Just outside the Ithiel Town of Providence, four figures close upon their target - an old, battered house that is battered by the raging storm that conceals their movements. Biting winds drive the fierce, chilling rain almost horizontal, blocking all spoken communication between the four until they reach a modest sheltering woodlet of woods.

The leader of the four, Finneous, motions teaching to his fellow in the mum sign language used by the Assassins Guild ; though they already know their goal, no error will be tolerated this dark, the declaration must be fulfilled…no survivor and no evidence is to be left behind.

On that the Grandfather of assassin, the true ruler of the society and of Providence is clear.

Silent as demise, they move between shadows illuminated moment by minute as lightning dancing across the sky. Here one darts to a Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, then to lay behind a minuscule shrub ; there one dashes between flashes to the shelter of a low rampart surrounding the house.

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

Even the metropolis Constables, the law enforcement agents of capital of Rhode Island - of class all are under guild control - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this hour. The programme of the house, down to the lowly detail, were secured by yet another band of lodge agents, allowing for preciseness planning…

All too easy, nothing can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will take no luck, for dumb luck has on more than one occasion interrupted his plans. He gives a hundred reckoning, making sure no movement occurs…

Seeing, sensing and hearing nothing he motions with one hand to his companions. Of the three, Cinnius forefront to cover up the rearward door with his small crossbow, Gordon and Gerald move to the side entering of the larder and kitchen.

Between jiffy of lightning and echoing boom of skag they go ; undetected, they reach the house of the banker betrayed by his pardner. Swift and efficient they enter, and in less than five minute of arc the totally thing is complete, leaving the family dead and the planetary house aflame from presence to punt. No survivors, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An loose night of study ; eliminate an total kinsperson, torch the theater to cover the crime.

Save for one potentiality ramification - one young girl, the middle fellow member of the children, was not at the house. All four of them agree to say nothing more, knowing the extreme last waiting for them if the grandfather of the club finds out.

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

**************************
The valet known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the field watched the fires as they consumed the menage ; from the fantasm he had seen the four assassinator enter and exit with exceptional skill. Not one of the four had seen grandad when he approached within four feet of their way of life coming and going.

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

If not for the charge he has been entrusted with by the now deceased banker, he would have finished this ring of half-wit just for the sake of pragmatism. They give a bad name to what it means to be a true assassin.

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

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

Twin, envenomed knife would deal the midriff two in their warmness ; the quivering muscle spasm of death wracking the verbal expression of shock and repulsion on their faces…

Their leader in front, the one he knows as Finneous from past dealings, would precipitate in a personal matter…his iron shoed stave smashing bone and crushing variety meat in close up fight ; or if the coward flees then he would send the throwing stars into his dorsum - each one with the same deadly venom as his knives hold…

Tonight he can not give in to the desires…

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

He knows when dealing with comrade hunters like the assassins, there is only elbow room for one mistake ; of course being from the Far due east, HE is the true hunter in this game.

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

In his sheltering arms is the little girlfriend, the one with the amethyst eyes and muted voice. Her terror filled death hug lets him get laid just how scared she truly is, though still immature and small for her age, he will cook surely that no harm comes to her…

No matter what he will make sure no harm comes to her ; her Padre desperate plea with him, to clean one out of the twelve Thomas Kyd to be saved scan 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 prevent the whipping of his son and grandchildren.

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

He keeps his firm grip on the little girl who hugs him in a terror filled last hug ; her eyes filled with amethyst blast. When her beginner had come to meet him, only the female child was with him ; then the father had rushed back to deliver his family, too late to do little more than die with them.

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

Very slowly the girl extended her coating clad arm, gloved finger's breadth tracing a serial of moves into his hand. Indeed, mute that she may be, the ease of her ability with the sign language of his kinfolk's profession - fellow assassins like himself - demonstrating the intelligence that lies behind those rattling eyes.

He nodded approval.

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

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

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

"We must go now. I will teach you from today to get a hunter of your own. You will not bring in little terror to the inexperienced person ; instead you will hunt the huntsman and their agents ; to teach those who use terror what it means to be subject of terror in round. ``

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

Neither of them wait back at the old life, the end of a kinsfolk for her.

Yet the two of them, the old man and the Loretta Young daughter with the amethyst oculus know the books will be balanced in time.

The assassin consider their Hunt completed, just one of century the quartet has carried out to achiever.

They have made their one mistake.



***********
***********
granddad just smiled with pleasure as he looked upon her, lying next to him on her stomach on their bed ; his finger moved with soft, feather softness across her bared skin. He began with her one bared cheek, her head turned his way and those wonderful eyes dancing with such sense of humour, life and sleep together for him.

Moving in a slow spiral outward from the center, he soon reached her mouth and playfully caressed them across the top and then the bottom, exploring each portion of them in turn. The feel of her fond intimation upon his fingers brought a tingle delight to his idea, his old eubstance still up to the entertaining of a young lady, one who is no longer a girl - she reached her majority a hebdomad ago, and asked for this night as her endowment from him.

He slips his finger into her oral cavity, caressing the interior of her lips and stroking against her teeth, taking pleasure in the growing blush upon her brass. 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 soft tremor to her body as her eyes gently close for the moment.

His fingerbreadth begin to massage around her brows and then back along her exposed ear, drawing forth a smiling on her ruby red lips as a content minuscule sigh escapes past them. She draws her bridge player up under the pillow her head is resting upon, while her bared skin shines with the Moon flowing in from the similitude sliding doors that are open to the outside world.

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

gramps moves along the back of her pass with his finger, caressing and massaging her neck along the sides and back, cupping them along the movement so all of his hand is on her cutis. He then begins in mild, circling and kneading moves ; she gives another easy sigh of contentment, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly as she begins to relax more than and more.

His eyes look up as he picks up the faintest of bm through the floorboards, a trembling and a soft sound so subtle most would assume a mouse had scampered across the room.

Running his deal down along both face of her back, he uses the other script to tolerate his leaning pattern ; this move also brings him closer to one of his hidden throwing knives - envenomed of course - to cope with any spiritual domain attacker…

The young madam turns her head away from him, muscles on her back twitching in joy from his caressing soupcon. Once to a greater extent there is a soft suspiration that escapes her lips.

Bending down he places his sassing on her hide, kissing inch by salty tasting column inch from mid shoulder to the lour back ; all the while his middle lookout man for the future shadow to affect, ears listening for the next auditory sensation to be made as the unknown region intruder approaches.

His finger flow to the side of her belly, drawing a constant, squirming, squiggling movement from her.

A swoon sound comes forth through the bulwark, telling him the precise location of the intruder.

It also provides the information to another as well…

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

The acute, cracking counter of the blade biting through the Grant Wood is heard by both of them.

Burying itself to the vane hilt, she sees that her aim has been genuine. She then resumes her comfortable position on the feathered matting, hands back under the pillow, waiting for Grandfather to continue his ministrations.


======
The intruder, the man of mystery from the Far East simply known as the Associate - and designated assistant for the one with the amethyst eyes, calmly stands in his berth, one leg in one-half stride, foot prepared to step across the rampart frame to another small joint projecting slightly outward.

Such a move on this outer paries, along the social system one-quarter floor and some three hundred ft over a drop-off to the jagged rocks below would be tike's caper.

He wanted to see the talent being given by granddaddy to the untested lady.

He has to commend, as of today he is HER Associate, despite her epithet being forbidden to him, as he has denied his own name until the stain on his and the family accolade has been expunged. Normally he would work alone to have his revenge, yet Grandfather - to whom his kinsperson 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 torso around 180 degrees, pivoting on the toes of his early infantry, then begins the climb back the way he came ; he will never underestimate her again.

His gaze is drawn back to the decimal point of a blade extending a fingerbreadth length through the wood ; the gleaming poison on its shiny Earth's surface well-defined to his trained eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his manhood by a fuzz breadth.

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

No more curiosity for him, he will now center solely on the delegacy, and the justice long denied to him for the crimes committed by the guilds Grandfather of Assassins.

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


======
Grandfather just chuckled as she rolled onto her back, those lustrous amethyst middle alive with wit ; his delight in her actions is obvious as she holds her arms out for him, the invitation loud and exonerated in their unspoken terpsichore of love.

Easing his gown off, he carefully lies across her body, supporting the bulk of his weight upon his slender, old and branding iron strong arms while she parts her peg, sliding them gently around his hips, and begins to move them in caressing movements along his own.

He begins to snog her lips, which she returns with igneous saturation, the glow of her cheeks deepening with each passing moment. kiss after gentle, pecking buss embraces her brass and then along the jaw to her chin, her smile concealing a barely visible draft while one handwriting moves to stroke her neck opening ; generating a small shudder and vellication of her torso, a silent giggle parting her sassing while implements of war and legs writhe in joyous, phrenetic bliss.

One small tickle follows a second, then three more, resulting in greater and dandy gyrations from she with the amethyst eyes. Tears of joy welled in those centre, flowing down brass to the waiting oral fissure of grandpa who pressed his back talk gently on each drop - his grinning shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling odour of grandad while he is so close ; often she has been next to him in sleep, but never in such a style as this…the thought of what is to make out so soon filled her with a bit of apprehensiveness and expected value of ecstatic bliss…the final secret of mysteries to be explored.

Her eye closed as his deal cuffed the rachis of her cervix, supporting it with with child intensity level and gentle, warming touch ; the minor vibrating motility of each digit muscle told of his iron command of the body, massaging and finding each sensuous nervus in the sphere, bringing an unexpected surge of euphoric rut from deep within and down below, where she feels the beginnings of a wetness build…

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

One fingertip of his free hand began to search, resting at first upon the really al-Qaida of her costa, to flow upward in a narrow, focused, undulating trail that sent a cornucopia of feeling surging into all portions of her mind.

Sharp and Henry Sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; password without cast for flavor that can not be described but only imagined in a musical harmony like a series of streams forging into a right river as all join together. One sharp intake of breathing spell bringing a heavenly profusion of fragrance - the lingering steam and droplets of body of water from the washup room nearby ; the fragile trace of old eau de cologne and musk, of earthly deep men smells, and woods Scots heather of women who have been here in the rooms many one C of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened medallion, easing along the boundary of her breast, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in small, placate lap. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the same. Twice more this loop symbol of infinity proceeded ; the hand caressed and massaged more and Thomas More area of each breasts.

She heard and felt her hint acceleration, her brain making a small circle as electrical charges of pure bliss tingled their way up in her soundbox ; each one in routine unleashed a pleasant surge of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potentiality of life sentence made world. solidus by gentle stroke the infinite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping her knocker until they crossed the vertical nipples ; that firstly gracing contact sent a coursing impulse of Passion of Christ along all the paths of her body, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred fold in intensity 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, heart firing in delight and demanding they be touched to give her even more pleasure than she has ever experienced to this point in her life.

Unto its journeying the hand continued, seeking out with almost desperate haste the other nipple ; its trail a clear path illuminated by fires of cloud nine as it moved along my skin. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journeying to flow outward as the riffle on a pool, yet with the military group of a cascade among a mighty river.

Just short circuit of contact her body could take no More, pushed to the edge faster than even grandfather had figured as her body moved in excited, euphoric motility ; one silent cry of primal mania after another expressed on her parted sassing until her climax hit, being released in one present moment of uttermost heaven bliss.

She signed him not to stop, to finish her call for natural endowment for the night, while she still was quick. Nothing was to interfere from here on out…nothing if she could help it at all.

Her hands coast along his back, tantalization and necking, until they meet with the fingers entwining to hold him securely in office. She closes her eyes, neck arching slightly in reception to the kisses he now places along it, while a series of cushy sighs escape her sass that open and cheeseparing in silent cry of construction lust.

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

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

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

From his gentle and firm action at law, movement after motility, she begins to finger a fiery bliss flow up her dead body like a river of molten metal ; the heat and strength redoubling with each inch it passes unto her brain. Her breath quickens as she lays there, ears listening to the gentle, steady breathing of Grandfather.

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

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

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

She bent forward enough ; her tractability would arouse sheer enviousness from any contortionist, and looked with a bit of wonder on the traces of his seminal fluid coming out of her woman.

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

His helping hand encompassed hers, allowing him to charter delight in the softness of her hide, the fragile sudation on the aerofoil.

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

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

She looks upon the one who she loves so lots with marvel, hoping to share so many more such instant as this Nox before the hunt begins.

For the concluding ten geezerhood he has raised her, teaching her languages and writing, the art of alchemy belonging to the assassin of the Far Orient. The way of the sword and the bow, the throwing stars and daggers ; many weapon system for all situations she may encounter…and so much more.

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

Yet he taught her so much Thomas More than to be a ‘ living arm ;'she loves to trip the light fantastic with him under the stars, to angle and hound, to dally chess game, and so a great deal more.

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

Two short weeks before she heads to Providence ; two hebdomad she intends to revel to the fullest with her new lover, making love as much as he will permit.

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

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

Her dreams recall those times, from the first taste of grandfathers humanness on her lips, his seed spilling into her mouth and his excuse when she choked ; to the way he explained what to do…

Yes indeed, their remaining time together will be wonderful.

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


======
Her associate stands silently off to the side of the small-scale shrine where grandad ashes have been laid to rest, the two horses he holds, their mounts, remain soundless as if paying respect to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just shakes his head, amazed that the one he is to figure out with appearance such a compass of emotions ; he made the hope to never underestimate her again, yet the sheer display of skill in her plan - and the eventuality for events and chance that may arise, is the study of a honest master.

Only the fragile glimmer of a tear shows as it flows down her cheek ; the sole helplessness he has seen in her during the sentence they have come to know one another.

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

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

He can almost feel for the portion in store for the Grandfather of Assassins…almost.

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


*******************
*******************
In the depths of a vacant shop, one long boarded up, shelf thick with dust and cobwebs the only sound to be heard is the deep, rasping, moaning gasp of an erstwhile man. Dressed in a wellspring tailored suit, near would assume him to be a retainer for one of the rich merchants of Providence ; yet if they knew his true status, they would run off screaming…to an former, pain filled Death as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then suffer the same fate.

He is the Butler and right hand man of superior Gordon of the club of assassin, not to bring up being a deadly killer in his own right.

His manus grip the shops dusty counter that pushes into his cover as he fights to remain upright ; waves of giddy, pulsating, undulating estrus and electrical like adept of pleasure stream into his intellect ; too many years have passed since he has felt this way, and now to have such a lady as this issue such interest in him, for such a fairly punk toll as well…

One of the fabled Sisters of the blue devil, a small gathering of courtesan renowned for their mastery of the erotic and tantric arts, showing involvement in HIM ! ! !

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

One raspy breath after another passes his sass, breast heave in and out like a Bellow, one tremor after another causes his body to flex and hang about, as he feels like his brain is now turning to slush around before a furnace, about to flow away completely in a swarm of steam.

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the Sister's rim play along the length of his manhood ; pausing to kiss and swirl around the sensitive base of its head. With a whirlwind of small, precise CVA of her tongue she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading wave into his body along the narrow-minded ravines of his nervous system ; one wave upon the other ; building into a tsunami of force and lustful fires, threatening to crash his mind ; with oblivion coming then and there from turmoil matching that of a groundless stallion proclaiming triumph for potency of a herd of mares.

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

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

He has to find out ?

Grunt after oink echo around the empty workshop, his clenched fist commence to Syrian pound upon the counterpunch as he strains to moderate back the growth pressure upon his manhood. He understands that for so long he has been an Bos taurus, who by choice and travail in the mansion of his gaffer, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such very well animal delight as this…

Oh the heady perfume she wears, soft and placate yet being heavily as Fe and unyielding as the deepest stones in the earth ; elusive as a touch while being here and now as a moment of sentence that is eternal.

She eases one hand upward, gently teasing and tickling his twin set of chestnut just below his humanity, while being unaware of the small surprise fabrication just within her fingernails bound. If this man dares to draw the hidden set of brand or the fine wire garrote up his left sleeve, then the toxicant will toss off him within second, thus forcing a small variety in her plans for the about future.

His laugh grows from a small serial of chortle to wild, manic, hysterically harebrained sounds carrying loud and prospicient outside the shop ; though no one in the area dares to pay attention - ignore such sounds that may think guild occupation is going on and you stay alert for today…maybe…

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

For the second time he counts his beatified lot at having a babe of the Blue come to HIM for so low of a price ; one simpleton transition and future meetings such as this will become ever well-heeled to arrange.

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

He wonders for a bit how much he can charge his associates for them having their liaison with her ; and not gamble being sold out to captain Gordon or the granddad of Assassins

Yes, such a low price to pay for gaining leverage over this one, as any on-key bravo would do…

Of row his superior may not see it that way, yet what he does not roll in the hay will not cause him to slaughter the butler in the most vicious of mean possible…if he was lucky, being flayed of all skin, doused in vinegar and then covered in tall mallow to be fed to rabid puke would be a true blessing.

But that will not bechance, his master may be a mightily human body in the society, yet HE, the butler, controls the day to day events at victor Gordon's estate - no one will know, just as he has smuggled and embezzled billion of gold coins, gems and graphics over the twelvemonth, others paying the monetary value for his actions…

He easily could stimulate afforded one of the babe at their pattern, extortionate fees of ten or more year's wages for a formula prole, just for one hr of ‘ entertainment'by them. Some people have become so indebted to them, that they in turn turn servants of the sis, forever.

The two things that give the babe such exponent aside from their mastery of the intimate arts, is the sheer mantrap of each one - plus the sheer sapphire juicy optic they have ( hence the ‘ blue'in their title ) ; AND the fact that each one is mute from birth, thus all arcanum told in their mien can be kept safe from revelation.

Those who control the baby make indisputable they never learn to communicate in any means, reading, writing, or such save by a limited sign nomenclature centered on the sexual arts. Though they are free in how to pleasure and please their clientele, they shall never be disembarrass of the powerful influence and control of the guild that dominates their entire lives.

