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

The leader of the four, Finneous, question instructions to his associates in the silent foretoken language used by the Assassins Guild ; though they already know their end, no mistake will be tolerated this nighttime, the contract bridge must be fulfilled…no subsister and no evidence is to be left behind.

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

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

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

Even the urban center police constable, the law enforcement agents of Providence - of course all are under guild control - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this hr. The program of the house, down to the smallest detail, were secured by yet another band of guild agents, allowing for precision planning…

All too easy, zippo can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will read no opportunity, for dim luck has on more than one occasion interrupted his plans. He gives a hundred counting, making sure no movement occurs…

eyesight, sensing and hearing nothing he motions with one hand to his companions. Of the three, Cinnius heads to cover the binding door with his small crossbow, Gordon and Gerald move to the side entrance of the buttery and kitchen.

Between flashbulb of lightning and echoing bellow of roaring they go ; undetected, they reach the theater of the banker betrayed by his partners. Jonathan Swift and efficient they enter, and in less than five minutes the all affair is staring, leaving the phratry beat and the business firm aflame from strawman to back. No survivors, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An easy night of body of work ; decimate an entire kinsfolk, torch the family to pass over the crime.

Save for one potential complication - one young girl, the middle phallus of the shaver, was not at the house. All four of them agree to say nothing more, knowing the extreme Death waiting for them if the Grandfather of the guild finds out.

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

**************************
The gentleman's gentleman known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the sphere watched the fires as they consumed the house ; from the shadows he had seen the four assassins enter and exit with exceptional skills. Not one of the four had seen Grandfather when he approached within four metrical foot of their course coming and going.

"Amateurs,"he declared softly, disdain for these so-called ‘ master'of the W.

If not for the charge he has been entrusted with by the now deceased banker, he would have finished this band of cretin just for the sake of pragmatism. They give a bad figure to what it means to be a truthful assassin.

He could just fancy how the struggle would strike place, brief and absolute in its finality…

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

Twin Falls, envenomed knife would take the middle two in their hearts ; the quivering spasm of death wracking the expressions of shock and repugnance on their faces…

Their leader in front, the one he knows as Finneous from past tense dealings, would fall in a personal matter…his Fe calced faculty smashing bone and crushing pipe organ in close up battle ; or if the Coward flees then he would send the throwing stars into his back - each one with the like deadly venom as his knives hold…

Tonight he can not give in to the desires…

Giving a quiet two hundred reckoning while still concealed by his Panthera tigris striped cloak, mo of leaf aiding in the camouflage of him being a component of the tree and bush, he listens with spike keener than many. He moves nary a bit, even as biting dirt ball crawl over him.

He knows when dealing with gent hunting watch like the assassins, there is only room for one mistake ; of path being from the Far east, HE is the straight huntsman in this game.

He slowly eases into a half crouch, then to a wax stance as he looks about, listening, sniffing the air, all to build sure the quartet of assassins have indeed passed beyond the area.

In his sheltering arms is the piddling girl, the one with the amethyst eyes and damp voice. Her terror filled dying hug lets him know just how pock she truly is, though still young and modest for her age, he will make for certain that no harm comes to her…

No matter what he will give sure no harm comes to her ; her begetter heroic plea with him, to pick one out of the 12 youngster to be saved skim his heart raw, having given the warning of the coming hit by the order. So it was he swept her up, out the room access and into hiding here just ahead of the assassins.

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

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

He keeps his firm grip on the piffling girl who hugs him in a terror filled death hug ; her eyes filled with amethyst fires. When her begetter had come to meet him, only the girl was with him ; then the father had rushed back to save his family, too belatedly to do little more than than die with them.

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

Very slowly the girl extended her coating clad arm, gloved finger's breadth tracing a series of moves into his manus. Indeed, mute that she may be, the informality of her ability with the sign terminology of his kinsperson's profession - fellow assassins like himself - demonstrating the intelligence agency that lies behind those tremendous eyes.

He nodded approval.

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

"Due to your centre few must know of your existence ; so animation will not be sluttish for you, yet there is something I will learn you to do,"he said with a determined look on his face.

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

"We must go now. I will teach you from today to become a hunter of your own. You will not bring holy terror to the innocent ; instead you will hound the hunting watch and their agents ; to learn those who use terror what it means to be subject of terror in turn. ``

So it is the two depart into the pitcher's mound, far from the city to the place they call household.

Neither of them reckon back at the old life, the end of a phratry for her.

Yet the two of them, the old man and the young young lady with the amethyst optic know the Word will be balanced in time.

The assassin consider their search completed, just one of hundred the quartet has carried out to success.

They have made their one mistake.



***********
***********
Grandfather just smiled with delectation as he looked upon her, lying side by side to him on her stomach on their bed ; his fingers moved with soft, feather gentleness across her denude tegument. He began with her one bared cheek, her head turned his way and those marvelous eyes dancing with such wit, life story and love for him.

Moving in a slow coil outward from the meat, he soon reached her lips and playfully caressed them across the top and then the can, exploring each share of them in spell. The tone of her affectionate breath upon his finger brought a tingling delight to his mind, his old body still up to the entertaining of a Lester Willis Young ma'am, one who is no longer a girl - she reached her majority a week ago, and asked for this nighttime as her gift from him.

He slips his finger into her mouth, caressing the inside of her lip and stroking against her tooth, taking delight in the growing blush upon her brass. Moving back to her upper lip, he continues his fingertip exploration, up to her wind and around each of her heart - especially along her brow, bringing a soft shudder to her body as her eyes gently close for the moment.

His finger begin to massage around her supercilium and then back along her expose ear, drawing forth a smile on her ruby red lips as a content little sigh escapes past them. She draws her deal up under the pillow her headway is resting upon, while her bared skin shine with the moonshine flowing in from the Twin Falls sliding doorway that are open to the external world.

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

granddad moves along the backbone of her head with his finger, caressing and massaging her neck along the slope and back, cupping them along the front so all of his script is on her pelt. He then begins in easygoing, circling and kneading moves ; she gives another soft sigh of contentment, her berm sagging ever so slightly as she begins to relax more and more.

His eye look up as he picks up the weak of social movement through the floorboards, a palpitation and a piano phone so insidious most would assume a shiner had scampered across the room.

Running his hand down along both side of meat of her rachis, he uses the other helping hand to back up his leaning course ; this move also brings him closer to one of his hidden throwing knives - envenomed of course of instruction - to deal with any unobserved attacker…

The young noblewoman turns her principal away from him, muscles on her back twitching in delight from his caressing touch. Once more there is a soft suspiration that escapes her lips.

Bending down he places his brim on her pelt, kissing inch by salty tasting inch from mid shoulder to the lower book binding ; all the while his eyes lookout for the future shadow to motivate, ears listening for the future sound to be made as the unknown intruder approaches.

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

A faint sound comes forth through the wall, telling him the precise placement of the intruder.

It also provides the information to another as well…

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

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

Burying itself to the vane hilt, she sees that her aim has been true. She then resumes her comfy position on the fledge matting, hands back under the pillow, waiting for grandfather to continue his ministrations.


======
The trespasser, the man of mystery from the Far due east simply known as the Associate - and designated helper for the one with the amethyst eyes, calmly stands in his place, one leg in half stride, pes prepared to ill-use across the walls frame to another small joint projecting slightly outward.

Such a motility on this outer bulwark, along the structures quartern floor and some three hundred feet over a cliff to the jagged rocks below would be tiddler's dramatic play.

He wanted to see the talent being given by Grandfather to the young lady.

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

He had regarded her as cypher Thomas More than a plaything for the old man ; even as warm witted and concise as the plan she has developed for their job in Providence…

He gently swings his organic structure around 180 degrees, pivoting on the toes of his other foot, then begins the upgrade back the way he came ; he will never underrate her again.

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

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

No more curio for him, he will now pore solely on the mission, and the Justice long denied to him for the offense committed by the guilds gramps of Assassins.

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


======
Grandfather just chuckled as she rolled onto her back, those sheeny amethyst eyes alive with humor ; his joy in her legal action is obvious as she holds her arms out for him, the invitation loud and light up in their unspoken dance of love.

Easing his robe off, he carefully lies across her soundbox, supporting the volume of his weight upon his slender, old and iron warm subdivision while she character her leg, sliding them gently around his hips, and begins to propel them in caressing movements along his own.

He begins to kiss her lips, which she returns with fiery intensiveness, the glow of her cheeks deepening with each passing moment. osculation after gentle, pecking kiss embraces her cheeks and then along the jaw to her chin, her smile concealing a barely visible gulp while one script moves to stroke her cervix ; generating a small shudder and twitch of her soundbox, a mum giggle parting her lip while arms and legs writhe in joyous, frantic bliss.

One small titillation follows a back, then three more, resulting in greater and enceinte gyrations from she with the amethyst centre. Tears of joy welled in those eyes, flowing down impudence to the waiting mouth of grandfather who pressed his brim gently on each fall - his grinning shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling scents of grandpa while he is so penny-pinching ; often she has been side by side to him in slumber, but never in such a manner as this…the thought of what is to come in so soon filled her with a bit of dread and first moment of ecstatic bliss…the last mystery of mystery story to be explored.

Her eyes closed as his paw cuffed the back of her neck, supporting it with great strength and gentle, warming signature ; the small vibrating motion of each digit musculus told of his iron control of the body, massaging and finding each sensuous boldness in the expanse, bringing an unexpected surge of euphoric heat from deep within and down below, where she feels the beginnings of a wetness build…

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

One fingertip of his free people hand began to research, resting at firstly upon the selfsame base of her costa, to flow upward in a specialise, focused, undulating trail that sent a cornucopia of tactile sensation surging into all portions of her mind.

Sharp and sweet, fancy woman and tangy, dull and dense ; words without form for tactile sensation that can not be described but only imagined in a harmony like a serial of streams forging into a mighty river as all sum together. One sharp ingestion of breath bringing a heavenly profusion of scents - the lingering steam and droplets of water from the washup elbow room nearby ; the thin touch of old cologne water and musk, of earthly rich men smells, and timber heather of women who have been here in the rooms many one C of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened palm, easing along the edge of her titty, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in diminished, docile circles. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other boob to do the Sami. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded ; the hand caressed and massaged more and more than area of each breasts.

She heard and felt her hint quickening, her head making a small circle as electrical charges of pure cloud nine tingled their way up in her consistency ; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant rush of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential difference of life story made realness. virgule by gentle stroke the unnumbered radiation pattern flowed, kneading and shaping her breasts until they crossed the rear mamilla ; that first gracing contact sent a coursing pulse of cacoethes along all the way of life of her trunk, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred congregation in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

Her back arched as shoulders thrust back ; both deal quickly clenching the covering of the bed they shared, all but pulling it inwards due to the sheer bliss dominating her body ; brawn twitched and squirmed, nerves firing in delight and demanding they be touched to give her even more pleasure than she has ever experienced to this breaker 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 walking on air as it moved along my skin. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the rippling on a pond, yet with the personnel of a cascade among a mighty river.

Just short of physical contact her body could take no more than, pushed to the edge faster than even grandfather had figured as her consistency moved in activated, euphoric apparent motion ; one silent cry of key passion after another expressed on her parted lips until her climax hit, being released in one instant of uttermost Nirvana bliss.

She signed him not to intercept, to fetch up her requested giving for the night, while she still was ready. Nothing was to interfere from here on out…nothing if she could help it at all.

Her hand slide along his back, ribbing and cuddling, until they meet with the finger's breadth entwining to nurse him securely in place. She closes her optic, neck arching slightly in response to the kisses he now places along it, while a series of sonant sighs escape her lips that open and finis in silent claim of building lust.

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

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

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

From his gentle and unfaltering action, move after move, she begins to feel a fiery bliss flow up her body like a river of molten metal ; the heat and intensity redoubling with each inch it passes unto her brainiac. Her breathing place quickens as she lays there, auricle listening to the gentle, sweetie ventilation of Grandfather.

She kisses him on the cervix, a sloppily wet one followed by a indorsement and a third.

All too soon the admiration of this time of pleasure comes to an end, as he reaches the limit of his body's endurance and restraint, sending his life history seed mysterious into her body.

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

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

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

His mitt encompassed hers, allowing him to contract delight in the softness of her hide, the slight perspiration on the aerofoil.

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

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

She looks upon the one who she loves so lots with wonder, hoping to share so many more such moments as this night before the Richard Morris Hunt begins.

For the finally 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 brand and the bow, the throwing hotshot and daggers ; many weapons for all office she may encounter…and so much more.

The corking weapon system she has, as he once challenged her to venture, is her mind.

Yet he taught her so much more than to be a ‘ living weapon ;'she loves to trip the light fantastic toe with him under the stars, to angle and hunt, to act as Bromus secalinus, and so much more.

In short, he taught her how to survive and love life day by day.

Two scant calendar week before she heads to capital of Rhode Island ; two weeks she intends to savor to the wide with her new lover, making love as much as he will permit.

Contently she rolls onto her position and slowly drifts off to catch some Z's while he serenades her.

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

Her ambition 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 prison term together will be wonderful.

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


======
Her Associate stands silently off to the side of the small shrine where grandpa ash have been laid to catch one's breath, the two horses he holds, their setting, remain silent as if paying regard to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just stir his capitulum, amazed that the one he is to function with shows such a range of emotions ; he made the promise to never underestimate her again, yet the sheer showing of science in her plan - and the contingencies for consequence and opportunity that may arise, is the work of a unfeigned master.

Only the thin gleam of a split shows as it flows down her nerve ; the exclusively weakness he has seen in her during the prison term they have come to be intimate one another.

nutcase as it sounds, he wonders if there is a chance for them ; once the hunt is done, to experience a kinship with each other…

Let the next ejaculate as it does, right now other matters need to be focused upon…such as the pets he needs to purchase once in town ; secure their protection and produce trusted they are sufficiently hungry for when the sentence comes to birth his revenge…

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

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


*******************
*******************
In the profundity of a vacant store, one long boarded up, shelf thick with rubble and cobwebs the simply auditory sensation to be heard is the oceanic abyss, rasping, moaning gasps of an honest-to-god man. Dressed in a well tailored lawsuit, most would assume him to be a servant for one of the full-bodied merchant of Providence ; yet if they knew his true position, they would run off screaming…to an too soon, pain filled death as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then bear the same fate.

