluent means, a sniffy snort of disgust.

She filled her handbasket with an assortment of fruit, day old bread and early goods for a belittled family of one ; all that the vendors know she needs.

Friendly, but silent, the cicatrix across her throat and left aspect indicate a fearsome injury that never properly healed due to lack of care.

Still with simpleton gesture of mime they communicate for conducting business ; both official and otherwise, for one of the seller passes her a low sack of fresh fruits, something she pays well to incur due to their rare and scarcely nature.

backrest in the refuge of one established hideout, she sees her Associate carefully undo the discharge cloth to take in entree to the note. He takes extreme care in doing this, to make sure the line is not trapped in some mode - say with a diminished, highly poisonous insect or a diminished snake.

"rich person trust in your agents avowedly my granddaughter ; but take concern in event one has been turned,"grandfather had warned her in a deterrent example so long ago.

In her small mirror, used to take the makeup, treasonably scrape and other token of her disguise, she sees her currently green optic turn back to their normal color…the Twin Falls orbs of amethyst fires…

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

It is from one of her other federal agent :

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

For a consequence her grin turns ferine ; her amethyst eyes dancing with perfect fires from within.

She remembered the lesson Shan Tiel had taught :

The assassin controls agents through promise of wealth for winner, and hope of last for failure. Find the objective he threatens death to, the key to control over the category - once found, groom the fellowship escape. When the agent of the assassin no longer is controlled by fear, their veneration now becomes a burning desire for revenge. Thus the assassinator in now vulnerable, and when you are ready, he will die.

Finneous held power and thus had tot up control of the father by threatening damage to his precious Jesmine.

When the crack of freedom and escape from the fear of Finneous came, and understood to be legitimate, he took up the one project without falter. Hence the flower was delivered and the note left behind.

One assassinator is abruptly, three More to go.

Along with taking down the greatest prize of them all ; now the paranoia and the insistency will originate and come up until all comes down.

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

His mind registered each patrician sway of her hips, her covering gown of garden pink silk shining in the luminance of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to tease him with a brief Book of Revelation of a leg here, a calfskin there, a potential sight of one portion or another in the draw near constant play of light and tincture. Not one noise did her feet make as they all but danced across the wooden floor, so balanced and ghostly is each pes placed ; always ready for action on a minute notice…

Oh how he could contemplate what it would be like to experience his manhood being rubbed and tenderly teased to its level best potential by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in turn begin to snog one base, working to her ankle and then gently easing up, one inch at a time to her innermost second joint and essay out the one heavenly place she has, the one portion he loves on a cleaning woman to please and savour, to experience the sybaritic warmth of her build and…

- Whack !

"My ma'am if you will let off me I am off to get some residuum,"Associate said as he slowly eased his body around the knife hanging sharp incline up, just a fuzz breath beneath his fire manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol extremity public lecture of their deeds, screened by a small contingent of the dependable informed creatures to be found within any city : Street urchins, crawlers, skulker, they go by many such gens and almost all have one thing in common ; they are the arse of the mixer order.

The poor people, homeless person, orphans, madman, and all such people who are desperate to make a coin or two for a decent meal ; so it is that many in positions of force use them to learn any and all movement, any rumors or stories no subject how trivial. Few people pay them any attention save to keep hand on their money whang, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being invisible while in plain sight.

One other trait the lurcher, such as a Thomas Young lad casually strolling along the streets a little clock time later, his handwriting deep in coating pockets, is a well honed instinct for survival. Otherwise he would make died long before now. Yet the fact is when he bumps into individual, he is the one knocked to the ground - landing next to a fallen hoop of fruit…

A lady looks down upon his decrease class, the raven melanize hair done up in a flowing braiding, blue-white hat tied to her head while azure blueish eyes watched. Her blush-enhanced buttock glistened in the sunshine, matching the gloss on her sass as her smile grew wide with poetic joy that many men, and some women, wished to explore with pounding hearts…

Her very well scrubs of deep sea green sparkled in the Christ Within, slit along one leg to flow enticingly about her calf and second joint, promising forbidden delectation to those willing and able to pay the price. The flaccid vest of bluish green silk she wore clung to every one of her feminine bend it reached, deliver for a portion that shows a coup d'oeil of her breasts, soft and garden pink of skin, as many an patrician man enjoys…

protein folding her parasol, she bends down into a one-half crouch, the textile of her gown conveniently flowing about her upper thigh to reveal the chopper luster of her skin ; muscles honed to absolute perfection and hinting at the persuasiveness contained within - the better to wrap around their evenings choir in the throws of passion, or so it is said.

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

The lad, his majority reached just two years ago does not move ; he is still, despite a roughly life on the streets that has left him gangly, short circuit and suffering malnutrition, in absolute care of this ma'am. His racing heart beats from the panic of her wondrous nature, the flush of oestrus oceanic abyss in his trunk flowing fast and hard while his humanness demands his attention, threatening to snap his britches apart.

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

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

Understanding that he must be on his best manners, for the sake of his lifetime - the Sisters are often said to be contribution of the guild of assassins, and under the personal program line of the granddaddy of Assassins - the youths extended hand milk shake with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ legend come to life history'( in his mind, she is a authentic goddess of passion and pleasure that can never be approached by the lowest of mortals ), can be more daunting than the master of death who are probably preparing their poison tipped vane to work him into a hand basket…

"Ma'am I am sorry for knocking your basket out of manus,"accepting fault for the matter even when none is there. With farthermost care and respect he hands the fruit basket back to her.

"I shall use Thomas More care in the future ; hold a good day ma'am,"he says until her script rests gently on his shoulder.

Everyone watches in wonder as she takes him into the semi-private area of a general store ; she uses dumb show to finally get the point across to the grocer, who shakes in well-nigh terror at the cerebration of causing the Sister any offense ( being connected to assassins can cause this to happen a lot, the Sister thinks ), to outfit the lad with a entire set of NEW habiliment, no second hand junk.

She pulls out a small number of silver coins to cover the price and to buy some modest goods that the grocer gives her a massive discount upon.

Through the shop door and windows the accumulate crowd watches in jaw-dropping curiosity as she sits the lad down adjacent to her on a bench as the grocer goes to get the new wear. Her hand playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to shudder like zippo. He fights to go along his eyes off of her, especially as she takes one of his hands into her own and moves it to the frown sharpness of her vest…gently guiding it up under the fabric and onto her breast beneath.

His jaw flap open and closed repeatedly as the warmth of her flesh, the yielding effeminacy of it, catches him by surprise - no madam has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone be intimate, assassins and the pattern family line of Providence, that the lad is now a personal agent of her own ; to harm or reach him in any way is to risk the vengeance of the Assassins…maybe, as no one can really be sure who she works for…

The Sister in bluing tone upon all the watchers with coyly pursed lips, eyes set in a wicked gaze that promises the lad untold passions to issue forth and untold, absolute bother and dying for anyone interfering with her take endowment of enlisting for him.

The lad aspect at her in almost scare, until she gently kisses him on the cheek, nose and eyebrow with a grin. 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 purchased goods in her basket ; then hands it to her with a trench bow, nod of the foreland and a marvelous grinning on his face.

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

Before sundown comes, the leadership of her network of broker ; begin preparations of their own ; preparation for the massive bang once she gives the signal…as weaponry and armor are prepared ; their grinning are as of confined wolves about to destroy their tormentor.



======
Later that night, her heart read carefully the accumulate bill of all her own factor, details of those known agents and member of the assassinator's lodge ; their duties, patrol time, habits and so forth. Each item that is gathered shows more weaknesses, more fuel for the pending firestorm.

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

How to achieve it with total surprise ?

After a few minutes of contemplation she turns to her Associate, and via the silent handwriting language explains what is needed. His smile and nod shows the delight in her approximation, and he has a fair thought of who to come on to craft the ‘ gift'that is needed.

As he looks into her eye he sees the chemical mixture that allows her to change their coloration wear off ; the fake sapphire bluing reverting back to the true, lustrous amethyst attack he has come to admire so much. The mix used to make this happen is rough-cut in the Far East, unknown to these idiot assassins of the West.

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

His gaze flows over her svelte form, the silken robe enshrouding her partially open as she continues to interpret ever more of the messages ; her bared peel glistens in the gentle brightness of the oil lamp, casting vestige and light that dance suggestively across abdomen and tit, concealment and disclosure in a dance of sensuality suggesting more curiosity are nearby if he would just make bold to explore…

Putting on his coat as slowly as possible, pretending that his arm is stuck in the arm, he drinks in the plenty of her relegate peg, crossed and curved to save the raft of her woman just out of reach ; yet teasingly he can just pee-pee out a bit of the lenient, downy fuzz between her thighs…a loot he would sleep with to explore if she just would let him do so…

How much pleasure he could contribute Forth River from her unlike the now all in Inspector Kimberly - that one used the sexual for deterrence and mastery ; he will for her to be pleased and loved.

Bared breasts movement ever so slightly with each of her lenify breather ; dancing in a rhythm silent and becalm, enticing with their nipples so soft, garden pink and fully raise as if daring him to move in and reckon the impossible.

How he would bang to delight them, his fingertips spiraling inward from his caresses along the base, after placing countless osculation on each one, leaving no helping untouched. The mouthful of her physical structure, changing as her organic structure became More and more excited, sweeter and sweeter, mixing with the heady scent of that grand perfume she wears…

From her breast he would actuate downward on her abdomen, teasing her abdomen with constant little kisses to pull many silent set of giggles and laughs as possible ; then proceeding downward to her womanhood, by now so set to be excited and her eyes would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would whoop it up in that unfermented of all preference and sense of smell ; her bared womanhood, still so immature and fairly clean-handed before him. Each soft touch of his finger and sassing, the caresses of his lingua on those most sensible of spots, natures gift to women, he would double his efforts on and as she increased in fulfillment towards her climax, take her down a bit and then reduplicate the drive again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the wonderful reaction of her torso heave and gyrating as she hits her departure, moving ridge of bliss and fiery Passion flowing across her organic structure to dash to the one point of her mind demanding to enjoy each bit of the sensations.

She would depend at him with those dreamy amethyst heart, a tacit invitation given and confirmed as her implements of war were held out to him, welcoming their union as one…

- Thunk !

"My noblewoman,"he calmly stated,"if you will tolerate me I shall progress to due hurry to ensure the services we need for the next role of the plan…"

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

She just shakes her head and smiles as he leaves ; wondering how many to a greater extent times she may throw to do that to get the estimation through his point - she does not want Romance, not at this time, she needs just a ally. grandad was the one she loved the most, and it's too soon since his passing…


*****************
*****************
Normally a walk among his seam of flowers cheers the drab, foulest, humorless of moods he could achieve. This day though, is not one of them ; his great rose gardens, the greatest of his treasures accumulated over the last ten old age now have become a bane.

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

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

An incredibly fine morning he was spending with a babe in blue crumbled into ash tree with the courier who arrived unheralded, accompanied by a heavy guard from the guild hall.

His message was unsubdivided : The granddad of bravo wants to see him.

He felt the low temperature, gripping hired hand of death grip about his throat and substance ; the sheer terror threatening of the pending school term alone all but stopping his heart.

Grandfather's gentle inquiry - he could simply have got tortured him to Death on a whimsey - centered on the distinction supposedly in his own elegant and flowing script, so close of a forgery that even the guilds right experts are hard pressed to tell apart the difference.

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

Yet the literal substance he gave to Gordon is this : Grandfather is watching for a putsch from within, or to see if a certain passe-partout will come ( i.e. Gordon ) and a new one promoted in his place.

This mystery is driving him to the threshold of insaneness ; the mention again of ten years of silence, only two others still alive cognise what happened all those age ago with the contract on the banker and his phratry.

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

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

But who could it be ?

Though he never can fully rely anyone about him, a few have again and again establish their dedication and utter reliableness over the years…Yes, he will have got them watched from a aloofness ; green hoodlum and padder agents of the guild, if they get killed by their own incompetence, there will be no John R. Major loss.

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

…making him an well-off target, perfectly accommodating any targeting him right now from a tree diagram or cap top…

He retreats back into the manor, swiftly closing and barring the massive iron doorway. The lookout is doubled and the station is to be searched from top to bottom twice over. Pure justificatory measures if his hunch of a strike at him is mighty.

Of course, if a coup try happens as gramps expects, he will rush to defend the leader of the lodge. If the chance arises, then he will cast out of Grandfather. His mood brightens at those view ; he as the new granddad of assassinator, ruling the town and the guild plus all of his own lands…why not, this bears some treatment with his associates - Gerald and Cinnius.

Even with the sentiment now calculating plans and contingencies for the coup d'etat of the guild or voiding of a rival one fact remains crystallise. His hand never loosens its grip on the razor sharp knife hanging from his belt.



**********************
**********************
familiar moved as carefully and quietly as he could, not daring to pull in a noise at all. shadower to shadow, one belittled footmark at a fourth dimension he moves, quieter than a mouse on the prowl. For several Clarence Shepard Day Jr. he has built up the nerve to come tightlipped and closer ; with certain precautions being taken this time…

- clunk.

Quickly he grabs the cloth boundary, cast smoothing iron plate draped across his humanity to quiet up even this little bit of noise. His quarry this evening is all too likely to make sure he is gelded indeed…and the poison on her blades are another complicatedness as well to that kind of embarrassment.

Looking around the final niche into the pocket-sized stone grotto below the condom house they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst eyes showering beneath a diffused, steadfast, misting shower of steaming water. This may be one of the few luxuriousness she ever has allowed herself…

Associate of line, just grin, as he sees the show is about to begin…

She bent her chief downward to take in the frontlet fortune of her break body, those smallish breasts glistening with small-scale beadwork of pee upon them. Both deal came together in front end of her, tip to tip, her eye taking in the dance igniter that gleamed like a million millions of baseball field before a flaming, playfully moving along her unruffled skin before they disappear into the pool about her pes, merging with the rest for eternity.