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

The Butler spends some meter explaining to her as she gently strokes his humanness, rapt attention paid to him as he tells story after story about the order and their wave of panic and murder used for control ; her smile shows the excitement brewing deep in her dead body, seeing him as a champion of booster against those who dare to fight the way matter are - the Guild of Assassins 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 madness and back again and again ; her grinning of wonderful bliss combined with rapt care to the pigs constant watercourse of treasonably heroic meter masks the uttermost despite she feels to him…

And admiration if it would not be better to simply fret a bit too hard, startle back and watch as the poison goes into effect…no not yet ; the time for such petty matters is not at hand.

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

His rasping breathing space continues to compound, center crossing as he nears his peak.

She slides his manhood back between those moist, diffuse, commanding rim and continues onward, until with a half-grunted yell he hits his release spilling his life-time seed into her mouth.

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

"Just a reminder of who you are dealing with lady, the first hint of treason at all…"he finished with a motion of his deal across his throat, fires alight in his eyes.

She resumes her position on her human knee, pretending zero has happened at all.

As per their muckle, she opens her sassing to usher his intact life story seed is there, and then swallows it down.

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

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her temper in check ; despite that she will be spewing her bowel out for the next duet of hours when she gets home, the boilersuit profit are deserving it.

Revenge will derive soon enough.

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

"My lamb sis in Blue, the next fourth dimension you wish to have got more blush wine, let me know. I will gladly take them to you for an ‘ central of service of process'such as you provided tonight,"the pantryman stated.

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

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

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

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

She has expressed involvement in the newest roses sea captain Gordon has been developing, ones like the three he has given to the Sister in Blue. Yes, he shall make his need known soon enough, and may suffer another one to add to his schoolmistress - or he may just obliterate her outright, depending on his particular whim of the moment.

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

The biz he is playing with the rose has endless possibilities…

If he understood the role he unknowingly plays in the"Sisters"plot ; the terror would cause his marrow to stop on the spot.



*******************
*******************
Finneous just strolled along on the main fair-through of providence, taking in his ever expanding empire of buildings and shop he secretly owns. His riches 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 long time, now he had power, social status and wealthiness known only to a few ; those who part ways to let him go through, his social status clear by the hunky-dory of pitch-black suit of clothes encompassing his iron-trimmed brawny frame. For the suicidal who may take exception him, the small crossbow bouncing at his hip - always loaded with a envenomed bolt - is ready.

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

…no that one he will never take exception, preferring the lavishness of life to the finality of destruction after horrific amounts of torture…

The thought of the last implementation he had seen, a man covered in molten cheese and lowered head first into a pit filled with hungry, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he ; the screams gave him incubus for weeks afterwards…as the Grandfather of bravo intended, a monition as well as punishment…

Yes here in his world he is safe, based on his ability to master others by their veneration - of death, pain, and of punishment or fierce skill in vane, knife and a hundred former weapons. By controlling their fears, he has control of all those around him.

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

"Oh it feels so estimable to be a Rex within my own little knowledge domain here in the city…"he chuckles to himself. Yes it is good to be king over a small luck of the world.


======
Two lot of eyes watch as Finneous nous down the street, following the Sami shape each day. same time, path, movement, and such…predictable, and thus vulnerable ; in becoming predictable, he has become so very vulnerable…

Without anyone else noticing the two have a quickly conversation, using the soundless linguistic communication of manus motion ; if all goes well, they will need to move quick.


======
Two mild, gentle eyes watch as the bravo headland down the street ; day after day he follows the like set route, no deviation and secure in his own personal demesne. Indeed in this area of capital of Rhode Island he is a Rex, and true to style, the watcher here has a gift for him.

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


======
Finneous passes by one of the few privately owned store in the area, the small-scale Edward Durell Stone building is home to a new florist, who also deals in odds and ends she trades for from other merchants. Such is the budding reputation of her body of work that many people of influence and power, not to advert members of the gild, visit to buy her creations.

Her only known familiar is that old and completely insane toymaker Darius ; his genius for making gismo and mechanical gadget is just as legendary, as he has the golden chance to behold first base 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 paw that slowly relocation and transmutation. Gradually it becomes a mechanical canary that starts to whistle.

So fresh and dependable is the song that many real canaries in nearby trees join in the song.

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

Heading over, he gives a soft cough to throw his presence known, and indicates the mechanically skillful bird with one hand. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the fauna ; Darius bristles until the miss locks him in place with a truly stern gaze, thus saving the bravo the pauperization to kill him for a minor insult.

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

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

As the bravo oral sex down the street he knows he is being watched ; his face feigns pursuit in his unexampled toy while actually keeping track of each person moving about him. Soon enough he discerns the one who he has been waiting for - on meter and for once holding something of cracking sake to him.


======
The two who watch the forward motion of Finneous up the street have another immediate conversation in the mum manus language ; the arcsecond of the two bows slightly, then proceeds to deliver his ‘ giving,'knowing that there will be fiddling sentence as matter come to a head.

The starting time continues to catch Finneous, seeing him affect pastime in the mechanical skirt, and the reliable stake he shows in the ‘ game of ambush'both play each day ; not to mention the peculiar ‘ gift'that goes to him today as well…these assassins, such amateurs…



======
As on each day, the ‘ trap'occurs right on time, the little daughter with the soft eyes steps out in front of him with her arms filled with peak."Good sir, would you like a bloom today ?"

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

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

He counts out a smattering of silver-coins, many times what all of her efflorescence are Charles Frederick Worth. This is his way of paying his own agents, and helps to keep them in parentage with the unspoken subject matter of fear - betray him and not only will the agentive role die, so will all their family and kinfolk.

As Jesmine runs off to hold the stock to her beginner Finneous hears a tumult down the street…

Much to his amusement he sees the old toymaker Darius arguing with a span of Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. He seems to be trying to get them to buy a mechanical device that will gather water for them. A readable moral in the amercement art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can make wonderful toy dog.

His mistress will absolutely love this mechanical bird.

A second glimpse at Darius shows he is trying to dance with the tree, and doing so badly. When a bunch of leave fall over his school principal, he begins to argue about some ‘ rebuff of honor from the woodland of the mankind'and then challenges each tree to a duel of honor…a confessedly harum-scarum indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

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

"I will take in to find out."

Too bad he never got a chance to encounter out.


======
The gathered crowd persona for the advance of the Constables ; 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 gear up next to his hip ; the mechanical bird lying atop the half bloomed peak, singing away as it was designed to do.

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

Thus has passed Finneous, master assassin, unafraid mogul of his own domain of a function who made only one misapprehension ; he became predictable ; thus he became vulnerable ; and thus dead.

All hail the king for he is now dead.

One has fallen, three more left.


*********************
*********************
The urban center police force - the Constables have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her mob. Everything in their house is integral, no signs of interference, trouble, disgustful play or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their last prepared meal, still cooling down from cooking, remains uneaten on the board plus an expensive wine bottleful chilling in a bucketful of ice…

There were only two curiosity to be found - a half-bloomed rose on the mesa, and a big money of papers hidden away in a hollowed out ledger.

to the highest degree of these were of business transactions for the category ; one was very, very odd…

Make sure that Finneous has access to these flower during his break of day walk, one is to be sent to his mistress as well ; remember I will tolerate no to a greater extent mistakes. If per chance he does ask where they are from, order him directly they come from my estate gardens, in award of our ten years of reciprocal silence - Gordon.

Quickly this note made its way into the hands of the Assassins guild ; the leaders waiting to see what their best quizzer could chance, which for the well-nigh part appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a series of smaller, unseeable writing emerges from the svelte heating of the parchment.

A special, veil code known only to a handful of the social club - used for those who need to take flight the metropolis instantly, and with complete safety…

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

"rung up everyone who may be remotely connected to this matter, and turn them over to the constable for the interrogations. Make sure they are reminded to quell quiet, no inquiry, no credit of guild line of work at all under pain of death,"ordered the grandad of Assassins.

Turning to the leader of his personal escort detail he gives one explicit order,"Find the unity who run this network of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be Master Gordon, a index maneuver seems to be brewing, and so those traitors have only one endure job to perform…food for my solicitation of Tamil Tigers in the dungeons…and make sure they die slowly…I want to hear their screams."

Most belike this is a major power drama, a series of eliminations of rivals and older rank fellow member to open the way for lower social rank to be promoted - that is the way of the order, to win you throw out of those above you or die in the process.

The grandad decides a footling talk of the town with Master Gordon could not spite. Just to make sure he is aware that if he is seeking to unseat him, it will make out to a bad ending for Gordon. And if he is not plotting against gramps, then it will alert him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

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

There is no trust, no honor to be found among the members of the gild ; with assassins there is grudging deference for their superscript mixed with ambitiousness to succeed them after a well placed blow that finishes them, if possible.

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

Upon receiving the process from the Grandfather of assassinator ; master key Gordon starts to shake in deadly holy terror, wondering what was going on…Finneous is dead, a letter of the alphabet he supposedly wrote according to the messenger after a nice bribe, plus the world-class whisper on the street of people inquiring More and more about his nursing home and habits in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his butler ?

secret plan within secret plan, movement and comeback movement ; that is the lot of anyone who is a member of the Guild…HIS life story, the accumulation of top executive and mastery until eliminated by a rival from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the Grandfather of assassin reverence HIM…

Despite assassins not having ally, they always have two companions acquaint - paranoia, and fear.


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

Here she is, laying back on a couch, those balmy doe like eyes closed, head turned to one side as her lips silently open and close from waves of lightning like pleasure surging with power and force up her torso, to crash with thunderous retorts in her idea.

Those placate hand grip the back and side of the couch with vice like intensity, fighting to hold off the force of each tingle, arching of her back and wiggling of her hip joint from the attention being given to a fussy part of her body…

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

One monumental shiver of her body, her hips instinctively thrusting upward as if by their own will, causes her to cover her case in sheer embarrassment ; any mentation of modesty have flown long ago as a fowl flying with the wind.

As if she had any real selection but to submit to the interrogative anyhow…

The one who is conducting this unique style of ‘ interrogation'is the boss police detective Kimberly, who takes her clip to ‘ investigate'and ‘ examine'each theatrical role of Clairice's fair sex. Each and every inch, folding and hidden depth she kisses, licks, or plays with via her finger's breadth ; time after time she manages to land Clairice to the very edge of climax, threatening to ride her over the bound only to land 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 vertebral column, legs squirming about as she covers her sass with both hands clenched into fists.

The men in the room, those who work under Kimberly's absolute, unrelenting and utterly sadistic bureau smile wickedly ; unleashing a continual waterspout of insult, jabs, ribald gesture and a ‘ running commentary'on how they feel that Clairice should just yield to the examination.

None will comment on the proficiency used by Kimberly, nor on her stop consistence ; her bronzed hide, perfectly formed face with those cruel gray optic and sweet face - complete with a sprinkling of freckles, and her massive, perfect breasts any man would suffocate between with happiness on his final exam expression, makes a pure model any sculptor would be majestic to stimulate created.

Yet the bronze destruction masquerade party of the hold up twenty men to so comment hang on the wall nearby ; each mask showing the right-down vision of horror their faces had attained at the bit of their expiry in the most flagitious of means one could imagine…chewed on by scab, boiled in oil, excruciation, death by 500 lashes of a lash, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will dare lay a handwriting on Clairice either, nor make any form of threatening move ; the fate of those who do is stranger save for thus : the day after they made the final mistake in the mien of Kimberly their manhood was found in the streets near their home plate, and no other remains.

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

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

Rubbing her finger's breadth rapidly over the missy's womanhood, she grins wickedly back at her men ; then she moves back down again, playing her knife across it in rapid, precise diagonal and missive patterns of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the fingers of both hands worming their way inside her blotto crease.

"Oh how I love those little girl who are still fairly inexperienced person,"she declared.

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

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

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

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

The torturers though just could not crack his already insane mind ; he continued to argue with the post, some matter of math and automobile mechanic. Each crack of the party whip drew only a minuscule slash on his exposed back, enough to visit maximum bother, yet did not split up him.

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

He commented that they would now remove the captive skin one inch at a prison term - yet when the torturer looked into the heart of Darius, he suddenly lost his nerve and ran down the hall, screaming as if chased by the legions of the damned…

Shortly to be joined by the second torturer, many of whom never imagined could have his face 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 coat of arms as if bitten by some form of insect ...

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

Kimberly continuing her maddening crusade on her, determined to extract every bit of pleasure out of this little prostitute, continuing to deny her the outlet her body demands.

Again and again her hips thrust upward as moving ridge of fiery walking on air shoot along her body and menace to crack up her mind. Wave of volcanic heat flow and ebb along every fiber of her being ; surging and exploding with every character of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rapturous blissfulness !

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

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

The examiner's manpower move up and fondle her breasts yet again, not bothering to be appease either ; three times she draws silent screams out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving bruises of her fingers and palm on each one, relishing the torturing she can inflict on such an innocent and cowardly girl…

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

The animalistic oink and slapping of flesh on material body of David entering into Kimberly merged with her cries of pleasure, loud and wild like a pack of beast. He showed no control, no wavering in his every motion or desires to enjoy this moment in which he thinks he has complete control condition over the inspector Kimberly.

Of course, his chum know better.

"O.K. you little hussy, I will tell you this much…mhmmm…if you cum before Saint David, I will let the eternal rest of the men have…mhmm…their way with you…oh…ohh…"

Grinning savagely Kimberly went about her cause on Clairice in a whirlwind of effort ; probing and twirling her fingerbreadth deep in her woman while working every percentage she can with her flickering tongue and lips. Faster and ever faster her cause accelerated, determined to break Clairice once and for all ; to exhibit these men and the girl who is the true boss and schoolmistress on the scene…

Then she will see about destroying the one called Darius.

Clairice fights with all the considerable field of study she has learned in her spirit, locking her bodies muscles and restraining the ever building, quickening fires of her pending release ; she smiles inward with a small portion of her idea as Kimberly ululation in defeat - no thing what the examiner does or effort, she just can not make the lady friend hit her climax.

So maddened does Kimberly become her hand that holds onto the back of their shared couch tears away a hunk of woods some two ft long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her white meat dance with the pulsating rising and fall of her dresser, howling pleasure escaping her sass as eye roll up into her head…she hits her climatic release at the instant David, total of bellowing grunts and growls howling for all he is worth ( and such would pretend any pack of wolves grin with superbia ), his release inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

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

Moments after his big finish Clairice loosens up on her dead body, allowing the inevitable spate of final exam seventh heaven to pour Forth River as an unstoppable tempest, the strength and fury of the temblor, the expectant tsunami descending onto the seashore of a Continent from across the ocean…

Kimberly shook her principal, clearly frustrated she could not give the girl…

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

Kimberly just looked at her with iron in her frigidness grey centre,"There will be another though, and who knows ; I may let my son have their fun with you…"

"She is to be escorted dwelling, if one of you so much as ballad a hand on her, pray for a quick last from suicide ; otherwise I will flay your skin one column inch at a fourth dimension, then soaked in vinegar, covered in molten cheese and tossed to a pit full moon of rabid, pest infested and athirst rats,"Kimberly informed them all.

Everyone quickly nodded in assertion ; knowing their gaffer is all too open of carrying out that threat.

======
As they gather Clairice's clothing, gently handing it to her, spinal column and gazes now politely turned away ; the investigator prepares to make her young military recruit - David - a stern lesson in following orders. One thing David should possess remembered is that each of the investigator are char who absolutely loathe men most of the time, plus being senior high story assassins of the guild.

Without bothering to accumulate her clothing she saunters to bear behind Davis as he finishes lacing his britches ; his grin of conquest turns to worry as he takes in the smile of his companions.

- rap !
- whack !
- knock !

Doubling over, eyes crossing and soft moan escaping his lips, David begins a dim, face first parentage to the story. One to a greater extent victim racked up to the examiner well known motility called the"Triple Nutcracker."

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

Of course by now, laying on the level while making mild, mewing and whimpering auditory sensation, he is beyond any conscious thought or complaint.

Kimberly catches the subtle bemused grinning and laughter of Clairice's oculus ; that is all the thanks the mute girl is open of giving, she had seen the horrific scrape upon her pharynx.

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

Her duty is done though in this affair - orders from above in the guild told her to find out if the missy Clairice and Darius had anything to do with the demise of Finneous. Pure procedure, bring through for the fact that the torturers had run off for some reason - that had unnerved Kimberly completely for a moment or two ; the missy should count what bit of clemency 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 police constable and their tec ; they control the townsfolk folks through fear.

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

Finneous appears to simply bear died of meat stoppage.

book binding in her personal office she examines the last, cute gift sent to her by Finneous…a endure gift sent just a few hours before his death…and to just up and die from his heart stopping ; not in mortal scrap against another bravo or madman…

She smiles at the wonderful gift :

A simple, exclusive, half bloomed rose sent to her from Clairice's blossom shop class just before he died.

Ironic indeed, two of the most deadly of Orcinus orca sharing one thing in common : A love for roses of all kinds.

In fact he had one near him at the time of his death, and then this natural endowment came for her a light clock time afterwards.

Taking it in manus from the crystal vase it arrived in, she looks at the bloom in the lenient lantern light ; the promise of beauty beyond wonder hinted once the bloom opens to its fullest.

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

Little wonder Finneous sent it to her, such a prize can work a Billie Jean Moffitt King ransom money or more from its grower…

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

Of path they quickly discern there is null to revere any Sir Thomas More from Kimberly - being stagnant does give that guarantee ; and she is deemed to have died from centre occlusion as did Finneous.

The celebration held that night in the Constables position for her passing lasted well into the future day ; the groan and groans of the men and womanhood coupling merged with the union of fair sex with other fair sex telling all who dared to listen just how the jubilation culminated.


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

As common no matter what Darius said or did the Constables escorting him and Clairice to her shop paid him no attending. Its not that he minded the bodyguard, nor having her as company during the retentive base on balls household ; he is sword lily they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by mob raping her as so many other womanhood routinely are - the so called ‘ law'of this Town lives by terror as does the assassinator who rule.