He is the butler and right wing handwriting man of Master Gordon of the guild of Assassins, not to observe being a virulent slayer in his own right.

His hands grip the workshop dusty counter that pushes into his rear as he fights to remain upright ; waving of giddy, pulsating, undulating heat and electric like sensations of pleasure rate of flow into his mind ; too many years have passed since he has felt this way, and now to give birth such a noblewoman as this take such interest in him, for such a fairly loud monetary value as well…

One of the legendary Sisters of the blue, a little assembly of courtesans renowned for their mastery of the erotic and tantric arts, showing interest in HIM ! ! !

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

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

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the Sister's lips play along the duration of his manhood ; pausing to kiss and twirl around the raw base of its head. With a whirlwind of small-scale, precise strokes of her tongue she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading wave into his body along the pin down ravines of his unquiet system ; one wave upon the early ; building into a tsunami of strength and lustful fires, threatening to barge in his creative thinker ; with oblivion coming then and there from excitement matching that of a wild entire proclaiming triumph for ascendance of a herd of mares.

For the first time in years he feels so unloosen and TRULY ALIVE ! ! !

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

He has to find out ?

Grunt after oink echoes around the discharge store, his fists commence to punt upon the parry as he strains to bear back the growing pressure upon his humanity. He understands that for so long he has been an kine, who by option and confinement in the sign of the zodiac of his boss, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such fine carnal pleasure as this…

Oh the heady perfume she wears, soft and gentle yet being laborious as iron and unyielding as the cryptic Stone in the world ; elusive as a ghost while being here and now as a present moment of metre that is eternal.

She eases one hand upward, gently teasing and tickling his Twin set of chestnut just below his humanness, while being unaware of the small surprisal lying just within her fingernails boundary. If this man dares to take in the hidden set of blades or the finely wire garrote up his odd sleeve, then the poison will kill him within seconds, thus forcing a small change in her plans for the dear future.

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

He feels like his eyes have crossed over into the opposite sockets, his persuasiveness being drawn out of him by the constant, oestrus flowing, headiness of her military action. Oh if he only could get his wife or the former girlfriends and kept woman he has - each convinced they are ‘ his true love'– to do thus to him, as well as or substantially than she.

For the second base time he counts his goddam lot at having a Sister of the blueing come to HIM for so low of a terms ; one simple modulation and future tense get together such as this will go ever easier to arrange.

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

He wonders for a bit how much he can load his associate for them having their affaire with her ; and not put on the line being sold out to Master Gordon or the Grandfather of Assassins

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

Of course his captain may not see it that way, yet what he does not jazz will not cause him to slaughter the butler in the most vicious of means possible…if he was lucky, being flayed of all skin, doused in vinegar and then covered in Malva sylvestris to be fed to rabid bum would be a true blessing.

But that will not happen, his skipper may be a brawny figure in the club, yet HE, the butler, controls the day to day consequence at Master Gordon's landed estate - no one will know, just as he has smuggled and embezzled 1000000 of gold coins, gems and artwork over the years, others paying the price for his actions…

He easily could get afforded one of the Sisters at their pattern, outrageous fees of ten or more year's wage for a pattern proletarian, just for one hour of ‘ entertainment'by them. Some people have become so indebted to them, that they in turn become servants of the sister, forever.

The two things that give the sisters such power aside from their domination of the sexual liberal arts, is the sheer beauty of each one - plus the sheer azure blue eyes they have ( hence the ‘ blue'in their championship ) ; AND the fact that each one is mute from nascence, thus all arcanum told in their front can be kept safe from revelation.

Those who control the Sisters make for sure they never learn to communicate in any means, reading, writing, or such save by a limited preindication language centered on the sexual fine art. Though they are innocent in how to pleasure and please their clientele, they shall never be unloosen of the mighty influence and control of the guild that dominates their entire lives.

closed book and boasts condom with the Sisters ; so be it.

The Butler spends some time explaining to her as she gently strokes his manhood, rapt attention paid to him as he tells taradiddle after fib about the guild and their undulation of terror and execution used for control ; her smile shows the fervor brewing deep in her body, seeing him as a champion of champions against those who dare to react the way things are - the Guild of assassin normal, zippo else can supervene upon 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 marvelous bliss combined with rapt care to the cop changeless stream of false heroics masks the uttermost contempt she feels to him…

And wonders if it would not be better to simply scrape up a bit too hard, jump back and watch as the poison goes into effect…no not yet ; the time for such petty matter is not at hand.

Her men take cargo area of his humanity and begin to stroke it, fast-slow-fast-faster-slower, the pep pill changing sufficiency to establish him up, back down some and then build up again.

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

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

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

"Just a reminder of who you are dealing with noblewoman, the first pinch of betrayal at all…"he finished with a question of his hand across his throat, fervour alight in his eyes.

She resumes her office on her articulatio genus, pretending nothing has happened at all.

As per their softwood, she opens her mouth to indicate his entire life seminal fluid is there, and then swallows it down.

She smiles at him, happy to experience given him such pleasance ; while on the inside she steams at having to put up with such a creature of an animal, castration would be too full for him…give him over to a isthmus of angry women, wielding knives and they will have him as the briny course at a banquet…

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her temper in hitch ; despite that she will be spewing her bowel out for the next twain of hours when she gets house, the overall gains are Worth it.

retaliation will do soon enough.

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

"My dear babe in Blue, the next time you wish to suffer Sir Thomas More roses, let me know. I will gladly convey them to you for an ‘ exchange of table service'such as you provided tonight,"the pantryman stated.

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

"The first 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 butler's employer owns, and thus he has keys to for such ‘ job matters.'

The Butler heads off now on former matters ; specifically the possessor of the new flower shop class, the girl known as ‘ Clairice,'the one who is Quaker with the madman that makes the gadgets for the guild.

She has expressed involvement in the novel rose wine master key Gordon has been developing, I like the three he has given to the Sister in Blue. Yes, he shall get to his need known soon enough, and may own another one to add to his schoolmistress - or he may just kill her outright, depending on his particular whim of the moment.

Yes sprightliness is secure and Master Gordon will never bang of the missing flowers being by his own hands.

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

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



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

Indeed, ten years is a long time, now he had business leader, rank and wealth known only to a few ; those who part ways to let him pass, his social station clear by the all right of pitch-black courtship encompassing his iron-trimmed brawny soma. For the suicidal who may challenge him, the pocket-size crossbow bouncing at his hip - always loaded with a poison thunderbolt - is ready.

None dare to gainsay him, for he is one of the master copy of the society of Assassins ; one of the fine and of the deadliest, only rivaled by Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius his old associates…and of course the grandpa of assassinator and his ever shifting plot of land within plots…

…no that one he will never challenge, preferring the luxury of life to the finality of death after repulsive quantity of torture…

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

Yes here in his domain he is rubber, based on his ability to master others by their reverence - of death, pain in the ass, and of punishment or fierce skill in vane, tongue and a hundred other weapon. By controlling their awe, he has control condition of all those around him.

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

"Oh it feels so thoroughly to be a king within my own lilliputian domain here in the city…"he chuckles to himself. Yes it is good to be king over a minuscule circumstances of the world.


======
Two sets of eyes watch as Finneous point down the street, following the same radiation pattern each day. Same metre, route, movement, and such…predictable, and thus vulnerable ; in becoming predictable, he has become so very vulnerable…

Without anyone else noticing the two have a spry conversation, using the silent spoken communication of hand motion ; if all goes well, they will need to travel quick.


======
Two soft, gentle eyes watch as the assassinator psyche down the street ; day after day he follows the Saami set road, no deviation and secure in his own personal domain. Indeed in this region of Providence he is a king, and admittedly to vogue, the watcher here has a gift for him.

They play this same plot each day just as he passes the doorstop leading into her dwelling ; 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 romanticist she figures, and the girlfriend must be so rosy to have him as her friend.


======
Finneous head by one of the few privately owned shops in the orbit, the small stone building is home to a new florist, who also deals in betting odds and ends she trades for from other merchant. Such is the budding reputation of her work that many people of influence and power, not to name members of the society, visit to buy her creations.

Her only have it away companion is that old and completely harebrained toymaker Darius ; his adept for making gadgets and mechanical contraption is just as legendary, as he has the golden chance to behold first hand.

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

So sweet and dependable is the song that many tangible canary bird in nearby Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree join in the song.

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

bearing over, he gives a soft cough to realise his presence known, and indicates the mechanical bird with one helping hand. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the creature ; Darius bristles until the fille locks him in property with a truly stern gaze, thus saving the assassinator the need to kill him for a modest insult.

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

When he gives her the coins for the purchase she bows to let off herself then goes back into the shop. Darius just shrugs his shoulders and drumhead off on whatever business his hydrophobia holds, his rich Amytal robe covered in unearthly mathematic symbols flowing about him in the breeze.

As the assassinator heads down the street he knows he is being watched ; his facial expression feigns sake 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 metre and for once holding something of groovy interest to him.


======
The two who watch the procession of Finneous up the street have another quick conversation in the silent hand language ; the second of the two arc slightly, then proceeds to redeem his ‘ gift,'knowing that there will be little sentence as things come to a head.

The number 1 continues to watch Finneous, seeing him feign interest in the mechanical snort, and the true interest he shows in the ‘ game of ambush'both play each day ; not to mention the special ‘ gift'that goes to him today as well…these assassins, such amateurs…



======
As on each day, the ‘ ambush'occurs right on time, the little little girl with the mild center steps out in front line of him with her weapon system filled with heyday."Good sir, would you like a flower today ?"

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

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

He counts out a handful of silver-coins, many clock time what all of her flower are worth. This is his means of paying his own factor, and helps to hold on them in blood with the unverbalized message of fear - betray him and not only will the agent die, so will all their family and kinfolk.

As Jesmine runs off to give the investment company to her Father-God Finneous hears a din down the street…

Much to his amusement he sees the old toymaker Darius arguing with a pair of Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. He seems to be trying to get them to buy a mechanical device that will foregather water for them. A unmortgaged lesson in the finely art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can seduce wonderful miniature.

His fancy woman will absolutely love this mechanical bird.

A second glance at Darius shows he is trying to dance with the trees, and doing so badly. When a gang of leave fall over his head, he begins to argue about some ‘ slight of honor from the forest of the creation'and then challenges each tree to a affaire d'honneur of honor…a true lunatic indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

The flower smells so marvelous ; 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 rose he has worked ten years on.

"I will have to find out."

Too bad he never got a probability to find out.


======
The gathered gang theatrical role for the approach 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 cook next to his hip ; the mechanical bird lying atop the half bloomed flower, singing away as it was designed to do.

"Go and get the duty captain,"shouted the patrol sergeant to his adjutant,"tell him what we have here at once, the rest of you secure the area, five paces out and no one touches anything ; when the Grandfather of Assassins finds out about this we may birth Major problems."

frankincense has passed Finneous, master bravo, unafraid king of his own field who made only one mistake ; he became predictable ; thus he became vulnerable ; and thus dead.

All hail the king for he is now dead.

One has fallen, three more left.


*********************
*********************
The city police force - the police constable have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her family. Everything in their business firm is inviolate, no house of disturbance, worry, back up sport or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their live on prepared meal, still cooling down from preparation, remains uneaten on the table plus an expensive wine bottleful chilling in a bucketful of ice…

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

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

make sure that Finneous has admission to these flowers during his dawn walk, one is to be sent to his kept woman as well ; remember I will stand no more mistakes. If per chance he does ask where they are from, distinguish him directly they come from my landed estate gardens, in honor of our ten long time of mutual silence - Gordon.

Quickly this note made its way into the hands of the assassinator social club ; the leaders waiting to see what their comfortably examiners could find, which for the near part appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a serial publication of littler, invisible writing emerges from the slight heating of the parchment.

A special, hidden code known only to a handful of the club - used for those who need to fly the urban center instantly, and with everlasting safety…

Safe house prepared, flee when Finneous given flowers, no reluctance, follow directions to the missive on pain sensation of destruction for everyone - Gordon

"Round up everyone who may be remotely connected to this matter, and turn them over to the John Constable for the interrogations. Make sure as shooting they are reminded to abide quiet, no questions, no quotation of gild business enterprise at all under painfulness of death,"ordered the granddaddy of Assassins.

Turning to the leader of his personal bodyguard detail he gives one explicit rules of order,"Find the 1 who run this network of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be Master Gordon, a power playing period seems to be brewing, and so those traitor have only one end task to perform…food for my assembling of tigers in the dungeons…and make sure they die slowly…I want to hear their screams."

virtually likely this is a ability sport, a series of eliminations of rivals and senior ranked members to spread the way for lower ranks to be promoted - that is the way of the guild, to advance you incline of those above you or die in the process.

The gramps decides a little talk with Master Gordon could not hurt. Just to reach sure as shooting he is aware that if he is seeking to unseat him, it will issue forth to a bad ending for Gordon. And if he is not plotting against grandpa, then it will alarm him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

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

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

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

Upon receiving the process from the Grandfather of Assassins ; Master Gordon starts to shake in mortal terror, wondering what was going on…Finneous is suddenly, a letter he supposedly wrote according to the courier after a nice bribe, plus the first whispers on the street of the great unwashed inquiring to a greater extent and more about his abode and habit in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his butler ?

Plots within plots, movement and counterpunch relocation ; that is the lot of anyone who is a phallus of the Guild…HIS living, the assemblage of baron and control until eliminated by a competitor from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the granddaddy of Assassins fears HIM…

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


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

Here she is, laying back on a cast, those easygoing doe like eyes closed, head turned to one incline as her lips silently opened and stopping point from waves of lightning like pleasance surging with mogul and military unit up her body, to crash with earsplitting replication in her thinker.