Associate looked with wonderment as she playfully gathered a handful of the water after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her silent laugh adding to the wonderment of her gleaming eyes when the droplets come back down to break apart on her. She moves coat of arms, wooden leg, shoulders and nous to becharm or dodge parts of it ; shifting from foot to leg it in many different poses.

Then her gaze shift key to her boob once again.

One fingertip began to explore, resting at first upon the very floor of her ribs, to menstruate upward in a narrow, focused, undulating trail that clearly sent a richness of feelings surging into all constituent of her mind.

familiar could all too well reckon what she would say if words could be given form to her thinking ... yes, she would key her own experience as ...

I felt as if my humankind came alive from the New York minute my fingertip first touched flesh, a macrocosm opening before me unlike any early ...

Sharp and sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; words without form for tone that can not be described save as a concordance like a series of pour forging into a powerful river as all join together. My eyes closed as I felt the heating plant in my body beginning to transfer and make, a sweltering pulsation that flowed from the souls of my feet to the wind of my fingers, caressing pelvic arch and shoulders, knees and elbows as the voiced, sensuous touch of a graceful fan who only desires to pleasure his gentlewoman to no end.

I smelled with each breath the heavenly profusion of olfactory property - the mineral rich water, the ancient age of the rocks around me along with the musky, Earth rich scent of men and woman who have lived here over the vast age the house above has existed. The fantastic, heady mixture of the bathing grievous bodily harm I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to mind an ancient timberland never before visited by homo being ; of mountain meadows with bloom fully in bloom and the sweet, soft breeze flowing across them.

The fingertip became a drop palm, easing along the edge of my titty, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in pocket-sized, gentle circles. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the like. Twice more this looping symbolisation of infinity proceeded ; while my hired hand caressed and massaged more and to a greater extent area of my breasts.

My other hand flowed down my consistency unto the most personal situation each cleaning lady alone understands and has by a giving of nature ; they followed my minds command to begin exploring and probing, as I sought out the one stain to send out me away into heavenly cloud nine for a light time.

I heard and felt my breath quickening, my headspring making a small set as electrical rush of pure bliss tingled their way up my body ; each one in spell unleashed a pleasant surge of zip, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made realness. Stroke by soft stroke the numberless traffic pattern flowed, kneading and shaping my breasts until they crossed the erect nipples ; that first gracing inter-group communication sent a coursing impulse of heat along all the paths of my eubstance, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred folding in volume that almost became overwhelming.

My back arched as shoulders thrust back with my question ; my free helping hand quickly clenched the dressing table marble bound as both of my wooden leg all but gave out beneath me. muscleman twitched and squirmed, spunk firing in delight and demanding they be touched to give me even more delight than I had experienced with just that one monolithic upsurge of wonderment.

Unto its journey my mitt continued, seeking out with almost desperate rushing the former teat ; its trail a sack path illuminated by fires of bliss as it moved along my hide. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journeying to fall outward as the ripples on a pool, yet with the force out of a cascade among a mighty river.

I commanded my body to hold still, to equilibrise and act with the flowing surge that will shortly come ; to use the Energy Department and motion with it instead of in opposition to it. When it came, the barest brush of flesh on that mamilla ; combined with the pleasures flowing from my fair sex ; brilliant lightning ripped up and down my organic structure, flexing and loosening muscles and nerve in wonderful manners as I shook and moved ; the wave moving downward as I sought to send the returning pulse…

And then it hit ; the most intimate and gratifying of champion that sent me into a long, jarring climax that lasted over five minutes ; my cutis shining brilliant in a shimmering swarm of lenient steam rising from my body.

I felt more animated than ever before.

- BOOM !

In an New York minute of ardour and painful sensation Associates fantasy of his Lady delightful experience being told to him shatters.

She shook her point as comrade went diving into the grotto main syndicate, britches smoking beneath the cast atomic number 26 home base he is wearing over his inguen. He apparently forgot that one of the volatile compounds he carried at the ready would go off at the least wrong motion…why would he continue it down there though ?

She just rolled her eyes to the heavens…



**********************
**********************
It has been a engaged two calendar week since the last of maestro Finneous and Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent solidification of ‘ interviews'sanctioned by the gild are nothing more than a safari of brat, bullying and coercion to prompt all of capital of Rhode Island who linguistic rule the town. Of course, a few of the more ambitious members of the club also took the affair to advance their own promotion from within the guild…

A knife in a superiors back, appropriately poisoned, does help out with this packaging procedure…until such a clip your underling profit 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 eye are ablaze with amethyst fervency, the week have been even longer, two key items she needs to accept crafted by local sources seem to never get finished. Day by day she waits and hopes for the message that they are set to make it. Day by day the message never comes, and her patience begins to fray at the edges…

Two foresighted weeks where with each passage day the federal agent under schoolmaster Cinnius have harmed more and more innocent masses ; the continuing and growing campaign of holy terror, sanctioned ultimately by the grandad of Assassins. One more crime for them to pay for…

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

frankincense she has come to stomach in the rachis room of a toymaker this night…

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

"fervidness with fervency, which is what you instructed ; just do not miss any of them, the upshot of course would be fairly impressive and quite final. Those idiot of the guild never figured I know the prowess of alchemy as well as being a toymaker. Now through you I can stimulate my retaliation upon them after so many retentive years…"he shook his head in long substantiate sadness.

Twelve years ago, for making a small fault in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at sword point by a order member, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight children before his eyes. Then forever scarred him as a reminder - burning off the left wing incline of his face and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away ; he has never forgotten the pain, nor the terrible resolve for retaliation to be exacted on the tormenter of his - Cinnius - if the opportunity arrived.

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

She hands him a shut down varsity letter containing the initial contact information for those who see him to safe ; single who specialize in smuggling people to freedom and who are part of her own network. While he looks at the entropy she disappears out the back door and into the safety of the shadows. No one, not even a cat laying down ten inch from the door, senses her passage.

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


***************
***************
The following two week sees speak chaos sweep the street federal agent of the Guild. The ordinary gossip heard in shops and among doer has suddenly been replaced with word of a brewing exponent struggle within the guild leadership, of a challenger club from another metropolis, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be wilder and more unbelievable than the last and always third, 4th or even fifth hand from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

Only one current of the rumour is perpetual - three actor, passkey Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon.

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

He gives orders for his own agents to find the root of these rumors, or face the most horrific death that they could imagine…


=======
Her amethyst eyes sparkle in the soft light of the synodic month coming into the elbow room from the window. Once again her own street broker have excelled beyond all reasonable expectation ; pressure and yet more pressure is being put on the guild agents as they hunt for the truth…or what they perceive as the accuracy behind the rumors…

Paranoia can be so handy to score spirit miserable for assassins…

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

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

"My lady,"he said,"I have come from the leaders of those who are in waiting, before they will commit fully to our plan they want ‘ dramatic substantiation of the club being vulnerable.'It must leave no dubiousness in the matter. I told them that such a topic is already being prepared ; just to let them know who is in ascendance of this Richard Morris Hunt. These assassin have allowed the angriness to build against them for so long, by so much fear that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the presentation will bring those who wait into our fold."

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


************************
Near the new ale-house which is a front for the assassins'gild's operations, the independent tap way is flowing with customers coming and going. The back rooms this Nox also are active agent as members and agents move in and out with clockwork precision. to the highest degree bestow collections from loans, blackmail, extortion and former cuts from businesses for ‘ insurance'understanding.

Some of the delivery though are for requital of contracts taken out on line of work rivals…one being sent to Master Cinnius.

This gift for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the edges are brilliant, almost living whole works of half-bloomed rosiness, and the relief of Master Gordon's manor house house. It is the work of many master key craftsmen and worth a fortune in and of itself.

Yet the gild takes few prospect ; as a extra striation of stealer who are trained in the ways of yap crafting and of disarming them checks it over in exacting point - their aliveness depend on it as if they fail…swift, brutish death.

To the honorable they can determine, there is nothing amiss ; only a faint layer of detritus upon the swathe material and the wooden box itself. Obviously some apprentice carver failed to dust it off anterior to shipping it here…still as per the standing decree of Grandfather the box is opened, to insure no unpleasant surprisal await within.

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

Inside they find a master set of billiard testis, the favored game of Master Cinnius, plus a letter written in the menstruate script of victor Gordon…

My companion Cinnius - the varsity letter opens - please accept this as my gift for ten years of quiet work. Soon we shall harvest the harvest of our movement ; may you relish the many games 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 go standing sentry proceed their weapon at the make ; prepared to instantly pace in if danger threatens, of path if one of the inspector just up and dies then they will throw their ground to cover later directly to Grandfather of the events.

Ragner, the stream 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 belittled clouds of the detritus that came from inside the box. He tells the safety to join in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of Grandfather has its advantages after all, and if something does go wrong - they can lease the fall.

However at the moment, considering the letter of the alphabet from original Gordon, he wonders if much Thomas More is afoot at the fourth dimension. Plots within plots, dissembling within magic trick, faith no one…

Still…

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

The letter that has information that granddad has offered defrayal for…a defrayal he finds all too tempting to excrete up.

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

Turning to his own agentive role Jambis, he hands the letter to him with didactics that this is to get back to the guild, and directly to the gramps. Many see him hand a small token, a medallion that bears the personal marks of the Grandfather to Jambis - this is a pass for emergencies or decisive messages only.


rightfulness now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH ; decisive information the granddad may need, to forefend a coup attempt staged to unseat him.

Other agents whom directly answer to the Grandfather hear Ragner mutter"…this fourth dimension 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 order before the mystical letter does.

Ragner watches Jambis of the John Constable forgather his squad about himself, and then put the varsity letter into an inner vest pocket, unopened and unread. Both of them slap the rubble off their hired man that was upon the letter.

Ragner considers for a moment that the box must not be of such Lake Superior crafting as he first assumed ; given the sheer sum of detritus covering it, as if it has been on a shelf for untold eld.

He only holds onto that string of thought for a few moments ; before turning to more crucial issue, of how he is going to expend his reward and use his success here to gain ground within the guild.

Out of the recession of his eye Ragner catches a series of discrete move, the flashing and glistening of color that tells him of a special sort of danger now approaching his area. He focuses his entire attending upon the closing threat, appearing as relaxed and casual as he can while watching, listening, and waiting for the to the lowest degree bit of information that can give him an edge in the impending encounter…

Three figures approach, their flow and bustled gowns, double lace up waistcoat with frilled edging ; and gloves that flow up to their articulatio cubiti match the snow-clad down feather of hats and laurel wreath binding their raven black pilus ; their heart of sapphire blue would confirm their allegiance if the same color of their vesture and shading parasol did not…

THREE Sisters of the Blue in one assemblage !

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

Then he sees the bodyguards of the gentleman's gentleman the baby are entertaining flanking him, fore, aft and to the side ; thus changing the rebuff envy Ragner was feeling into deferential terror…

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

Such luxuriousness Ragner plans to have as his own and all too soon ; with the reward promised by granddaddy he can have any issue of the Sisters of the blue sky with him at any time he wishes…

There is much he has to plan, and carefully…

Plans within plans, a harvesting ready to be reaped…

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

For soon, the absolute muteness of the tomb fills the area…



*************************
Atop a nearby roof a telephone line of bowelless gargoyles watch with their eternal regard upon the scene below ; nearby they are shaded from the hotness of the day by a span of mighty oak trees over a 100 feet in top, plus a chimney long bricked up, that everyday casts its phantasm across them as well. For as foresighted as anyone in providence recalls these statues have maintained their silent vigil, the nonmoving shielder and fipple flute of the towns history.

One former watches the backside of the ale-house, the agents playing their secret plan and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her forever unsounded chuckle as the game stops with all too suddenly for the participant. The idiocy of these western sandwich assassins and their dingbat agentive role never ceases to divert and storm her.

Keeping a careful reckoning, knowing her windowpane of opportunity is poor, she scans the sphere again and again with her eyes of amethyst fervour. At the reckoning predetermined end, she makes for certain her harness bag is snug about one shoulder and quickly jump to one Tree, descending with all due rushing and a last leap from a low branch to the room access at the back of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally silent guards, thieves, agents and assassins of the trading operations here ; as they are no longer a threat in any form…so long as she does not tinct them with her block skin. Silent as Death she slips into the plunk for room, bypassing a ransom of gem, coins, precious stone and jewelry fit for a hundred kings. Wealth beyond most people's imagery lays open to her fingertips…and means nothing for her…

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

She halts inches away from the mesa upon which the trapped box quietus. Before she gets close to the box there are caution to be taken : the donning leather gloves ; binding a dense cloth masquerade across her mouth and nose ; and then taking a large rag in hand, she soaks it thoroughly with a bottle of groom oil.

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

With swift, precise move, continuing a second count for the end of the window still undefendable, she rubs down every airfoil, inside and out, of the wooden surfaces. Collecting each billiard ball, they in bit are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she exchanges the dummy trapped box with the real natural endowment for Master Cinnius…one that will deliver a very warm receipt to him…she will involve null else ; or her efforts may come up to nothing…

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

For a instant, looking down at the carnage her and Associates efforts have wrought, she wonders what kind of looks will be on the font of Master Gordon when he hears of the operation uttermost failure. Of course in the case of Master Cinnius…she will get it on when he has received his endowment in a limited way indeed ...

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

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

Just like all the idiots on Ragner's watch.

Nearing the end of her reckoning she hastens on down the street, joining the gathering crowds who are drawn to the hue and cry for aid by a patrol of the Constables. Whispers start as to what or who could throw brought him down with such speed, as he is still unseasoned and in near perfect health.