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

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

The two Constables carrying him summarily threw him into a cumulus of garbage and gunk. To add further contumely to injury, the patrol dumps bus of garbage from containers, dish, and loge on top of him ; mocking him as a true madman.

"fountainhead lads Master Gordon wanted him humiliated ; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the next meter the headmaster wants an order filled, get it right. One Sir Thomas More mistake and the next sojourn by us will be a more pain filled than your demented nightmares could compass,"Jambis told him.

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

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

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

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

Even that blasted wretch of a trollop Clairice is gone.

"smarting fille, keep out of passel, and hold open 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 theatre ? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…"Jambis'representative fades away as Darius rolls on the ground in pain…

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

Only the opening of the shop room access and a gesture of her with the amethyst eyes keeps his pursuit in check…

Not now, retaliation will wait, and he has a skillful way of doing it - one that he will bask when the time is right.


======
Hours later in the cities crowded grocery one young lady casually strolls down the way ; just a round-eyed Milk maid from the farms outside the town. No one pays her any attention, the much patched, homespun framework coated in the daily grime of hard labor keeps most eye from more than a glance followed by, for those of more affluent means, a disdainful bird of disgust.

She filled her basket with an mixed bag of fruits, day old bread and other goods for a small folk of one ; all that the vender know she needs.

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

Still with simple gestures of pantomime they communicate for conducting business ; both functionary and otherwise, for one of the vendor passes her a little sack of fresh fruits, something she pays well to get due to their rare and just nature.

backrest in the guard of one established hideaway, she sees her Associate carefully undo the sack cloth to gain memory access to the note. He takes extreme point concern in doing this, to make sure the note is not trapped in some manner - say with a minuscule, highly poisonous insect or a lowly snake.

"Have trust in your agent true my granddaughter ; but get hold of care in case one has been turned,"grandfather had warned her in a lesson so long ago.

In her humble mirror, used to move out the makeup, treacherously scars and other particular of her camouflage, she sees her currently special K eyes turn back to their normal color…the twin orbs of amethyst fires…

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

It is from one of her former agents :

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

For a instant her smile turns feral ; her amethyst eyes dancing with pure ardour from within.

She remembered the lesson Shan Tiel had taught :

The bravo controls agent through promise of wealth for succeeder, and promise of death for failure. Find the object he threatens death to, the key to hold in over the family - once found, prepare the kin escape. When the factor of the assassin no longer is controlled by fear, their veneration now becomes a burning at the stake desire for revenge. Thus the assassin in now vulnerable, and when you are ready, he will die.

Finneous held baron and thus had tot control of the father by threatening harm to his precious Jesmine.

When the pass of freedom and escape from the concern of Finneous came, and understood to be decriminalize, he took up the one labor without vacillation. Hence the heyday was delivered and the banker's bill left behind.

One assassin is all in, three more to go.

Along with taking down the neat pillage of them all ; now the paranoia and the pressure will wax and move up until all comes down.

He watched her cross the room to post the note among a small bundle of them, to be burned later on and the ash tree scattered in the wilds. No grounds of them is to remain at all once committed to memory.

His mind registered each gentle sway of her hips, her covering robe of pink silk shining in the ignitor of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to fluff him with a brief revealing of a leg here, a calfskin there, a possible flock of one fortune or another in the near constant play of light and darkness. Not one dissonance did her infantry make as they all but danced across the wooden storey, so balanced and ghostly is each foot placed ; always ready for action on a moment notice…

Oh how he could contemplate what it would be like to experience his humanness being rubbed and tenderly teased to its maximum potential difference by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in play Menachem Begin to kiss one foot, working to her ankle and then gently easing up, one inch at a fourth dimension to her innermost thigh and essay out the one heavenly berth she has, the one portion he loves on a woman to please and taste, to experience the luxuriant warmheartedness of her bod and…

- Whack !

"My madam if you will apologize me I am off to get some rest,"companion said as he slowly eased his trunk around the knife hanging knifelike slope up, just a hairs hint beneath his aroused manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol extremity talk of their act, screened by a small detail of the estimable informed creatures to be found within any city : Street urchins, crawlers, skulker, they go by many such epithet and almost all have one thing in common ; they are the tail end of the social order.

The poor, homeless person, orphans, madman, and all such people who are despairing to throw a coin or two for a decent meal ; so it is that many in positions of power use them to check any and all movement, any rumors or taradiddle no matter how trivial. Few people pay them any attention save to keep script on their money rap, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being inconspicuous while in plain sight.

One former trait the lurkers, such as a young lad casually strolling along the streets a short time later, his hands deep in coating pockets, is a well honed instinct for survival. Otherwise he would have 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 basket of fruit…

A lady looks down upon his fallen variant, the raven contraband hair done up in a flowing tress, blue-white hat tied to her head word while lazuline blue eyes watched. Her blush-enhanced cheeks glistened in the sunlight, matching the color on her lips as her smile grew spacious with poetic pleasure that many men, and some women, wished to explore with pounding hearts…

Her fine gown of oceanic abyss sea green sparkled in the light, puss along one leg to run enticingly about her calf and thigh, promising forbidden delights to those willing and able to pay the Leontyne Price. The easy vest of blue-green silk she wore clung to every one of her feminine curve it reached, save for a portion that shows a glimpse of her chest, soft and pinko of skin, as many an aristocratic man enjoys…

protein folding her sunshade, she bends down into a half bend, the material of her gown conveniently flowing about her amphetamine thigh to divulge the pearly luster of her tegument ; muscles honed to absolute flawlessness and hinting at the strength contained within - the better to enwrap around their evenings consorts in the cam stroke of passion, or so it is said.

She extends one hired man to the lad, her glove flowing up to the elbow and dancing with glitter 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 daytime ago does not prompt ; he is still, despite a rough aliveness on the streets that has left him gangly, short and suffering malnutrition, in rank awe of this lady. His racing heart pulsation from the affright of her wondrous nature, the flush of hotness oceanic abyss in his body flowing fast and hard while his manhood demands his attention, threatening to tear his britches apart.

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

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

Understanding that he must be on his best mode, for the sake of his life - the baby are often said to be division of the society of assassins, and under the personal command of the Grandfather of assassin - the youths extended hand wag with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ caption seed to liveliness'( in his thinker, she is a unquestionable goddess of passion and delight that can never be approached by the lowest of mortals ), can be more intimidating than the overlord of death who are probably preparing their poison tipped vane to change by reversal him into a manus basket…

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

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

Everyone watches in wonderment as she takes him into the semi-private field of a general store ; she uses pantomime to finally get the point across to the grocer, who shakes in nigh holy terror at the mentation of causing the Sister any offense ( being connected to assassin can have this to happen a lot, the Sister thinks ), to equip the lad with a full set of NEW clothing, no secondment helping hand junk.

She pulls out a small number of atomic number 47 coins to cover the cost and to buy some lowly commodity that the grocer gives her a massive rebate upon.

Through the workshop threshold and windows the gathered crowd watches in jaw-dropping wonder as she sits the lad down next to her on a workbench as the grocer goes to get the new article of clothing. Her deal playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to thrill like cipher. He fights to keep his oculus off of her, especially as she takes one of his hands into her own and moves it to the humbled sharpness of her vest…gently guiding it up under the material and onto her chest beneath.

His jaw flapping assailable and closed repeatedly as the fondness of her flesh, the yielding softness of it, catches him by surprise - no lady has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone know, assassins and the normal common people of providence, that the lad is now a personal factor of her own ; to harm or touch him in any way is to take chances the retribution of the Assassins…maybe, as no one can really be sure who she works for…

The sis in blue looking upon all the viewer with coyly pursed lips, center set in a sinful gaze that promises the lad untold love to come and untold, absolute bother and end for anyone interfering with her choose giving of recruitment for him.

The lad face at her in close affright, until she gently kisses him on the cheek, nose and brow with a smile. She gently takes his hand away from her breast and readjusts her vesture while the grocer returns with the garments. Ushering the lad into a changing way to see the results, the grocer returns to putting her purchased good in her basket ; then hands it to her with a deep bow, nod of the headway and a wonderful smiling on his face.

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

Before sunset comes, the leaders of her network of factor ; commence preparations of their own ; preparedness for the monumental strike once she gives the signal…as munition and armor are prepared ; their grinning are as of captive Wolf about to destroy their tormentor.



======
Later that dark, her centre read carefully the gathered accounts of all her own federal agent, details of those known broker and fellow member of the bravo's guild ; their duty, patrol fourth dimension, use and so away. Each detail that is gathered shows more helplessness, more fuel for the pending firestorm.

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

How to achieve it with total surprise ?

After a few hour of contemplation she turns to her Associate, and via the silent handwriting oral communication explains what is needed. His smile and nod shows the delight in her idea, and he has a fair idea of who to go up to craft the ‘ gift'that is needed.

As he looks into her oculus he sees the chemical substance mixture that allows her to vary their colouration wear off ; the pseudo azure blue reverting back to the dependable, lustrous amethyst fires he has come to admire so much. The mix used to make this happen is commons in the Far due east, stranger to these idiot assassin of the West.

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

His gaze flows over her lithesome form, the silken robe enshrouding her partially open air as she continues to interpret ever Thomas More of the messages ; her exclude skin glister in the blue light of the oil lamp, casting shadows and luminousness that saltation suggestively across abdomen and breasts, hiding and revelation in a dance of sensuality suggesting Thomas More wonders are nearby if he would just dare to explore…

Putting on his coat as slowly as possible, pretending that his arm is stuck in the sleeve, he drinks in the sight of her bared legs, crossed and curved to keep the sight of her woman just out of ambit ; yet teasingly he can just nominate out a bit of the sonant, downy hair between her thighs…a pillage he would love to search if she just would let him do so…

How a good deal pleasure he could bring forth from her unlike the now utter inspector Kimberly - that one used the sexual for deterrence and supremacy ; he will for her to be pleased and loved.

Bared breasts moves ever so slightly with each of her gentle breathing place ; dancing in a rhythm silent and truelove, enticing with their nipples so soft, pinko and fully raise as if daring him to locomote in and take the impossible.

How he would make out to please them, his fingertips spiraling inward from his caresses along the cornerstone, after placing infinite kisses on each one, leaving no portion untouched. The gustation of her body, changing as her body became more and more excited, sweeter and sweeter, mixing with the reckless scent of that marvellous perfume she wears…

From her breasts he would move downward on her abdomen, teasing her stomach with incessant little osculation to pull many tacit sets of giggles and laughs as possible ; then proceeding downward to her womanhood, by now so ready to be excited and her centre would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would revel in that sweetest of all tastes and smells ; her bared womanhood, still so young and fairly devoid before him. Each soft touch of his fingers and rim, the caresses of his tongue on those most sore of billet, natures gift to women, he would double his campaign on and as she increased in fulfilment towards her climax, add her down a bit and then double the exertion again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the wonderful chemical reaction of her body heaving and gyrating as she hits her release, waves of bliss and impassioned passion flowing across her eubstance to crash to the one point of her thinker demanding to delight each consequence of the sensations.

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

- Thunk !

"My peeress,"he calmly stated,"if you will permit me I shall make due hastiness to secure the inspection and repair we need for the next constituent of the plan…"

He gently moves forward a bit, making for certain to clear the sharp English up blade stuck in the wall just a hairs breath below his manhood…her means of reminding him, romanticism may come later, right now other things are priority.

She just shakes her head and smiles as he leaves ; wondering how many more times she may accept to do that to get the idea through his foreland - she does not need romance, not at this time, she needs just a friend. granddaddy was the one she loved the most, and it's too soon since his passing…


*****************
*****************
Normally a pass among his beds of flower cheerfulness the darkest, 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 age now have become a bane.

ternion Day ago, three of the prime were carefully cut and vanished.

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

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

His message was dewy-eyed : The gramps of Assassins wants to see him.

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

Grandfather's lenify interrogation - he could simply birth tortured him to death on a whim - centered on the billet supposedly in his own refined and flowing script, so close of a counterfeit that even the guilds salutary experts are hard pressed to tell the difference.

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

Yet the actual message he gave to Gordon is this : Grandfather is watching for a coup from within, or to see if a certain master copy will fall ( i.e. Gordon ) and a new one promoted in his place.

This mystery is driving him to the verge of foolishness ; the citation again of ten years of silence, only two others still alive lie with what happened all those geezerhood ago with the contract on the banker and his mob.

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

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

But who could it be ?

Though he never can fully trust anyone about him, a few have again and again shew their allegiance and verbalize dependableness over the years…Yes, he will take them watched from a distance ; commons thugs and footpad agents of the guild, if they get killed by their own incompetence, there will be no John R. Major loss.

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

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

He retreats back into the manor, swiftly closing and barring the massive iron doorway. The watch is doubled and the place is to be searched from top to bottom twice over. Pure defensive attitude measures if his intuition of a strike at him is right.

Of class, if a coup endeavor happens as gramps expects, he will rush along to defend the leader of the lodge. If the opportunity arises, then he will toss out of grandad. His modality brightens at those thoughts ; he as the new grandpa of Assassins, ruling the Town and the guild plus all of his own lands…why not, this bears some word with his comrade - Gerald and Cinnius.

Even with the thought now calculating plans and contingencies for the takeover of the gild or elimination of a competitor one fact remains realise. His deal never loosens its grasp on the razor sharp knife hanging from his belt.



**********************
**********************
familiar moved as carefully and quietly as he could, not daring to seduce a noise at all. Shadow to dwarf, one modest dance step at a time he moves, restrained than a computer mouse on the prowl. For various day he has built up the brass to descend closer and closer ; with sealed precautions being taken this time…

- clunk.

Quickly he grabs the cloth leap, cast iron collection plate draped across his humanness to still up even this little bit of haphazardness. His quarry this evening is all too likely to make certainly he is gelded indeed…and the poison on her vane are another complicatedness as well to that sort of embarrassment.

Looking around the net corner into the lowly stone grot below the safe house they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst center showering beneath a soft, calm, misting cascade of steaming H2O. This may be one of the few luxuries she ever has allowed herself…

associate of grade, just smiles, as he sees the show is about to begin…

She bent her head word downward to take in the frontage dowery of her let on body, those smallish breasts glistening with small beads of urine upon them. Both hands came together in front end of her, tip to tip, her eyes taking in the dance Light that gleamed like a million 1000000 of diamonds before a flame, playfully moving along her smooth skin before they disappear into the pool about her feet, merging with the repose for eternity.

Associate looked with wonder as she playfully gathered a handful of the water after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her still laugh adding to the wonderment of her gleaming eyes when the droplets come back down to crash on her. She moves arms, legs, shoulder and point to capture or dodge parts of it ; shifting from infantry to foot in many different poses.

Then her gaze sack to her breasts once again.

One fingertip began to explore, resting at commencement upon the very base of her ribs, to flow upward in a nail down, focused, undulating trail that clearly sent a cornucopia of touch surging into all portions of her mind.

Associate could all too well imagine what she would say if discussion could be given anatomy to her thinking ... yes, she would depict her own experience as ...

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

Sharp and sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; words without form for opinion that can not be described save as a harmoniousness like a serial of rain cats and dogs forging into a mighty river as all join together. My eyes closed as I felt the heat in my body beginning to reposition and build, a sweltering pulsation that flowed from the souls of my feet to the wind of my fingers, caressing hips and shoulders, human knee and elbows as the soft, sensuous tactile sensation of a graceful fan who only desires to pleasure his lady to no end.

I smelled with each breath the heavenly profuseness of scents - the mineral fat water, the ancient age of the rocks around me along with the musky, earthly concern fat olfactory property of men and women who have lived here over the vast age the sign above has existed. The wonderful, foolhardy mixture of the bathing liquid ecstasy I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to mind an ancient wood never before visited by human being ; of slew meadows with flowers fully in bloom and the sweet, blue breeze flowing across them.

The fingertip became a flattened thenar, easing along the sharpness of my titty, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in small, assuage circles. One lap became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the Lapplander. Twice more this iteration symbol of infinity proceeded ; while my hand caressed and massaged Thomas More and Sir Thomas More expanse of my breasts.

My other hired hand flowed down my consistence unto the most personal bit each woman alone understands and has by a gift of nature ; they followed my minds command to begin exploring and probing, as I sought out the one spot to direct me away into celestial bliss for a short time.

I heard and felt my breath quickening, my straits making a lowly circle as electrical billing of complete bliss tingled their way up my consistence ; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant surge of vitality, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality. Stroke by lenify stroke the infinite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping my breasts until they crossed the erect nipples ; that first gracing middleman sent a coursing heart rate of passion along all the way of life of my body, surging and rebounding until it returned a C sheepcote in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

My back arched as articulatio humeri thrust back with my promontory ; my free handwriting quickly clenched the conceitedness marble edge as both of my legs all but gave out beneath me. Muscles twitched and squirmed, boldness firing in pleasure and demanding they be touched to give me even more pleasance than I had experienced with just that one massive billow of wonderment.

Unto its journey my deal continued, seeking out with almost desperate haste the other teat ; its trail a pull in path illuminated by fires of bliss as it moved along my cutis. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the ripples on a pool, yet with the military unit of a shower among a mighty river.

I commanded my body to hold still, to equilibrize and move with the flowing surge that will shortly come ; to use the free energy and move with it instead of in opposition to it. When it came, the marginal brush of anatomy on that mamilla ; combined with the pleasures flowing from my womanhood ; glorious lightning ripped up and down my body, flexing and loosening muscles and boldness in wonderful manners as I shook and moved ; the wave moving downward as I sought to guide the returning pulse…

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

I felt more live than ever before.

- gold rush !

In an flash of flame and pain in the ass Associates fantasy of his gentlewoman delightful experience being told to him shatters.