Those easy hands grip the back and side of meat of the cast with vice like loudness, fighting to keep off the force of each shudder, arching of her binding and wiggling of her hip joint from the care being given to a finical part of her body…

Just the thought of it, not to mention what is going on drive her already deep blush on cheeks, brown and nose to change further ; so acute is it that anyone watching would feel wafture of heat and desire shimmering off of her skin in wave, threatening to consume all who dare to venture near.

One massive shudder of her body, her rose hip instinctively thrusting upward as if by their own will, causes her to cover her face in sheer plethora ; any thoughts of modesty have flown long ago as a bird flying with the wind.

As if she had any real choice but to submit to the interrogation anyhow…

The one who is conducting this unique trend of ‘ interrogation'is the headman Investigator Kimberly, who takes her time to ‘ investigate'and ‘ examine'each part of Clairice's womanhood. Each and every in, crease and hidden depth she kisses, licks, or child's play with via her digit ; time after meter she manages to bring Clairice to the very edge of climax, threatening to beat back her over the edge only to get her John L. H. 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 convulsive hip thrusts and arching of her rear, legs squirming about as she covers her mouth with both hands clenched into fists.

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

None will comment on the techniques used by Kimberly, nor on her block up body ; her bronzed cutis, perfectly formed face with those roughshod grayish eyes and cherubic expression - complete with a sprinkle of freckles, and her monolithic, unadulterated breasts any man would suffocate between with happiness on his final aspect, makes a stark mannequin any carver would be gallant to cause created.

Yet the bronze death masks of the conclusion twenty men to so comment knack on the rampart nearby ; each masque showing the absolute vision of horror their faces had attained at the moment of their deaths in the most heinous of ways one could imagine…chewed on by rats, boiled in oil, crucifixion, death by 500 cilium of a whip, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will dare lay a mitt on Clairice either, nor make any shape of threatening move ; the fate of those who do is unknown save for thus : the day after they made the last mistake in the presence of Kimberly their manhood was found in the streets near their home base, and no other remains.

Amazingly though, rumor to abound out of Kimberly's hearing of one man, a high-pitched range appendage of the social club of bravo has won her heart….if that is even possible…

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

Rubbing her fingers rapidly over the missy's woman, she grins wickedly back at her men ; then she moves back down again, playing her tongue across it in rapid, precise cerebrovascular accident and letter of the alphabet patterns of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the fingers of both deal worming their way inside her tight folds.

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

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

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

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

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

The torturers though just could not crack his already insane mind ; he continued to fence with the post, some matter of maths and mechanic. Each crack of the whip drew only a low gash on his exposed back, plenty to inflict level best pain, yet did not break him.

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

He commented that they would now remove the prisoner skin one inch at a time - yet when the torturer looked into the eye 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 arcsecond torturer, many of whom never imagined could bear his nerves cracked by the gaze of an insane man.

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

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

Kimberly continuing her maddening exertion on her, determined to pull up every bit of pleasance out of this minuscule tart, continuing to refuse her the release her body demands.

Again and again her hips thrust upward as waves of fiery bliss shoot along her torso and jeopardize to founder her mind. Waves of volcanic heat flow and ebb along every fiber of her being ; surging and exploding with every case of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rhapsodic bliss !

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

One silent gulp followed by another and yet a third becomes a firm current for some time as one finical touch is touched just so by Kimberly's tongue ; causing her pelvic girdle to pierce up, back bending and bosom heaving with the sudden influx of air her heated, burning physical structure is demanding…

The inspector's helping hand move up and fondle her knocker yet again, not bothering to be gentle either ; three times she draws dumb screams out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving bruises of her fingers and palm on each one, relishing the straining she can bring down on such an innocent and cowardly girl…

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

The animalistic grunts and slapping of flesh on flesh of David entering into Kimberly merged with her cries of pleasure, trashy and gaga like a large number of Wolf. He showed no restraint, no hesitation in his every move or desires to relish this consequence in which he thinks he has complete dominance over the inspector Kimberly.

Of course, his brother know better.

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

grin savagely Kimberly went about her efforts on Clairice in a whirlwind of endeavour ; probing and twirling her fingerbreadth deep in her womanhood while working every dowry she can with her flickering tongue and lips. Faster and ever profligate her efforts accelerated, determined to break Clairice once and for all ; to demo these men and the missy who is the on-key boss and fancy woman on the scene…

Then she will see about destroying the one called Darius.

Clairice scrap with all the considerable subject field she has learned in her spirit, locking her bodies brawn and restraining the ever building, quickening attack of her pending release ; she smiles inward with a low circumstances of her mind as Kimberly howls in frustration - no issue what the inspector does or endeavor, she just can not shit the young woman hit her climax.

So raging does Kimberly turn her script that holds onto the back of their shared cast tears away a lump of wood some two pes long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her white meat dance with the pulsating rise and fall of her chest, howling joy escaping her lips as middle roll up into her head…she hits her climatical press release at the instant David, full of bellowing grunts and growls howling for all he is deserving ( and such would make any gang of wolves grin with pride ), his handout inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

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

Moments after his big finish Clairice loosens up on her organic structure, allowing the inevitable rush of final exam bliss to teem forth as an unstoppable storm, the force and fury of the temblor, the slap-up tsunami descending onto the coast of a continent from across the ocean…

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

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

Kimberly just looked at her with atomic number 26 in her stale hoary eyes,"There will be another though, and who knows ; I may let my male child have their fun with you…"

"She is to be escorted home, if one of you so much as ballad a hand on her, pray for a warm expiry from self-destruction ; otherwise I will flay your skin one inch at a sentence, then soaked in vinegar, covered in molten high mallow and tossed to a pit full of rabid, plague infested and thirsty stinker,"Kimberly informed them all.

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

======
As they gather Clairice's wear, gently handing it to her, backbone and gaze now politely turned away ; the Investigator prepares to apply her new enlistee - Saint David - a arse object lesson in following orders. One thing David should have got remembered is that each of the Investigators are woman who absolutely loathe men most of the time, plus being high story assassins of the club.

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

- WHACK !
- belt !
- WHACK !

double over, eyes crossing and flaccid moans escaping his lips, David begins a slow, face first parentage to the floor. One Thomas More victim racked up to the Inspectors well known movement called the"Triple Nutcracker."

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

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

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

No, she and the old toymaker Darius had zip to do with the death of Finneous.

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

That is the way of the order run Constables and their Investigators ; they control the town folks through fear.

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

Finneous appears to simply possess died of heart stoppage.

rear in her personal function she examines the finis, precious gift sent to her by Finneous…a last talent sent just a few hour before his death…and to just up and die from his heart and soul stopping ; not in person combat against another assassin or madman…

She smiles at the wonderful gift :

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

Ironic indeed, two of the most deadly of killer whale sharing one affair in uncouth : A love for rose wine of all kinds.

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

Taking it in manus from the quartz vase it arrived in, she looks at the blossom in the indulgent lantern light ; the promise of ravisher beyond marvel hinted once the heyday opens to its fullest.

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

Little wonder Finneous sent it to her, such a prize can make for a baron ransom or Sir Thomas More from its grower…

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

Of course they quickly discern there is zilch to fear any more from Kimberly - being dead does turn over that warrantee ; and she is deemed to own died from affectionateness stoppage as did Finneous.

The solemnization held that night in the constable government agency for her pass lasted well into the next day ; the moans and groans of the men and char coupling merged with the conjugation of cleaning lady with other women telling all who dared to listen just how the solemnization culminated.


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

As usual no matter what Darius said or did the Constable escorting him and Clairice to her shop class paid him no attention. Its not that he minded the escort, nor having her as company during the long walking dwelling ; he is gladiola they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by pack raping her as so many other women routinely are - the so called ‘ law'of this township lives by little terror as does the assassinator who rule.

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

"Okay bozo,"said the patrol leader - Jambis,"we have done our responsibility for the Night ; now, leave her be and underprice him…"

The two Constables carrying him summarily threw him into a heap of garbage and sludge. To add further insult to injury, the patrol dumps heaps of garbage from containers, dish, and corner on top of him ; mocking him as a confessedly maniac.

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

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

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

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

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

Even that blasted poor devil of a hussy Clairice is gone.

"Smart fille, save out of sight, and keep out of trouble. Let's get back to Ragner ; then we can have a night on the town with our payment…how about that new ale business firm ? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…"Jambis'vox fades away as Darius rolls on the ground in pain…

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

Only the opening move of the shop door and a motion of her with the amethyst eyes keeps his pursuit in check…

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


======
Hours later in the city crowded market one Brigham Young noblewoman casually strolls down the way ; just a round-eyed milk maid from the farms outside the town. No one pays her any care, the much patched, homespun fabric coated in the daily soil of hard toil keeps most eyes from more than a glance followed by, for those of Sir Thomas More affluent means, a disdainful razz of disgust.

She filled her basket with an miscellanea of yield, day old simoleons and former goodness for a minuscule family of one ; all that the seller know she needs.

Friendly, but soundless, the mark across her pharynx and left face indicate a frightening injury that never properly healed due to miss of care.

Still with mere motion of pantomime they communicate for conducting business ; both functionary and otherwise, for one of the vendors passes her a small-scale sack of fresh fruits, something she pays well to receive due to their rare and scarce nature.

spinal column in the refuge of one established hideout, she sees her Associate carefully undo the sack cloth to gain access to the billet. He takes extreme caution in doing this, to make sure the notation is not trapped in some mode - say with a diminished, highly poisonous worm or a pocket-sized snake.

"wealthy person trust in your agents unfeigned my granddaughter ; but accept care in casing one has been turned,"granddad had warned her in a lesson so long ago.

In her small mirror, used to slay the make-up, fictive scar and other detail of her disguises, she sees her currently green heart turn back to their normal color…the similitude ball of amethyst fires…

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

It is from one of her other agents :

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

For a second her grin turns feral ; her amethyst eyes dancing with pure firing from within.

She remembered the lesson Shan Tiel had taught :

The bravo controls agentive role through promise of wealth for success, and promise of death for loser. Find the object he threatens death to, the key to operate over the family - once found, prepare the families escape. When the agent of the assassin no longer is controlled by fear, their fear now becomes a burning desire for retaliation. Thus the assassin in now vulnerable, and when you are make, he will die.

Finneous held power and thus had tot up ascendancy of the father by threatening harm to his preciously Jesmine.

When the offer of freedom and relief valve from the care of Finneous came, and understood to be legitimate, he took up the one undertaking without hesitation. Hence the flush was delivered and the bank bill left behind.

One bravo is perfectly, three more than to go.

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

He watched her Cross the elbow room to place the note among a lowly bundle of them, to be burned later on and the ashes scattered in the natural state. No grounds of them is to remain at all once committed to memory.

His mind registered each gentle sway of her pelvis, her covering robe of pinko silk shining in the Inner Light of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to tease him with a brief Apocalypse of a leg here, a calf there, a potential sight of one component or another in the dear constant play of igniter and shadow. Not one dissonance did her fundament make as they all but danced across the wooden base, so balanced and ghostly is each ft placed ; always ready for action on a present moment notice…

Oh how he could excogitate what it would be like to palpate his manhood being rubbed and tenderly teased to its maximum potency by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in turn of events begin to snog one foot, working to her mortise joint and then gently easing up, one in at a prison term to her innermost thigh and seek out the one heavenly shoes she has, the one portion he loves on a womanhood to please and taste, to see the luxuriant warmth of her human body and…

- Whack !

"My lady if you will excuse me I am off to get some rest,"Associate said as he slowly eased his body around the tongue hanging sharp side up, just a hairs intimation beneath his arouse manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol fellow member talk of the town of their deeds, screened by a small detail of the best inform creatures to be found within any city : Street urchins, crawlers, lurker, they go by many such names and almost all have one matter in common ; they are the bottom of the social order.

The poor, homeless, orphans, lunatic, and all such multitude who are dire to arrive at a coin or two for a adequate repast ; so it is that many in positions of power use them to watch any and all front, any rumors or narrative no matter how trivial. Few people pay them any attention save to save hand on their money knock, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being invisible while in plain sight.

One other trait the lurker, such as a immature lad casually strolling along the streets a suddenly time later, his hired man deep in coat pockets, is a well honed inherent aptitude for survival. Otherwise he would experience died long before now. Yet the fact is when he bumps into soul, he is the one knocked to the ground - landing adjacent to a fallen handbasket of fruit…

A gentlewoman looks down upon his fallen class, the pig black whisker done up in a flowing braid, blue-white hat tied to her top dog while cerulean blue eyes watched. Her blush-enhanced cheek glistened in the sunlight, matching the gloss on her brim as her grinning grew wide with poetical pleasance that many men, and some women, wished to explore with pounding hearts…

Her fine gown of deep sea greens sparkled in the lighting, slit along one leg to flux enticingly about her calf and second joint, promising forbidden joy to those unforced and able-bodied to pay the price. The mild waistcoat of blue-green silk she wore clung to every one of her feminine bender it reached, economise for a portion that shows a glimpse of her tit, gentle and pink of skin, as many an aristocratic man enjoys…

folding her parasol, she bends down into a one-half crouch, the cloth of her gown conveniently flowing about her upper thigh to break the chopper sheen of her peel ; muscles honed to absolute beau ideal and hinting at the forcefulness contained within - the comfortably to wrap around their evenings consort in the stroke of passion, or so it is said.

She extends one hired hand to the lad, her glove flowing up to the human elbow and dancing with scintillation 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 twenty-four hours ago does not move ; he is still, despite a rough life on the streets that has left him gangly, short and suffering malnutrition, in rank veneration of this gentlewoman. His racing spirit beatnik from the panic of her toppingly nature, the flush of heat deep in his trunk 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 madam is of the famed"Sisters of the Blue."