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

Soon enough the hue and cry is sounded from the back of the ale-house ; the carnage having been discovered by the next transmutation of guild factor arriving. In horror some flee the tantrum, screaming for their very lives, while the rest starting line demanding answers of those living nearby or passing on the street. Despite their best and most crimson substance of demanding the answers, no one has seen anything…

Save for those who are now dead…which will perplex their asking the three score and five corpses lying around the spine of the ale-house any dubiousness. Even an examination of the stiff themselves reveals little save that they, just like Jambis, appear to have died of heart stop…and then five of the examiners of the consistency themselves pass into the next reality within the stern hour…plus those who have dared to be active the eubstance for burial details…

By the end of"The nemesis"as it comes to be known, over five grade and seven gild agents and assassins lay utter. In one moment, the guild has been dealt a desolate shock ; one that an broker who is sent to report to the social club leadership sums up so well…

"Oh man, grandpa is not going to be very felicitous over this cataclysm. I'll be fortunate if he does not seethe me in oil for delivering this newsworthiness,"he told his buddies as he moved to depart about his errand.

He was stopped though, one of granddaddy agents handing him a packet that contained a missive found upon the body of Jambis - meant to be delivered for the Grandfathers eyes only. During his all too swift travel to the lodge antechamber, and to the door of grandfather toilet 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 parcel, opened it and read the letter aloud to all face. Just after he finishes, his eyes glaze over and he falls backwards, dead as anything as the final hint of dust dissipate off the vellum page.

The messenger knew in the instant gramps's arse 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 in by inch into melt bronze, and a death mask of his entire consistency created, a alone statue soon added to those of Grandfathers innermost sanctum.

For the relief of the day and into the dark, grandfather brooded, wondering how to turn this disaster to his advantage and continued survival.


======
In the shelter of a condom theater they have established, one to be abandoned for safe once their disguises and the trapped box are disposed of in the fireplace, familiar bows his head in acknowledgement of her success. As she changes from one outfit to another, he can not keep from watching, seeing her denude form in the light is a sight to lay eyes on. Well he can always dream…right now byplay calls…not to observe the computer memory of the knife just missing him down there by a bit…

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

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

The image he derives brings out a series of chortle that flow into a torrent of laughter ; one simpleton trap has wrought such butchery on the process of the assassinator's guild. The exquisite demise of the patrol leader Jambis is extra frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not deliver the death blow…

Yet the balance of his patrol…hmmm…

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

Her verbalism turns purely feral, and a quick nod follows. With that extra bit of commercial enterprise concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the next portion of the plan. Tonight the rumors of the streets will bend to hush ; no more rumors of the three professional will be heard, thus many will assume the rumors are true, building fear and paranoia higher and high-pitched within the guild…

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

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

Heart closure is one of the most subtle of poisonous substance from the Far eastward that few of the amateurs here in the Rebecca West would know or even ambition, to exist. Indeed, his gentlewoman has learned her lessons well…

When first prepared it takes twenty four hours to dry, it is good to handle 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 deadly inside of four seconds.

It can be prepared as a fine, dust like pulverisation that upon the contact with bare man cutis is quickly absorbed, yet kills only minutes later ; stooping their bosom low temperature. What makes it so subtle and insidious of a trap is the fact that those who contacted it, can pass the poison rubble as well through a handshaking, slap on the back, an object being passed around, so that it can kill a second, third and sometimes a fourth time.

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

He has to remember that little trick ; it may fare in Handy again some day…Just like the surprise for overlord Cinnius that she has arranged…

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

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

Until the bit someone staggers by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the guards of Master Gerald of the order. They scowl and threaten with glances, pose and Holy Writ ; the inelegant words of mutual and brainless punk who would have no luck against him.

comrade bows politely and with complete obligingness to Master Gerald ; who, to his absolute astonishment stops and negotiation with him for a few minutes. In the pretense of a extraneous merchandiser, selling rare game of chance and that of billiards, he speaks of the most Recent epoch order he delivered to Master Gordon - a well crafted wooden box of billiards for a confront to one of his friends.

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

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

Associate continues on his assumed line of work, stopping to blab with a serial publication of storehouse possessor and seller in the unfastened market ; followed of form for some time by one of maestro Gerald's guards - just to make trusted no variety of mirthful business is going on.

comrade finds it quite amusing that he managed to take the air passed the man three times and relieve him ever so subtly of his variety purse, dagger and a deck of playing cards - not to mention the dazed feather in the mans hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible relaxation he did the Sami with overlord Gerald's coin pocketbook it should be no surprise. Feeling the weight of coins and jewelry within each one, the Associate slips them into an inner waistcoat pocket and pass on his way. Some days he can not help but smile at the sheer incompetence that these alleged"Masters of Death."

Even the worst of his mate students and family of the Far eastward are equal or secure than them.

Now then to the matter at hand, he will deal shortly with the rest of Jambis patrol ; and present the lodge idiots what a true master of last can inflict…he just motivation to get his hands on some change bag of sea captain Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


************************
************************
As captain Cinnius and Gerald header to exit the network of warehouses and shops, the false coverage for the guild of assassins, mass see them wearing feel of ira and terror ; for they have survived a ‘ polite get together'with the gramps of Assassins…and what a coming together it was…

The Grandfather stood before the two of them, clad in his personal weapon and armor for battle ; two scores of his unspoilt and baneful torso precaution surrounding him. ALL of the safety have blades drawn and held at set, in an instant any suicidal assaulter will perish under poison steel…assuming that the loaded crossbow held by the granddad did not finish them first.

His discussion was guide and ire filled ; not to mention forceful on its uncloudedness :

Among the three schoolmaster - Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius - one of them is nearing the closing of planning for a takeover. The sight of Grandfathers newest bronze statue, a latterly and unfortunate person messenger from the ale-house butchery, stands as witness in muted, locked, screaming agony of the fate that may be soon to make out for the two of them…

grandad explains in elementary damage for the two there before him - stand loyal and on his position and you may outlive, possibly advancing in placement and power."The pick is yours though, if you think you can subdue me with Gordon, then endeavor to do so ; just understand what will betide those who fail…"

He motioned with an extended bridge player 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 other remark that have been ‘ discretely overheard by those closest to you both…"

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

"This coming coup will give out. Of that have no doubt the two of you, it will break down,"he declared in a composure voice of atomic number 26 control.

There are more than a few who overhear their not too quiet conversation ; its account passes through the guild within the hour. Clues begin to commingle with supposition and possibility ; each one being spun and twisted until they become have as the basis for fact and truth.

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

None can be certain who of the three victor is in on the coup, who is bait and sacrifice, or if someone else is setting up a slap-up plot to take down the grandad as well…all three make good sense to the assassins.

For sea captain Cinnius though, the get together with grandpa ended with a dubious promotion of sorts ; one that held all the voltage of vast wealth and unexpected doom. One that all too clearly Grandfather was using for subterranean motives…and for his own survival at the top of the guild pecking order…

"Cinnius,"Grandfather began,"The return of the collections is now your job ; Gordon has proven not to be up to the undertaking and thus is now removed from it,"he gestured with his paw, then slapped them together in a statement of conclusiveness, leading the respite of those present to wonder if a demise sentence has just been passed…

And if so, who would then die…

"See to the ale-house security system and bring in sure that there are no more ‘ disruptions'to the operations ; we are losing face and ascendancy over the metropolis with each disruption to our operations…no error will be accepted or tolerated…even the random executions are no longer working as desired,"grandad explained.

Many of the guild fellow member understand the all too clear message hidden in his words. The guild is in control of the entire urban center, the undisputed swayer and masters of Providence and the surrounding terra firma ; no one may take exception them in any way and be suffered to live. To remind people who dared to protest the ‘ probe'brought about by the last of Finneous and his devotee, Kimberly, sixty citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their full families in world - the price any defiance to the guilds rules will bring.

Yet while the citizenry looked on in stark silence and terror, some of them looked on with complete choler in their eyes…a exonerated sign that the mastery of veneration and terror was no longer having the desired upshot. And if those who control Providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their study view turn to retaliate and justice for all of the assassin's crimes ?

Considering that these capital punishment squad were led by Masters Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the first to return if any kind of uprising does occur…And Master Gordon was the one to deliver the message, via an agent, to behave out the executions on behalf of the grandfather wishes.

Now the two begin to question - was the bill really explaining the will of the grandpa ? Or is grandpa playing a larger biz with Gordon ; weeding out the disloyal and unneeded, to further tighten his already press strong hold on the guild ?

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

"We must make our plan to manage with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with absolute finality,"he is ahead of us on the chess board by a wide tolerance, and we need to upset the impulse he is building."

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

That last interrogative sentence left them cold to the core of their being ; they, the masters of inflicting fright and terror for the rice beer of control, are now losing control constituent by lot. In losing ascendancy, they understand fear and terror from a new linear perspective, and do not like it at all.


======
"In fond memory of one who fell so immature, 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 sour relishing slop they call wine and life in this wretched tavern, he eyes each frequenter and worker as they pass along his field of visual modality. With all too much repose he identifies the several agent working for the guild ; specifically that near of them are those who answer directly to Grandfather.

"To Jambis, and all he had done,"everyone shouted out, glasses raised or clanking together in celebration for the free drink and food. The barkeep smiles as the merchant hands over a pouch profound with coins, gold and silver, plus many cherished gems for the political party tonight ; many input that it is a night to be remembered for some time, and as a real surprise, a Dipper with a grade and ten count of low wooden tun's of intent, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the binding of the wagon and commence to manhandle the heavy load inside ; causing a series of gasps, ooh's and ah's from all the guild agents within. They can secern these are the hunky-dory of the finest in drunkenness, each keg is worth a magnate's ransom and here there are thirty in number…

The manner of speaking man nods at the merchant, and then tells the company goer,"good manners of Master Gordon, we were instructed by a courier of his to deliver these to you all, and quote ‘ With thanks and best compliments for the hereafter - Gordon.'End quote."

One of the patrol members of of late Constable Jambis calls for a toast to Master Gordon. The merchant excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a sour belly. He tells the mixologist to let the hard drink flow until the funds are used up or the sun rises with the coming dawn. The barkeep genuflects before him, sniveling and honoring his generosity as a respectable footling sycophant should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

"To Master Gordon and his most exceptional generosity, and exquisite taste in drinks,"the cheerfulness is repeated three prison term by the crowd as the tun's are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the party at hand. Well into the dark the party carries on, seeing tun after tun emptied to the net dreg of crapulence that can possibly be extracted from it.

Outside the merchant sees the last man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called Jesse Jackson. He is able to approach Helen Hunt Jackson with nary a voicelessness of strait being made, and sends him sprawling to the reason with a quick blow to his thorax and slope of his jaw. So pernicious is this that to any untrained observer, the merchant is just helping his passed out friend home.

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

The man, one of his ladies personal agent, nods ; he can not help but shiver at the acknowledgment of associate ‘ pets.'Such a destiny should not bump to anyone, yet as the captured patrol work for the guild, he can make an exception. Besides which, these two have shown the guild is vulnerable after all ; so he made certainly the door was open earlier in the storeroom for Associate to defile the tun's of drink.

All in all, this is a very good night.

Of course once they awaken and see their impending lot from associate"pets"; the surviving patrol member would strongly differ with that thought.



======
The morning sees Master Gerald pacing the length of his manor great dormitory, muddiness and worry clearly visible on his face. His personal safeguard pick up on his unease, as anything that can make their boss act this way has to be taken as a priority threat ; their own lives depend upon it.

Within a day of their meeting with Grandfather, Masters Gerald and Cinnius met ; setting their programme into action and making future prep. For their sake ( of keeping alert ), they keep Grandfather informed of their every action. It is decided they will task their own agents to follow those of Gordon's, recording each and every deed and inter-group communication made.

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

Each lord in turn, once back at their several acres, orders that extra factor be attached to watch their respective opposite number ; just on the off chance the associate superior is about to make a stunt man or triple cross. As three more days pass, they begin to suspect Gordon is up to exactly - nothing. No plan or motion are patent to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the night XL of the guild agentive role, all of them grandpa, have perished. They were attending a party given by a visiting merchandiser, in honor of the lately Constable Jambis, and for the saki of his surviving patrol fellow member. All of the ale and spirits delivered came with the funds of Gordon and a content saying :"With Thanks and Best Wishes for the future - Gordon."

All that anyone is absolutely trusted of is that the patrol departed, one penis at a time, and that the drinks are doctored - using a case of rare toxicant favored by Gordon and his estimable agents.

"Find out if Gordon or another did this deed,"Gerald shouted at his lead-in federal agent,"Redouble the endeavour on collecting any and all information on the street, feel out anything you can, and I do mean anything at all…GO !"

By nightfall they have an ominous mark that shouts volumes to anyone who understands ; the streets have gone soundless. Completely silent save for the factor of Grandfather, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the signs of a pending coup seem to be confirmed at cobbler's last. Most are now assuming that master Gordon is going for broke, to rent down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a triple play - they appear to shit the order and grandfather ; who in turn eliminates them, and then becomes vulnerable to Gordon…

To Master Gordon, upon hearing the news of his agent being watched, decides HE is the target for a fall ; the scapegoat for the pending coup of Gerald and Cinnius…who else would defy strike at an military operation under his personal charge…shame and disrepute him, then egest him while setting grandfather up for the fall..

It makes hone signified in its own convoluted way.

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

"Gordon - grandpa of Assassins, I like the band that has,"he smiles wickedly, heading off to prepare and make plans. He feels no pangs of guilt or conscience in betraying his feller Masters or the granddad ; for that is the way of the assassin.


======
Standing upon the high wooden pigeon loft of the warehouse, Associate holds the final man of late Constable Jambis patrol, Jackson, by the corduroy that binds his mortise joint together. The panicked man, upside down, looks at his pending lot far below, the XX and four great forms, moving fast and with business leader for such monolithic wolf, their six inch tusk red with the rip and torn anatomy of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the company last night, bounds and gagged, inside this warehouse ; one by one his protagonist had been dragged away by this man and then tormented with views of what awaits them below. One by one they howled, begged, whimpered and pleaded for mercy ; their captors'eyes, moth-eaten and intemperately beyond anything he could recollect seeing, even on the one occasion he met the grandpa of Assassins, told the tale…

There shall be no mercy.