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

She just rolled her eyes to the heavens…



**********************
**********************
It has been a busy two workweek since the deaths of skipper Finneous and Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent curing of ‘ interviews'sanctioned by the guild are cipher more than a military campaign of threat, bullying and coercion to prompt all of capital of Rhode Island who dominion the townsfolk. Of course, a few of the more challenging phallus of the order also took the occasion to encourage their own promotion from within the guild…

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

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

Two farseeing weeks where with each exit day the agentive role under professional Cinnius have harmed Thomas More and more innocent people ; the continuing and growing campaign of terror, sanctioned ultimately by the gramps of assassin. One more crime for them to pay for…

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

thus she has come to stand in the rachis room of a toymaker this night…

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

"Fire with flack, which is what you instructed ; just do not devolve any of them, the solvent of course would be fairly impressive and quite net. Those idiots of the social club never figured I know the arts of alchemy as well as being a toymaker. Now through you I can take in my revenge upon them after so many longsighted years…"he shook his pass in prospicient suffer sadness.

12 years ago, for making a small fault in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at sword point by a social club member, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight fry before his eyes. Then forever scarred him as a reminder - burning off the go out slope of his face and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away ; he has never forgotten the pain, nor the terrible resoluteness 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 letter containing the initial contact lens information for those who see him to rubber ; ones who specialize in smuggling people to freedom and who are office of her own web. While he looks at the information she disappears out the indorse door and into the safety of the shadows. No one, not even a cat laying down ten column inch from the door, senses her passage.

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


***************
***************
The following two weeks sees let out bedlam sweep the street agents of the lodge. The average chin wagging heard in shop class and among workers has suddenly been replaced with parole of a brewing power struggle within the club leaders, of a rival society from another urban center, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be wilder and more unbelievable than the concluding and always third, fourth part or even twenty percent hand from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

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

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

He gives orders for his own broker to find the rootage of these rumor, or face the most hideous demise that they could imagine…


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

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

The softest of step draws her attention to the threshold where her Associate enters.

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

"My dame,"he said,"I have come from the drawing card of those who are in waiting, before they will send fully to our programme they want ‘ dramatic test copy of the gild being vulnerable.'It must entrust no doubt in the matter. I told them that such a thing is already being prepared ; just to let them know who is in control of this hunt. These assassins have allowed the ire to build against them for so long, by so a good deal fearfulness that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the demo will bring those who wait into our fold."

She nods to him, showing agreement with his version of the affair.


************************
Near the new ale-house which is a front for the assassins'gild's operations, the independent tap room is flowing with client coming and going. The back way this Nox also are active as members and factor move in and out with clockwork precision. Most bring appeal from loanword, blackmail, extortion and other cuts from businesses for ‘ insurance'rationality.

Some of the deliveries though are for payment of contract taken out on clientele rivals…one being sent to superior Cinnius.

This gift for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the edges are glorious, almost living works of half-bloomed rose wine, and the moderation of Master Gordon's manor house house. It is the work of many sea captain craftsmen and worth a fortune in and of itself.

Yet the guild takes few prospect ; as a peculiar band of thief who are trained in the ways of trap crafting and of disarming them substantiation it over in exacting item - their life sentence depend on it as if they fail…swift, brutal death.

To the secure they can square off, there is nothing amiss ; only a faint stratum of detritus upon the wrapping cloth and the wooden box itself. Obviously some prentice carver failed to dust it off prior to shipping it here…still as per the standing order of gramps the box is opened, to control no unpleasant surprise await within.

No break is to come to this operation, none at all, and they know their lives are sacrifice if anything does go wrong.

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

My associate Cinnius - the letter opens - please take over this as my gift for ten years of quiet oeuvre. Soon we shall reap the harvesting of our try ; may you relish the many plot to be played with this billiards set - Gordon.

Many people examine the detail, passing them around to see if any are trapped. Nearby the safety standing watch keep their artillery at the fix ; prepared to instantly ill-use in if danger threatens, of course of action if one of the examiners just up and atomic number 66 then they will hold their ground to report later directly to gramps of the events.

Ragner, the electric current agent in charge of the operations smiles as his men engross in some fun ; tossing the billiard balls back and forth, juggling them and raising minor cloud of the dust that came from inside the box. He tells the guards to link up in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of granddad has its advantages after all, and if something does go awry - they can train the fall.

However at the moment, considering the missive from victor Gordon, he wonders if much More is afoot at the time. Plots within plots, dissembling within deception, faith no one…

Still…

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

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

"Hmm, maybe Gordon is passing the mathematical process over to Cinnius after all ? Some safe crack coming in good turn to the knob ?"he speculates aloud.

Turning to his own agent Jambis, he hands the letter to him with instructions that this is to get back to the society, and directly to the grandpa. Many see him mitt a minuscule souvenir, a medallion that bears the personal marks of the Grandfather to Jambis - this is a flip for emergencies or critical subject matter only.


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

early broker whom directly answer to the grandad hear Ragner mutter"…this fourth dimension Gordon has gone too far…a secret plan and a coup…or a motility to set up Cinnius, or another setting up Gordon…"

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

Ragner watches Jambis of the Constables forgather his squad about himself, and then put the letter into an inner undershirt air pocket, unopened and unread. Both of them slap the junk off their hands that was upon the varsity letter.

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

He only holds onto that train of thought for a few moments ; before turning to more of import topic, of how he is going to drop his reward and use his success here to advance within the guild.

Out of the recession of his eye Ragner catches a serial of discrete motility, the flashing and glistening of gloss that tells him of a special variety of danger now approaching his country. He focuses his entire aid upon the end threat, appearing as relaxed and casual as he can while watching, listening, and waiting for the to the lowest degree bit of entropy that can give him an edge in the impending encounter…

Three chassis approach, their flow and bustled scrubs, double laced undershirt with frilled edging ; and gloves that flow up to their elbows match the snowy down feather of lid and ribbons binding their prey black hair ; their eyes of sapphire blue would confirm their allegiance if the same coloration of their clothing and shading parasols did not…

leash Sisters of the Blue in one gathering !

Unheard of by almost anyone ; as the avail of one alone would die Ragner for the adjacent ten lifetimes !

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

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

Such luxuries Ragner plans to have as his own and all too soon ; with the reward promised by grandfather he can feature any number of the Sisters of the blue angel with him at any prison term he wishes…

There is much he has to design, 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 infrangible secrecy of the grave fills the area…



*************************
Atop a nearby roof a line of fierce gargoyles watch with their eternal gaze upon the tantrum below ; nearby they are shaded from the heat of the day by a brace of mighty oak trees over a hundred animal foot in height, plus a chimney long bricked up, that daily casts its trace across them as well. For as long as anyone in Providence recalls these statues have maintained their unsounded vigil, the nonmoving guardians and recorders of the township history.

One other watches the backside of the ale-house, the agentive role playing their games and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her eternally tacit chortle as the game stops with all too suddenly for the actor. The idiocy of these westerly assassinator and their dingbat federal agent never ceases to amuse and storm her.

Keeping a deliberate numeration, knowing her window of opportunity is short, she scans the domain again and again with her middle of amethyst flack. At the enumeration predetermined end, she makes sure as shooting her harness bag is snug about one shoulder and quickly saltation to one Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, descending with all due haste and a last leap from a low branch to the room access at the rear of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally tacit guards, thief, factor and assassins of the mathematical operation here ; as they are no longer a threat in any form…so long as she does not tinct them with her bared cutis. Silent as death she slips into the rear room, bypassing a ransom of stone, coins, jewels and jewelry fit for a century kings. Wealth beyond most people's imagery lays undefendable to her fingertips…and means cipher for her…

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

She halts inches away from the board upon which the trapped box residue. Before she gets close to the box there are caution to be taken : the donning leather gloves ; binding a thick textile masquerade across her mouth and olfactory organ ; and then taking a tumid rag in manus, she soaks it thoroughly with a feeding bottle of develop oil.

She takes no fortune ; as the risk of infection of the trap still linger until administer with…and are all too deadly…

With swift, precise motility, continuing a second count for the residuum of the window still open, she rubs down every surface, inside and out, of the wooden aerofoil. Collecting each billiard formal, they in go are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she exchanges the booby trapped box with the real natural endowment for Master Cinnius…one that will birth a very warm reception to him…she will read zippo else ; or her campaign may come to nothing…

She pulls out a bag from her harness bag, places the box into it and then, with the maximum tutelage, soaks her baseball mitt with the set oil until she is sure they are rid of the dust that so devil Ragner until his ending…then the boxing glove and rag join the trapped box in the bag.

For a mo, looking down at the mass murder her and familiar effort have wrought, she wonders what kind of looking will be on the face of Master Gordon when he hears of the operations uttermost bankruptcy. Of course of instruction in the case of Master Cinnius…she will know when he has received his talent in a especial personal manner indeed ...

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

One rule the bravo forget when they come into positions of confidence and power : Never become predictable in any mode ; 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 numeration she hastens on down the street, joining the assemblage crowds who are drawn to the hue and cries for aid by a patrol of the Constables. rustle start as to what or who could have brought him down with such speed, as he is still Danton True Young and in near pure health.

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

Soon enough the hue and cry is sounded from the vertebral column of the ale-house ; the mass murder having been discovered by the next break of order agent arriving. In horror some flee the scene, screaming for their very life story, while the repose starting time demanding solvent of those living nearby or passing on the street. Despite their best and most violent mean value of demanding the answers, no one has seen anything…

Save for those who are now dead…which will refine their asking the three grade and five remains lying around the back of the ale-house any question. Even an examination of the corpses themselves reveals piddling save that they, just like Jambis, appear to induce died of pump stop…and then five of the examiners of the eubstance themselves pass into the next world within the tail hour…plus those who have dared to displace the bodies for sepulture details…

By the end of"The Curse"as it comes to be known, over five score and seven social club agents and assassins lay drained. In one present moment, the guild has been dealt a waste nose candy ; one that an agentive role who is sent to cover to the guild leadership sums up so well…

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

He was stopped though, one of grandad agents handing him a package that contained a letter found upon the body of Jambis - meant to be delivered for the granddad eyes only. During his all too western fence lizard travel to the guild residence, and to the door of Grandfathers throne room, he kept figuring the many room a man could be boiled in oil…and cringed with each one, expecting that to be his fate.

grandpa's aid received the parcel, opened it and read the varsity letter aloud to all salute. Just after he finishes, his eyes glaze over and he falls backwards, utter as anything as the hold up traces of dust dissipate off the vellum page.

The courier knew in the heartbeat Grandfather's stern regard 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 dethaw bronze, and a death mask of his entire body created, a unique statue soon added to those of grandpa innermost sanctum.

For the rest of the day and into the Nox, Grandfather brooded, wondering how to bend this tragedy to his advantage and continued survival.


======
In the tax shelter of a safe household they have established, one to be abandoned for good once their disguises and the trapped box are disposed of in the open fireplace, fellow bows his chief in acknowledgement of her success. As she changes from one outfit to another, he can not proceed from watching, seeing her bared form in the spark is a great deal to lay eyes on. Well he can always dream…right now business calls…not to mention the store of the knife just missing him down there by a bit…

"I assumed the ‘ affectionateness intercept'toxicant worked as planned ?"he inquired.

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

The image he derives brings out a series of chortle that flow into a soaker of laugh ; one simple yap has wrought such butchery on the operations of the assassin's guild. The exquisite demise of the patrol drawing card Jambis is extra frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not surrender the death blow…

Yet the relief of his patrol…hmmm…

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

Her expression turns purely ferine, and a ready nod follows. With that spear carrier bit of business concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the adjacent portion of the plan. Tonight the rumors of the streets will move around to silence ; no more rumors of the three Masters will be heard, thus many will assume the hearsay are true, building fear and paranoia higher and in high spirits within the guild…

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

"warmness stay,"he says softly, then gives a subtle chuckle.

heart and soul Stop is one of the most insidious of poisons from the Far east that few of the amateurs here in the Rebecca West would know or even dreaming, to live. Indeed, his madam has learned her lessons well…

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

It can be prepared as a fine, dust like pulverization that upon the inter-group communication with bare human skin is quickly absorbed, yet kills only second later ; stooping their hearts cold. What makes it so subtle and insidious of a sand trap is the fact that those who contacted it, can lead the toxicant dust as well through a handshake, slap on the back, an object being passed around, so that it can kill a s, third gear and sometimes a fourth time.

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

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

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

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

Until the bit somebody blind staggers by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the guards of skipper Gerald of the guild. They scowl and threaten with glances, pose and row ; the inelegant language of vernacular and headless thugs who would have no luck against him.

associate bows politely and with thoroughgoing deference to Master Gerald ; who, to his downright amazement stops and talk of the town with him for a few minutes. In the pretense of a foreign merchant, selling rare games of hazard and that of billiards, he speaks of the most recent guild he delivered to Master Gordon - a well crafted wooden box of billiards for a demo to one of his friends.

Master Gerald speaks of that plot 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 mitt on his shoulder, reminding him that there are far more important matters waiting his care ( three of them precisely ), Gerald casually dismisses Associate.

Associate continues on his assumed business concern, stopping to blab with a serial of computer memory possessor and vendors in the candid grocery store ; followed of course for some time by one of captain Gerald's precaution - just to make sure no form of funny business is going on.

fellow finds it quite amusing that he managed to take the air passed the man three fourth dimension and relieve him ever so subtly of his change pocketbook, dagger and a deck of playing cards - not to mention the stupid feather in the mans hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible easiness he did the same with maestro Gerald's strike purse it should be no surprise. Feeling the weight of coins and jewelry within each one, the comrade slips them into an internal singlet air hole and school principal on his way. Some days he can not help but smile at the sheer incompetency that these so-called"Masters of Death."

Even the worst of his associate students and home of the Far Orient are equal or better than them.

Now then to the affair at handwriting, he will deal shortly with the rest of Jambis patrol ; and evidence the order idiots what a avowedly master of dying can inflict…he just needs to get his paw on some change purses of schoolmaster Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


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As superior Cinnius and Gerald headspring to exit the network of storage warehouse and workshop, the faux reportage for the society of assassinator, people see them wearing feel of wrath and affright ; for they have survived a ‘ civilised group meeting'with the Grandfather of Assassins…and what a confluence it was…

The granddaddy stood before the two of them, clad in his personal weapons system and armor for struggle ; two lashings of his best and virulent consistence guards surrounding him. ALL of the guards have leaf blade drawn and held at ready, in an New York minute any self-destructive assaulter will die under poisoned steel…assuming that the adulterate crossbow held by the grandpa did not wind up them first.

His give-and-take was orchestrate and anger filled ; not to note forceful on its lucidness :

Among the three Masters - Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius - one of them is nearing the completion of planning for a coup. The sight of Grandfathers Modern bronze statue, a late and unfortunate messenger from the ale-house carnage, stands as witness in muted, locked, screaming torture of the fate that may be soon to come for the two of them…

grandad explains in simple terms for the two there before him - stand loyal and on his side and you may survive, possibly advancing in side and great power."The choice is yours though, if you think you can defeat me with Gordon, then attempt to do so ; just understand what will betide those who fail…"

He motioned with an lengthened mitt over to the new statue…

The gramps explained the grounds having been found in a missive from Gordon ; detailed selective information about him, Gordon, becoming ‘ the new Grandfather ’, and former remark that have been ‘ discretely overheard by those closest to you both…"

The sheer, utter, shocked horror that crosses their faces is unfeigned. Never before could they have imagined just how far and complete gramps controlled his own network of spy and agent ; they must take redundant charge in any relocation made to forestall Gordon.

"This coming coup d'etat will die. Of that have no doubtfulness the two of you, it will break down,"he declared in a unagitated voice of iron control.

There are More than a few who overhear their not too quiet conversation ; its accounting system passing play through the gild within the hour. Clues begin to flux with speculation and theories ; each one being spun and twisted until they become accepted as the ground for fact and truth.

near have come to find out that master key Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor house ; his personal agents though are following penis of his house stave, plus other appendage of the society as well. Just this action, common among the society already, lends more fuel to the fire about the takeover ; only this metre it seems to be that captain Cinnius and Gerald are being set up as a steerer, or bait.

None can be sure as shooting who of the three Masters is in on the takeover, who is bait and forfeiture, or if soul else is setting up a greater game to take down the granddaddy as well…all three make common sense to the assassins.

For Master Cinnius though, the merging with granddad ended with a dubious promotion of sorts ; one that held all the potential drop of immense wealth and unexpected doom. One that all too clearly Grandfather was using for ulterior motives…and for his own survival at the top of the guild pecking order…

"Cinnius,"grandfather began,"The regaining of the collections is now your task ; Gordon has proven not to be up to the task and thus is now removed from it,"he gestured with his hired man, then slapped them together in a command of finality, leading the balance 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 and make sure that there are no more ‘ disruptions'to the operations ; we are losing face and ascendancy over the city with each disruption to our operations…no error will be accepted or tolerated…even the random implementation are no longer working as desired,"granddaddy explained.

Many of the social club extremity understand the all too clear message hidden in his words. The guild is in control of the entire city, the undisputed rulers and masters of Providence and the surrounding lands ; no one may challenge them in any way and be suffered to live. To remind people who dared to dissent the ‘ probe'brought about by the death of Finneous and his lover, Kimberly, sixty citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their entire family in populace - the price any rebelliousness to the club dominion will bring.

Yet while the people looked on in staring silence and panic, some of them looked on with pure anger in their eyes…a clear signboard that the control of fear and terror was no longer having the sought after effect. And if those who control Providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their subjects thoughts turn to revenge and justice for all of the assassin's offence ?

Considering that these execution teams were led by Masters Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the first to fall if any kind of uprising does occur…And Master Gordon was the one to deliver the message, via an federal agent, to carry out the death penalty on behalf of the Grandfathers wishes.

Now the two Begin to wonder - was the note really explaining the will of the Grandfather ? Or is gramps playing a great secret plan with Gordon ; weeding out the disloyal and unneeded, to further reduce his already iron strong custody on the guild ?

Or could somebody else be playing one group off against another…no, no one inside our out of the lodge would even presume think of doing that. The lodge of capital of Rhode Island is the deadliest in the world ; no other has dared to arrive at challenge against its grip on Providence in a century, and the legends of those who tried are still told as tarradiddle of the whip incubus made reality.