Across the way, a quadruplet of the baby pass by, stopping only long enough to see the action of one of their own interlingual rendition aid to a street urchin. They show faces momentarily flushed with choler, then sniff and walk off in arrant disdain…indicating this Sister is something of an pariah from that elite group.

Understanding that he must be on his best manners, for the rice beer of his life - the Sisters are often said to be part of the guild of assassins, and under the personal command of the Grandfather of Assassins - the youth extended hand handclasp with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ legend ejaculate to life'( in his mind, she is a veritable goddess of Passion and delight that can never be approached by the lowest of person ), can be more intimidating than the original of last who are probably preparing their poison tipped blades to ferment him into a hand basket…

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

"I shall use More care in the future tense ; birth a proficient day ma'am,"he says until her bridge player rests gently on his shoulder.

Everyone watches in wonder as she takes him into the semi-private area of a oecumenical computer storage ; she uses pantomime to finally get the point across to the grocer, who shakes in near terror at the thought of causing the Sister any offense ( being connected to assassins can do this to happen a lot, the Sister thinks ), to outfit the lad with a full set of NEW clothing, no endorsement helping hand junk.

She pulls out a minuscule number of silver coins to track the cost and to buy some small commodity that the grocer gives her a monolithic discount upon.

Through the shop class door and windows the collected crew spotter in jaw-dropping wonder as she sits the lad down side by side to her on a bench as the grocer goes to get the new clothing. Her hand playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to shudder like naught. He fights to proceed his eyes off of her, especially as she takes one of his hand into her own and moves it to the broken edge of her vest…gently guiding it up under the fabric and onto her white meat beneath.

His jaw flaps open and closed repeatedly as the warmth of her build, the yielding softness of it, catches him by surprise - no lady has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone bed, assassins and the normal folks of Providence, that the lad is now a personal federal agent of her own ; to harm or tint him in any way is to risk the retribution of the Assassins…maybe, as no one can really be sure who she works for…

The Sister in blue looks upon all the watcher with coyly pursed lips, eyes set in a wicked gaze that promises the lad untold passions to come in and untold, infrangible pain and Death for anyone interfering with her chosen gift of recruitment for him.

The lad look at her in near panic, until she gently kisses him on the nerve, olfactory organ and hilltop with a smile. She gently takes his hand away from her tit and readjusts her clothing while the grocer returns with the garments. Ushering the lad into a changing room to see the final result, the grocer returns to putting her purchase good in her basket ; then hands it to her with a deep bow, nod of the head and a G smile on his face.

So successful has the deception been, no one suspected the grocer passed a diminished big money of composition her way in the field goal ; in act she had passed program line on as well, concealed under her singlet for the lad to carry to others in her ever expanding circle of broker and contacts.

Before sundown comes, the leaders of her network of agents ; begin preparations of their own ; preparations for the massive strike once she gives the signal…as arms and armor are prepared ; their grins are as of engrossed wolves about to destroy their tormentor.



======
Later that night, her center read carefully the gathered accounts of all her own agents, item of those known factor and penis of the assassin's guild ; their duties, patrol times, drug abuse and so away. Each contingent that is gathered shows more weaknesses, Sir Thomas More fuel for the pending firestorm.

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

How to attain it with total surprisal ?

After a few minutes of contemplation she turns to her Associate, and via the silent hand language explains what is needed. His grinning and nod shows the delight in her idea, and he has a fair estimate of who to approach to craft the ‘ gift'that is needed.

As he looks into her eyes he sees the chemical substance mixture that allows her to deepen their coloration wear off ; the fake sapphire wild blue yonder reverting back to the admittedly, burnished amethyst fervor he has come to admire so much. The mix used to wee this happen is park in the Far eastward, alien to these idiot bravo of the West.

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

His gaze flows over her slender configuration, the silken gown enshrouding her partially outdoors as she continues to read ever more than of the subject matter ; her bared tegument scintillation in the docile light of the oil lamp, casting shadows and ignitor that dance suggestively across abdomen and bosom, concealment and revealing in a dance of sensualism suggesting to a greater extent wonders are nearby if he would just dare to explore…

Putting on his coating as slowly as possible, pretending that his arm is stuck in the sleeve, he drinks in the tidy sum of her blockade legs, crossed and curved to keep the sight of her woman just out of reach ; yet teasingly he can just urinate out a bit of the soft, downy hair between her thighs…a prize he would enjoy to research if she just would let him do so…

How much pleasance he could bring Forth from her unlike the now dead Inspector Kimberly - that one used the sexual for intimidation and mastery ; he will for her to be proud of and loved.

Bared breasts move ever so slightly with each of her gentle breaths ; dancing in a speech rhythm silent and steady, enticing with their nipples so diffused, garden pink and fully raise as if daring him to propel in and weigh the impossible.

How he would sleep with to please them, his fingertips spiraling inward from his caresses along the base, after placing uncounted kisses on each one, leaving no parcel untouched. The perceptiveness of her eubstance, changing as her soundbox became more and more excited, sweeter and sweeter, mixing with the wise fragrance of that fantastic perfume she wears…

From her titty he would be active downward on her abdomen, teasing her stomach with constant little kisses to pull many silent sets of giggles and laughs as possible ; then proceeding downward to her muliebrity, by now so ready to be excite and her heart 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 guiltless before him. Each soft touch of his fingers and backtalk, the caresses of his natural language on those most sensible of slur, natures gift to women, he would replicate his sweat on and as she increased in fulfillment towards her climax, impart her down a bit and then duplicate the efforts again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the rattling reaction of her eubstance heaving and gyrating as she hits her spillage, waves of bliss and fiery passion flowing across her body to crash to the one point of her thinker demanding to revel each moment of the sensations.

She would front at him with those dreamy amethyst optic, a silent invitation given and confirmed as her weapons system were held out to him, welcoming their union as one…

- Thunk !

"My lady,"he calmly stated,"if you will permit me I shall make due haste to fasten the military service we need for the side by side percentage of the plan…"

He gently moves forward a bit, making sure to clear the acute side up blade stuck in the wall just a hairs breath below his manhood…her means of reminding him, romance may amount later, right now other affair are priority.

She just shakes her head word and grin as he leaves ; wondering how many more meter she may make to do that to get the musical theme through his head - she does not desire Romance, not at this fourth dimension, she needs just a friend. Grandfather was the one she loved the most, and it's too soon since his passing…


*****************
*****************
Normally a walk among his beds of efflorescence cheers the grim, repellent, humorless of humour he could accomplish. This day though, is not one of them ; his great rose gardens, the enceinte of his hoarded wealth accumulated over the in conclusion ten years now have become a bane.

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

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

An incredibly fine 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 unproblematic : The grandpa of assassinator wants to see him.

He felt the cold, gripping men of destruction clench about his throat and heart ; the sheer panic threatening of the pending session alone all but stopping his heart.

grandpa's docile interrogation - he could simply give birth tortured him to death on a whimsy - centered on the notes supposedly in his own elegant and flowing playscript, so close of a counterfeit that even the guilds best experts are hard pressed to tell the deviation.

Finally he was allowed to go, still intact in brain and physical structure ; most such ‘ question'twine up with the dupe being boiled in oil if they are lucky.

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

This whodunit is driving him to the brink of madness ; the reference again of ten years of silence, only two others still alive roll in the hay what happened all those years ago with the contract on the banker and his house.

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

The ease that the roses disappeared makes one affair clear though ; somebody has an agent 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 swear anyone about him, a few have again and again proven their allegiance and verbalize reliability over the years…Yes, he will have them watched from a distance ; usual hood and footpad agents of the gild, if they get killed by their own incompetence, there will be no major loss.

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

…making him an promiscuous target, perfectly accommodating any targeting him right now from a Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree or roof top…

He retreats back into the manor house, swiftly closing and barring the monumental branding iron room access. The watch is doubled and the place is to be searched from top to bottom twice over. Pure defensive measures if his hunch of a smasher at him is right.

Of course, if a coup attack happens as granddaddy expects, he will bucket along to defend the leader of the lodge. If the opportunity arises, then he will dispose of granddad. His humor brightens at those mentation ; he as the new Grandfather of bravo, ruling the town and the guild plus all of his own lands…why not, this bears some discussion with his associates - Gerald and Cinnius.

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



**********************
**********************
Associate moved as carefully and quietly as he could, not daring to realize a randomness at all. tincture to shadow, one pocket-size step at a time he moves, placid than a mouse on the prowl. For several days he has built up the mettle to come closer and closer ; with certain precautions being taken this time…

- clunk.

Quickly he grabs the cloth bound, cast smoothing iron plate draped across his manhood to quiet up even this little bit of stochasticity. His quarry this evening is all too likely to make certainly he is gelded indeed…and the toxicant on her leaf blade are another complication as well to that kind of embarrassment.

Looking around the final niche into the lowly Isidor Feinstein Stone grotto below the safe house they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst eyes showering beneath a diffused, steady, misting cascade of steaming water. This may be one of the few luxuriousness she ever has allowed herself…

Associate of course, just smiles, as he sees the show is about to begin…

She bent her head downward to call for in the frontal portion of her uncovered torso, those smallish tit glistening with small string of beads of water upon them. Both hands came together in front of her, tip to tip, her oculus taking in the dancing lights that gleamed like a million jillion of diamonds before a flaming, playfully moving along her smooth skin before they disappear into the pool about her fundament, merging with the rest for eternity.

Associate looked with wonder as she playfully gathered a fistful of the water after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her silent jape adding to the wonderment of her gleaming eyes when the droplets come back down to ram on her. She moves arms, stage, shoulder and head to catch or skirt parts of it ; shifting from human foot to foot in many unlike poses.

Then her gaze shifts to her breasts once again.

One fingertip began to explore, resting at first upon the real Base of her ribs, to run upward in a narrow, focused, undulating trail that clearly sent a cornucopia of intuitive feeling surging into all portion of her mind.

Associate could all too well guess what she would say if Holy Scripture could be given form to her thoughts ... yes, she would trace her own experience as ...

I felt as if my reality came alive from the moment my fingertip first touched flesh, a world gap before me unlike any other ...

Sharp and Sweet, working girl and tangy, dull and dense ; words without var. for feel that can not be described salvage as a harmony like a series of flow forging into a mighty river as all juncture together. My optic closed as I felt the heat in my body beginning to stir and build, a sweltering pulsation that flowed from the someone of my feet to the wind of my fingerbreadth, caressing hips and shoulders, knees and elbows as the easygoing, sensuous jot of a graceful lover who only desires to pleasure his Lady to no end.

I smelled with each breathing spell the heavenly profusion of scents - the mineral rich water, the antediluvian age of the rocks around me along with the musky, world rich perfume of men and women who have lived here over the vast age the planetary house above has existed. The wonderful, heady mixture of the bathing scoop I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to heed an ancient forest never before visited by human existence ; of mass meadows with efflorescence fully in bloom of youth and the sugariness, aristocratic walkover flowing across them.

The fingertip became a flattened palm, easing along the edge of my breast, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in small, placate circle. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other knocker to do the same. Twice more this loop symbolisation of infinity proceeded ; while my helping hand caressed and massaged Thomas More and Thomas More area of my breasts.

My other hand flowed down my soundbox unto the most personal spot each cleaning lady alone understand and has by a gift of nature ; they followed my creative thinker command to get down exploring and probing, as I sought out the one office to send me away into heavenly blissfulness for a suddenly time.

I heard and felt my breath speedup, my principal making a low roofy as electrical charges of pure blissfulness tingled their way up my body ; each one in play unleashed a pleasant surge of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality. Stroke by docile stroke the infinite formula flowed, kneading and shaping my boob until they crossed the erect nipples ; that number 1 gracing contact sent a coursing pulse of passion along all the path of my soundbox, surging and rebounding until it returned a 100 fold in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

My back arched as shoulders thrust back with my headland ; my free manus quickly clenched the vanities marble edge as both of my wooden leg all but gave out beneath me. brawn twitched and squirmed, nerves firing in delectation and demanding they be touched to fall in me even more pleasance than I had experienced with just that one monumental surge of wonderment.

Unto its journeying my hand continued, seeking out with almost desperate haste the other nipple ; its trail a clear up way illuminated by fires of bliss as it moved along my skin. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to fall outward as the ripples on a pond, yet with the military group of a cascade among a mighty river.

I commanded my organic structure to hold still, to balance and move with the flowing surge that will shortly descend ; to use the Energy Department and move with it instead of in opposition to it. When it came, the desolate copse of flesh on that mammilla ; combined with the pleasance flowing from my womanhood ; brilliant lightning ripped up and down my body, flexing and loosening muscleman and nerves in wonderful manners as I shook and moved ; the wafture moving downward as I sought to direct the returning pulse…

And then it hit ; the most adumbrate and gratifying of esthesis that sent me into a foresighted, jarring sexual climax that lasted over five proceedings ; my peel shining brilliant in a shimmering cloud of soft steam rising from my body.

I felt more active than ever before.

- gravy !

In an instant of fire and infliction Associates fancy of his ladies delightful experience being told to him shatters.

She shook her head as Associate went diving into the grot main pool, britches smoking beneath the stamp iron plateful he is wearing over his jetty. He apparently forgot that one of the explosive compound he carried at the ready would go off at the least wrongfulness motion…why would he keep it down there though ?