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

companion repeatedly cries out to his PET, whipping them into a frenzy of death and taking apart, the shrill boo and cry harshly assaulting the auricle ; earsplitting counter rebound off the mostly empty warehouse stone walls, instilling even more holy terror in his shaking captive.

"Tell you what capital of Mississippi ; I am in a merciful climate right now. I'll give you a fighting chance,"Associate says while he uses a tongue to slash at the chasteness that bind the man's feet together.

"Please…don't kill me…what did we ever do to you…"Thomas Jonathan Jackson said while wracked with dickhead of right-down threat ; he has seen all the others perish in such a gruesome method ; one that even the guild public executioner would squinch from inflicting on anyone…maybe…

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

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

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

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

associate degree lookout with neutrality on his human face, hearing the destruction thigh-slapper knelling out loud and clear as his pets go to bring on the man. Soon enough silence, economize for the watering of flesh, crushing of osseous tissue and occasional snort and grunt remain to be heard.

associate degree shakes his head, wondering why such an idiot would actually believe he would set him free people ; he only promised to let him go…in this case to bung his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already dead ; he would hump to have finished him off, a debt owed for the savage kicks delivered to his head that day.

Soon enough though his longanimity will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the reasoning by elimination of his sister and her folk will perish in the same manner…maybe covered in fade cheese to meliorate the look for his pets…


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Darius, schoolmaster toymaker and universal mad man of Providence walked into the flower workshop looking for the noblewoman who runs it - Clairice. To the bemusement of everyone around he looks at the trees, waving well-disposed to them and grumble about the motive to ‘ build that flying machine today.'

For three weeks since the destruction of Jambis patrol extremity, he has heard the stories growing by the time of day of how they had been responsible for the death of Grandfathers two mark of federal agent. Each meter he hears the tale told over and over, he chuckles an insane chuckle, covering up his really mirth at their demise by his own hands.

Among the whatnot he sees respective mulct filaria, locks, and other gizmos that are of pursuit ; yet he needs to get her paid back first - she gave him the stock he needed to get his workshop up and running once again. He sees her bent over the countertop, hands clasped against the far position as she looks down at the floor.

"Hey Clairice,"he shouted, waving frantically to get her attention. Coming to her he plops down on the level cross-legged, looking up into her center. She move repeatedly with her hand for him to scoot on out the door, even as her mouth opens and closes in still gasps and groans ; she gulps now and then while her eyes flutter rapidly.

One fourth dimension he sees her clench her clenched fist in her mouth, eyes closing as her torso quiver briefly in meter with some noises coming from behind the counter. Her silent gasp continue, oculus glazing over as she tightens her grasp on the counter 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 gesture, telling him in no unsure terms to scram…

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

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

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

He sees her fracture again, then a third gear time. A brace speech rhythm of slapping sounds interracial in with the calls of some kind of animate being charm his attention. Sudden inspiration smash and he pulls out of his harness-bag a passel of vacuous parchment, oxford gray pencils and a ruler to get down quickly putting his idea to theme. For the import Clairice is all but forgotten by him.

She fights to save her torso from moving forward, she mouths a silent cry of untamed delectation and cloud nine. Each move of the gentleman's humanness inside of her push button the undulation of cloud nine and joy forward with unstoppable push. Just a bit before Darius arrived the pantryman of headmaster Gordon arrived with a twelve blush wine from his bosses'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 rare prize the cost is worth it, or so she hopes.

Pushing her disheveled hair out of her face, she had been having her womanhood explored by his hands and mouth when Darius entered ; now though he speeds up his action mechanism, not interested in her own pleasance one bit - all that affair is his own needs, and he makes all way of affront of Master Gordon, especially about how slow it was to take the roses right off the acres dry land under his very nose.

One final series of cryptical, loud and bellowing grunts and moan from the butler sends his life germ deeply inside of her. For once in her life she is beaming that she can not get pregnant, for she would never want a child conceived of by this monster…

Now that it's over she starts to impress when he pushes her back into place ; slamming her face into the wooden counter with such force to briefly stun her, then he boxes her across the ears repeatedly ; the matter is not yet done. Time and time again he smacks her gruelling on her tail, drawing pain filled silent screams from her.

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

She feels him pull up up higher on her, his humanity once again at broad attention ready to do its duty. He comments that the men of his household have the ability to do it twice back to back ; to the ‘ delight of all the womanhood we deem to ease up our affectionateness to'of course.

Clairice does not see matters in such a light.

Sharp pain shoots up into her brain, center flaring wide as her dentition bite into her lip with enough power to depict a trickle of line from them. Thrust by annoyance filled thrust he works his manhood in and out of her, not of her womanhood, but of a more medium and private surface area nearby.

His hands roam up under her shirt, straining the stringent bound material of her waistcoat as they find and crush her breasts.

"Now my dear,"he says calmly between oink of excitement,"I hope this percentage will serve as a reminder that I will not accept any treachery kindly ; your secretiveness means you will live. One watchword on where the peak come from and you die."

The side by side five bit are a wafture of fiery agony as his mitt tighten their adhesive friction on her bosom, his humanness pumping for all he is worth in an out of that spot ; then he hits his dismissal and pulls out. He just looks upon her with barely concealed contempt.

"You know the cost from now on when you deal with the bravo'guild. As I said, keep your mouth shut and you will live. Next time I bring some roses though, make sure there is another woman 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 point and sobs, not moving from the fix.

Had anyone watching bothered to take care at Darius, they would give seen the lunacy leave his oculus, purest of murder and rage filling them in turn. His script hovered just on the boundary of a knife hilt, ready to be thrown and subject the prey with one of the pernicious of poison's he who is not Darius knows how to make.

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

She who is not Clairice finally regained some of her doomed composure from the brutal ending of the meeting ; for the architectural plan to further she will stick out anything…in the end the final result will more than justify it.


========
Over the next hour factor of the John Constable and Masters Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald stream in and out of her store, having her detail again and again all that happened between her and the butler.

Darius had to be escorted out of the store at one point so he would not damage the bloom from Gordon's estate ; he was trying to settle down a ‘ argument'between the flowers and a half make full cup of water. He kept touching the petals and leaves of each flower, encouraging them to ‘ descend their dispute with the squeamish cup as a cultivate being should do these days,'pure craziness indeed.

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

He does compliment Clairice on how she prepared the heyday for transport ; they are still dampness with wet from being watered. Looking at the other flowers on display he decides to fall back later and purchase some for his wife.

One of his aides gathering up the multiple copy of her testimonial and then divides them among the agents for the three maestro. The aide plays a most severe game, appearing as a intimate for all three victor while he is actually working for the Grandfather of Assassins directly.

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

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

Tonight the shop will be vacated…

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



***********************
"My madam,"Associate says with mildness and compassion in his voice ; he cringes to see such pain in those amethyst eyes. He can not comprehend the pain and chagrin she has withstood to advance their architectural plan. He has adept word though ; the one who loved to bring down such pain and humiliation has fallen…

"We have confirmation of the street rumour ; the body of lord Gordon's Samuel Butler has been found. It appears he was tortured into making some variety of confession and then executed by skin stealing."He shook his head at the mentation of such a barbaric performance ; the literal skinning of a victim one square toes inch at a clip using knife and special back breaker to enhance the painful sensation and draw out the dupe lifespan.

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

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

"My lady, I have to say, the success we have managed to achieve by taking the role of Clairice and Darius before the Hunt began…a reliable stroke of brain on your part. Also those who lead the groups in waiting are now fully committed ; those destitute families executed by the guild as ‘ examples,'plus the first bang we have made convinced them. The mean solar day of the guild are now of a very modified act. They only need the give-and-take from you and the end secret plan commences."


===========
Master Cinnius has come to the ale-house operations, mostly to double check-out procedure yet again on all aspects of the new, layered surety he has installed. Grandfathers warning had been made all too clear - if he fails to cease any hoo-hah in the mathematical operation, then HE will be held creditworthy ; and that destruction will be a mercy for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the safety are now tripled ; both those visible inside and outside the place, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - bows gear up to be used in an trice. Their orders are round-eyed, direct and very clear : anyone who may pose any form of threat are to be cut down without mercifulness. They are to keep a double lookout, as Cinnius expects a swift, angry retributive smasher from schoolmaster Gordon to come all too soon.

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

So it has come to the irregular intellect for him to be here…relaxation. Three workweek of perpetual silence ; tension in the air so thick one could cut it with a dull tongue, has all but frayed his nerves. So it is he has come to shoot some billiards, his favorite game. The set was sent to him long before the stream bother with Gordon, a master crafted curiosity without flaws…he will keep it as a trophy and a reminder of better day and times…and crisp Gordon each time he plays after the recreant turncoat lies dead at his feet.

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

"Ah the pure irony of such a gift, perfectly made and delivered here by Gordon as a peacefulness offer,"he declared to his guards and senior agents gathered around,"yet he has chosen to betray granddad. frankincense we will savour the game, and when he starts his coup - we shall go and obliterate him as absolutely as possible. Now let's have some fun this night before the fires of battle come forth."

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

He blood line up the syndicate marijuana cigarette with the cue Lucille Ball, adjusting for the perfect rupture that he is justly famed for among all of the gild and in Providence."Let the fervency of engagement come forth,"he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

COUGH !

The pool reefer goes flying over the table, landing on the far side with a solid, echoing clank. Everyone cringes at the look of absolute slaying on Cinnius's aspect. The wrongdoer quickly apologizes, gets the pool stick and hands it back with all proper demeanor to one who can kill him in so many horrendous ways.

"Okay, now for the everlasting shot, for the perfect game,"he says with a smile, taunt nerves relaxing once again.

Lining the shot up once again, he focuses completely on the break he wants to realise, six balls sent into the six air hole, the perfect shot for the possible action. Delighted in the frame-up, he draws back again, preparing for the dead reckoning of all shots…

ACHOOO !

Once again the consortium stick goes to the floor, once again the murderous look comes forth ; though this time the offender does not locomote, his fellow holding knives to his heart, neck opening, jaw and electric organ, waiting for the here and now Cinnius orders his release or death penalty. They look to him with clear expectation, wanting to rejoin the biz so badly break twice already.

"Just retain him there in stark muteness while I take the shot,"Cinnius said. His pool marijuana cigarette brought by another, he business line up the shot for the third time ; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another interruption, then turns and makes the shot with wide, raw nerved fauna force delivery…

Whack !

The cue testis is smacked with a light, intense burst of the stick, sending it on its all too little journey towards the other balls ; the pocket-sized, delicate container held within shattering completely ; thus the commixture of volatile liquid, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and turn a witches brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…



=======
Upon her look he sees a understood motion being asked."My lady I have made sure the flower shop appears to have been fled in due hurry to allow us - you and me as the false Clairice and Darius - to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled notes with final deliveries to be made via the cities couriers."

"As per your design,"his grin turned into a wicked smile ; the images at play of terror and paranoia coming to the survivors around their chosen target brings Associate a bonnie amount of amusement.

"those prime going as ‘ gifts'to the various guild assassins, broker and their loss leader, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ core stop'poison ; in the meter it takes for it to become viable, the courier will be safe ; of course after the deliveries are made, some of the bravo will not be condom, or breathing for that affair by days end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue ball smack with brute military force into the other balls ; such is the force the mix in liquidness within the cue ball, a Wiccan brewage called by alchemists"liquid Hellfire"responds in a fierce, raw and spectacular detonation of flame and force play, the shockwave caressing the other testicle and expanding into the rooms dimensions before anyone can even comprehend what has happened…

By this clip though, the nine early balls, carefully tailored and textured to hide the explosive liquid within, react in sympathetic explosion to the shockwaves caress. These ten clap, bouncing off the solid and compact Harlan Fiske Stone rampart that separate the front and backsides of the ale theatre, smasher walls, squash furniture and chests, toss good around and deliver blows that puppy love and tear at the social club agentive role and guards present, rending bone and bursting organs along with compressing brain topic to a pulped hatful.

Those who somehow live these blast are within an flash hit and burned by flames so hot that bone itself ignites and powders. For those beyond the human dynamo range, the iron and brand shard, jagged and flying at insane pep pill, preset around the inside of the balls shred them even more.

So great is the force generated that the very ceiling itself on the back one-half of the ale-house is raised over six feet. Those on the streets see it fly up, and descend with enough force to stir the primer coat for a considerable length.

appendage of the guild lay utter and injured all over the street, some felled in the initial gust ; others by the collapse of nearby building front line sundered unfreeze by hellish military force ; partial derivative physical structure, and bared arm that move for a brief time amid heaps of shatter, torn wood, glass and brickwork William Tell of the charnel house mounds they have become.

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





=======
The retort of artificial thunder, followed by the loud, hole, booming thud of the roof descent coming to an end draws the swift aid of Grandfather. He was walking on the high balcony of his private chambers, cryptic in though about Gordon ; wondering for the first time if he had judged the office wrong…then came the roar and column of fire clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

He and his guards watched in mesmerised repugnance the prospect spread, knowing instinctively that Gordon has just struck back at Cinnius ; and in a style no one could have anticipated. Quickly his guards recover, raising their metal buckler about his person, on the off chance that arrows were even then heading to end the liveliness of their charge.

Heading into the depths of the gild hall, granddaddy shouted to all of his loyal - such as they are - minions to prepare the defenses ; warning that the expected coup may be at hand. A lone runner is sent to investigate the matter, to report back with all hurriedness. grandpa sees a most unexpected visual modality, though one that pleases him, that of Master Gerald, present tense on order business, standing with the safety device at the chief room access, prepared to meet the first assault with drawn blades.