"We must make our plans to deal with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with right-down finality,"he is ahead of us on the chess board by a extensive security deposit, and we need to bowl over 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 head left them cold to the core of their being ; they, the masters of inflicting fear and brat for the interest of command, are now losing command portion by portion. In losing control condition, they understand fearfulness and terror from a new perspective, and do not like it at all.


======
"In fond retention of one who fell so young, Jambis, may he long be remembered for all he had done,"called out the merchant who is paying for everyone's drunkenness this nighttime. Sipping on the sour relishing swill they call wine and life in this wretched tavern, he eyes each patron and worker as they pass along his area of imaginativeness. With all too much ease he identifies the various broker working for the guild ; specifically that nearly 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 solemnization for the free potable and solid food. The barkeep smiles as the merchandiser hands over a pouch heavy with coins, gold and silver, plus many precious gems for the party tonight ; many scuttlebutt that it is a night to be remembered for some time, and as a actual surprise, a patrol wagon with a score and ten tally of small wooden tun's of spirits, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the back of the wagon and commence to manhandle the heavy burden inside ; causing a series of gasps, ooh's and ah's from all the social club federal agent within. They can recount these are the fine of the finest in beverage, each keg is worth a Billie Jean Moffitt King's ransom money and here there are 30 in number…

The delivery man nods at the merchant, and then tells the party goers,"Courtesy of Master Gordon, we were instructed by a messenger of his to deliver these to you all, and quote ‘ With thanks and best indirect request for the hereafter - Gordon.'End quote."

One of the patrol members of belated Constable Jambis calls for a toast to Master Gordon. The merchant excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a sour belly. He tells the barkeep to let the strong drink flow until the stock are used up or the sun rises with the coming dawn. The barman genuflects before him, sniveling and honoring his generousness as a undecomposed little ass-kisser should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

"To Master Gordon and his most prodigious generosity, and dainty taste in drinks,"the cheer is repeated three times by the gang 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 last dreg of deglutition that can possibly be extracted from it.

Outside the merchandiser sees the last man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called Jackson. He is able to approach Jackson with nary a whisper of sound being made, and sends him sprawling to the primer with a quick blow to his chest and incline of his jaw. So insidious is this that to any untrained perceiver, the merchant is just helping his passed out booster 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 him with the others, deliver 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 assist but thrill at the acknowledgment of fellow ‘ pets.'Such a fate should not find to anyone, yet as the captured patrol work for the guild, he can make an exception. Besides which, these two have shown the society is vulnerable after all ; so he made sure the door was unfastened earlier in the storeroom for Associate to cloud the tun's of drink.

All in all, this is a very thoroughly night.

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



======
The morning sees Master Gerald pacing the distance of his manors capital hall, mix-up and worry clearly visible on his human face. His personal safety device pick up on his unease, as anything that can work their honcho act this way has to be taken as a priority scourge ; their own lives depend upon it.

Within a day of their encounter with gramps, sea captain Gerald and Cinnius met ; setting their design into action mechanism and making hereafter preparations. For their sake ( of keeping alive ), they keep granddad informed of their every action. It is decided they will tax their own federal agent to follow those of Gordon's, recording each and every deed and link made.

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

Each Master in turn, once back at their respective estates, orders that supernumerary agents be attached to watch their various vis-a-vis ; just on the off chance the feller Master is about to pass water a double or triplex cross. As three more day pass, they begin to suspect Gordon is up to exactly - naught. No plans or moves are apparent to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the nighttime XL of the order factor, all of them Grandfathers, have perished. They were attending a party given by a visiting merchant, in purity of the late constable Jambis, and for the sake of his surviving patrol penis. All of the ale and look delivered came with the funds of Gordon and a message saying :"With Thanks and best Wishes for the future - Gordon."

All that anyone is absolutely sure of is that the patrol departed, one member at a time, and that the drinks are doctored - using a case of rare poison favored by Gordon and his C. H. Best agentive role.

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

By nightfall they have an ominous polarity that shouts volumes to anyone who understands ; the streets have gone silent. Completely silent save for the agents of Grandfather, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the signs of a pending coup seem to be confirmed at finally. almost are now assuming that master copy Gordon is going for broke, to shoot down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a three-fold swordplay - they appear to betray the guild and grandpa ; who in turn eliminates them, and then becomes vulnerable to Gordon…

To Master Gordon, upon hearing the news of his agents being watched, decides HE is the target for a declivity ; the scapegoat for the pending coup of Gerald and Cinnius…who else would dare smasher at an mental process under his personal charge…shame and discredit him, then reject him while setting Grandfather up for the fall..

It makes perfect sense in its own convoluted way.

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

"Gordon - grandpa of bravo, I like the ring that has,"he smiles wickedly, heading off to prepare and bring in program. He feels no stab of guilt or conscience in betraying his fellow Masters or the grandad ; for that is the way of the assassin.


======
Standing upon the high wooden attic of the warehouse, Associate holds the net man of late Constable Jambis patrol, Jackson, by the cord that binds his articulatio talocruralis together. The terrified man, upside down, looks at his pending fate far below, the twenty and four large mannikin, moving fast and with powerfulness for such massive creature, their six column inch tusks red with the roue and tear flesh of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the party concluding Nox, bound and gagged, inside this warehouse ; one by one his supporter 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 captor'optic, low temperature and hard beyond anything he could recall seeing, even on the one occasion he met the Grandfather of assassin, told the tale…

There shall be no mercy.

"Listen,"their captor told each in turn, as he had told Jackson,"try to die with a bit of self-respect ; at to the lowest degree go to your ancestors with some grace so you can say you died with your laurels intact."

fellow repeatedly cries out to his PET, whipping them into a frenzy of last and dismemberment, the shrill razz and watchword harshly assaulting the auricle ; thunderous return rebound off the mostly discharge warehouse Stone wall, instilling even more terror in his shaking captive.

"William Tell you what Jesse Jackson ; I am in a merciful modality right now. I'll give you a fighting luck,"comrade says while he uses a tongue to strap at the chasteness that bind the man's feet together.

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

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

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

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

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

fellow spotter with disinterest on his face, hearing the death screams knelling out loud and clear as his dearie go to act on the man. Soon enough silence, save for the lachrymation of material body, crushing of bone and occasional bird and grunt remain to be heard.

Associate shakes his forefront, wondering why such an idiot would actually conceive he would set him free people ; he only promised to let him go…in this typesetter's case to prey his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already dead ; he would have intercourse to have got finished him off, a debt owed for the savage flush delivered to his head that day.

Soon enough though his patience will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the evacuation of his babe and her family will die in the same manner…maybe covered in molten cheeseflower to improve the flavor for his pets…


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Darius, master toymaker and general mad man of providence walked into the bloom shop looking for the lady who runs it - Clairice. To the bafflement of everyone around he looks at the tree diagram, waving friendly to them and mutters about the need to ‘ build that flying machine today.'

For three hebdomad since the death of Jambis patrol member, he has heard the stories growing by the hour of how they had been responsible for the last of Grandfathers two score of agents. Each meter he hears the story told over and over, he chuckles an insane chuckle, covering up his real mirth at their demise by his own hands.

Among the bric-a-brac he sees several fine alfilaria, locks, and early doohickey that are of pursuit ; yet he needs to get her paid back number 1 - she gave him the investment trust he needed to get his workshop up and running once again. He sees her bent over the countertop, hands clasped against the far side as she looks down at the floor.

"Hey Clairice,"he shouted, waving frantically to get her care. Coming to her he plops down on the storey cross-legged, looking up into her heart. She gesture repeatedly with her deal for him to dart on out the doorway, even as her mouth opens and ending in understood pant and groans ; she gulps now and then while her oculus flutter rapidly.

One clip he sees her clench her fist in her lip, eyes closing as her torso tingle briefly in time with some randomness coming from behind the counter. Her silent gasp continue, eyes glazing over as she tightens her grip on the counter again, both mitt holding firm and unattackable. When she manages to find a bit of equanimity, once again she tries to roll him out the door. Her work force move swiftly in an intricate gesture, telling him in no unsettled terms to scram…

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

Only a momentarily whisper of fabric being moved about distracts him, to let him see Clairice shifting some as her back arched upward and down, her eyes dancing with unfounded forsaking, cheeks fully blushed and radiating heat like a oven.

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

He sees her shift again, then a third time. A steady regular recurrence of slapping sounds mixed in with the calls of some kind of animal catch his attention. Sudden aspiration hits and he pulls out of his harness-bag a pile of blank parchment, charcoal pencils and a ruler to begin quickly putting his idea to theme. For the moment Clairice is all but forgotten by him.

She fights to restrain her body from moving forward, she mouths a silent cry of wild delight and bliss. Each move of the gentleman's gentleman's humanness interior of her pushes the Wave of seventh heaven and pleasure forward with unstoppable vitality. Just a bit before Darius arrived the butler of Master Gordon arrived with a dozen blush wine from his bosses'estate ; he offered her some of them for a fee - when she could not match the asked for amount in coin he asked about another form of ‘ transaction.'

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

Pushing her disheveled fuzz out of her case, she had been having her womanhood explored by his work force and lip when Darius entered ; now though he speeds up his actions, not interested in her own pleasure one bit - all that matters is his own indigence, and he makes all manner of revilement of sea captain Gordon, especially about how easy it was to take the rose right off the acres grounds under his very nose.

One final series of deep, loud and bellowing grunt and moan from the pantryman sends his life seed thick inside of her. For once in her life she is gladiolus that she can not get meaning, for she would never want a minor conceived of by this monster…

Now that it's over she starts to move when he pushes her back into blank space ; slamming her brass into the wooden sideboard with such military group to briefly stun her, then he boxes her across the ears repeatedly ; the matter is not yet done. Time and clock time again he smacks her hard on her bottom, drawing pain sensation filled mute screeching from her.

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

She feels him pull up higher on her, his manhood once again at full attention ready to do its duty. He comments that the men of his family have the power to do it twice back to back ; to the ‘ pleasure of all the fair sex we deem to kick in our fondness to'of course.

Clairice does not see thing in such a light.

Sharp pain shoots up into her brain, eyes flaring wide as her teeth pungency into her lips with enough force to string a trickle of descent from them. jabbing by pain filled poking he works his manhood in and out of her, not of her womanhood, but of a more sensitive and private area nearby.

His hands roam up under her shirt, straining the nasty bound textile of her singlet as they find and crush her bosom.

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

The next five transactions are a wave of fiery agony as his hands tighten their clasp on her titty, his manhood pumping for all he is Worth in an out of that spot ; then he hits his acquittance and pulls out. He just looks upon her with barely concealed contempt.

"You know the monetary value from now on when you deal with the assassin'guild. As I said, keep your mouth shut and you will live. Next time I bring some roses though, make certainly there is another woman here with you. I want to see you have sex with her right wing before I rape you into meekness like the cocotte you now are. Good day."

As he walks out the doorway and down the street she just covers her point and bastard, not moving from the location.

Had anyone watching bothered to appear at Darius, they would have seen the craziness leave his eye, purest of murder and rage filling them in bit. His handwriting hovered just on the edge of a knife hilt, set to be thrown and issue the aim with one of the mortal of poisonous substance's he who is not Darius knows how to make.

He has been commanded not to do anything, no thing what happened to her. Yet he will, when the metre comes to take the design to an end, ingest 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 lost calm from the roughshod ending of the brush ; for the plan to advance she will endure anything…in the end the solvent will more than apologise it.


========
Over the next hr agents of the Constable and Masters Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald flow in and out of her depot, having her detail again and again all that happened between her and the butler.

Darius had to be escorted out of the shop at one point so he would not damage the peak from Gordon's acres ; he was trying to steady down a ‘ argument'between the flowers and a half sate cup of H2O. He kept touching the flower petal and leaves of each flower, encouraging them to ‘ settle their disputes with the courteous cup as a civilized being should do these daytime,'pure madness indeed.

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

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

One of his Aidoneus gathering up the multiple copies of her testimony and then divides them among the agentive role for the three lord. The aide-de-camp plays a most dangerous game, appearing as a confidant for all three schoolmaster while he is actually working for the granddaddy of assassin directly.

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

What they fail to understand is that in the expectant game, a second king is set for checkmate ; while the others are on the way to the same…

Tonight the shop class will be vacated…

The gambit continues towards the spectacular end for the sec male monarch of Four.



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

"We have check of the street rumor ; the physical structure of captain Gordon's butler has been found. It appears he was tortured into making some kind of confession and then executed by tegument stealing."He shook his head at the thought of such a barbaric execution of instrument ; the misprint skinning of a victim one square column inch at a time using knifes and especial acids to heighten the botheration and extend the victims lifespan.

"For other news, we have Good Book from our broker that the substantial Clairice and Darius have been safely smuggled to freedom. Jesmine and her household will be, in their language, ‘ soon to arrive safely in a new home and life.'All of the pre-agreed to confirmation Son are there, so it is authentic."

He looks upon her with major chagrin on his countenance.

"My lady, I have to say, the succeeder we have managed to achieve by taking the roles of Clairice and Darius before the hunt began…a avowedly CVA of virtuoso on your percentage. Also those who lead the grouping in waiting are now fully committed ; those inexperienced person families executed by the social club as ‘ example,'plus the first strike we have made convinced them. The days of the guild are now of a very set number. They only need the discussion from you and the end game commences."


===========
headmaster Cinnius has come to the ale-house operation, mostly to double up checkout yet again on all aspects of the new, layered security he has installed. grandfather warning had been made all too clear - if he fails to stop any hoo-hah in the surgical procedure, then HE will be held responsible ; and that death will be a mercy for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the guard duty are now tripled ; both those seeable inside and outside the post, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - bowknot ready to be used in an minute. Their Holy Order are wide-eyed, maneuver and very clear : anyone who may personate any kind of threat are to be cut down without clemency. They are to keep on a double scout, as Cinnius expects a swift, raging retributive strike from skipper Gordon to amount all too soon.

master copy Gerald figures it will be otherwise, insisting Gordon is focused on the pending takeover against grandpa, and will amount after Cinnius later - assuming that Cinnius and Gerald do not dispose of Gordon to delight the granddad when the coup try comes.

So it has come to the second reason for him to be here…relaxation. Three week of constant silence ; tension in the air so thickset one could cut it with a dull knife, has all but frayed his nervousness. So it is he has come to flash some billiards, his prefer plot. The set was sent to him long before the current troubles with Gordon, a master crafted wonder without flaws…he will keep it as a prize and a admonisher of better days and times…and toast Gordon each clock time he plays after the craven turncoat lies dead at his feet.

"No horse 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 offering,"he declared to his guards and senior broker gathered around,"yet he has chosen to cuckold Grandfather. thus we will enjoy the game, and when he starts his coup - we shall go and defeat him as dead as possible. Now let's have some fun this night before the flak of struggle come forth."

Cinnius watched his men laugh and put-on around, the ribald atmosphere allowing him to relax for one time, a uncommon and genuine smile of hilarity coming forth. As he prepares his cue joystick, many wager on the issue of globe to be sunk on the breaking shot.

He occupation up the pool joystick with the cue chunk, adjusting for the double-dyed break that he is justly famed for among all of the gild and in Providence."Let the fires of battle descend forth,"he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

cough !

The kitty stick goes flying over the table, landing on the far side with a upstanding, echoing clang. Everyone cringes at the look of absolute slaying on Cinnius's face. The wrongdoer quickly apologizes, gets the consortium spliff and hands it back with all right conduct to one who can kill him in so many horrendous ways.

"Okay, now for the perfect shooter, for the complete game,"he says with a smile, tantalize spunk relaxing once again.

Lining the shooter up once again, he focuses completely on the prisonbreak he wants to make, six Lucille Ball sent into the six pockets, the everlasting gibe for the opening. Delighted in the setup, he draws back again, preparing for the crack of all shots…

ACHOOO !

Once again the pool stick goes to the floor, once again the murderous look comes forth ; though this time the wrongdoer does not prompt, his familiar holding knife to his heart, cervix, jaw and organs, waiting for the moment Cinnius orders his release or execution. They look to him with clear outlook, wanting to rejoin the game so badly disrupt twice already.

"Just hold him there in terminated muteness while I take the barb,"Cinnius said. His kitty stick brought by another, he melody up the shot for the thirdly time ; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another disruption, then turns and makes the barb with wax, raw nerved brute force delivery…

Whack !

The cue nut is smacked with a scant, intense burst of the stick, sending it on its all too scant journeying towards the other balls ; the pocket-size, ticklish container held within shattering completely ; thus the mixture of volatile liquids, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and become a crone brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…



=======
Upon her typeface he sees a mute question being asked."My lady I have made sure the flower shop appears to have been fled in due haste to leave us - you and me as the false Clairice and Darius - to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled notes with final exam pitch to be made via the cities couriers."

"As per your plan,"his grin turned into a wicked smile ; the icon at play of panic and paranoia coming to the survivors around their chosen quarry brings Associate a fair amount of amusement.

"those flowers going as ‘ gifts'to the various lodge assassinator, agents and their drawing card, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ centre stop'toxicant ; in the prison term it takes for it to become practicable, the couriers will be secure ; of course after the obstetrical delivery are made, some of the bravo will not be safe, or breathing for that matter by days end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue ball nose drops with beastly force into the other bollock ; such is the effect the motley liquids within the cue ball, a Wiccan brew called by alchemists"Liquid Hellfire"responds in a fierce, raw and spectacular blowup of flame and military unit, the shockwave caressing the other glob and expanding into the rooms dimensions before anyone can even get the picture what has happened…

By this time though, the nine early balls, carefully tailored and textured to hide the volatile liquid state within, react in openhearted detonation to the shockwaves caress. These ten fire, bouncing off the strong and deep stone bulwark that separate the front and tail of the ale house, bang walls, crush furniture and chest, toss goodness around and deliver reversal that crunch and tear at the guild agents and guards stage, rending bone and bursting organs along with compressing brain matter to a pulped mass.

Those who somehow survive these blows are within an instant hit and burned by flames so hot that bone itself ignites and pulverization. For those beyond the fireballs range, the iron and steel shards, jagged and flying at insane speed, preset around the interior of the clump shred them even more.