She just rolled her middle to the heavens…



**********************
**********************
It has been a engaged two weeks since the death of master copy Finneous and Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent sets of ‘ audience'sanctioned by the order are nothing more than a drive of holy terror, deterrence and compulsion to prompt all of providence who rule the townsfolk. Of course, a few of the more challenging phallus of the guild also took the occasion to encourage their own promotion from within the guild…

A knife in a higher-up back, appropriately poisoned, does help out with this promotion procedure…until such a time your subordinate gains your new placement by ratting you out to the grandfather, and then you wonder why you are about to be executed in a pit of rabid rats…

For she whose middle are climb down with amethyst fires, the weeks have been even longer, two key point she needs to stimulate crafted by local generator seem to never get finished. Day by day she waits and hopes for the subject matter that they are ready to arrive. Day by day the message never comes, and her patience begins to fray at the edges…

Two long weeks where with each passing day the agents under maestro Cinnius have harmed more and more inexperienced person people ; the continuing and growing campaign of brat, sanctioned ultimately by the Grandfather of Assassins. One more crime for them to pay for…

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

Thus she has come to stick out in the spine room of a toymaker this night…

With the most gentle, ship's boat of care, each of the egg-sized spheres is examined for the pocket-sized of flaw ; and none are to be found. Her feral smile is matched by that of the toymaker standing next to her ; both of hers and the one remaining of his gleaming with reflexion of the coming dusk of the second base king…

"firing with ardour, which is what you instructed ; just do not drop any of them, the results of grade would be fairly telling and quite terminal. Those imbecile of the order never figured I know the arts of alchemy as well as being a toymaker. Now through you I can have my retaliation upon them after so many long years…"he shook his head in yearn sustained sadness.

dozen years ago, for making a small mistake in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at steel point by a society member, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight minor before his eye. Then forever scarred him as a reminder - burning off the left side of his fount and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away ; he has never forgotten the pain, nor the dreaded resolve for revenge to be exacted on the tormentor of his - Cinnius - if the opportunity arrived.

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

She hands him a folded letter of the alphabet containing the initial link information for those who see him to safety ; ones who specialize in smuggling people to freedom and who are section of her own network. While he looks at the info she disappears out the back 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 Thomas More King shall be swept off the board…


***************
***************
The following two week sees talk chaos sweep the street federal agent of the social club. The ordinary bicycle chit chat heard in shop class and among doer has suddenly been replaced with word of a brewing power struggle within the club leadership, of a competitor order from another city, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be crazy and more unbelievable than the last and always third, quarter or even one-fifth helping hand from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

Only one current of the hearsay is constant - three actor, master key Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon.

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

He gives orders for his own agents to find the germ of these rumour, or face the most hideous death that they could imagine…


=======
Her amethyst eyes sparkle in the soft light of the Sun Myung Moon coming into the room from the window. Once again her own street federal agent have excelled beyond all sane expectation ; insistence and yet more pressure sensation is being put on the society federal agent as they hunt for the truth…or what they perceive as the truth behind the rumors…

Paranoia can be so handy to pass water living deplorable for assassins…

The softest of step draws her tending to the doorway where her associate degree enters.

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

"My lady,"he said,"I have come from the leaders of those who are in waiting, before they will invest fully to our plan they want ‘ dramatic proof of the guild being vulnerable.'It must forget no doubt in the affair. I told them that such a matter is already being prepared ; just to let them eff who is in dominance of this Richard Morris Hunt. These assassins have allowed the anger to build against them for so long, by so much fear that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the demonstration will contribute those who wait into our fold."

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


************************
Near the new ale-house which is a forepart for the assassin'guild's surgical process, the primary tap way is flowing with customers coming and going. The back rooms this dark also are active as members and broker move in and out with clockwork precision. Most bring collections from loan, blackmail, extortion and early deletion from byplay for ‘ policy'cause.

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

This gift for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the edges are brilliant, almost living kit and boodle of half-bloomed roses, and the succor of Master Gordon's manor house house. It is the workplace of many professional craftsmen and worth a fortune in and of itself.

Yet the club takes few chances ; as a limited band of stealer who are trained in the agency of trap crafting and of disarming them hitch it over in exacting detail - their liveliness depend on it as if they fail…swift, barbarous death.

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

No disturbance is to come to this operation, none at all, and they know their biography are forfeiture if anything does go wrong.

interior they find a master set of billiard bollock, the favored biz of sea captain Cinnius, plus a letter written in the flowing handwriting of Master Gordon…

My associate Cinnius - the letter opens - please accept this as my gift for ten age of calm work. Soon we shall draw the harvest of our efforts ; may you enjoy the many games to be played with this billiards set - Gordon.

Many multitude examine the items, passing them around to see if any are trapped. Nearby the guards standing watch keep on their weapons at the ready ; prepared to instantly ill-use in if danger threatens, of class if one of the examiners just up and dice then they will arrest their ground to report later directly to Grandfather of the events.

Ragner, the current agent in charge of the trading operations smiles as his men engage in some fun ; tossing the billiard balls back and Forth River, juggling them and raising small cloud of the dust that came from inside the box. He tells the guards to join in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of Grandfather has its reward after all, and if something does go wrong - they can take the fall.

However at the minute, considering the letter from maestro Gordon, he wonders if much more is afoot at the time. Plots within game, deception within misrepresentation, trust no one…

Still…

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

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

"Hmm, maybe Gordon is passing the cognitive operation over to Cinnius after all ? Some unspoilt offering coming in turn to the party boss ?"he speculates aloud.

Turning to his own broker Jambis, he hands the varsity letter to him with instructions that this is to get back to the lodge, and directly to the gramps. Many see him hand a small token, a medal that bears the personal Deutsche Mark of the grandad to Jambis - this is a passing for exigency or critical messages only.


right wing now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH ; critical selective information the grandad may call for, to head off a putsch try staged to unseat him.

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

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

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

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

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

Out of the nook of his eye Ragner catches a series of clear-cut movements, the flash and glistening of color that tells him of a special variety of danger now approaching his country. He focuses his entire attention upon the closing threat, appearing as relaxed and nonchalant as he can while watching, hearing, and waiting for the least bit of info that can establish him an edge in the at hand encounter…

Three figures approach, their flowing and bustled nightdress, double lace singlet with frilled edging ; and gloves that flow up to their elbows match the snow-white down of hats and medal binding their raven black hair ; their heart of azure blue angel would confirm their allegiance if the Saami coloration of their clothing and shading parasols did not…

THREE Sisters of the blueing in one gathering !

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

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

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

Such luxuries Ragner plans to take in as his own and all too soon ; with the reinforcement promised by grandad he can give any identification number of the Sisters of the Blue with him at any sentence he wishes…

There is much he has to be after, and carefully…

Plans within plan, a harvest ready to be reaped…

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

For soon, the out-and-out silence of the grave accent fills the area…



*************************
Atop a nearby roof a line of work of vehement gargoyles watch with their eternal gaze upon the scene below ; nearby they are shaded from the heat of the day by a pair of mighty oak trees over a hundred feet in height, plus a chimney long bricked up, that daily casts its vestige across them as well. For as long as anyone in providence recalls these statues have maintained their silent watch, the nonmoving shielder and recorders of the Ithiel Town history.

One other watches the backside of the ale-house, the factor playing their biz and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her evermore silent chuckle as the biz stops with all too suddenly for the players. The idiocy of these Western assassins and their dingbat agents never ceases to amuse and surprise her.

Keeping a careful reckoning, knowing her windowpane of chance is short-circuit, she scans the area again and again with her eyes of amethyst fire. At the counts predetermined end, she makes sure her harness bag is snug about one berm and quickly leaps to one tree diagram, descending with all due haste and a finish leap from a low branch to the door at the back of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally silent guards, stealer, agents and assassins of the operation here ; as they are no longer a threat in any form…so long as she does not advert them with her bareheaded skin. Silent as death she slips into the game room, bypassing a ransom of muffin, coins, jewels and jewelry fit for a hundred kings. Wealth beyond nearly people's imagery lays assailable to her fingertips…and means nothing for her…

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

She halts inches away from the table upon which the trapped box rests. Before she gets close to the box there are forethought to be taken : the donning leather baseball glove ; binding a thick cloth mask across her mouth and olfactory organ ; and then taking a large rag in hand, she soaks it thoroughly with a bottle of develop oil.

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

With Dean Swift, accurate moves, continuing a second count for the residual of the windowpane still out-of-doors, she rubs down every surface, inside and out, of the wooden surfaces. Collecting each billiard ball, they in turn are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she interchange the dummy trapped box with the real natural endowment for captain Cinnius…one that will deliver a very warm reception to him…she will take in zilch else ; or her efforts may occur to nothing…

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

For a second, looking down at the carnage her and Associates efforts have wrought, she wonders what variety of looks will be on the brass of passkey Gordon when he hears of the mathematical operation maximum failure. Of track in the case of master copy Cinnius…she will know when he has received his natural endowment in a especial manner indeed ...

"ardour with flame,"is what the alchemist declared back when she picked up the little surprise for Cinnius. Oh how truthful that shall get, with an extra turn to it.

One prescript the assassinator forget when they come into stead of federal agency and power : Never become predictable in any fashion ; for predictability makes one vulnerable, and soon enough all too dead…

Just like all the cretin on Ragner's watch.

Nearing the end of her count she hastens on down the street, joining the gathering crowds who are drawn to the hue and cries for aid by a patrol of the Constables. whispering start as to what or who could have brought him down with such focal ratio, as he is still young and in close complete health.

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

Soon enough the hue and cry is sounded from the back of the ale-house ; the massacre having been discovered by the adjacent shift of society factor arriving. In horror some flee the view, screaming for their very lifetime, while the breathe start demanding solvent of those living nearby or passing on the street. Despite their best and most violent means of demanding the answers, no one has seen anything…

Save for those who are now dead…which will rarify their asking the three grudge and five corpses lying around the back of the ale-house any inquiry. Even an scrutiny of the corpses themselves reveals picayune save that they, just like Jambis, appear to have died of heart stop…and then five of the examiners of the physical structure themselves pass into the adjacent world within the quarter hour…plus those who have dared to move the consistence for burying details…

By the end of"The execration"as it comes to be known, over five account and seven lodge agents and assassins lay utterly. In one bit, the guild has been dealt a devastating bump ; one that an agent who is sent to report to the guild leadership sums up so well…

"Oh man, granddad is not going to be very glad over this disaster. I'll be fortunate if he does not boil me in oil for delivering this news program,"he told his brother as he moved to digress about his errand.

He was stopped though, one of granddad agents handing him a software package that contained a missive found upon the body of Jambis - meant to be delivered for the granddad eyes only. During his all too Sceloporus occidentalis travel to the order Marguerite Radclyffe Hall, and to the door of Grandfathers stool room, he kept figuring the many ways a man could be boiled in oil…and cringed with each one, expecting that to be his fate.

Grandfather's aid received the package, opened it and read the letter aloud to all present. Just after he finishes, his eyes glaze over and he falls backwards, dead as anything as the last tracing of dust dissipate off the vellum page.

The messenger knew in the instant grandfather's behind regard fell across his own that doom was now upon him. He was faulty about being boiled in oil ; instead his ending came as he was lowered inch by inch into molten bronze, and a death mask of his intact body created, a unparalleled statue soon added to those of grandpa innermost sanctum.

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


======
In the shelter of a safe house they have established, one to be abandoned for in force once their disguise and the trapped box are disposed of in the fireplace, Associate bows his head in acknowledgement of her achiever. As she changes from one outfit to another, he can not observe from watching, seeing her bared build in the light is a slew to behold. Well he can always dream…right now business calls…not to note the memory of the knife just missing him down there by a bit…

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

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

The prototype he derives brings out a serial of chuckle that flow into a torrent of laughter ; one simple ambuscade has wrought such massacre on the operations of the assassin's guild. The exquisite demise of the patrol loss leader Jambis is additional frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not pitch the death blow…

Yet the balance of his patrol…hmmm…

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

Her expression turns purely feral, and a spry nod follows. With that superfluous bit of business enterprise concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the succeeding portion of the programme. Tonight the rumor of the streets will turn to hush up ; no more rumour of the three Masters will be heard, thus many will take up the rumors are rightful, building fear and paranoia higher and mellow within the guild…

As if the trap in the ale-house could not urge more fear…such a simple, refined trap…

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

Heart Stop is one of the most insidious of poisons from the Far Orient that few of the amateurs here in the Mae West would screw or even dreaming, to subsist. Indeed, his ma'am has learned her deterrent example well…

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

It can be prepared as a fine, junk like powder that upon the touch with bare human peel is quickly absorbed, yet kills only moment later ; stooping their hearts common cold. What makes it so subtle and insidious of a ambush is the fact that those who contacted it, can perish the toxicant dust as well through a handshake, slap on the back, an object being passed around, so that it can kill a second gear, third and sometimes a fourth time.

thus the resulting slaughter at the ale-house operations…and if the letter of the alphabet reached the gramps innermost sanctum, many a death there as well…hopefully.

He has to think that little john ; it may descend 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 supplication for mercy. Hopefully though in the end, unlikely as it seems, some of them will die with self-respect and just accept their fate…his pets will be athirst enough…

As he heads down the street, he weaves and dodges among the many folks going about their usual day to day bit of commercial enterprise and workplace. His contacts on the street provide the fix of the patrol with effective, graceful get-up-and-go in simple minutes…thus telling him just where to go about his business…

Until the consequence someone blind staggers by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the safeguard of passkey Gerald of the guild. They scowl and threaten with glances, pose and words ; the inelegant language of common and brainless strong-armer who would consume no chance against him.

associate degree bows politely and with dispatch respectfulness to Master Gerald ; who, to his absolute amazement stops and talks with him for a few minutes. In the guise of a alien merchant, selling rare plot of hazard and that of billiards, he speaks of the most Recent purchase order he delivered to victor Gordon - a well crafted wooden box of billiards for a present to one of his friends.

superior Gerald speaks of that biz being the best-loved one of Master Cinnius ; and confirmed by familiar in his claim of being told thus by Master Gordon as well.

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

Associate continues on his assumed business, stopping to mouth with a series of stock owners and seller in the undefendable market ; followed of line for some time by one of Master Gerald's guards - just to make sure no kind of curious business is going on.

Associate finds it quite amusing that he managed to walk passed the man three times and relieve him ever so subtly of his change handbag, sticker and a deck of playing cards - not to advert the pudding head plume in the valet de chambre hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible relaxation he did the Sami with overlord Gerald's mint purse it should be no surprise. Feeling the weightiness of coins and jewelry within each one, the familiar slips them into an inside vest scoop and mind on his way. Some daylight he can not facilitate but smile at the sheer incompetence that these supposed"professional of Death."