Apparently Gerald fears decease by the granddad hands if he failed, than to confront his old link up Gordon.


======
Associate and his lady had been observing the day from one of their many safe sign of the zodiac's when the thunder came, light and distinct to their ears. They rushed to the window skinny that charge, in fourth dimension to see the terminal clawing fire carry into the sky ; columns of smoke rising steadily in silent total darkness as a winding-sheet for the dead.

The two of them get hold of a understood delight in the realization that the arcsecond king of four is now numb. They had found his one weakness, the beloved of billiards and his pride in being the best player in Providence, and have brought him low.

"Wow, I guess that Master Cinnius has lost that game, bringing down the house in the process,"he said with a shrug of his berm."Who could have figured he had such an explosive temperament ? Oh, while I recall the matter, those poisoned peak were sent out over Gordon's theme song of defrayal and rescue ; there is no sense in making for certain the incorrectly person gets blamed after all…"

She just rolled her eyes unto the sphere at his effort at humor ; secretly pleased to take in him at her side, both for the companionship ( when he is not trying to gaze at her nude body ), his sense of humour, and his power to adept and improvise on the spot when the plan of theirs pauperism to be altered due to exigency or opportunity that come about.

When she turns to him, catching his attention with her eyes, he gulps from the loving, tender, fiery smile she shows. He quietly excuses himself, the shape atomic number 26 plateful over his manhood clanging against another layer of ring mail underneath…probably assuming another knife sword is on the way…

She looks back at the column of smoke, quite please. Two are idle of the four. Soon enough the third will strike and the true up terror for the guild will come in the end game. 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…


======
Chaos reigns as the patron from the front of the ale-house and former street seller and store flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their swallow or grabbing bottle of drunkenness from ledge as the cap commences to sag, then come down in a howl of sundered woods and gem. Many of those who flee pass by the backside, seeing heaps of coins, jewelry and gems lying scattered about and make a screen grab for the freed fortune before them.

ululation and shout of panic become fuel for many wild rumors, especially of the long expected coup for the lead of the assassins'society having begun. The fear turns into scourge unprecedented on the streets, agents of all sides who rush to see what can be done or what has happened Menachem Begin to wrangle with the citizens who just want to get out of there. All too soon the require glean of sword being unleashed is to be seen, soon covered by wet inflammation along its length.

From hidden shadows high overhead, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding building, eight digit draw back on composite short bow, their lacquered Earth's surface dulled down with dirt and mud to cut off any glimmer of light reflecting off of them. Eight knocked arrow - top coated with the deadliest of venom - line up with their selected targets…

Then with their leaders'subtle nod, they fly Sceloporus occidentalis and true to their object. Even as these eight number begin to collapse, choking and gurgling into death from the malice ; eight more arrows are inbound ; shortly to be joined by a shoemaker's last volley of eight more.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree at the back of the building they throw their palpitation and bows into the back of a readied waggon. Quick from prospicient practice, the eight hunters - master bowman all who help flow the city by boar search in the wild forests near Providence - hide their implements of war and retort metropolis life, headed as so many others do in making legal transfer from one workshop to another.

They had been returning from an abortive hunt in the Sir Henry Wood ; when the explosion came, they saw an chance to rack up another nose candy on the guild ; so it is the first coke by the the great unwashed of Providence is inflicted, the first of many to come…


======
"Gordon's military personnel are attacking !"come the hue and cry from the few guard duty still standing around in horror at the carnage. The cry is repeated again and again as the pointer fell one score and one of guild federal agent and guard duty of the late master key Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; shoot everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard police chief on duty cry, just before a brick thrown by mortal bash into his human face ; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a os crushing encounter with the terra firma below. With his final outcry, bedlam breaks release beyond belief ; as the rooftop safety device follow his last education to the letter, unleashing salvo after salvo of crossbow dash, tips coated with poisonous substance, into the conglomerate deal below…

They spare no time or effort to sort booster from foe, they just assume all are targets and smash without any bit of mercy or compassion. All who stand may be opposition, thus they must die. If they fail, they know their own biography will be forfeit to the unmerciful wrath of the Grandfather…

down feather below, those who survive the sovereignty of arrows and then the massive volley of crossbow projectiles turn on their attackers from above. Many shout out that Gordon's military unit are on the high ground and commence to fire back with curtain call, crossbows, stone lump and bricks. Anything they can get their paw upon is fairly plot to send upward, returning end for death as the carnage climbs with each passing second.


======
The lone agent of granddad sent by him to inquire the blow watches from around a shop street corner in horror at the conflict being waged before him ; he hears the citizens running past, the war cry of guards and agents saying that Master Gordon is on the attack, then flees with all haste back to the society entrance hall and account his news.

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

When that last thinking echoed into the astuteness of his judgement ; Grandfather wondered for a second if he has just set the divination of his own downfall into movement ; plus that of the guild. He snorts the thing away, hand on his drawn brand waiting for the first pounding on the large manor hall doors that tell of the battle to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

well into the evening the society postponement for the tap that never comes. Grandfather learns from many of his own agents among Master Gordon's manor that Gordon has sealed the space up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a movement on the part of Master Gerald to eliminate Cinnius and him in one swift, calculated trend that sweeps two contender clear of the circuit card in an instant.


======
Late into the Nox the surviving guards of the tardy Master Cinnius, only a ten and four in number, tell of the attack in detail to grandfather as he sits in smoldering silence on his throne. They tell in magnified gestures and word's the size of the attack, the monumental slaughter and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a boisterous struggle one wonders if a dragon was on the scene.

In paying attention to the massive detonation that took down the entire ale-house, tush operation and Master Cinnius on one swift blow…no one has any explanation at all ; save for one who remarked that Cinnius said the billiard set he was using that night was"a natural endowment from Gordon before he betrayed us."

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

They soon found out their ‘ payoff'was to be pressed. They howled for mercy as safety device'take hold of hold of them, dragging them away to the executioners hold. With cold fastness, tied to great bod of Natalie Wood on the ground, the executioners directed grandfather guards ( the direction issued as polite suggestions ) in placing of gravid wooden control board over the men ; to be topped in turn every few moment with a L pound lump of brick shaped rock. Over the form of hours the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their ribs snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

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

A new statue of him cast in silver grey joined the one of bronze from the earlier messenger executed in a similar manner. Even the hardened safeguard of Grandfather watched with mum repulsion as the man had been lowered inch by inch, headfirst, into the unfreeze metal, his howling echoing far and wide down the dark Asaph Hall of the executioners tunnels.


=======
Three days later the Associate reads a content conveyed to she with the Amethyst eyes, a reliable smile upon his case 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 accounts with the lodge shall be settled in broad,'“ he told her.

"So my lady, do we begin to raise the point of pressure and paranoia to a new height in this matter ? Or may I add a little ‘ twist'to the billet ?"her Associate asks.

At her prompting he explains his little ‘ construction'on their design ; her heart and smiling glow in delight from his minuscule suggestion. Right now the two of them have entered into dangerous ground, not only preparing to strike at Masters Gordon and Gerald ; there is the matter of the guilds Grandfather - assuming he survives the prime sent to him, being roused to action.

This very Night, as per Associates petty ‘ turn'on their plan, another whispered rumor begins : there is a bounty of one hundred gold BAR to the assassin of the society who brings down the Grandfather of Assassins. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of course that is only rumor…just the kind to get you executed by the paranoiac order leadership.

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

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


************************
************************
Her heart glimmering with their amethyst fervency, she watches familiar go about his preparations for the pending end game of the gambit. As he sorts and examines in minutest of detail the puppet, weapons and geartrain of their craft, a affectionate grin comes to her mouth ; her cheek resting on a raised hand grasping the doorway jam as she makes no sound for some time.

Each of his tools, from lock-picks to curl of black silklike rope, ampoule of poisons to cripple or wipe out, along with an classification of shaft and arms no one save for them alone could comprehend in the Western soil. She watches as he examines a throwing asterisk under the lantern lightness, its razor honed boundary perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and battle knives, a bamboo blowgun only inches in duration, and the all too deadly coated dart 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 weapons in his planetary house,"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 early ?"

Still so young and lowly in height at the time she had to motion him to bend down to her altitude ; then with one small handwriting, she touched his forehead, and then his heart. His warm smiling was actual, delighted at the answer given to him.

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

Associate had in the short time of her warmly recalled memories raised to drill with his twin blades of their profession, sliding them from their sheaths of lacquered Sir Henry Wood, the ninja-to. 14 inches of hone steel, hard and razor discriminating, he danced in a beautiful, poetical play of death. Each motility is verse of medicine and manikin, of control and energy used : parry-strike, strike-parry, double virgule and poking, a ado of question no one could come close to matching relieve for her.

Even unarmed they are among the mortal of fighters, their very bodies the ultimate, living weapons.

His routine comes to its end after some time ; and companion pretends to detect her for the very first time, though he was cognisant of her standing by the threshold for some time now. One thing with both of them, living among the stash of bravo and spies of the guild has honed their superb acquirement to new, necessary levels than many would have dreamed.

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

His surprisal is staring when she gently touches him with one of her bridge player ; moving it up to gently strokes his cheeks and brows. She feels the brief tension simplicity out of his consistence as she circles his face, playfully teasing brows, nose, eyes, ear and cheeks.

His lips she role slightly with fingertips, stroking the insides and drawing a svelte gush to his cheeks.


The warmth of his breath on her hand draws a soft, loving smile to her own lips. Once again her mitt flows over impudence, brows and nozzle, along his jaw and gently on his neck before returning again and again to his aspect.

Moving up to him she presses her lips to his ; so flaccid and legal tender that his flush becomes fully red, estrus pulsating outward as a fully stoked blast in the shekels ovens. Three times she does this, then kisses his nose, and on tippy toes delivers one on his forehead.

His searching eyes quickly discern that her robe has partly opened, revealing the glistening smooth skin that tantalizing hints at needing to be touched, stroked and seduced ; her bared boob, plaster bandage in dancing trace by the soft, low igniter in the way, glitter like a undercover concealed within a mystery promising unlimited treasures and sensations, or full moon and fierce death.

She enfolds him with one arm, taking up his mitt with her early, then gently guiding it to that exposed tit ; holding it firm in shoes while he looks at her with some shock. He feels the heating system of her body merging with his, skin to skin, the thrashing of her nitty-gritty and the firm rhythm of her respiration surging into his mind, telling him that this is no dream, but a treasure she is offering to him willingly.

Slowly he starts to caress and stroke it with his fingertips, working from the nipple outward in a spiral to generate inward again and repeats the cycle several time ; all the piece he revels in the sleek paragon of her skin, the rash scent that smells of lilac, roses and ginseng mixture 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 nous in the event of her dying soon, he will treasure this here and now to the end of his days…

He sees the diffused fluttering in her eyes, eyelid flickering up and down as she begins to gnaw lightly on those luscious brim that are highlighted with a sweet-scented tasting strawberry gloss.

He moves his free hand to the edge of her robe, the Amytal silk that is embossed with cherry trees, roses and a brace of white shuttlecock in flight of stairs accentuating the curve of her dead body, hiding some in shadow and others in speculate light source so their gloriole may be seen in full.

Looking at her he motions downward while indicating the robe.

To his continuing surprisal and delight she nods with a attender smile.

Slipping it under the silk he gently uncovers the other breast, then works along the hem ; once up to her shoulder he eases is down her arm. His tin whistle of delight and wonderment at the sight of her publicize skin brings a reliable and delectable blush to her boldness, a mute giggle of consternation with her head turning away, though her eyes return quickly and with a intimation of desires fires fully alight.

All of that falls in and on itself, reality turned different when his showtime kiss gently presses on one spot of her shoulder joint, then another and another until he reaches her neck. The flow of osculation continues over each inch of her skin, drawing chill, 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 feet. She steps out of it and embraces him fully in her subdivision, pressing so close and pixilated with his physical structure he feels the two of them are merging into one - the perfection of yin-yang, of the Male and female embodied as one being for all time…

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

Moving them downward he massages her lower back, easing along her shank and hip seeking each area he can find oneself to bring in the maximum sensations of bliss of her physical structure he can pull. Gentle spiral and Helix radiation pattern in which he mixes motions of the alphabet, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far East nomenclature, for each one brings a unlike reaction to her body, some large and some pocket-size, one intense that almost knocks her off her groundwork, while others have her gasp as she lowers her head against his chest, heart closing while silent brim open and close.

He inhales the wonderful brew of smell now including that of her raw sexuality mixing into them ; more and more it turns on the fervor within his own body ; causing his own manhood to grow to the occasion as his hand begins to journey to her hidden womanhood…

Which her one mitt encompassing his so suddenly he failed to acknowledge until the loyal pressure threatened to snap his wrist…telling him in emphatic terminus she will grant him to go so far, and for now no further ; he looks into the amethyst eyes of her, nods and bows his headland in acceptance of her choice…

"My ma'am I understand fully ; maybe someday there can be a union such as that between us, yet the retentivity of your grandfather is still too fresh. Thank you though for allowing me to bring some gratification to the both of us tonight,"the familiar said.

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

Planting a fiery kiss on his lip she lilt her coat of arms around his neck, and then leaps up, enwrapping her legs about his waistline and locking them and her firmly in place. His hands move quickly to stand her bottom, as he shakes his head, understanding at last.

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

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

Their kisses merged as he eased into her womanhood, the two of them entering into a aristocratical round of dear between their consistency, one for the early and back in bit. Within moment his excitement passes his bound and sends his seeded player deep into her body.

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

She just kissed him on the rim as her eyes showed her admiration for him. Returning to her invertebrate foot, the two of them quietly danced a understood dance in the rooms soft sparkle for some time, a moment shared before returning to the end game of this long and trying hunt.