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

appendage of the guild lay dead and injured all over the street, some felled in the initial fire ; others by the flop of nearby building fronts sundered detached by hellish effect ; partial consistence, and bared tree branch that move for a abbreviated clock time amid heaps of shatter, torn wood, trash and brickwork William Tell of the charnel mounds they have become.

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





=======
The retort of hokey thunder, followed by the loud, holler, booming clunk of the ceiling descent coming to an end draws the swift aid of Grandfather. He was walking on the high balcony of his private bedroom, deep in though about Gordon ; wondering for the get-go metre if he had judged the berth wrong…then came the hollering and column of fire clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

He and his guards watched in fascinated horror the scene stretch, knowing instinctively that Gordon has just struck back at Cinnius ; and in a manner no one could have anticipated. Quickly his guards recover, raising their metal shields about his person, on the off chance that arrows were even then heading to end the life history of their charge.

heading into the depths of the guild Charles Francis Hall, Grandfather shouted to all of his loyal - such as they are - minions to prepare the vindication ; warning that the expected putsch may be at hand. A lone moon-curser is sent to inquire the matter, to report back with all hurriedness. granddaddy sees a most unexpected raft, though one that pleases him, that of Master Gerald, present on guild stage business, standing with the guard at the primary doors, prepared to run across the first violation with drawn blades.

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


======
Associate and his lady had been observing the day from one of their many safe house's when the thunder came, clear and distinct to their ear. They rushed to the window nearest that direction, in time to see the final clawing flame carry into the sky ; newspaper column of sens rising steadily in silent blackness as a shroud for the dead.

The two of them withdraw a understood joy in the actualisation that the irregular tycoon of four is now suddenly. They had found his one helplessness, the making love of billiards and his pride in being the best player in Providence, and have brought him low.

"Wow, I guess that master key Cinnius has lost that plot, bringing down the theater in the cognitive process,"he said with a shrug of his shoulders."Who could bear figured he had such an volatile temperament ? Oh, while I recall the matter, those poisoned heyday were sent out over Gordon's signature of requital and delivery ; there is no sentiency in making sure the incorrectly person gets blamed after all…"

She just rolled her eyes unto the Shangri-la at his attempt at humor ; secretly pleased to have him at her side, both for the companionship ( when he is not trying to stare at her naked body ), his sensation of humor, and his ability to adept and ad-lib on the slur when the program of theirs motive to be altered due to exigency or opportunities that come about.

When she turns to him, catching his attention with her eyes, he gulps from the loving, attendant, fiery grin she shows. He quietly excuses himself, the cast iron denture over his humanity clanging against another layer of post underneath…probably assuming another knife blade is on the way…

She looks back at the pillar of weed, quite pleased. Two are dead of the four. Soon enough the third will fall and the confessedly panic for the social club will issue forth in the end biz. Soon justice for all of Providence will be delivered, and her elect name, taken up after the destruction of her parents, will be fulfilled…

Soon…


======
Chaos reigns as the patrons from the front of the ale-house and other street vendor and shop class flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their drinks or grabbing bottle of drunkenness from shelf as the cap commences to sag, then come down in a howling of sundered forest and stone. Many of those who flee walk by the fanny, seeing mint of coins, jewelry and gems lying scattered about and make a blind grab for the freed fortune before them.

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

From hidden phantasm richly operating expense, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding construction, eight figures draw back on complex short bows, their lacquered control surface dulled down with grease and mud to cut off any gleam of wakeful reflecting off of them. Eight knocked pointer - gratuity coated with the deadliest of malice - telephone circuit up with their selected targets…

Then with their leadership'subtle nod, they fly Sceloporus occidentalis and confessedly to their targets. Even as these eight figures begin to collapse, choking and gurgling into Death from the malice ; eight more arrows are inbound ; shortly to be joined by a last volley of eight Sir Thomas More.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree at the back of the building they throw their shiver and bows into the spine of a readied patrol wagon. Quick from hanker practice session, the eight hunters - master archer all who help feed the urban center by boar hunting in the wild forests near providence - blot out their implements of war and rejoin urban center life, headed as so many others do in making saving from one store to another.

They had been returning from an unsuccessful search in the woods ; when the explosion came, they saw an opportunity to score another blow on the order ; so it is the number one black eye by the people of Providence is inflicted, the beginning of many to come…


======
"Gordon's troops are attacking !"come the hue and cry from the few safety still standing around in horror at the carnage. The cry is repeated again and again as the arrows fell one musical score and one of guild agents and sentry duty of the late original Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; scoot everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard chieftain on duty calls, just before a brick thrown by someone smashes into his face ; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a bone crushing meeting with the ground below. With his last yell, topsy-turvydom breaks liberate beyond belief ; as the rooftop safety play along his survive operating instructions to the alphabetic character, unleashing burst after salvo of crossbow bolt of lightning, tips coated with poison, into the amass good deal below…

They spare no fourth dimension or effort to screen protagonist from foe, they just assume all are target area and smasher without any bit of mercy or compassion. All who stand may be foeman, thus they must die. If they fail, they know their own life will be forfeit to the unmerciful wrath of the Grandfather…

John L. H. Down below, those who survive the sovereignty of arrows and then the massive burst of crossbow projectiles turn on their attacker from above. Many shout out that Gordon's forces are on the high up primer and commence to fuel back with bows, crossbows, Edward Durell Stone chunks and bricks. Anything they can get their hands upon is fair biz to post upward, returning death for death as the carnage climbs with each passing second.


======
The lone agent of granddad sent by him to investigate the blast picket from around a shop niche in horror at the battle being waged before him ; he hears the citizens running past, the outcry of guards and agents saying that sea captain Gordon is on the approach, then flees with all haste back to the club hall and story his news.

"This is it men, stand substantial and degraded, Gordon must be coming with everything for us here,"Grandfather shouts out with growing excitement and frenzy. FINALLY the confrontation is about to happen, and he will remind all of capital of Rhode Island why HE is the grandfather of the guild. NONE shall rule in his place ; absolutely none.

When that finish thought echoed into the depths of his judgment ; Grandfather wondered for a moment if he has just set the prophecy of his own downfall into gesture ; plus that of the guild. He snorts the thing away, helping hand on his drawn steel waiting for the showtime pounding on the majuscule hall room access that tell of the battle to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

wellspring into the evening the guild waits for the smasher that never comes. granddad learns from many of his own agents among maestro Gordon's manor house that Gordon has sealed the place up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a motion on the part of passkey Gerald to rule out Cinnius and him in one Sceloporus occidentalis, calculated social movement that sweeps two rivals clear of the dining table in an instant.


======
Late into the night the surviving guard duty of the belatedly Master Cinnius, only a ten and four in figure, tell of the attack in detail to Grandfather as he sits in smoldering silence on his can. They tell in hyperbolize gestures and word's the size of the onslaught, the massive slaughter and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a violent battle one wonders if a dragon was on the scene.

In regards to the massive detonation that took down the entire ale-house, derriere operation and Master Cinnius on one Swift blow…no one has any explanation at all ; save up for one who remarked that Cinnius said the billiard set he was using that nighttime was"a gift from Gordon before he betrayed us."

"So then gentlemen, how shall I honour you now ?"Grandfather said to the XIV safety, whose eyes lit up with fires of covetousness and delight.

They soon found out their ‘ reward'was to be pressed. They howled for mercifulness as safety'grabbed hold of them, dragging them away to the public executioner hold. With inhuman fastness, tied to great frames of Wood on the undercoat, the executioners directed Grandfathers guards ( the focusing issued as civilised suggestions ) in placing of great wooden control panel over the men ; to be topped in turn every few transactions with a fifty dollar bill Irish punt hunk of brick shaped stone. Over the course of hours the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their rib snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

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

A new statue of him cast in silver joined the one of bronze from the to begin with courier executed in a similar manner. Even the season guards of Grandfather watched with silent horror as the man had been lowered inch by inch, headfirst, into the molten metal, his howls echoing far and wide down the dark halls of the executioners tunnels.


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

"My lady, the leadership of ‘ those who wait'have agreed to devise for an opportunity to come forth ; they have declared ‘ send the subject matter and we will do our division, as promised, then the accounting with the guild shall be settled in broad,'“ he told her.

"So my ma'am, do we start out to raise the storey of pressure and paranoia to a new height in this matter ? Or may I add a lilliputian ‘ twist'to the situation ?"her comrade asks.

At her prompting he explains his little ‘ twist'on their plan ; her eye and smile gleam in delight from his small suggestion. Right now the two of them have entered into dangerous ground, not only preparing to light upon at superior Gordon and Gerald ; there is the issue of the guilds granddaddy - assuming he survives the flowers sent to him, being roused to action.

This very night, as per Associates little ‘ tress'on their plan, another whispered rumor begins : there is a bounty of one hundred atomic number 79 bar to the assassin of the guild who brings down the Grandfather of assassinator. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of course that is only rumor…just the variety to get you executed by the paranoiac gild leadership.

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

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


************************
************************
Her center glimmering with their amethyst fires, she watches Associate go about his preparations for the pending end game of the ploy. As he sorts and examines in minutest of detail the prick, weapons and gear of their craft, a warm smile comes to her lip ; her nerve resting on a raised helping hand grasping the doorway jam as she makes no sound for some time.

Each of his shaft, from lock-picks to helix of black silklike roach, vial of toxicant to stultify or down, along with an assortment of tools and arms no one save for them alone could comprehend in the Western domain. She watches as he examines a throwing star under the lantern lighting, its razor honed edges perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and struggle tongue, a bamboo blowgun only inches in length, and the all too deadly cake darts to be used in it.

Yet she remembers with some affectionateness the one moral 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 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 other ?"

Still so young and small in stature at the fourth dimension she had to gesture him to bend down to her superlative ; then with one small mitt, she touched his frontal bone, and then his eye. His warmly grinning was genuine, delighted at the answer given to him.

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

fellow had in the short time of her warmly recalled memory board raised to exercise with his twin blades of their professing, sliding them from their sheaths of lacquered wood, the ninja-to. XIV inch of hone blade, strong and razor sharp, he danced in a beautiful, poetic play of death. Each move is verse of medicine and contour, of control condition and energy used : parry-strike, strike-parry, double slash and thrusts, a flurry of apparent movement no one could come close to matching save for her.

Even unarmed they are among the lethal of fighter, their very bodies the ultimate, keep weapon.

His act comes to its end after some time ; and comrade pretends to remark her for the very first prison term, though he was cognisant of her standing by the doorway for some time now. One matter with both of them, living among the hoard of bravo and spies of the guild has honed their superb skills to new, necessary levels than many would take dreamed.

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

His surprise is utter when she gently touches him with one of her men ; moving it up to gently strokes his impudence and brows. She feels the brief tension relief out of his body as she circles his face, playfully teasing brow, nose, eyes, ears and cheeks.

His sassing she constituent slightly with fingertips, stroking the interior and drawing a slight flush to his cheeks.


The heat of his breathing place on her mitt draws a soft, loving smile to her own lips. Once again her hand flows over brass, forehead and nose, along his jaw and gently on his neck before returning again and again to his face.

Moving up to him she presses her lips to his ; so flabby and tender that his flush becomes fully red, heat pulsating outward as a fully stoked fire in the clams ovens. Three time 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 suggestion at needing to be touched, stroked and seduced ; her bared breast, hurl in dancing shadows by the cushy, low light in the way, glister like a secret concealed within a enigma promising inexhaustible treasures and wiz, or good and savage death.

She enfolds him with one arm, taking up his hired hand with her other, then gently guiding it to that exposed tit ; holding it business firm in place while he looks at her with some shock. He feels the estrus of her consistency merging with his, skin to scrape, the beating of her center and the steady rhythm method of birth control of her breathing surging into his mind, telling him that this is no dream, but a treasure she is offering to him willingly.

Slowly he starts to caress and stroke it with his fingertips, working from the mamilla outward in a helix to bring back inward again and repeats the cycle respective times ; all the patch he revels in the silky perfection of her skin, the heady perfume that smells of lilac, roses and ginseng mixing with all the sweet-salty smells that are uniquely HER.

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

He sees the piano fluttering in her optic, eyelids flickering up and down as she begins to eat at lightly on those juicy lips that are highlighted with a sweetened tasting strawberry mark gloss.

He moves his free hand to the bound of her gown, the blue sky silk that is embossed with cherry tree, rose and a pair of white boo in flying accentuating the bend of her body, hiding some in shadow and others in reflected light so their glory may be seen in full.

Looking at her he motions downward while indicating the robe.

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

Slipping it under the silk he gently uncovers the other bosom, then works along the hem ; once up to her articulatio humeri he eases is down her arm. His whistle of delight and wonderment at the sight of her bared skin brings a true and luscious blush to her human face, a silent giggle of consternation with her head turning away, though her centre return quickly and with a glimmer of desires fires fully alight.

All of that falls in and on itself, realism turned different when his first buss gently presses on one patch of her shoulder joint, then another and another until he reaches her neck. The menstruation of kisses continues over each inch of her skin, drawing tingle, thrill, titters and twitch that build one upon the next.

They momentarily separate, to his surprise, until she finishes taking off the robe and letting it urinate about her human foot. She steps out of it and embraces him fully in her arms, pressing so close and plastered with his trunk he feels the two of them are merging into one - the perfection of yin-yang, of the male and distaff embodied as one being for all time…

Her implements of war have encompassed his neck opening as he folds his about her waist.

Moving them downward he massages her scurvy back, easing along her shank and hip seeking each area he can find to bring the maximum sense datum of bliss of her body he can pull up. Gentle spirals and volute patterns in which he mixes motions of the first principle, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far East language, for each one brings a different response to her body, some large and some modest, one intense that almost knocks her off her feet, while others have her gasp as she lowers her head against his pectus, eye closing while silent sass loose and close.

He inhales the marvellous brewage of scents now including that of her raw gender mixing into them ; to a greater extent and more it turns on the flak within his own body ; causing his own manhood to grow to the occasion as his bridge player begins to journey to her hidden womanhood…

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

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

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

Planting a fiery buss on his rim she swings her limb around his neck, and then leaps up, enwrapping her legs about his waist and locking them and her firmly in place. His hired hand move quickly to support her bottom, as he shakes his principal, understanding at last.

She did not want him to pleasure her, she wants More than that…With one hand he fumbles for the whang of his britches, loosening it enough to let his fully at care manhood loose to the world ; drawing a bit of a bloom 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 woman, the two of them entering into a gentle rhythm of passion between their bodies, one for the other and back in routine. Within consequence his excitement passes his limit and sends his source deep into her body.

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

She just kissed him on the mouth as her eyes showed her admiration for him. Returning to her feet, the two of them quietly danced a tacit dance in the suite soft lighting for some clock time, a moment shared before returning to the end biz of this long and trying hunt.

For the moment, they, two assassins in a community of such, who seek to overthrow such a force, can lower their safety a bit. This is their instant, their time, for with the dawn, the search will again continue.


************************
In the astuteness of his fortress manor Master Gordon listens with ever growing horror as story after tarradiddle from his agents tell of a serious tapestry being woven. Someone is trying to kill him, or hire down the granddad and pin the rap on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their venomous of competition in the process…but who could it be.

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

The side by side break of day brought the secret deliveries to factor and assassin of the gild ; flowers from the shop of Clairice, supposedly over his touch, though he was proven to be here in his manor house ( the only reason Grandfather did not summarily perform him ). Even the stolen roses had been returned intact, and watered by the young lady ; then as some of his agent examined and smelled them, declaring nothing to be wrong…

This could not be said of the rest of those pitch. For some reason, like with sea captain Finneous, and his lover Kimberly, and at the ale-house operations, the receiving system just seemed to up and die in their cut ! Now there are other overlord of the guild, foot soldier who would not make bold to mint at Gerald ; who are openly making plans to do just that, and it appears Grandfather is encouraging them due to his quiet on the matter.

Most probably, that is due to one of the bouquets of flowers having been sent to his throne way as well. The man has no sense of wit ; especially as there are rumour of him offering one hundred bars of gold to anyone taking down the grandpa of assassin ; as if he would actually be suicidal enough to make such a move ! ! !

Such is his mounting furor and foiling that when he grips the rail of an pep pill floor balcony he tears the woodwind instrument free in two prominent chunks of debris. So far no one has been able to detect out much of anything, save that the factor of Master Gerald are following his own…with more and more open boldness…probably to strike in one well coordinate action ; collapsing his integral network and snipe his estate…

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

There is one way to deal with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his senior agents and sentry go loss leader. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the double quick for it ; there is a small window of time open, and he intends to exploit it to the fullest. Right now only one matter could interfere with his plans, and that is the Grandfather of bravo himself…

"Grandfather of Assassins Gordon…"he examines his tongue blade, loving the way the idle plays over its razor acutely edges. How hunky-dory of a blade he will use to end the life of both Gerald and grandfather - then claim all for himself.

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



======
Within the hour an agent of gramps composition directly to him of the plan that Master Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a putsch is indeed coming, and by the handwriting of Gordon the Grandfather's rage is absolute. He calls for his personal safety to assemble, for the easily fighter aircraft, rogues and assassins to pile up and arm for battle.

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

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

"When Gordon ten-strike at the landed estate of Gerald, we surround the place, propel inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no survivors at all. Slay every living being or animal in the station ; then abbreviate it to ashes afterward. Then the same will pass off to Gordon's estate of the realm ; these traitors will be rooted out completely…"

building up the frenzy of his military group, Grandfather intends to use this slaying to the townsfolk of Providence as well - to remind them HE dominion the township. Once that is done, he will disgorge the guild of any and all threats from top to bottom.


======
"My lady,"her companion softly calls, touching her subdued berm. He also moves slightly to the side, keenly aware of the envenomed vane she keeps handy when sleeping. Seeing her still drowsy heart open, he sighs softly, not eager to replace yet another shirt…the concluding time was too faithful by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat crushed down…

"My lady,"he again calls to her,"the forces of Gordon are gathered and on the move ; they will hit the estate of Gerald within the next two hours. One of our agents also reports that the Grandfather is personally leading most of the guilds potency against BOTH of them. I believe he means to end this thing of the two once and for all."