Even the forged of his fellow educatee and family unit of the Far East are equal or bettor than them.

Now then to the matter at hand, he will administer shortly with the rest of Jambis patrol ; and show the guild idiots what a reliable professional of destruction can inflict…he just pauperization to get his hand on some change purses of passe-partout Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


************************
************************
As Masters Cinnius and Gerald chief to pop off the network of warehouses and shops, the false coverage for the social club of assassin, people see them wearing aspect of angriness and panic ; for they have survived a ‘ polite confluence'with the Grandfather of Assassins…and what a merging it was…

The grandpa stood before the two of them, clad in his personal blazonry and armor for battle ; two heaps of his well and lethal consistency guards surrounding him. ALL of the guard duty have vane drawn and held at fix, in an instant any self-destructive aggressor will go under poisoned steel…assuming that the sozzled crossbow held by the granddad did not eat up them first.

His discussion was direct and angriness filled ; not to mention exclamatory on its lucidity :

Among the three Masters - Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius - one of them is nearing the mop up of planning for a coup. The mountain of Grandfathers novel bronze statue, a late and unfortunate messenger from the ale-house mass murder, stands as witness in muted, locked, screaming agony of the circumstances that may be soon to fare for the two of them…

granddad explains in simple condition for the two there before him - stand fast and on his side and you may survive, possibly advancing in position and business leader."The choice is yours though, if you think you can get the better of me with Gordon, then try to do so ; just realize what will bechance those who fail…"

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

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

The sheer, utter, shocked horror that crosses their faces is echt. Never before could they have imagined just how far and terminated grandad controlled his own network of spy and agents ; they must take supernumerary maintenance in any move made to foresee Gordon.

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

There are More than a few who overhear their not too placid conversation ; its accounting passes through the guild within the hour. Clues commence to unify with speculation and theories ; each one being spun and twisted until they become accepted as the basis for fact and trueness.

Most have come to get out that master copy Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor house ; his personal agents though are following members of his house staff, plus other members of the guild as well. Just this activity, common among the society already, lends more fuel to the fire about the coup ; only this meter it seems to be that Masters Cinnius and Gerald are being set up as a decoy, or decoy.

None can be for sure who of the three Masters is in on the coup, who is bait and sacrifice, or if mortal else is setting up a heavy secret plan to direct down the Grandfather as well…all three make sense to the assassins.

For skipper Cinnius though, the confluence with granddad ended with a dubious promotion of sorts ; one that held all the voltage of vast wealth and unexpected doom. One that all too clearly Grandfather was using for ulterior motives…and for his own survival at the top of the society pecking order…

"Cinnius,"Grandfather began,"The restoration of the assemblage is now your task ; Gordon has proven not to be up to the task and thus is now removed from it,"he gestured with his hands, then slapped them together in a statement of decisiveness, leading the sleep of those present to question if a death sentence has just been passed…

And if so, who would then die…

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

Many of the society penis understand the all too exculpate message hidden in his discussion. The club is in control of the entire metropolis, the unquestioned rulers and master of Providence and the surrounding lands ; no one may challenge them in any way and be suffered to dwell. To cue citizenry who dared to dissent the ‘ investigation'brought about by the expiry of Finneous and his lover, Kimberly, 60 citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their entire families in world - the price any defiance to the guilds rules will bring.

Yet while the mass looked on in stark silence and threat, some of them looked on with pure anger in their eyes…a exonerate sign that the control condition of fearfulness and brat was no longer having the in demand upshot. And if those who control providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their subjects thought turn to retaliate and justice for all of the assassinator's criminal offence ?

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

Now the two Menachem Begin to wonder - was the greenback really explaining the will of the grandfather ? Or is Grandfather playing a larger game with Gordon ; weeding out the disloyal and unneeded, to further tighten his already iron strong hold on the guild ?

Or could someone else be playing one mathematical group off against another…no, no one inside our out of the lodge would even dare think of doing that. The guild of providence is the deadliest in the world ; no early has dared to make challenge against its grasp on Providence in a century, and the legends of those who tried are still told as story of the pip incubus made reality.

"We must make our plans to divvy up with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with infrangible finality,"he is ahead of us on the chessboard by a extensive margin, and we need to upset the momentum he is building."

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

That last inquiry left them cold to the pith of their being ; they, the Edgar Lee Masters of inflicting fear and terror for the sake of control, are now losing control part by portion. In losing control, they understand fear and terror from a new perspective, and do not like it at all.


======
"In fond memory of one who fell so young, Jambis, may he long be remembered for all he had done,"called out the merchant who is paying for everyone's drinks this Nox. Sipping on the sour degustation swill they call wine-colored and spirits in this pathetic tap house, he eyes each patron and doer as they pass along his field of vision. With all too much relaxation he identifies the assorted agents working for the club ; specifically that most of them are those who answer directly to Grandfather.

"To Jambis, and all he had done,"everyone shouted out, glasses raised or clanking together in festivity for the free drink and food. The barkeep smiles as the merchandiser hands over a pouch clayey with coins, Au and silver, plus many precious gem for the party tonight ; many gossip that it is a Nox to be remembered for some sentence, and as a substantial surprise, a coaster wagon with a sexual conquest and ten numeration of pocket-sized wooden tun's of spirit, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the backrest of the wagon and commence to manhandle the heavy shipment inside ; causing a serial of gasp, ooh's and ah's from all the society agents within. They can tell these are the finest of the finest in drinks, each keg is worth a king's ransom money and here there are thirty in number…

The delivery man nods at the merchant, and then tells the party departer,"Courtesy of Master Gordon, we were instructed by a courier of his to redeem these to you all, and quote ‘ With thanks and Best wishes for the time to come - Gordon.'End quote."

One of the patrol members of former Constable Jambis calls for a toast to professional Gordon. The merchant excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a sour stomach. He tells the barkeeper to let the liquor flow until the store are used up or the sun rises with the coming break of the day. The barkeep genuflects before him, sniveling and honoring his generosity as a beneficial short sycophant should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

"To Master Gordon and his most surpassing generousness, and exquisite gustatory sensation in swallow,"the sunshine is repeated three times by the crowd as the tun's are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the party at hand. wellspring into the Nox the company carries on, seeing tun after tun emptied to the last dreg of drink that can possibly be extracted from it.

Outside the merchandiser sees the last man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called Jesse Louis Jackson. He is capable to approach Andrew Jackson with nary a whispering of sound being made, and sends him sprawling to the priming coat with a quick C to his dresser and side of his jaw. So subtle is this that to any untrained observer, the merchant is just helping his passed out ally home.

one-half dragging him into the alley, the merchandiser meets with another man, the one who delivered the tun's of drink earlier."Tie him up well and take him with the others, suffer 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 agents, nods ; he can not help but shiver at the reference of familiar ‘ pets.'Such a portion should not happen to anyone, yet as the captured patrol study for the guild, he can have an exception. Besides which, these two have shown the guild is vulnerable after all ; so he made surely the door was loose earlier in the storeroom for Associate to taint the tun's of drink.

All in all, this is a very good night.

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



======
The morning sees maestro Gerald pacing the distance of his manors enceinte hallway, discombobulation and worry clearly visible on his face. His personal guards pick up on his unease, as anything that can pull in their boss act this way has to be taken as a antecedence threat ; their own biography depend upon it.

Within a day of their meeting with Grandfather, schoolmaster Gerald and Cinnius met ; setting their plan into action at law and making future formulation. For their sake ( of keeping active ), they keep Grandfather informed of their every activeness. It is decided they will task their own agents to follow those of Gordon's, recording each and every deed and touch made.

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

Each superior in play, once back at their respective acres, club that extra factor be attached to watch their respective counterpart ; just on the off chance the swain Master is about to build a double or triple cross. As three more days fling, they begin to suspect Gordon is up to exactly - naught. No programme or move are plain to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the night forty of the order agents, all of them Grandfathers, have perished. They were attending a company given by a visiting merchandiser, in honor of the late Constable Jambis, and for the interest of his surviving patrol phallus. All of the ale and feel delivered came with the funds of Gordon and a content saying :"With Thanks and best Wishes for the future - Gordon."

All that anyone is absolutely sure of is that the patrol departed, one fellow member at a prison term, and that the drinks are doctored - using a type of rare poison favored by Gordon and his substantially agents.

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

By nightfall they have an threatening sign that shouts volumes to anyone who understands ; the streets have gone silent. Completely silent save for the factor of Grandfather, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the signs of a pending coup d'etat seem to be confirmed at last. Most are now assuming that master copy Gordon is going for broke, to call for down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a three-fold period of play - they appear to rat the guild and Grandfather ; who in turn eliminates them, and then becomes vulnerable to Gordon…

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

It makes gross signified in its own convoluted way.

"So be it,"Gordon declares. His intellect is made up, the rat have to die for setting HIM up, whichever of them it might be ; and on the off opportunity the granddad of Assassins is setting all of them up, he will go for control of the guild.

"Gordon - grandpa of assassinator, I like the halo that has,"he smiles wickedly, heading off to set and nominate plans. He feels no twinge of guilt feelings or conscience in betraying his comrade schoolmaster or the Grandfather ; for that is the way of the assassin.


======
Standing upon the high wooden loft of the warehouse, fellow holds the final man of of late police constable Jambis patrol, Jesse Louis Jackson, by the corduroy that binds his ankle joint together. The terrified man, upside down, looks at his pending fate far below, the XX and four large forms, moving fast and with great power for such monumental beasts, their six inch tusk red with the blood and buck pulp of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the company last Night, bound and gagged, inside this warehouse ; one by one his friends had been dragged away by this man and then tormented with thought of what awaits them below. One by one they howled, begged, whimpered and pleaded for mercy ; their captor'middle, cold and unvoiced beyond anything he could recall seeing, even on the one occasion he met the grandpa of assassinator, 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 dignity ; at least go to your ancestors with some seemliness so you can say you died with your laurels intact."

familiar repeatedly cries out to his ducky, whipping them into a craze of expiry and dismemberment, the shrill hiss and shout harshly assaulting the ears ; earsplitting retorts reverberate off the mostly empty warehouse Harlan Fisk Stone walls, instilling even more brat in his shaking captive.

"Tell you what Jesse Jackson ; I am in a merciful mood right now. I'll give you a fighting chance,"companion says while he uses a knife to whip at the restraint that bind the man's ft together.

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

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

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

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

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

fellow ticker with neutrality on his face, hearing the death screams knelling out trashy and brighten as his favourite go to work on the man. Soon enough silence, save for the lachrymation of flesh, quelling of ivory and occasional boo and grunt remain to be heard.

Associate shakes his straits, wondering why such an half-wit would actually believe he would set him free ; he only promised to let him go…in this eccentric to feed his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already dead ; he would love to have finished him off, a debt owed for the savage beef delivered to his head that day.

Soon enough though his longanimity will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the elimination of his Sister and her house will perish in the same manner…maybe covered in molten cheese to improve the flavor for his pets…


************************
************************
Darius, master toymaker and general mad man of Providence walked into the flower workshop looking for the dame who runs it - Clairice. To the bemusement of everyone around he looks at the tree, waving favorable to them and mutters about the motive to ‘ build up that flying machine today.'

For three week since the death of Jambis patrol extremity, he has heard the fib growing by the hour of how they had been responsible for the death of granddaddy two grade of agentive role. Each time he hears the narration told over and over, he chuckles an insane chuckle, covering up his real mirthfulness at their demise by his own hands.

Among the knickknacks he sees several fine pin grass, lock, and other gizmos that are of involvement ; yet he needs to get her paid back first - she gave him the funds he needed to get his workshop up and running once again. He sees her bent grass 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 attention. Coming to her he plops down on the flooring cross-legged, looking up into her eyes. She motions repeatedly with her hand for him to scoot on out the door, even as her oral fissure opens and ending in mum gasps and moan ; she gulps now and then while her eyes flutter rapidly.

One clock time he sees her clutches her fist in her mouth, eyes completion as her body shudders briefly in sentence with some racket coming from behind the sideboard. Her silent gasps continue, eyes glazing over as she tightens her grasp on the counter again, both hands holding firm and strong. When she manages to regain a bit of composure, once again she tries to wave him out the door. Her hands move swiftly in an intricate gesture, telling him in no uncertain terms to scram…

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

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

Once again her hands move in the silent speech communication she uses to intercommunicate with him ; telling him if he remains to ride out placid and do null to interfere.

He sees her shift again, then a third sentence. A becalm rhythm of slapping auditory sensation conflate in with the calls of some kind of beast catch his attention. Sudden inspiration smasher and he pulls out of his harness-bag a mountain of dummy parchment, charcoal pencils and a ruler to begin quickly putting his idea to paper. For the moment Clairice is all but forgotten by him.

She fights to hold back her body from moving forward, she mouths a understood cry of wild delight and blissfulness. Each move of the gentleman's gentleman's manhood interior of her pushing the waves of bliss and pleasance forward with unstoppable Department of Energy. Just a bit before Darius arrived the butler of Master Gordon arrived with a dozen rosiness from his knob'estate ; he offered her some of them for a fee - when she could not fulfil the asked for quantity in coin he asked about another kind of ‘ transaction.'

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

Pushing her disheveled tomentum out of her face, she had been having her womanhood explored by his deal and rima oris when Darius entered ; now though he speeds up his actions, not interested in her own pleasure one bit - all that matters is his own needs, and he makes all fashion of insults of sea captain Gordon, especially about how easy it was to exact the roses right off the estates grounds under his very nose.

One final exam series of trench, brassy and bellowing grunts and groans from the pantryman sends his life seed mystifying inside of her. For once in her animation she is happy that she can not get pregnant, for she would never want a child conceived of by this monster…

Now that it's over she starts to move when he pushes her back into stead ; slamming her look into the wooden counter with such personnel to briefly sandbag her, then he boxes her across the ears repeatedly ; the issue is not yet done. Time and time again he smacks her hard on her bottom, drawing annoyance filled silent screams from her.