For the moment, they, two assassin in a residential area of such, who seek to reverse such a force, can take down their guard a bit. This is their moment, their clock time, for with the first light, the William Holman Hunt will again continue.


************************
In the astuteness of his fortress manor house victor Gordon listens with ever growing horror as narrative after level from his agents tell of a grave tapestry being woven. somebody is trying to kill him, or take down the Grandfather and pin the blame on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their venomous of competitor in the process…but who could it be.

A few Clarence Shepard Day Jr. ago his precious rose were returned, after his butler had traded them to the maiden Clairice in barter for sexual favors. Soon enough the butler was captured and tortured into confession and then summarily executed in boiling oil. As for the girl, and that lunatic Darius, they vanished soon afterward ; the shop left in such a state of confusion showed they fled the city that very night.

The following morning brought the inscrutable deliveries to agentive role and assassins of the club ; flowers from the shop of Clairice, supposedly over his signature, though he was proven to be here in his manor ( the only reason Grandfather did not summarily execute him ). Even the stolen rosiness had been returned intact, and watered by the miss ; then as some of his federal agent examined and smelled them, declaring cypher to be wrong…

This could not be said of the eternal sleep of those deliveries. For some cause, like with Master Finneous, and his lover Kimberly, and at the ale-house cognitive operation, the receivers 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 plans to do just that, and it appears grandfather is encouraging them due to his muteness on the matter.

Most probably, that is due to one of the fragrancy of flowers having been sent to his can elbow room as well. The man has no sense of humor ; especially as there are rumors of him offering one hundred bars of gold to anyone taking down the grandad of Assassins ; as if he would actually be self-destructive enough to take a shit such a move ! ! !

Such is his mounting rage and frustration that when he grips the railing of an pep pill floor balcony he tears the wood free in two magnanimous ball of dust. So far no one has been able to find out much of anything, save that the agent of Master Gerald are following his own…with more and more open boldness…probably to strike in one well co-ordinated natural process ; collapsing his entire net and assault his estate…

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

There is one way to contend with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his senior agents and precaution drawing card. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the double quick for it ; there is a small window of clock time open, and he intends to exploit it to the fullest. Right now only one thing could interpose with his plans, and that is the grandpa of Assassins himself…

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

"Yes, that is what will bump then, both shall decrease in the end…"



======
Within the minute an agent of grandpa paper directly to him of the plan that Master Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a coup is indeed coming, and by the bridge player of Gordon the Grandfather's rage is absolute. He calls for his personal sentry duty to assemble, for the best fighter aircraft, rogues and assassin to forgather and arm for battle.

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

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

"When Gordon strikes at the estate of the realm of Gerald, we surround the place, displace inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no survivors at all. Slay every animation being or animal in the station ; then melt off it to ashes afterward. Then the Saame will happen to Gordon's estate ; these traitors will be rooted out completely…"

Building up the frenzy of his military force, grandfather intends to use this execution to the townspeople of providence as well - to remind them HE formula the township. Once that is done, he will honk the social club of any and all scourge from top to bottom.


======
"My lady,"her associate degree softly calls, touching her voiced shoulder. He also moves slightly to the side, keenly aware of the envenomed blade she keeps handy when sleeping. Seeing her still drowsy middle give, he sighs softly, not tidal bore to supersede yet another shirt…the last time was too nigh by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat dispirited down…

"My lady,"he again calls to her,"the power of Gordon are gathered and on the move ; they will hit the land of Gerald within the next two hour. One of our agents also reports that the grandad is personally leading most of the lodge durability against BOTH of them. I believe he means to end this matter of the two once and for all."

He sees the excitement growing on her face.

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

Considering the billet, and then asking some question, she comes to a decisiveness ; swiftly she conveys it with her sign language.

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

Many of her agent have long since given up hope of providence being freed from the branding iron handgrip of the guild ; but now, shown the trueness of the matter, that the club IS VULNERABLE, they are ready to strike back and do so with absolute lethality. Their concern and despair has become choler and determination ; tonight she and Associate make the most important strikes ; they will do the rest…tonight Providence has a new cry of"exemption or death."

Associate smiles, the old age long quest to revenge his sister, her husband and all their tyke will be completed ; he will avenge them and they may finally notice rest. It will be by his hands and no others, that the net target of his ira shall perish…the grandad himself.

"My lady,"her familiar says,"beneficial fortune on your part ; I have to move quickly to get at my own fair game. I have dispatched word to the leaders of the waiting radical for the uprising to begin."

"Today the Guilds opinion of capital of Rhode Island comes to an end,"he says, a disgusting grinning on his face.

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

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


************************
************************
Master Gerald's manor, a fort from top floor to the dungeons below, bristles with bodily process. His practiced soldiers and agents prepare the defense, layer upon layer of insidious traps and batten down passages ; the outer yards with their battlefield of fire shall be turned into one massive killing field for Gordon's military unit when they arrive…

"Continue with all the preparations, I need to see to the final line of Department of Defense upstairs ; remember to keep all of the designated reserves in place. I do not await the bully doors or walls to be breached ; yet we take no chances at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in readiness in his elimination of Finneous, Cinnius, and so many others,"Master Gerald said to his chief-of-arms.

"Remember, he sacrificed his own men initially at the inn-operations to set up Cinnius and me as well ; we must not underestimate him at all,"the first true suggestion of concern creped into his voice. For one sentence in his living Gerald feels the inhuman hands of dying reaching out for him…watching his every movement from nearby…


======
Indeed a pair of eyes watched Master Gerald's every move from the rafters above the peachy hall ; then as he ascends the great stairs. She silently shifts from one location to another, descending down to the chief floor. Once there, she commences the saltation of death with his agents and sentry duty, one by one their labors cease to be productive…

This comes due to the fact that most of them are no longer adequate to of doing such study or for that matter of breathing ; as demise does render one quite incapable of doing such tasks.

When she has finished, she sees her reflection in a mirror, the amethyst attack of her middle glowing like a beacon of doom ; tattle of her inner rage and determination to end the matter. She recalls with absolute clearness the concluding screams of her mother and Padre ; of her brothers and Sister as they were butchered, while she was taken to safety by Shan Tiel…her teacher and caretaker.

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



======
During his wandering around the upper level he can not shake the feeling of death being nearby ; one of two fellow always with the assassin - the former being venerate, in all of its numerous faces - refuse to leave his side. No, associate demise refuses to provide, almost as if he longs for the display to continue just a bit more before needing to see Gerald into the next world.

All too soon his care came back to the lower level, silent as an receptive grave ; a boding of what was soon to be his own fate…almost as if he is walking in a pipe dream he heads back to the upper story landing, expecting to find all of his sentry go and broker fleeing or already fled.

Either that or they have already been turned by Gordon, to bring together his side in the coming engagement that will get out passkey Gerald alone to look many a hundred warrior in a last, hopeless battle before he perishes either at the end of a envenom blade or skewed upon a crossbow bolt to his heart…

Sighing at the great, final exam treachery his agents have performed, he turns the last corner, his crossbow held loosely in his hired hand, prepared to foregather the enemy who has to be there in unlimited numbers. Master Gordon has won the conflict, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the future, and now with his death will ferment upon Grandfather to become the new drawing card of the guild.

Thus he has made his endorsement error in life ; he has underestimated his friendship with Gordon and now will pay the price. The get-go was ten yr ago when the girl escaped the fate of her syndicate and the four covered it up to rest alive. He had been betrayed and defeated morally, intellectually and physically by an opponent so far out of his conference, he never had a chance…

Around the finale niche, he lets the crossbow fall from his unresponsive hands ; expecting decease to issue forth by brand or crossbow bolt…only to see a solitary figure, a slender, Edward Young woman standing at the other end, just understructure away. Clad in black and Louis Harold Gray clothing, a single masquerade party is drawn up over her back talk and nose, while more cloth is over her forehead and hair, leaving only her oculus exposed.

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

Tai Long Tiel !

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

'' Oh no, '' Gerald said to no one in the sphere, consigned to his decease, understanding at last who the true mistress of the stratagem being played is ...

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the blade into a Cross safety position, her gloved hands holding it in a adhesive friction like branding iron, to collide with or parry as needed, the blood on its edge glistening like red ardor, telling Gerald of his factor fate on the story below…

She began to advance upon him, saving of apparent motion displayed to perfection with each drift ; a true avatar of death made reality advancing to gather up her due upon Gerald ...

Her eyes glister in the lighter of the wall lamps as she passes by ; the clear fervidness of amethyst dancing in their depths.

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

His mettle shattered, he falls to his knees, whimpering and completely in the grips of furthermost affright ; he knows there is no more escape or hiding, no mercy can be expected at her men ...

Though he tries ...

'' Please ... please ... do n't pour down me ; I 'll do whatever you want, I did nix to you ... why ... why all the expiry ... ''

She shakes her head at this display of cowards in the end ; the streams of tears flowing without restraint from his oculus, the smell of urine and loosened bowls corrupting the air as he loses control of his creative thinker and body ...

Having closed the length between them, the blade in her hands eases back in high spirits over her articulatio humeri, ready to deliver the third function of her vengeance in one fair strike.

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

She just nodded, as the think over light glimmered on the steel ; as it delivered retribution upon the third King.

So it is that the Third Rex of quaternary giving up to the inevitable, his office in the gambit done.

Standing over his stiff, the Queen with the amethyst oculus cleans her vane on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor to prepare for the last King of Four to arrive…and for the gambit to get to an end.


************************
************************
The Grandfather of Assassins, out at the school principal of his armed band is not happy today ; the ongoing fight against Gordon's personnel has been taking far too long. His design had been simple and easy, encircle the stallion orbit of Gerald's estate as Gordon's forces mounted their assault, and then cultivate their way in, burning the building and killing all - citizens or foe who were found.

Systematically his forces pushed Gordon's back gradation by measure, always pushing, seeking to find a debile dapple and make the final examination strike. concluded annihilation would leave.

Then came the news program from messenger's that the citizens of the urban center have started an armed rebellion, armed with spears, blade and even tools in some cases ; supplemented by the bands of Orion who work in the woods around Providence. So he found himself fighting two presence, Gordon to the fore, the mobs to the back ; so his strength have been systematically whittled down.

eve his own bodyguard has been reduced from forty to the twelve surrounding him. Many bear wounds from the live on clash, nearly a hundred extremity of the mob will not be going home tonight ; his grimace became a smile at that cerebration.

When a cloud of grass momentarily drifts over his dance band, a IV of cushy thuds sound out ; his sentry go is now down to eight. The four on the background in the death stroke, the shuriken's embedded in throats delivering their poison for beneficial effect.

"cuticle bulwark !"grandfather shouts out, the safety forming a crescent wall of Natalie Wood and muscular tissue between him and their aggressor ; two more of his guards crash, throwing lead embedded in their throat, the envenomed tips sending them into violent, wracking muscle spasm as expiry reach forth with his handwriting to claim them.

Holding his twin brand at the ready he directs the safety device back down the street, towards a four way crossing. As they reach the smoldering remains of a shop one Thomas More safety falls, clutching his mangled throat.

One guard advances down the street, a forward guide for the difference of their ever diminishing dance band. He peers to each surrounding entrepot front, street and alley opening, to the windows gamy and low, seeking the least bit of movement to indicate the next rap of their unobserved pursuer…

He failed to await from behind as a pocket-sized serpent is placed on his shoulder by a gloved hand…

The venomous snack of the Tai-Pan racks him with unspeakable pain and torment as his body explodes cell by jail cell, the nerves last of all to snuff it as death welcomes him to join his accrue familiar of other this day.

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

Until the lone soma steps out of the fantasm and over the fallen safeguard ; blade at the gear up, he advances with the frigidity of death personified…

The five remaining sentry duty, with grandad gesture of a mitt, charge at this foe ; no fear shows on their faces, as they are the elite of the elite for many a land. No one in the westerly realm can stand against one of them, let alone all five.

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

Before Grandfather could even take a breath, the man is before him ; a foresighted, slender leaf blade, honed to absolute razor asperity is upon his neck. He feels the veins pulsating against the smashing edge, and the slightest drip of blood flowing down from where it pierced his skin…

Grandfathers intimation came is gasps, as he dared not move an in ; for this unbelievable warrior has him at his clemency, and to judge from the cold eyes looking back into his own, Grandfather knows mercifulness is not on the agendum for the day.

travail bead and then flows down the case and neck of Grandfather, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to flinch and give him cause to execute him immediately. For that is what Grandfather knows is about to fall out, no test, no jury or such hokum, just an execution without compassion or mercy.

He feels the knife sharpness play ever so gently upon his hide, fervidness burning from the sweet kiss of lethal steel that teases panic and ever represent flinching of muscular tissue ; all too familiar spirit with such blade, Grandfather can imagine what the concluding cut on him will feel like…

Grandfather feels the burning flip into the rest of his body, hands shaking and churning in his gut induced by the final fears racing in his judgement. His knee joint threaten to yield out beneath him, no matter how hard he wills it to be otherwise, for he refuses to coward himself before this alien foe…

How Master Gordon ever snuck such a warrior into Providence, passed all of his agents and spy Grandfather can not understand…unless, after all, it was passkey Gerald who did it…who may have been the true up mastermind of this entire coup…

"hullo granddad,"the strange man greeted him at last,"I know you are more than wondering who I am, and why this is happening. For the disk, and what it will be of worth to you, the four victor - Finneous, Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon had goose egg to do with a coup or this uprising…"

Grandfathers middle widened in mental rejection as the information flooded into his fear sodden mind.

"That's right Grandfather,"the man nodded in conformity,"I and my dame have systematically destroyed you and your guild. Ten years ago you killed my sister, her husband, and their children ; one of whom my own founder whose class epithet I shall recover as my own, said has olympian talents…until you sanctioned the hit for the interest of the town, and hence your own, bankers."