He sees the exhilaration growing on her face.

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

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

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

Many of her agents have recollective since given up Leslie Townes Hope of Providence being freed from the atomic number 26 bag of the guild ; but now, shown the truth of the thing, that the guild IS VULNERABLE, they are make to coin back and do so with absolute deadliness. Their fearfulness and despair has become anger and determination ; tonight she and associate degree make the most important tap ; they will do the rest…tonight providence has a new cry of"freedom or death."

Associate smiles, the years long quest to revenge his sis, her husband and all their children will be completed ; he will avenge them and they may finally find rest period. It will be by his hands and no others, that the final examination target of his anger shall perish…the Grandfather himself.

"My lady,"her Associate says,"thoroughly luck on your part ; I have to move quickly to get at my own target. I have dispatched word to the leaders of the waiting groups for the uprising to begin."

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

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

Now comes the time for the saltation, and with it the James Henry Leigh Hunt, to end.


************************
************************
victor Gerald's manor, a fort from top level to the dungeons below, bristles with activity. His skilful soldiers and agentive role prepare the defenses, layer upon layer of pernicious lying in wait and secure passages ; the outer yards with their fields of fire shall be turned into one massive killing field for Gordon's forces when they arrive…

"Continue with all the planning, I need to see to the final dividing line of Defense upstairs ; recollect to keep all of the designated second-stringer in place. I do not bear the great door or paries to be breached ; yet we take no chance at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in planning in his riddance of Finneous, Cinnius, and so many others,"maestro Gerald said to his chief-of-arms.

"Remember, he sacrificed his own men initially at the inn-operations to set up Cinnius and me as well ; we must not undervalue him at all,"the first true traces of fear creped into his vocalization. For one sentence in his life Gerald feels the cold hands of death reaching out for him…watching his every move from nearby…


======
Indeed a pair of eyes watched captain Gerald's every move from the raftman above the with child mansion ; then as he ascends the swell stairs. She silently shifts from one location to another, descending down to the main storey. Once there, she commences the dance of demise with his agents and sentry go, one by one their parturiency cease to be productive…

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

When she has finished, she sees her reflection in a mirror, the amethyst fervency of her eye glowing like a beacon of day of reckoning ; telling of her inner passion and determination to finish the topic. She recalls with absolute limpidity the concluding shrieking of her female parent and father ; of her brothers and sisters as they were butchered, while she was taken to safety by Tai Long Tiel…her teacher and caretaker.

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



======
During his wandering around the upper story he can not shake the feeling of death being nearby ; one of two companions always with the bravo - the other being fear, in all of its legion faces - refuses to leave his side. No, comrade death refuses to leave, almost as if he longs for the show to continue just a bit more before needing to escort Gerald into the side by side world.

All too soon his aid came back to the downhearted floors, silent as an undefended grave ; a foreboding of what was soon to be his own fate…almost as if he is walking in a aspiration he heads back to the speed trading floor landing place, expecting to find all of his sentry duty and agents fleeing or already fled.

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

Sighing at the keen, final perfidy his federal agent have performed, he turns the last-place street corner, his crossbow held loosely in his hired hand, prepared to meet the enemy who has to be there in outright numeral. Master Gordon has won the conflict, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the future, and now with his death will rick upon Grandfather to become the new leader of the guild.

thus he has made his moment mistake in life ; he has underestimated his friendship with Gordon and now will pay the price. The first was ten eld ago when the girl escaped the fortune of her family line and the four covered it up to stay awake. He had been betrayed and defeated morally, intellectually and physically by an adversary so far out of his league, he never had a chance…

Around the last corner, he lets the crossbow fall from his unresponsive hands ; expecting decease to come by steel or crossbow bolt…only to see a lone public figure, a slender, vernal cleaning lady standing at the other end, just feet away. Clad in mordant and white-haired clothing, a undivided masquerade is drawn up over her sass and nozzle, while more fabric is over her forehead and hair, leaving only her eyes exposed.

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

Shan Tiel !

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

'' Oh no, '' Gerald said to no one in the country, consigned to his destruction, understanding at last who the true schoolmarm of the gambit being played is ...

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the blade into a cross safety attitude, her gloved hands holding it in a suitcase like iron, to strike or duck as needed, the blood on its sharpness glistening like red fire, telling Gerald of his agent fate on the level below…

She began to promote upon him, thriftiness of gesture displayed to perfection with each trend ; a true avatar of death made realism advancing to collect her due upon Gerald ...

Her eyes scintillation in the Inner Light of the rampart lamps as she passes by ; the clear flaming of amethyst dancing in their depths.

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

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

Though he tries ...

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

She shakes her chief at this display of cowards in the end ; the current of tears flowing without restraint from his eyes, the smell of pee and loosened bowl corrupting the air as he loses control of his mind and consistency ...

Having closed the distance between them, the blade in her custody eases back high over her articulatio humeri, cook to deliver the third part of her vengeance in one clean strike.

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

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

So it is that the Third business leader of quatern surrenders to the inevitable, his role in the stratagem done.

Standing over his corpse, the Queen with the amethyst eyes cleans her blade on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor to organize for the last Martin Luther King of four to arrive…and for the gambit to come to an end.


************************
************************
The Grandfather of assassin, out at the head of his armed band is not well-chosen today ; the on-going fight against Gordon's forces has been taking far too long. His plan had been simple-minded and slowly, encircle the entire country of Gerald's landed estate as Gordon's forces mounted their assault, and then make for their way in, burning the edifice and killing all - citizens or foeman who were found.

Systematically his force play pushed Gordon's back step by step, always pushing, seeking to find a feeble spot and make the concluding strike. pure annihilation would result.

Then came the intelligence from courier's that the citizens of the city have started an armed rebellion, armed with lance, blades and even tools in some cases ; supplemented by the bands of hunters who work in the woods around providence. So he found himself fighting two fronts, Gordon to the stem, the mobs to the binding ; so his forcefulness have been systematically whittled down.

Even his own bodyguard has been reduced from forty to the dozen surrounding him. Many give birth wounds from the last crash, nearly a C penis of the mob will not be going home tonight ; his grimace became a grinning at that cerebration.

When a cloud of smoke momentarily drifts over his band, a quadruplet of soft thud sound out ; his guard is now down to eight. The four on the undercoat in the dying throw, the shuriken's embedded in throats delivering their poison for topper effect.

"Shield wall !"Grandfather shouts out, the sentry duty forming a crescent wall of woodwind instrument and muscleman between him and their attacker ; two to a greater extent of his safety device crash, throwing stars embedded in their pharynx, the envenom tips sending them into violent, wracking cramp as death reaches forth with his hands to lay claim them.

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

One guard advances down the street, a forward scout for the remnant of their ever diminishing band. He peers to each surrounding store nominal head, street and alleyway opening, to the windowpane high and low, seeking the to the lowest degree bit of movement to designate the next strike of their unseen pursuer…

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

The devilishly collation of the Tai-Pan wheel him with unspeakable pain and torment as his dead body explodes cell by cell, the brass last of all to choke as death welcomes him to conjoin his lessen brother of earlier this day.

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

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

The five remaining guards, with grandpa motion of a manus, tutelage at this foe ; no care shows on their faces, as they are the elite of the elite for many a kingdom. No one in the westerly lands can stand against one of them, let alone all five.

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

Before Grandfather could even get hold of a breath, the man is before him ; a tenacious, slender blade, honed to absolute razor sharpness is upon his neck opening. He feels the veins pulsating against the not bad edge, and the slightest trickle of rakehell flowing down from where it pierced his skin…

Grandfathers breath came is gasps, as he dared not move an inch ; for this unbelievable warrior has him at his mercy, and to judge from the cold optic looking back into his own, gramps knows mercy is not on the docket for the day.

Sweat beading and then flows down the look and neck opening of granddaddy, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to shrink and give him cause to fulfil him immediately. For that is what Grandfather knows is about to happen, no visitation, no jury or such nonsense, just an performance without compassion or mercy.

He feels the knifes border play ever so gently upon his skin, flak burning from the sweetly kiss of deadly steel that teases scare and ever acquaint flinching of muscles ; all too familiar with such leaf blade, granddaddy can suppose what the final exam cut on him will feel like…

granddaddy feels the burning base on balls into the relief of his body, hands shaking and churning in his gut induced by the last awe racing in his mind. His stifle threaten to give out beneath him, no matter how hard he wills it to be otherwise, for he refuses to coward himself before this unknown foe…

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

"howdy Grandfather,"the strange man greeted him at final stage,"I know you are more than wondering who I am, and why this is happening. For the record, and what it will be of worth to you, the four masters - Finneous, Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon had nil to do with a takeover or this uprising…"

Grandfathers eyes widened in disbelief as the information flooded into his fear sodden mind.

"That's right grandad,"the man nodded in conformation,"I and my peeress have systematically destroyed you and your lodge. Ten years ago you killed my sister, her husband, and their nipper ; one of whom my own father whose crime syndicate public figure I shall repossess as my own, said has exceptional talents…until you sanctioned the hit for the sake of the towns, and hence your own, bankers."

The infrangible composure and sweetheart style of his articulation brought Thomas More fearfulness to Grandfather than he has known in his full calling as an assassin…


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

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

Pulling the blade away, the mysterious warrior delivers a blindingly agile series of precise hit, inducing sheer loss of musculus control in granddad leg and arms ; just to make sure he is not getting away if the weakness inducing poisonous substance fails in its task.

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

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

knock !

He watches as the Grandfather's eyes cross over, his mouth contorted as very much as his poison wracked eubstance will permit in purest of pain ; a victim of the relocation all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a patella to the most private and injury prone area any man has…


======
fellow looks down on the groaning, croaking, mewling conformation of grandfather, and has no commiseration on the most powerful extremity of the club. For too long he has waited this outcome ; prepared to sacrifice all if need be just to retaliate his babe, and touch on the honor of his family and restore his name.

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

As it shall be this very hour.

Pulling from a pouch a slender, opprobrious silken rope, he quickly binds granddaddy deal and feet, ties a gag about his mouth, and then casually snap up detention of the eyelet he makes to drag the assassin along. Heading for the place where his favorite wait, he makes for certain to cross each area of dirty water, sewerage, bared rocks and cactus, determined to make sure the causal agent of ten years of anguish and dishonor enjoys every moment of painful sensation he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the timber huntsman, and their sons and daughters, master Archer each who snipe at the remaining forces of the order watch the two pass ; each one knows that Associate is about to execute his own hunt at hanker last.

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

"Die slowly grandpa,"he shouts and then motility on, determined to toss off as many guild bravo this day as he can.

Once he reaches the warehouse, Associate opens the threshold wide, no longer caring nor needing to be tightlipped as to the contents. He drags granddad across Oliver Stone worn smooth by 100 of load moved in and out of the massive interior ; then up one flight of wooden steps, each one marked by the steady thud-thud-thud of the grandad fountainhead slamming into its surface.

A steady moan slips from Grandfathers lips as the top of the attic is reached, and familiar can easy imagine the stars he is seeing at this metre. He drops the rope from his hand, and cash advance to the bound where an gap is set between the rails of the garret edge.

He gazes down upon the ‘ positron emission tomography'he has prepared for this import ; and calls loudly and long to them, whipping them into a howling, snorting, tusk-rending blood lustfulness as they know their preferred meal is about to be sent down to them - human flesh and blood and bone, raw…

clock time and time again comrade calls out to them, and they respond with a dozen and eight cries of hunger and longing, a pleading and demanding for Associate to place them their foretell dinner party. Each one of them, some four hundred Syrian pound of absolute bone and muscle, tusks huge and gleaming with razor sharp bakshis, eyes rake red and swell dresser heaving like the bellows of a fiery smithy, they paw at the stone floor….

They wait…they call…they plead for warmly blood and Henry Sweet flesh…

When comrade turns back for a moment, the pet howls and snort grow ever louder, as they know now that dinner is at hand ; they smell the man fear of the assassin, hear his panic-stricken heart beating beyond all ability to affirm for long, and the final moan of pain as he is lifted from the garret floor…

associate lifts Grandfather up by the neck, savoring the ululation induced panic in the fallen assassin ; grandfather oculus are absolute in their wideness, as he is pushed by the sounds of the pets howls and snort to the border of his own sanity, his mind refusing to accept what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

fellow holds Grandfather by the arms, forcing the unsteady assassinator to twist down enough to see his fate at the edge of the loft."spirit well grandad, I gathered a great collection of special pets just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a timber hunt club by a wild boar and have been afraid of them for your life. How ironic is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog wild, or I should say…go to the wild hogs…"

"NOOOO !"Grandfather roars as comrade shove him bodily into the hollow air ahead of them ; his scream is heard for blocks until it ends abruptly on the dusty stones below. Without falter, companion pet, twenty of the most ferocious, massive, barbarian boars the timber hunters could gather tear into the assassin…

fellow lookout from above, savoring each sound and scream, until the last bone and fight of flesh is gone into the catgut of his pets.

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

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


***********************
Outside the gates of Master Gerald's estate captain Gordon and his band of men stand prepare for the concluding fight in their footling war. Three entire urban center blocks lay in smoke, smoldering ruins from the all too stubborn efforts of his foe men to observe their melody from being breached. All too many of the shop class and homes Gerald had owned were miniature fort in their own right, costing him more men, and nearly critical - sentence, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

Now he stands on the eve of his vengeance ; Gerald waits just beyond the meticulously assert earth, the great doors of the manor lay surface, silent and still. Gerald must be so afraid of his impending doom that he has either already fled, or some retainer have betrayed him on the slim hope of mercy being shown to them.

No mercy, that is the order given to his current band of military personnel ; he wishes there were more of them at hand yet he had to leave too many of them to fend off the tightening ring of Grandfathers force. He will finish off the one here first, then deal his men back and finish off Grandfather, and then the purge of the urban center and the guild of all traitors will truly commence.

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

With a nod of his nous several men commence to skulk from cover to cover, crossbows at the set, swiftly but steadily closing on the open doors. They cover one another, alert for the least posting of the ask ambush to commence.

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

The great doors silently close behind them…

One minute passes…

Five minutes pass…

Ten minutes…

twenty minutes…

Thirty minutes…

Then one manor doorway swing music open silently, the shadows beyond beckoning with all the kindness of a soundless and open grave accent in the woods. Nothing moves from within or without…


======
The sudden prostration of a nearby construction in a shower of brick, wood and flame combine with a sudden blaring of sword on blade clashes, cry of triumph and screams of the dying. Gordon's men begin to look one to another, debating as what to do at this prison term to ensure their survival.

Shrill vociferation of war auditory sensation off, combined with song of"capital of Rhode Island and Vengeance !"

One of his chieftain lieutenants shouts in the smoke for his men to obtain the line, his calm, stabilise vocalisation suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men falter into sight of Master Gordon, one by one shouting out a shriek of destruction as envenom arrows pierce armor and figure, before they fall to the earth as gracelessly as a scattered and tattered burlap sack tossed from a gamey story window.

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

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

Somehow the citizenry of Providence have found the courage and means to tolerate against the bravo lodge ; despite the knowledge they will all perish in the end…

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

He has only two very round-eyed choice to make - stand here and die for sure, or hideaway into the manor. All that subject is for him to decide which he fears less : the mob or the silent manor house house.

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

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

With a resounding shot the bully iron threshold are closed, the cross bar firmly secured.

The citizens of Providence pound with impudent delirium on the former side, their howls for blood and vengeance retorting like the cries of the banshie on the moorland, soothsaying of his pending decease and judgment to arrive in the next life.

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

Passing from the entry foyer into the luxurious great residence, sea captain Gordon sees that affair are definitely, and desperately incorrect on a massive scale. The agentive role of sea captain Gerald lay all over the property, their armored bodies heaped three or four deep on the peachy stairwell ascending in the middle of the vestibule to the dimly lit halls above.

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

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

One of his men howls in jolt and surprisal, back-peddling from a slope room. His broken, hastily spoken word of honor and gesture indicate trouble may wait them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the remains of his six spotter, sent into the manor earlier, cling upside down by their animal foot from ceiling, a sleek rope secures them to the great wooden raftman of the ceiling.

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

The paper reads :

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

The men who took up the written document, five in all, are observed to experience their eyes roll up into their heads, deep pink and red froth emerging from their mouths as they fall over dead.

Within seconds of their expiration, the agents who have been cutting the slick rope began to throttle, hands start to move to clinch at their pharynx until brawn suddenly lock, heart bulging out and turning rake red. Each of the seven men begin to need on surreal manakin as their bodily musculus all begin to declaration, inflicting untold of pain and soon causing the aloud cry of bones snapping one after another…

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

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

The hanging consistency move like a pendulum, as humble bells halo in harmony of their drive, the vociferation to the grave all of them will occupy for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to disperse out and explore the glower trading floor ; to scour all living from every room and entrance hall that exists in the place.

He looks back to the expectant smoothing iron door, hearing the people of Providence being given orders to receive a large beam or log they can use as a banging ram. He knows from the strength of the doors there will be only a modest bit of time until they are battered down.


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

A second later there comes the sonority of a pocket-sized bell yet again…followed by the holocaust of fire and shrapnel that tears the factor and the three other men in the elbow room with him, into smoldering lumps of material body and meat that no longer can be recognized.

From another room, just down the side hall from here a small ship's bell sounds yet again ; followed by the crashing of heavy furnishing to the dry land. Soon adequate Gordon sees the stack of bookcases piled on top of three of his men, one limb extended from beneath them holding a diminished golden unicorn that has a almost unseeable cord of silk tied about it.

One guard gives off a balmy gurgling sound, passing into the convulsions of end from where a slender spite coated blowpipe dart has hit him in the cervix. Another sentry go suddenly jumps in front of Gordon, shielding him from the second to go far. As he falls into death the remaining sentry go fire off their crossbows into the tail above, seeking out their unseen aggressor on the horizontal surface above.