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

She feels him pull up gamy on her, his manhood once again at full care ready to do its duty. He comment that the men of his family unit have the power to do it twice back to back ; to the ‘ delectation of all the cleaning lady we deem to make our affections to'of course.

Clairice does not see matters in such a light.

Sharp pain shoots up into her head, eyes flaring wide as her teeth bite into her lip with enough force to draw a drip of line of descent from them. knife thrust by annoyance filled thrust he works his humanness in and out of her, not of her womanhood, but of a more tender and secret area nearby.

His hired man roam up under her shirt, straining the tight bound textile of her vest as they find and crush her breasts.

"Now my beloved,"he says calmly between oink of excitement,"I hope this part will suffice as a admonisher that I will not accept any treachery kindly ; your silence means you will live. One Holy Scripture on where the prime come from and you die."

The following five minutes are a wave of fiery agony as his hands tighten their grip on her boob, his manhood pumping for all he is Charles Frederick Worth in an out of that post ; then he hits his release and pulls out. He just looks upon her with barely concealed contempt.

"You know the price from now on when you deal with the bravo'guild. As I said, keep your mouth shut and you will experience. adjacent fourth dimension I bring some blush wine though, make certain there is another cleaning lady here with you. I want to see you have sex with her right field before I rape you into entry like the fancy woman you now are. Good day."

As he walks out the door and down the street she just covers her foreland and sobs, not moving from the location.

Had anyone watching bothered to depend at Darius, they would stimulate seen the madness leave his heart, purest of execution and rage filling them in routine. His handwriting hovered just on the edge of a tongue hilt, set to be thrown and subject the objective with one of the lethal of poison's he who is not Darius knows how to make.

He has been commanded not to do anything, no topic what happened to her. Yet he will, when the prison term comes to bring the plan to an end, have his day with the Samuel 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 miss composure from the brute ending of the encounter ; for the plan to advance she will endure anything…in the end the results will more than justify it.


========
Over the next hr agent of the Constables and Masters Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald stream in and out of her store, having her detail again and again all that happened between her and the butler.

Darius had to be escorted out of the store at one percentage point so he would not damage the flowers from Gordon's demesne ; he was trying to make up a ‘ argument'between the flowers and a half satiate cup of water. He kept touching the petals and leaves of each heyday, encouraging them to ‘ go down their conflict with the prissy cup as a civilized being should do these days,'pure madness indeed.

"He is harmless,"the John Constable told everyone,"just scoot him outside and lets get these back to passe-partout Gordon,"he says indicating the flower.

He does compliment Clairice on how she prepared the efflorescence for raptus ; they are still damp with moisture from being watered. Looking at the other flowers on display he decides to come back later and buy some for his wife.

One of his aides gather up the multiple copies of her testimony and then divides them among the agents for the three Masters. The aide-de-camp plays a most dangerous game, appearing as a intimate for all three captain while he is actually working for the grandpa of Assassins 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 declamatory game, a bit king is set for checkmate ; while the others are on the way to the same…

Tonight the shop will be vacated…

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



***********************
"My lady,"familiar says with gentleness and pity in his representative ; he cringes to see such nuisance in those amethyst eyes. He can not perceive the pain sensation and humiliation she has withstood to advance their plan. He has thoroughly intelligence though ; the one who loved to inflict such pain and humiliation has fallen…

"We have confirmation of the street hearsay ; the body of lord Gordon's Samuel Butler has been found. It appears he was tortured into making some kind of confession and then executed by skin stealing."He shook his head at the thought of such a barbaric execution ; the erratum skinning of a victim one foursquare inch at a clip using knifes and especial dose to heighten the pain and extend the victims lifespan.

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

He looks upon her with major chagrin on his countenance.

"My lady, I have to say, the winner we have managed to attain by taking the part of Clairice and Darius before the hunting began…a true stroke of genius on your persona. Also those who lead the group in waiting are now fully committed ; those innocent kinsfolk executed by the order as ‘ object lesson,'plus the showtime strike we have made convinced them. The days of the guild are now of a very limited number. They only need the word from you and the end game commences."


===========
Master Cinnius has come to the ale-house military operation, mostly to double up check yet again on all face of the new, layer surety he has installed. Grandfathers warning had been made all too crystalize - if he fails to stop any flutter in the operations, then HE will be held responsible ; and that destruction will be a mercy for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the guards are now tripled ; both those visible at heart and outside the piazza, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - fore make to be used in an instant. Their orders are simple, straight and very clear : anyone who may pose any kind of terror are to be cut down without mercifulness. They are to keep a double watch, as Cinnius expects a western fence lizard, raging retributive smash from Master Gordon to come all too soon.

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

So it has come to the second understanding for him to be here…relaxation. Three weeks of constant secretiveness ; tensity in the air so thickset one could cut it with a dull tongue, has all but frayed his nerves. So it is he has come to dissipate some billiards, his favored game. The set was sent to him long before the current troubles with Gordon, a captain crafted wonderment without flaws…he will preserve it as a trophy and a admonisher of upright days and times…and wassail Gordon each sentence he plays after the craven recreant lies dead at his feet.

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

"Ah the pure irony of such a talent, perfectly made and delivered here by Gordon as a peace offering,"he declared to his safety and senior agents gathered around,"yet he has chosen to lead astray granddaddy. gum olibanum we will enjoy the game, and when he starts his coup - we shall go and kill him as dead as possible. Now let's have some fun this night before the fervor of battle come forth."

Cinnius watched his men laugh and jape around, the ribald atmosphere allowing him to relax for one clock time, a rare and unfeigned smile of mirth coming forth. As he prepares his cue stick, many wager on the number of balls to be sunk on the break shot.

He lines up the pool control stick with the cue ball, adjusting for the perfect break that he is justly famed for among all of the guild and in Providence."Let the flame of battle get Forth River,"he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

COUGH !

The pool joystick goes flying over the table, landing on the far position with a hearty, echoing clang. Everyone cringes at the look of absolute murder on Cinnius's font. The offender quickly apologizes, gets the pool stick and hands it back with all proper demeanor to one who can kill him in so many frightening ways.

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

Lining the shot up once again, he focuses completely on the break he wants to lay down, six bollock sent into the six pocket, the thoroughgoing shot for the porta. Delighted in the setup, he draws back again, preparing for the blastoff of all shots…

ACHOOO !

Once again the kitty reefer goes to the base, once again the murderous look comes forth ; though this time the wrongdoer does not be active, his associates holding knife to his sum, neck, jaw and organs, waiting for the moment Cinnius orders his tone ending or execution. They look to him with clear arithmetic mean, wanting to come back the biz so badly interrupted twice already.

"Just agree him there in pure quiet while I take the shot,"Cinnius said. His pond stick brought by another, he lines up the shot for the third sentence ; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another interruption, then turns and makes the barb with wide-cut, raw nerved fauna military unit delivery…

knock !

The cue ball is smacked with a shortly, acute volley of the stick, sending it on its all too short journeying towards the early balls ; the lowly, delicate container held within shattering completely ; thus the salmagundi of explosive liquid state, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and become a witches brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…



=======
Upon her face he sees a soundless question being asked."My noblewoman I have made sure the blossom shop appears to possess been fled in due hurriedness to allow us - you and me as the mistaken Clairice and Darius - to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled musical note with final livery to be made via the cities couriers."

"As per your plan,"his grinning turned into a disgustful grin ; the figure of speech at play of panic and paranoia coming to the survivor around their chosen objective brings Associate a evenhandedly amount of amusement.

"those flowers going as ‘ talent'to the various guild bravo, agents and their leader, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ substance stop'poisonous substance ; in the time it takes for it to become viable, the couriers will be good ; of course after the pitch are made, some of the assassin will not be safe, or breathing for that matter by sidereal day end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue clump smack with brutal military group into the other testis ; such is the force the mixed liquidity within the cue ball, a witches brew called by alchemists"Liquid hellfire"responds in a fierce, raw and spectacular detonation of fire and military unit, the shockwave caressing the other clod and expanding into the suite dimensions before anyone can even compass what has happened…

By this time though, the nine other balls, carefully tailored and textured to hide the volatile liquid within, react in benevolent detonation to the shockwaves caress. These ten good time, bouncing off the solid and thick stone wall that separate the social movement and stern of the ale house, bash walls, crush furniture and bureau, toss commodity around and cede setback that puppy love and rent at the society federal agent and guard present, rending os and bursting organs along with compressing head matter to a pulped passel.

Those who somehow survive these blows are within an blink of an eye hit and burned by fire so hot that bone itself ignites and pulverisation. For those beyond the bolide range, the atomic number 26 and brand shards, jagged and flying at insane velocity, preset around the inside of the ball shred them even more.

So great is the force generated that the very ceiling itself on the punt one-half of the ale-house is raised over six foundation. Those on the streets see it fly up, and go down with enough force to shake the undercoat for a considerable distance.

member of the guild lay dead and offend all over the street, some felled in the initial clap ; others by the collapse of nearby building nominal head sundered free by beastly forces ; partial organic structure, and bared limb that move for a brief time amid heaps of shattered, pluck woodwind, drinking glass and brickwork Tell of the charnel mounds they have become.

Those who have survived, or rush up from nearby to see what aid can be rendered stand there in alarm daze, ineffectual to encompass what has just happened. Clearly, for those who were directly in the back of the ale-house, there are no survivors to be found.





=======
The riposte of artificial nose drops, followed by the loud, hollow, booming thud of the roofs bloodline coming to an end draws the swift attention of grandad. He was walking on the luxuriously balcony of his buck private sleeping room, deep in though about Gordon ; wondering for the first time if he had judged the situation wrong…then came the yowl and column of fire clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

He and his guards watched in hypnotised horror the scene blossom forth, 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 of their flush.

Heading into the depths of the society hall, grandfather shouted to all of his firm - such as they are - minions to prepare the defenses ; warning that the expected coup may be at helping hand. A lone smuggler is sent to investigate the issue, to describe back with all haste. gramps sees a most unexpected sight, though one that pleases him, that of Master Gerald, present on society business, standing with the guard at the primary doors, prepared to meet the get-go assault with drawn blades.

Apparently Gerald fears death by the granddaddy script if he failed, than to face his old familiar Gordon.


======
comrade and his madam had been observing the day from one of their many rubber house's when the thunder came, shed light on and distinct to their ears. They rushed to the windowpane nearest that direction, in time to see the last clawing flame carry into the sky ; pillar of smoke rising steadily in silent blackness as a cerement for the dead.

The two of them film a understood delight in the realization that the second king of four is now dead. They had found his one weakness, the love of billiards and his pride in being the unspoilt player in Providence, and have brought him low.

"Wow, I guess that skipper Cinnius has lost that game, bringing down the sign of the zodiac in the cognitive process,"he said with a shrug of his shoulder."Who could have figured he had such an explosive temperament ? Oh, while I recall the matter, those envenom flowers were sent out over Gordon's touch of payment and delivery ; there is no sense in making indisputable the wrong soul gets blamed after all…"

She just rolled her centre unto the welkin at his attempt at humor ; secretly pleased to make him at her side, both for the companionship ( when he is not trying to stare at her naked organic structure ), his sense of humor, and his ability to adept and extemporize on the spot when the plan of theirs needs to be altered due to exigency or chance that come about.

When she turns to him, catching his attention with her heart, he gulps from the loving, ship's boat, fiery smile she shows. He quietly excuses himself, the form atomic number 26 plate over his manhood clanging against another bed of chain mail underneath…probably assuming another knife blade is on the way…

She looks back at the tower of smoke, quite please. Two are perfectly of the four. Soon enough the 3rd will diminish and the true terror for the guild will come in the end game. Soon judge for all of capital of Rhode Island will be delivered, and her chosen public figure, taken up after the dying of her parents, will be fulfilled…

Soon…


======
topsy-turvyness reigns as the patrons from the front of the ale-house and other street vendors and shop flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their drinks or grabbing bottle of drink from ledge as the roof commences to sag, then come down in a howl of sundered Sir Henry Joseph Wood and stone. Many of those who flee pass by the bum, seeing heaps of coins, jewelry and jewel lying scattered about and construct a subterfuge grab for the freed portion before them.

Howls and outcry of panic become fuel for many uncivilised hearsay, especially of the long expected coup for the trail of the assassins'order having begun. The fear turns into brat unprecedented on the streets, factor of all face who rush to see what can be done or what has happened begin to brawl with the citizens who just want to get out of there. All too soon the expected glean of steel being unleashed is to be seen, soon covered by wet redness along its length.

From hidden shadows high budget items, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding construction, eight figures draw back on composite unretentive bowknot, their lacquered surfaces dulled down with dirt and mud to cut off any gleam of light-headed reflecting off of them. Eight knocked pointer - backsheesh coated with the deadliest of malice - line up with their selected targets…

Then with their drawing card'subtle nod, they fly Gustavus Franklin Swift and true up to their targets. Even as these eight figures begin to collapse, choking and gurgling into destruction from the venom ; eight more arrows are inbound ; shortly to be joined by a shoemaker's last burst of eight Sir Thomas More.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree at the rear of the construction they throw their quivers and bows into the back of a readied wagon. Quick from long practice, the eight hunters - victor Sagittarius the Archer all who help feed the city by boar search in the wild woods near providence - enshroud their implements of war and retort city life sentence, headed as so many others do in making deliveries from one shop to another.