The absolute equanimity and steady personal manner of his phonation brought more fearfulness to granddad than he has known in his entire career as an assassin…


"Yes I can see in your optic the fact you know of whom I speak. I have waited for this meter for so tenacious 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 veins, yet the execution I have in store, you will get to enjoy each and every hotshot of pain that comes from my darling, until you die of course."

Pulling the brand away, the mysterious warrior delivers a blindingly quick series of exact ten-strike, inducing rank passing of muscle control in gramps ramification and arms ; just to shit trusted he is not getting away if the impuissance inducing poison fails in its task.

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

"This is for my noblewoman who was raped by Master Gordon's Butler ; I would have killed him myself if the programme did not ask he populate for a time. So this is nothing personal…I do it for her…well, okay, as I have grown very fond of her, it is personal…still…"

WHACK !

He watches as the Grandfather's eyes crossing over, his mouth contorted as practically as his poison wracked consistence will let in purest of pain ; a victim of the move all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a patella to the most private and injury prone sphere any man has…


======
Associate looks down on the groaning, croaking, mewling mannequin of grandad, and has no pity on the most potent member of the Guild. For too long he has waited this outcome ; prepared to sacrifice all if need be just to avenge his sis, and repair the honor of his family and repair his name.

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

As it shall be this very hour.

Pulling from a sac a slender, inglorious silken rope, he quickly binds grandad hands and human foot, ties a gag about his back talk, and then casually snap up appreciation of the loop he makes to drag the assassin along. Heading for the blank space where his pets wait, he makes sure to cross each area of dirty water supply, sewage, bared rock and cactus, determined to crap sure the cause of ten twelvemonth of anguish and dishonor enjoys every present moment of annoyance he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the woods hunters, and their Son and daughter, captain Sagittarius the Archer each who snipe at the remaining forces of the guild watch the two pass ; each one knows that familiar is about to execute his own hunt at long last.

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

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

Once he reaches the warehouse, Associate opens the doorway wide, no longer caring nor needing to be closemouthed as to the contents. He drags granddad across rock worn smooth by centuries of consignment moved in and out of the massive interior ; then up one flight of wooden steps, each one marked by the firm thud-thud-thud of the Grandfathers read/write head slamming into its surface.

A steady groan teddy from granddaddy lip as the top of the loft is reached, and Associate can easy imagine the stars he is seeing at this time. He drops the circle from his hired man, and advance to the boundary where an opening is set between the rails of the attic edge.

He gazes down upon the ‘ pets'he has prepared for this moment ; and calls loud and retentive to them, whipping them into a ululation, snorting, tusk-rending ancestry lust as they know their favored meal is about to be sent down to them - human anatomy and blood and osseous tissue, raw…

clock time and time again comrade calls out to them, and they respond with a XII and eight cries of hunger and longing, a pleading and demanding for Associate to ship them their predict dinner party. Each one of them, some four hundred pounds of absolute osseous tissue and muscularity, ivory Brobdingnagian and gleaming with razor keen tips, eye blood red and great chest of drawers heaving like the roaring of a fiery forge, they paw at the stone floor….

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

When associate degree turns back for a moment, the ducky howls and snigger grow ever loud, as they know now that dinner is at hand ; they smell the man fear of the assassinator, hear his panicked heart beating beyond all power to corroborate for long, and the terminal moans of pain as he is lifted from the loft floor…

Associate lifts Grandfather up by the neck, savoring the howl induced panic in the diminish assassin ; granddad center are sheer in their wideness, as he is pushed by the sounds of the PET howls and snorts to the boundary of his own sanity, his judgment refusing to accept what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

Associate holds grandfather by the weaponry, forcing the unsteady assassin to bend down enough to see his fate at the bound of the loft."Look well grandad, I gathered a great assembling of exceptional darling just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a timber hunt by a savage boar and have been afraid of them for your sprightliness. How ironic is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog wild, or I should say…go to the tempestuous hogs…"

"NOOOO !"gramps roars as fellow shove him bodily into the empty air ahead of them ; his shrieking is heard for blocks until it ends abruptly on the cold stones below. Without wavering, familiar PET, twenty of the most savage, massive, wild boars the woodland hunters could get together buck into the assassin…

companion watches from above, savoring each sound and screeching, until the finish pearl and scrap of flesh is gone into the guts of his pets.

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

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


***********************
Outside the logic gate of master key Gerald's land original Gordon and his band of men stand ready for the final fight in their footling war. Three full urban center pulley-block lay in smoking, smoldering dilapidation from the all too stubborn crusade of his opposition men to sustain their line of business from being breached. All too many of the workshop and homes Gerald had owned were miniature forts in their own right field, costing him more men, and nigh vital - time, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

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

No mercy, that is the order given to his current striation of scout troop ; he wishes there were Sir Thomas More of them at paw yet he had to leave too many of them to fend off the tightening ring of Grandfathers personnel. He will finish off the one here first, then engage his men back and cease off grandfather, and then the purge of the city and the guild of all double-crosser will truly commence.

If he has to rule over a ground of the deadened, so be it, he will rein in the end.

With a nod of his head several men commence to malinger from cover version to cover, crossbows at the ready, swiftly but steadily closing on the spread doors. They cover one another, warning signal for the least bill of the expected ambush to commence.

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

The great doors silently close behind them…

One minute passes…

quintet minutes pass…

Ten minutes…

20 minutes…

30 minutes…

Then one manor house door golf stroke open silently, the phantasma beyond beckoning with all the kindness of a dumb and open grave accent in the Sir Henry Wood. Nothing motion from within or without…


======
The sudden flop of a nearby building in a cascade of brick, wood and flaming combine with a sudden cacophony of blade on blade clashes, vociferation of triumph and screams of the dying. Gordon's men begin to see one to another, debating as what to do at this metre to control their survival.

Shrill cries of war sound off, combined with calls of"capital of Rhode Island and payback !"

One of his chief lieutenants shouts in the green goddess for his men to hold back the note, his calmness, truelove voice suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men stumble into view of Master Gordon, one by one shouting out a scream of death as poison arrows pierce armour and anatomy, before they fall to the terra firma as gracelessly as a disperse and tattered burlap sack tossed from a high-pitched floor window.

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

The rapid twangs of fore is followed by over a dozen of his men slumping to the earth, a indorse fusillade is followed by another in inadequate lodge as the citizens of Providence storm out of the smoke swarm and dust ; they are taking their townsfolk back once and for all.

Somehow the the great unwashed of Providence have found the courage and means to digest against the Assassins Guild ; despite the cognition they will all perish in the end…

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

He has only two very elementary option to puddle - stand here and die for sure, or retirement into the manor house. All that matters is for him to decide which he fears less : the mob or the silent manor house.

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

half of his military personnel make it to the doorway, the relaxation dying under the hail of pointer and then under the leaf blade of the mob when they sweep up over them. Just as he clears the doorway, one of his men pulls him to the side with an unaccustomed rowdiness, though as a volley of poison arrows miss turning him into a hat wrack for one clock time he does not mind.

With a resounding slam the majuscule iron door are closed, the cross bar firmly secured.

The citizens of capital of Rhode Island pound with overbold fury on the early incline, their ululation for blood and vengeance retorting like the cries of the banshie on the moors, prognostication of his pending death and judgment to make out in the next life.

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

Passing from the unveiling anteroom into the luxurious slap-up hall, maestro Gordon sees that things are definitely, and desperately wrong on a massive scale. The broker of Master Gerald lay all over the spot, their armored eubstance heaped three or four deep on the enceinte stairwell ascending in the midriff of the hall to the dimly lit halls above.

Each of them bears the Lapp markings of their Death, a single, well executed cut to the spunk or the neck opening ; 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 shock and surprise, back-peddling from a face elbow room. His broken, hastily spoken Word and gesture indicate fuss may look them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the remains of his six lookout, sent into the manor earlier, string up upside down by their groundwork from ceiling, a sleek forget me drug secures them to the great wooden balk of the ceiling.

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

The newspaper publisher reads :

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

The men who took up the paper, five in all, are observed to have their eyes roll up into their heads, deep pinko and red foam emerging from their lip as they fall over dead.

Within seconds of their pass, the agents who have been cutting the silken forget me drug began to suffocate, hands start to incite to clench at their throats until muscles suddenly lock, oculus bulging out and turning line of descent red. Each of the seven men begin to take on dreamlike forms as their bodily muscular tissue all begin to contract bridge, inflicting untold of infliction and soon causing the loud cry of bones snapping one after another…

Until at utmost the neck os sunders and allows them the escape of death.

Gordon looks with downright horror at the twice trap that someone has set ; a contact poison, absorbed through the skin, on the slick of paper ; and then on the rope themselves…just where someone would place their work force to cut the roach, and let their drained down…

The suspension eubstance move like a pendulum, as small Alexander Melville Bell ring in harmony of their drift, the claim to the grave all of them will occupy for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to scatter out and explore the lower trading floor ; to abrade all liveliness from every room and hall that exists in the place.

He looks back to the slap-up iron threshold, hearing the masses of Providence being given orders to come up a declamatory beam or log they can use as a banging ram. He knows from the enduringness of the doorway there will be only a small bit of clock time until they are battered down.


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

A here and now later there comes the ringing of a small bell yet again…followed by the Holocaust of fire and shrapnel that tears the federal agent and the three other men in the elbow room with him, into smoldering ball of bod and marrow that no longer can be recognized.

From another room, just down the side hall from here a small bell sounds yet again ; followed by the crashing of heavy furnishing to the primer coat. Soon enough Gordon sees the plenty of bookcases piled on top of three of his men, one limb extended from beneath them holding a small gilded unicorn that has a almost inconspicuous corduroy of silk tied about it.

One sentry go gives off a soft gurgling audio, passing into the convulsions of death from where a slender venom coated blowgun dart has hit him in the neck. Another sentry duty suddenly jumps in movement of Gordon, shielding him from the second to arrive. As he falls into Death the remaining sentry go fire off their crossbows into the darkness above, seeking out their unseen aggressor on the level above.

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

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

If he only knew how on-key his words are ; just not as he has expected…

"Back to the foyer on the double ; get under shelter now and restrain watch. When we have gathered get ready to surprise the stairs and winnow out 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 ground and rationalness burning in his body.

Gerald will pay in the most outrageous methods he can imagine ; for bringing his mankind crashing down around him in his endeavor to throw away of Grandfather.

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

Gordon leads eight men into a incline room, a small study untouched by the butchery already inflicted on the place.

Far above the band of armed men, twin centre of amethyst spark with the bowelless of fire, matching the grin of glee upon her face ; they had no hint as to where she hid as she downed the ones with her blowgun…these assassin are true amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even decease would have been hard pressed to hear her pass by ; she shifted from her location to the next, set to determine and bring down the terror in full phase of the moon these assassins deserve ; payment for the scourge they have for too long inflicted unchecked on others.

assassin against assassin…The ultimate dowery of the gambit…

poof against King on the chess board…

======
Master Gordon turned to consecrate the sign for the bang up the stairs. He explained the plan - secure the landing, spread out room by way in large grouping and obliterate everything. The maiden hole, booming gibe of a ram on the great iron room access ring garish and gain through the manor house ; telling all they are running out of time to deal with the foeman within for once the threshold are breached, they will face the ira of those outside.

With a gesture the first group rushes up the stairs, while a endorsement 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 first one up the staircase brushes a trip electric cord 2/3rd of the way up…

Gordon sees the fine silken corduroy jolt for a moment to where it leads up to the rafters and connecting with a twelve small silken nets…that loosen instantly, scattering their contents of many pocket-size, egg shaped firmament out towards the storey below…

He turns and dives with all precipitation that panic can induct into the room, knowing that he rushed against sealed death as his final examination, do-or-die spring sends him into an uncontrolled bun ending with him slamming into the far bookcase…

- BOOM !
- BOOM !
- BOOM !

maestro Gordon barely avoids the falling rule book and massive bookcases that sought to jam him. Five of his surviving band covers him, creating a solid armor rampart between their boss and the room's entree. Once the smoke clears, a quick peak out shows the carnage, his men torn apart by shrapnel and fire…

Such is the scene that no one can describe it…one of the survivors'Benjamin Rush into another room, grasping a vase to empty his stomach out into…only to be met by the fangs of a deadly Tai-Pan snake. Within bit he joins his companions in death.

The explosions…

The Sami kind of plosion reported to have taken out Cinnius ; only the forte of the manor house's design kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."Charge the stairs, anything moves ahead of us, shoot to drink down and neutralise no time…"

The expectant Fe unveiling doors bang like a massive tam-tam, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their efforts to breach them. Master Gordon estimates he has lupus erythematosus than twenty dollar bill arcminute before they break loose ; and end will come in the most terrible fashion from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the anteroom, the main hall and up the stairs, trying not to look at the clay of so many dead…then the 1st to the upper landing looks about as a humble bell gong, followed by his oink of pain and slumping to the ground…already in the final examination throes of end from the poisoned phonograph needle in his throat.


======
The four remaining sentry duty charge past Gordon, covering all approaches as he comes up behind them. He takes just enough time to pick up the bushed mans crossbow and a fistful of bolts, each one tipped in lethal venom. Making sure enough one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to head down the right on handwriting hall. The attack came from the left, so they will circle back around and corner their quarry - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

way by room they search, quickly and efficiently, finding naught Thomas More than bodies and silence. With the 2d floor cleared, they ascend a small stairwell to the third stratum. No ambush awaits them at the landing as they expected, just an region for the servants to eat at…the tabular array still set with tea and biscuits out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled cup while the fourth watches, declining any sustenance. In LE than a minute the poison inside the tea sends them into annoyance wracked Death, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving sentry go looking on at their repulsion filled faces, blood frothing from mouth and nose.

The early man gave a sudden grunt, then collapses before Gordon's eyes, going into death on the end of a baneful dart and its poison.

Gordon dives into a nearby room, barely avoiding the mechanical trap that sends spears with razor acutely blades a instant too late.

bunce !
Boom !
gravy !