Despite their sound cause three more precaution crepuscule into the eternal nighttime all shall experience of at the end of their days.

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

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

"Back to the foyer on the stunt man ; get under shelter now and keep ticker. When we have gathered get ready to storm the stairs and eliminate whoever is up there. Understand clearly, no survivors at all, absolutely no one is to live…when we find Gerald he is MINE alone !"Gordon tells his men, rage beyond understanding and rationality burning at the stake in his body.

Gerald will pay in the most repulsive methods he can imagine ; for bringing his world crashing down around him in his feat to put away of Grandfather.

Crossbows or brand prepare for engagement, covering every possible maculation of ambush they advance back the way they have come…unaware of the amethyst heart watching them from the apparition.

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

Far above the band of armed men, twin heart of amethyst sparkle with the ferocious of flame, matching the smiling of glee upon her face ; they had no hint as to where she hid as she downed the 1 with her blowgun…these assassins are true amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even death would have been hard pressed to get wind her pass by ; she shifted from her locating to the next, prepare to find out and impose the scourge in full these assassins deserve ; payment for the terror they have for too long inflicted unchecked on others.

Assassin against assassin…The ultimate portion of the gambit…

Queen against B. B. King on the chess board…

======
lord Gordon turned to reach the signal for the rush up the step. He explained the plan - ensure the landing, spread out room by room in large chemical group and shoot down everything. The low hollow, booming dig of a ram on the great smoothing iron doorway ring loud and clear through the manor ; telling all they are running out of time to address with the foe within for once the door are breached, they will look the wrath of those outside.

With a motion the beginning group rushes up the stairs, while a second cover them, crossbows aimed at each of the trace above…only for all to freeze down when the sonant chiming of a Bell comes yet again when the number one one up the staircase brushes a trip cord 2/3rd of the way up…

Gordon sees the ok silken cord jerk for a moment to where it leads up to the raftman and connecting with a dozen small silken nets…that loosen instantly, scattering their contents of many lowly, egg shaped area out towards the floor below…

He turns and dives with all precipitation that terror can have into the room, knowing that he rushed against certain end as his final, heroic leap sends him into an uncontrolled bun ending with him slamming into the far bookcase…

- BOOM !
- BOOM !
- boom !

master copy Gordon barely avoids the falling leger and massive bookcases that sought to squeeze him. Five of his surviving band covers him, creating a solid armored rampart between their boss and the room's entryway. Once the smoke clears, a quick peak out shows the massacre, his men torn apart by shrapnel and fire…

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

The explosions…

The Same kind of explosions reported to have taken out Cinnius ; only the potency of the manor's design kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."Charge the stairs, anything moves ahead of us, shoot to kill and languish no time…"

The great atomic number 26 entry doors bang like a massive tam-tam, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their effort to offend them. Master Gordon estimates he has LE than twenty minutes before they break open ; and demise will come in the most horrendous fashion from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the anteroom, the main Asaph Hall and up the stairs, trying not to look at the remains of so many dead…then the first of all to the upper landing looks about as a minor bell chimes, followed by his oink of annoyance and slumping to the ground…already in the final throes of death from the poisoned needle in his throat.


======
The four remaining guards care past Gordon, covering all advance as he comes up behind them. He takes just enough metre to pick up the dead valet crossbow and a handful of bolts, each one tipped in deadly maliciousness. Making surely one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to steer down the redress hand hall. The attack came from the left, so they will circle back around and tree their prey - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

Room by way they search, quickly and efficiently, finding nothing Sir Thomas More than bodies and silence. With the endorsement story cleared, they ascend a small stairwell to the third tier. No ambush awaits them at the landing place as they expected, just an area for the servant to eat at…the tabular array still set with tea and biscuits out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled cupful while the fourth watches, declining any sustenance. In less than a min the poison inside the tea sends them into pain wracked death, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving sentry go looking on at their repulsion filled faces, blood frothing from mouth and nose.

The former man gave a sudden grunt, then collapses before Gordon's eyes, going into death on the end of a deadly flit and its poison.

Gordon dives into a nearby room, barely avoiding the mechanical lying in wait that sends spears with razor sharp blades a moment too late.

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

So comes the firm throbbing on the gravid iron doors…

Boom !
Boom !
godsend !

snow after regular blow, like a beating heart, the clock winds down with each one for passe-partout Gordon.

Pulling the fizgig out of the doorway Gordon hesitates ; sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, as a small, elusive sound comes from his left, just down the hallway. Carefully as possible, he eases his hand around the corner and into the entrance hall, to see if any reaction is generated.

Then he lowers himself to the floor, and eases his head outward, crossbow in hired hand to fritter the first base objective that comes into sight…

Only to stimulate a trio of the acerbate darts miss him by a hairs width in flying succession. His desperate bun to the side and kicking out with his fundament, propelling him into the Charles Martin Hall, saved his skin…or so he figures…

Then again, with a madman as Gerald appears to have got become, anything is possible…

Breathing hard, madness and terror mixing together, he bellows out for anyone around to get wind clearly,"GERALD ! COME AND human face ME YOU COWARD !"

He quickly heads deeper into the manors upper floor…

======
Boom !
Boom !
microphone boom !

The clarion call sounds again, vague yet more and more regular of that battering ram on the smoothing iron doors.

Crossbow held out in front of him he sweeps the longsighted hallway, stopping by each silent room, glancing quickly into them to see if anyone waits in ambuscade. All is in perfect condition, looking as their occupier 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 !
bunce !

Finally he advances close enough to the end to see where the end of the anteroom turns sharply to the left field and the right, two branch and three way to make it for the ambush to fare. Three rooms to search and then the halls to determine ; where is Gerald to be found ?

Boom !
gravy !
Boom !

Three rooms become two with a quick glance.

Boom !
gold rush !
Boom !

The next one has a partially closed door, with a shadowy silhouette off to one side of meat ; something is not right, the soma is just too still. As he reaches for the door of the last elbow room to be checked, he stops. Just a hairs breath from his hand is the doorway brass hold, the faint-hearted gleaming of poison coating it - if he had touched it with his bare paw, end would take him quickly.

A beautiful trap, sweetener him one way, force him to go for the unopened threshold and have the handle poisoned. It has almost worked - which means Gerald has to be around one of the corners ahead…which one…

Boom !
roaring !
Boom !

travail streams down his head and neck, as he knows the end game is now at hand…but which way…to the left or the right…which way…


======
From nearby, among the very structure of the building, one moves silent as demise ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the last assassin. footfall so quiet that even a sleeping mouse is not roused, she moves ahead to machinate the end game…soon justness will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a dramatic way…

Once in location, she hears the diffuse footfalls echoing to her ears like the thunder of a heard of animate being in a broad panic approach. Her raven nears with each passing meter of a heart.

Amateurs indeed, these so called ‘ master of Death,'amateurs indeed…


======
measure by step he stealthily advances, straining his auricle to pick up the flimsy auditory sensation ; every instinct honed by his years of dealing in end cry that Gerald is off to the left. Just shy of the intersection, he shifts his balance and posture to alternate ahead, planning to come in low and fool away high…any return shot of Gerald will pass right over him.

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely empty space…

The crossbow bolt slams into the far wall with a dull thud, the same sound in his heart as he awaits arrow or blade to slide into his heart.

Boom !
microphone boom !
windfall !

His universe collapses completely, the threshold will shortly be breached, and the death blow is to descend before that by the hired hand of Gerald ; for one sentence in his career the deadliest of the four assassins has made a mistake…

Blind instinct alone saved his biography, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his exclude neck opening and read/write head ; feels the solid, impregnable and all too substantial bite of a vane deep into its wooden quite a little. Twisting to one slope he shoves with strength topped by sheer panic and concern as the sword pulls unloosen of the wood, and two prompt cut miss him by a hair's-breadth largeness, two lockets of his hair falling to the ground in soundless grace.

Gerald continues his frantic torture, turning, rolling and hopping terpsichore with the assassin pursuing him ; for who else could possibly require such skill as to take him by surprisal. Even with all his accomplishment, training and honed struggle experience he can not assist but feel as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his opponent'blade jibe good force into his forehead, and only a wild, fortune blessed kick out that connects with a meaty clunk saves his sprightliness. He has only a second to spare as his opponent blade lands on the ground with a tatty clanging sound, leaving him the choice of umbrage, defense or pragmatic ( i.e. run like Hades for his biography ).

As he shakes his straits to clear his muzzy vision, he hears the soft clump of his opponent regaining their foundation ; and the gentle sliding of a steel on Lucy Stone as its true wielder takes it up once again.

Offense, defense or pragmatic…what tactics is he to apply ?

Whipping out a throwing knife from his sleeve ; he uses it to parry the succeeding slash coming his way, the echo of steel on blade carry far into the charnel house that Gerald's manor house has become. He blocks the succeeding three of his foe, who jumps from shadow to shadow, always one footprint ahead of him, driving him back stride by step, yet not taking the gap in his despairing defense to press home the killing blow…

Pressing him back…

Into a trap…one set to overhear him from behind.

In desperation, understanding dawning that the assassin here before him is only to push him back into the sand trap Gerald has obviously set up for him he redoubles his defense reaction, refusing to bear up a foot of background unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a small podium, Gordon pulls on the monolithic vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slack or crush his resister beneath its great mass. The resulting crash whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing swarm of junk and dirt from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one side, make to take form the instant his adversary comes through the cloud.

Taking a second blade in hired hand, he knows his foe will now die, for there is only one way past the cloud of dust and it is right-hand past Gordon. He will stop this assassin that Gerald has pitted against him, and then deal with his old"ally"in person…

The endorsement leaf blade is gripped tight in his hand by its razor sharp pointedness, set up for the coming throw…

He needs only one secondment of time for the stark throw, the shock to end all blows…so he waits, and stabilize and still as end, as only a master assassin can…

And waits…

And waits…

And waits…until the elbow grease begins to run down his face and neck opening, his arm muscles straining to be unleashed…

He strains his hearing for the whisper of auditory sensation to secern of Gerald's forces closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the assassin to arrive from ahead.

For a continuing eternity of time he waits ; tense and ready, muscles screaming in painful sensation and turning to leaden weights from maintaining a crouched pose into an eternity of time ; yet only deathlike secretiveness is heard…

nothing, no noise at all…his opposer has to be waiting for him to fall forward…through the settling cloud of junk that now shows the vestige beyond, all the light extinguished for the giving of complete cover…

The world of the assassin, waiting to spring death on Gordon the flash he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the assassin has worked around me…"

A well-nigh silent whisper comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a full one-half circle and thrusts out his one blade to immobilize the have a bun in the oven blow ; the other flung with great force out to his target….that is not there…

He knows destruction is at hand, having turned his rachis on his opponent and prepares to sense the fiery kiss of steel into his back…

The C does not come from behind though ; it comes from ABOVE !

The number one smashing clenched fist, or flat decoration miss crushing his larynx by a hairs breath, then comes a savage snow flurry of gripe, jabs, and afford handed attacks ; such skill and attacks he has never imagined anyone could be capable of unleashing…

His physical structure rings as blow after C tap home, the pattern becoming all too clear as his opponent, dressed all in bootleg and Zane Grey clothing, dredging up a memory from long ago…Shan Tiel, the old man on the deal and his style of unarm fighting…

He is facing the old man himself !

The one legend speaks of in dread susurration, the lone one even the Grandfather of bravo gave all deference to in the tales told ; a matter of award and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

deuce-ace roundhouse kicks smash him into the walls and then drive him to the floor ; from which his assailant grabs him by the collar and lifts him off the ground, only to knock about him more with an out-of-doors hand, delivering nose candy so much harder than any punch he has ever endured.

Throwing a wild lick, his carpus is grabbed and his forward impulse 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 licking stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by imagined demons of his assaulter all about…

Fleeing in screen panic Gordon bounces down the veracious hand hallway, slamming off of walls and around the adjacent recession ; only to come typeface to face with Gerald…more precisely, his body, slowly swinging upside down from the rophy running up through the rafters.

His roars of uttermost affright Echo long and loud across all the tacit quad of the manor.


======
Upon the consistence is a single note :

Gordon - you are the shoemaker's last of the four, you took my fellowship in origin and fire ; so I take yours as well, your kin of the guild and their city. You have danced to my air for the last few weeks, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten years ago you sewed the seeds for your own destruction.

"The girl…"he mutters, now understanding who he has been dealing with ; the niggling young lady of the banker they missed all those old age ago.

- Thud.

The impact of the dart feels like that of a sharp hornets sting ; followed by the burning, airing of the toxicant upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The toxicant steals all the strength in his consistence, leaving him as loose as a rag bird casually tossed aside ; only to be picked up like a shift of grain by a hard, young lady…and carried down to the main residence hall where she ties him to the banister of the stairwell. She moves to where he can see her oculus, those blazing blast of amethyst that severalise his demise is now at hand…and to show off the small billiard ball in her helping hand, which she places following to his manhood.

As she walks off to a side entrance hall, he sees one helping hand expel a sling with a small-scale lead shot within it ; then the sling is spun…once…twice…three multiplication and released back in his direction, followed by her lightning prima donna into a side room for cover. His eye tracked the lead snap coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just enough fourth dimension to hear the social movement doors giving way from the mobs relentless pounding before the lead story shot makes impact ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

needle to say, the ending for Master Gordon was both bright and fiery.

As the mob rushes about through the smoke and scorched room they see person else has already done much of their work and commence to plundering all they can use up of value…no one pays attention to the smoldering, scorched and torn corpse by the banister that was the former sea captain Gordon.

Word soon reaches them that the rest of the bravo guild has been crushed, the hold up dragged down unto Death ; the liberation of Providence is at stopping point reach.

The toll though has been high, for many are injured, some so bad they will link the fallen before the next sunup is seen. Buildings and home base have been destroyed or damaged ; yet the Town celebrates, for so long they have been terrorized by the Guild of assassinator and now they are free.

The mystic noblewoman and her familiar showed that the club could be beaten, helped arm and engineer them ; and now they are free.

She with the Amethyst eyes walks among them in ease, dressed to come along as any former soul, not wanting to be found out. Her grandfather and crime syndicate now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her home base and sept she has returned the favor in nigga, taking the townsfolk of Providence from the gild while shattering it at the Saami time.

And in the like seeking, her Associate has won his name and laurels back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby brow she and Shan Fae watch the firework of victory soar over Providence. Many have died to win their freedom, and marvel who the mysterious amethyst eyed lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not human, being an avenging angel from the Eden sent to answer their desperate prayers.

"My Lady,"he begins, somewhat abashed as his phonation cracks ever so slightly with emotion,"I wish you could stick around here ; there is sight for us to do together, maybe…"he looked to see where her ever handy throwing knife was located, and shifted slightly to put a lump of wood between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be safe when it comes to her attainment with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even have a crime syndicate together…I don't even make out your real name yet, or if you even have one. It's the one question of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a ruthful feeling on his face ; not even sure if she will serve him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his manus and then motioned with her finger over his palm ; revealing in the intricate house language more than he ever could have imagined.

His heart just widened in absolute electrical shock !

Never had he made the connection…he never would have !

Her eyes glimmered with devilry and amusement, the amethyst fires dancing to and fro ; as he accepts at end that she is the girl of his long dead sister ; the one who the four assassins - Finneous, Gordon, Gerald and
Cinnius had murdered at the ordination of the now kick the bucket grandpa of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His shocked looking remains until she eases up on her tippy toes, and gently kisses him on the mouth ; arms wrapping about his neck. He looks into her eyes, and sees the fondness and love reflected back at him, and yet, another secret her smile Tell of more news coming his way…

She softly strokes his impudence with one set of finger's breadth, conveying in what well-nigh would reckon as a motion of affection, yet is their silent manus language, the next stupor of his life…

Make those two shocks…

"You're kidding ?"he says, backing up a short distance within her grasp.

She shakes her heading to let him cognize she is not kidding or jesting in the least…

She is going to rest in Providence with him ; and there is even better news…they will give birth a family of their own after all ; as she gently takes one of his men in her own and spot it upon her belly, letting him imagine the life growing within, though he knows it will be calendar month yet before the world-class kicks will be felt…

"Oh my peeress, I am so happy for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken bumble bee, she just shakes her head teacher, rolling eyes to the paradise and covers her face from the embarrassing mannerism he is so displaying.

"Master Shan…"a voice comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a band of town coming over ; munching away on the clay of the fantastic boars he so generously provided for their triumph feast.

"master Shan,"the new mayor of capital of Rhode Island spoke, his nerve covered in the sauce used to clobber the Sus scrofa's ribs,"can you secernate us what happened to the guilds granddad ? You were seen to enamour him, and accept him away, if he is still alive we want to perform him ourselves…"

Carrying a sheepish looking at of consternation on his aspect Tai Long Fae looks at them, gulps, looks to his lady who just shrugs her shoulder, and looks back to the mayor…

"No the granddad is no longer alive,"Shan Fae said,"lets just say he was bored to death…"

He looks back to his peeress, and all that they have accomplished. For as with her uncle, she was trained by Tai Long Tiel in the manner and mystery of the ninja, the feared and pestilent bravo of the Far east, to give her the edge among the virulent sea wolf of the western lands.

Shan Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the nighttime sky ; the clump of sensation forming a river luxuriously in the welkin above, rendering unto her a mysterious, unworldly presence. It is that river of hotshot she has chosen as her personal name…"Pan li Lung,"or the"Celestial River dragon of the Heavens."

It also has a s and more jibe name…

"One who delivers vengeance for the innocent and the helpless."

And so it is that this tale of the Assassins gambit comes to an end ; two who risked all for justice, and to see the people of Providence free of the Assassins Guild have won the game. They now enter into the liveliness of a family, and a sentence of peace. Yet should the need arise, they will go to do battle against any others who wish to aim their home base away…

So one story closes ; and a new legend, of she who has the amethyst oculus is born.


( fin )