So comes the steady throbbing on the expectant atomic number 26 doors…

Boom !
Boom !
bunce !

Blow after stabilize blow, like a beating substance, the clock winds down with each one for Master Gordon.

Pulling the spear out of the doorway Gordon hesitates ; travail beginning to bead on his forehead, as a small, subtle sound comes from his left, just down the hall. Carefully as possible, he eases his deal around the corner and into the Charles Martin Hall, to see if any reaction is generated.

Then he lowers himself to the floor, and eases his head outward, crossbow in bridge player to film the for the first time target that comes into sight…

Only to have a triplet of the acerbate darts miss him by a hairs breadth in quick succession. His desperate roll to the side and kicking out with his feet, propelling him into the lobby, saved his skin…or so he figures…

Then again, with a maniac as Gerald appears to have become, anything is possible…

Breathing hard, fury and affright mixing together, he bellows out for anyone around to hear clearly,"GERALD ! come AND FACE ME YOU COWARD !"

He quickly heads profoundly into the manors upper floor…

======
bunce !
roar !
Boom !

The clarion call sounds again, fainter yet Sir Thomas More and Sir Thomas More firm of that battering ram on the atomic number 26 doors.

Crossbow held out in forepart of him he sweeps the long hallway, stopping by each silent way, glancing quickly into them to see if anyone delay in trap. All is in perfect stipulation, 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 mouse is to be heard moving in the area.

Boom !
Boom !
godsend !

Finally he advances close adequate to the end to see where the end of the mansion turns sharply to the left field and the rightfulness, two leg and three rooms to pass for the ambush to come. Three suite to explore and then the Charles Francis Hall to look into ; where is Gerald to be found ?

Boom !
Boom !
roar !

Three way become two with a spry glance.

gravy !
Boom !
Boom !

The adjacent one has a partially shut door, with a shadowy silhouette off to one incline ; something is not right, the figure is just too still. As he reaches for the door of the endure elbow room to be checked, he stops. Just a hairs breathing place from his hand is the threshold brass handle, the faintest glimmer of poison coating it - if he had touched it with his bare hired man, death would take in him quickly.

A beautiful trap, lure him one way, personnel him to go for the unopened doorway and have the handle poisoned. It has almost worked - which means Gerald has to be around one of the corners ahead…which one…

windfall !
Boom !
Boom !

fret streams down his head and neck, as he knows the end secret plan is now at hand…but which way…to the left wing or the right…which way…


======
From nearby, among the very structure of the building, one moves silent as death ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the last assassin. Footfalls so quiet that even a sleeping mouse is not roused, she moves ahead to prepare the end game…soon justice will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a dramatic way…

Once in position, she hears the soft step echoing to her ears like the thunder of a heard of beasts in a full phase of the moon affright approaching. Her predate nears with each passing beat of a heart.

Amateurs indeed, these so called ‘ masters of end,'amateurs indeed…


======
footstep by step he stealthily advances, straining his auricle to piece up the slightest sound ; every inherent aptitude honed by his year of dealing in decease yells that Gerald is off to the left. Just shy of the intersection, he shifts his Libra the Balance and stance to jumpstart ahead, planning to get along in low and shoot high…any income tax return shot of Gerald will pass right over him.

Boom !
thunder !
Boom !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely empty space…

The crossbow bolt slams into the far paries with a wearisome thumping, the Same sound in his heart as he awaits arrow or blade to slide into his heart.

Boom !
gravy !
Boom !

His world collapses completely, the doors will shortly be breached, and the Death blow is to fall before that by the hand of Gerald ; for one meter in his calling the deadliest of the four assassins has made a mistake…

Blind instinct alone saved his life, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his bare neck and fountainhead ; feels the solid, strong and all too real bite of a sword oceanic abyss into its wooden mass. Twisting to one side he shoves with strength topped by sheer panic and care as the blade pulls free of the wood, and two quick virgule miss him by a hairs breadth, two lockets of his hair falling to the ground in silent grace.

Gerald continues his frantic twisting, turning, rolling and hopping dance with the bravo pursuing him ; for who else could possibly overtop such skill as to take him by surprise. Even with all his skill, training and honed battle experience he can not help but feel as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his opponents'sword slams replete force into his frontal bone, and only a wild, fate blessed kick out that connects with a meaty thud saves his life. He has only a moment to spare as his opponents blade kingdom on the ground with a loud clanging sound, leaving him the choice of criminal offence, defense or pragmatic ( i.e. run like infernal region for his life history ).

As he shakes his head to clear his blurred sight, he hears the mild thud of his opponent regaining their feet ; and the gentle sliding of a blade on stone as its lawful wielder takes it up once again.

Offense, defense or pragmatic…what tactic is he to employ ?

Whipping out a throwing knife from his sleeve ; he uses it to parry the next solidus coming his way, the sound reflection of steel on brand carry far into the charnel house house that Gerald's manor has become. He blocks the next three of his foe, who jumps from vestige to shade off, always one step ahead of him, driving him back step by step, yet not taking the hatchway in his despairing United States Department of Defense to squeeze home the killing blow…

pressure him back…

Into a trap…one set to becharm him from behind.

In despair, understanding dawning that the assassin here before him is only to crusade him back into the trap Gerald has obviously set up for him he redoubles his defenses, refusing to cede up a metrical unit of land unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a lowly stump, Gordon pulls on the massive vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slow or trounce his opponent beneath its slap-up mickle. The resulting clank whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing cloud of rubble and shite from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one side, make to take shape the instant his opponent comes through the cloud.

Taking a second brand in hand, he knows his foe will now die, for there is only one way past the swarm of dust and it is right past Gordon. He will block this bravo that Gerald has pitted against him, and then care with his old"friend"in person…

The endorse blade is gripped tight in his bridge player by its razor knifelike breaker point, ready for the coming throw…

He needs only one second of time for the perfect stroke, the shock to end all blows…so he waits, and calm and still as death, as only a schoolmaster assassin can…

And waits…

And waits…

And waits…until the swither begins to run down his face and neck opening, his arm brawniness straining to be unleashed…

He strains his sense of hearing for the whisper of sound to tell of Gerald's forces closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the assassin to issue forth from ahead.

For a continuing eternity of time he waits ; tense and ready, muscleman screaming in pain sensation and turning to leaden exercising weight from maintaining a crouched pose into an timeless existence of time ; yet only deathly silence is heard…

aught, no interference at all…his resister has to be waiting for him to come forward…through the settling cloud of dust that now shows the shadows beyond, all the kindling extinguished for the giving of complete cover…

The public of the assassinator, waiting to spring death on Gordon the instant he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the assassin has worked around me…"

A near understood whisper comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a full one-half circle and thrusts out his one blade to lug the gestate blow ; the other flung with groovy force play to his target….that is not there…

He knows expiry is at hand, having turned his back on his opponent and prepares to sense the fiery kiss of steel into his back…

The blow does not come from behind though ; it comes from ABOVE !

The offset smashing fist, or flat laurel wreath girl crushing his voice box by a hairs breath, then comes a wolf flurry of bang, jabs, and open handed blast ; such skill and attacks he has never imagined anyone could be capable of unleashing…

His body ringing as coke after gust strikes home, the form becoming all too clear as his opponent, dressed all in calamitous and grey vesture, dredging up a store from long ago…Shan Tiel, the old man on the mint and his style of unarm fighting…

He is facing the old man himself !

The one legend speaks of in dread whispers, the solitary one even the Grandfather of Assassins gave all compliance to in the story told ; a matter of pureness and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

ternion roundhouse squawk smash him into the rampart and then force back him to the floor ; from which his assailant grabs him by the pinch and lifts him off the land, only to buffet him more with an undefended helping hand, delivering blast so a great deal harder than any punch he has ever endured.

Throwing a raging punch, 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 wall, the audible sound of ribs shattering heard by the both of them.

Then the whacking stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by think demons of his aggressor all about…

Fleeing in subterfuge affright Gordon saltation down the right hand hand hallway, slamming off of paries and around the side by side niche ; only to come fount to facial expression with Gerald…more precisely, his body, slowly swinging upside down from the Mexican valium running up through the rafters.

His roars of maximum panic replication long and loud across all the mute outer space of the manor.


======
Upon the consistence is a undivided tone :

Gordon - you are the lastly of the four, you took my syndicate in blood and fire ; so I take yours as well, your family of the guild and their city. You have danced to my line for the lastly few weeks, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten years ago you sewed the cum for your own destruction.

"The girl…"he mutters, now understanding who he has been dealing with ; the little girl of the banker they missed all those eld ago.

- Thud.

The impingement of the dart tactile property like that of a precipitous hornets sting ; followed by the burning, spreading of the poison upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The toxicant steals all the strength in his body, leaving him as loose as a rag doll casually tossed aside ; only to be picked up like a sack of grain by a strong, young lady…and carried down to the chief hall where she ties him to the balusters of the stairwell. She moves to where he can see her heart, those blazing ardour of amethyst that tell his death is now at hand…and to demonstrate off the small billiard nut in her hand, which she places next to his manhood.

As she walks off to a side vestibule, he sees one mitt resign a sling with a small confidential information shot within it ; then the sling is spun…once…twice…three times and released back in his direction, followed by her lightning honkytonk into a face room for cover. His oculus tracked the lead injection coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just plenty time to hear the strawman threshold giving way from the syndicate relentless pounding before the lead stab makes impact ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

Needless to say, the ending for maestro Gordon was both vivid and fiery.

As the mob rushes about through the dope and scorched room they see someone else has already done much of their oeuvre and commence to plundering all they can take of value…no one pays attention to the smoldering, scorched and torn corpse by the banister that was the former Master Gordon.

Word soon reaches them that the relief of the assassins guild has been crushed, the last dragged down unto death ; the liberation of Providence is at last accomplished.

The cost though has been high, for many are injured, some so bad they will join the fallen before the next dawning is seen. building and homes have been destroyed or damaged ; yet the town celebrates, for so long they have been terrorized by the Guild of bravo and now they are free.

The mystical noblewoman and her Associate showed that the guild could be beaten, helped arm and organize them ; and now they are free.

She with the Amethyst eyes walks among them in informality, dressed to appear as any former person, not wanting to be found out. Her grandad and category now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her nursing home and family she has returned the favor in coon, taking the town of Providence from the society while shattering it at the same time.

And in the like pursuit, her companion has won his figure and laurels back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby hilltop she and Tai Long Fae watch the firework of victory soar over Providence. Many have died to win their freedom, and wonder who the inscrutable amethyst eyed lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not human, being an avenging Angel Falls from the promised land sent to reply their desperate prayers.

"My peeress,"he begins, somewhat abashed as his voice cracks ever so slightly with emotion,"I wish you could appease here ; there is tidy sum for us to do together, maybe…"he looked to see where her ever handy throwing knife was located, and shifted slightly to put a hunk of woods between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be safe when it comes to her accomplishment with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even have a household together…I don't even know your real public figure yet, or if you even have one. It's the one question of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a rueful look on his face ; not even sure if she will answer him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his hand and then motioned with her finger over his medal ; revealing in the intricate sign language more than he ever could have imagined.

His eyes just widened in absolute jolt !

Never had he made the connection…he never would have !

Her eyes glimmered with mischief and amusement, the amethyst fires dancing to and fro ; as he accepts at last that she is the daughter of his yearn utterly sister ; the one who the four assassinator - Finneous, Gordon, Gerald and
Cinnius had murdered at the order of the now deceased grandfather of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His traumatize flavor remains until she eases up on her crank toes, and gently kisses him on the lips ; arms wrapping about his neck. He looks into her eyes, and sees the affectionateness and love reflected back at him, and yet, another clandestine her smile tells of more tidings coming his way…

She softly strokes his face with one set of fingerbreadth, conveying in what most would view as a gesture of fondness, yet is their unsounded bridge player language, the adjacent daze of his life…

Make those two shocks…

"You're kidding ?"he says, backing up a inadequate aloofness within her grasp.

She shakes her oral sex 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 family of their own after all ; as she gently takes one of his hands in her own and place it upon her belly, letting him reckon the lifetime growing within, though he knows it will be months yet before the first kicks will be felt…

"Oh my gentlewoman, I am so happy for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken bumble bee, she just shakes her headway, rolling optic to the heavens and covers her face from the embarrassing mannerism he is so displaying.

"Master Shan…"a representative comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a stria of townsfolk coming over ; munching away on the remains of the unwarranted Sus scrofa he so generously provided for their victory feast.

"Master Shan,"the new city manager of Providence spoke, his aspect covered in the sauce used to baste the Sus scrofa's ribs,"can you tell us what happened to the guilds granddad ? You were seen to capture him, and adopt him away, if he is still active we want to execute him ourselves…"

Carrying a sheepish flavor of dismay on his human 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 alive,"Tai Long Fae said,"lets just say he was bored to death…"

He looks back to his Lady, and all that they have accomplished. For as with her uncle, she was trained by Tai Long Tiel in the ways and secrets of the ninja, the feared and baneful assassin of the Far East, to give her the edge among the pestilent Orcinus orca of the western lands.

Tai Long Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the night sky ; the bunch of wizard forming a river high in the paradise above, rendering unto her a mysterious, unworldly front. It is that river of headliner she has chosen as her personal name…"Pan li Lung,"or the"Celestial River Dragon of the Heavens."

It also has a irregular and more fit out name…

"One who delivers vengeance for the inexperienced person and the helpless."

And so it is that this fib of the Assassins ploy comes to an end ; two who risked all for justice, and to see the people of Providence unloosen of the assassinator gild have won the plot. They now enter into the life story of a family, and a metre of peace. Yet should the pauperism arise, they will go to do engagement against any others who wish to take their base away…

So one report closes ; and a new legend, of she who has the amethyst eyes is born.


( fin )