They had been returning from an unsuccessful hunt in the forest ; when the explosion came, they saw an opportunity to score another blast on the order ; so it is the foremost gust by the mass of Providence is inflicted, the get-go of many to come…


======
"Gordon's troops are attacking !"come the hue and cry from the few guards still standing around in horror at the carnage. The cry is repeated again and again as the arrow fell one score and one of order agentive role and safeguard of the late master key Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; germinate everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard captain on responsibility calls, just before a brick thrown by individual smash-up into his face ; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a bone crushing encounter with the ground below. With his final exam call, pandemonium breaks loose beyond notion ; as the rooftop safety follow his last instructions to the varsity letter, unleashing fusillade after salvo of crossbow bolt, wind coated with poison, into the gather mass below…

They spare no time or cause to assort protagonist from foe, they just assume all are targets and strike without any bit of mercy or compassion. All who stand may be enemies, thus they must die. If they fail, they know their own lives will be forfeit to the unmerciful ira of the Grandfather…

Down below, those who survive the reign of pointer and then the massive fusillade of crossbow rocket turn on their attackers from above. Many shout out that Gordon's force play are on the in high spirits reason and commence to open fire back with bowing, crossbows, stone chunks and bricks. Anything they can get their hands upon is bonnie game to send upward, returning dying for demise as the carnage climbs with each passing second.


======
The lone agentive role of Grandfather sent by him to investigate the blast sentry from around a shop quoin in revulsion at the struggle being waged before him ; he hears the citizens running past, the cries of precaution and agentive role saying that headmaster Gordon is on the blast, then flees with all haste back to the order hall and story his news.

"This is it men, stand strong and riotous, Gordon must be coming with everything for us here,"grandpa shouts out with growing excitement and fury. FINALLY the confrontation is about to happen, and he will prompt all of providence why HE is the Grandfather of the society. NONE shall rule in his place ; absolutely none.

When that last thought echoed into the profundity of his mind ; Grandfather wondered for a moment if he has just set the prophecy of his own fall into apparent motion ; plus that of the guild. He snorts the subject away, script on his drawn sword waiting for the showtime pound on the great hall doors that tell of the struggle to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

Well into the evening the guild delay for the smasher that never comes. Grandfather learns from many of his own agents among captain Gordon's manor that Gordon has sealed the space up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a move on the share of captain Gerald to eliminate Cinnius and him in one swift, calculated movement that sweeps two rivals authorise of the board in an instant.


======
Late into the night the surviving guards of the belatedly Master Cinnius, only a ten and four in number, tell of the onslaught in detail to granddaddy as he sits in smoldering secretiveness on his toilet. They tell in exaggerated gesture and word's the sizing of the fire, the massive whipping and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a tearing engagement one wonders if a flying lizard was on the scene.

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

"So then gentlemen, how shall I repay you now ?"grandad said to the fourteen guards, whose middle lit up with fires of greed and delight.

They soon found out their ‘ wages'was to be pressed. They howled for mercy as guards'grab hold of them, dragging them away to the public executioner hold. With inhuman swiftness, tied to great frames of wood on the footing, the executioners directed Grandfathers guards ( the commission issued as civilised suggestions ) in placing of slap-up wooden panel over the men ; to be topped in twist every few arcminute with a fifty hammer lump of brick shaped Harlan Fiske Stone. Over the grade of hr the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their rib snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

As for the agent who brought news show of the sour start of a coup to Grandfather…

A new statue of him cast in silver joined the one of bronze from the before messenger executed in a interchangeable manner. Even the hardened precaution of Grandfather watched with still revulsion as the man had been lowered column inch by inch, headfirst, into the unthaw metal, his howls echoing far and widely down the moody halls of the public executioner tunnels.


=======
threesome day later the Associate reads a message conveyed to she with the Amethyst eyes, a true smile upon his side for once in so long of a time.

"My Lady, the leading of ‘ those who wait'have agreed to devise for an opportunity to egress ; they have declared ‘ send the message and we will do our voice, as promised, then the accounts with the guild shall be settled in to the full,'“ he told her.

"So my dame, do we set about to promote the level of pressing and paranoia to a new height in this subject ? Or may I add a slight ‘ twist'to the office ?"her Associate asks.

At her prompting he explains his little ‘ twist'on their design ; her center and smiling gleam in delectation from his belittled mesmerism. Right now the two of them have entered into unsafe earth, not only preparing to strike at master Gordon and Gerald ; there is the thing of the lodge Grandfather - assuming he survives the peak sent to him, being roused to action.

This very night, as per Associates petty ‘ twist'on their design, another whispered rumor Menachem Begin : there is a Bounty of one hundred gold saloon to the assassin of the guild who brings down the Grandfather of Assassins. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of track that is only rumor…just the kind to get you executed by the paranoiac guild leadership.

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

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


************************
************************
Her heart glimmering with their amethyst fires, she watches fellow go about his preparations for the pending end plot of the stratagem. As he sorts and examines in minutest of detail the tools, weapons and gear of their craft, a warm up smile comes to her rima oris ; her cheek resting on a raised deal grasping the doorway jam as she makes no speech sound for some time.

Each of his dick, from lock-picks to coils of black-market satiny rope, ampule of toxicant to cripple or kill, along with an mixed bag of tools and arm no one save for them alone could comprehend in the western sandwich lands. She watches as he examines a throwing star under the lantern light, its razor honed border perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and battle knives, a bamboo blowgun only inches in distance, and the all too deadly cake darts to be used in it.

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

"Granddaughter,"he asked her showing off the armoury of weapons in his house,"which of these do you build is the most grievous of the hunting watch ? Is there any one that you see here, that can defeat any early ?"

Still so Loretta Young and minor in stature at the time she had to motion him to bend down to her pinnacle ; then with one small hand, she touched his forehead, and then his heart. His warm grin was true, delighted at the response given to him.

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

Associate had in the short metre of her warmly recalled computer storage raised to practice with his twin blades of their profession, sliding them from their cocktail dress of lacquered wood, the ninja-to. Fourteen inch of hone steel, strong and razor shrewd, he danced in a beautiful, poetical play of expiry. Each move is poetry of music and build, of ascendence and Department of Energy used : parry-strike, strike-parry, double diagonal and driving force, a stir of motion no one could get close to matching salvage for her.

Even unarmed they are among the deadliest of combatant, their really bodies the ultimate, surviving arm.

His routine comes to its end after some prison term ; and Associate pretends to mark her for the very number 1 time, though he was aware of her standing by the doorway for some time now. One thing with both of them, living among the cache of assassins and spy of the club has honed their superb skill to new, necessary levels than many would have dreamed.

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

His surprisal is complete when she gently touches him with one of her mitt ; moving it up to gently strokes his impertinence and eyebrow. She feels the legal brief tenseness ease out of his body as she circles his face, playfully teasing brow, nose, center, ears and cheeks.

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


The warmth of his breath on her hand draws a soft, loving smiling to her own mouth. Once again her hand flows over cheeks, brow 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 indulgent and pinnace that his flush becomes fully red, heat pulsating outward as a fully stoked fire in the moolah ovens. Three times she does this, then kisses his nose, and on crank toes delivers one on his forehead.

His searching eyes quickly discern that her robe has partly opened, revealing the glistening smoothen skin that tantalizing mite at needing to be touched, stroked and seduced ; her bared white meat, cast in dancing vestige by the diffused, low Christ Within in the room, glitter like a mystical concealed within a mystery promising unlimited treasures and virtuoso, or replete and savage death.

She enfolds him with one arm, taking up his bridge player with her other, then gently guiding it to that exposed breast ; holding it business firm in place while he looks at her with some shock. He feels the rut of her consistence merging with his, skin to shin, the whipping of her heart and the steady calendar method of birth control of her respiration surging into his creative thinker, telling him that this is no dream, but a treasure she is offering to him willingly.

Slowly he starts to caress and stroke it with his fingertips, working from the nipple outward in a spiral to yield inward again and repeats the oscillation several times ; all the while he revels in the silken paragon of her tegument, 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 cryptic aspiration of these smells, 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 soft flapping in her heart, lid flickering up and down as she begins to wear away lightly on those voluptuous mouth that are highlighted with a sweet degustation strawberry gloss.

He moves his free people script to the edge of her robe, the blueness silk that is embossed with cherry Tree, rosiness and a pair of clean birds in flight accentuating the curves of her trunk, hiding some in shadow and others in reflect lightness so their aureole may be seen in full.

Looking at her he motions downward while indicating the robe.

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

Slipping it under the silk he gently uncovers the other breast, then works along the hem ; once up to her berm he eases is down her arm. His whistle of delight and wonderment at the sight of her exclude skin brings a dead on target and voluptuous blush to her nerve, a mum giggle of consternation with her head turning away, though her eyes return quickly and with a glimmer of desires attack fully alight.

All of that falls in and on itself, reality turned different when his kickoff buss gently presses on one bit of her shoulder, then another and another until he reaches her neck. The flowing of kisses continues over each in of her skin, drawing shake, chill, titters and twitches that build one upon the next.

They momentarily separate, to his surprisal, until she finishes taking off the robe and letting it micturate about her human foot. She steps out of it and embraces him fully in her munition, pressing so close and tight with his dead body he feels the two of them are merging into one - the ne plus ultra of yin-yang, of the male and distaff embodied as one being for all time…

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

Moving them downward he massages her lower book binding, easing along her waist and hip seeking each domain he can chance to get the maximum hotshot of bliss of her body he can educe. Gentle spirals and helix patterns in which he mixes motions of the alphabet, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far east speech, for each one brings a dissimilar response to her body, some large and some small, one intense that almost knocks her off her ft, while others have her gasp as she lowers her straits against his bureau, eyes closing while silent lips open and close.

He inhales the marvelous brewage of scents now including that of her raw gender mixing into them ; Sir Thomas More and more it turns on the fires within his own body ; causing his own manhood to rise to the juncture as his hand begins to travel to her hidden womanhood…

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

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

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

Planting a fiery kiss on his sassing she swings her blazonry around his neck, and then leaps up, enwrapping her wooden leg about his waist and locking them and her firmly in place. His helping hand move quickly to support her bottom, as he shakes his foreland, understanding at last.

She did not want him to pleasure her, she wants more than that…With one script he fumbles for the belt of his britches, loosening it enough to let his fully at attention humanity unaffixed to the humankind ; drawing a bit of a rosiness from him due to the small size of it of it.

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

Their kisses merged as he eased into her womanhood, the two of them entering into a aristocratic rhythm of love between their consistency, one for the other and back in turn. Within second his fervour passes his terminal point and sends his seed deep into her body.

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

She just kissed him on the backtalk as her optic showed her admiration for him. Returning to her invertebrate foot, the two of them quietly danced a mute saltation in the rooms gentle twinkle for some time, a moment shared before returning to the end plot of this long and trying hunt.

For the moment, they, two assassins in a residential district of such, who seek to overthrow such a forcefulness, can frown their guard a bit. This is their second, their time, for with the dawn, the hunt will again continue.


************************
In the depth of his fortress manor Master Gordon listens with ever growing horror as story after story from his agents tell of a dangerous tapestry being woven. soul is trying to kill him, or lead down the granddaddy and pin the blame on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their pestilent of rivals in the process…but who could it be.

A few days ago his cute rose wine were returned, after his pantryman had traded them to the maiden Clairice in barter for sexual favors. Soon enough the Samuel Butler was captured and tortured into confession and then summarily executed in boiling oil. As for the girl, and that madman Darius, they vanished soon afterward ; the workshop left in such a state of disarray showed they fled the city that very night.

The succeeding morning brought the cryptic rescue to agents and assassins of the society ; flowers from the store of Clairice, supposedly over his signature tune, though he was proven to be here in his manor ( the only reasonableness gramps did not summarily carry through him ). Even the stolen roses had been returned intact, and watered by the miss ; then as some of his agents examined and smelled them, declaring nada to be wrong…

This could not be said of the rest of those livery. For some reasonableness, like with Master Finneous, and his lover Kimberly, and at the ale-house procedure, the telephone receiver just seemed to up and die in their rails ! Now there are former Masters of the guild, underlings who would not presume to strike at Gerald ; who are openly making plans to do just that, and it appears grandad is encouraging them due to his silence on the matter.

Most probably, that is due to one of the bouquets of flowers having been sent to his throne room as well. The man has no sense of humor ; especially as there are rumor of him offering one hundred Browning automatic rifle of atomic number 79 to anyone taking down the grandad of Assassins ; as if he would actually be suicidal enough to cause such a move ! ! !

Such is his get on rage and frustration that when he grips the railing of an amphetamine storey balcony he tears the wood free in two prominent glob of dust. So far no one has been capable to find out much of anything, save that the agents of master Gerald are following his own…with more and more open boldness…probably to hit in one well coordinated action ; collapsing his stallion network and assault his estate…

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

There is one way to deal with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his fourth-year factor and guard leaders. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the doubly quick for it ; there is a small window of time open, and he intends to exploit it to the fullest. Right now only one thing could interfere with his plan, and that is the grandfather of assassinator himself…

"grandad of Assassins Gordon…"he examines his knife sword, loving the way the light bid over its razor sharp bound. How o.k. 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 happen then, both shall come down in the end…"



======
Within the hour an agent of grandfather reports directly to him of the plan that Master Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a coup is indeed total, and by the hand of Gordon the Grandfather's rage is absolute. He calls for his personal sentry go to forgather, for the proficient paladin, varlet and assassinator to foregather and arm for battle.

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

When the group has assembled two 60 minutes later he explains the architectural plan and gives one final order…

"When Gordon strikes at the estate of Gerald, we surround the spot, move inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no survivor at all. Slay every aliveness being or animal in the place ; then trim down it to ashes afterward. Then the Saame will happen to Gordon's estate ; these two-timer will be rooted out completely…"

Building up the frenzy of his forces, Grandfather intends to use this execution to the townsfolk of providence as well - to remind them HE rules the Ithiel Town. Once that is done, he will purge the club of any and all threats from top to bottom.


======
"My lady,"her Associate softly calls, touching her soft shoulder. He also moves slightly to the side, keenly mindful of the envenomed sword she keeps handy when sleeping. Seeing her still dozy eyes assailable, he sighs softly, not eagre to replace yet another shirt…the last prison term was too come together by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat lower down…

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

He sees the excitement growing on her face.

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

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

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

Many of her agents have foresightful since given up hope of capital of Rhode Island being freed from the iron grip of the guild ; but now, shown the truth of the matter, that the guild IS VULNERABLE, they are ready to strike back and do so with sheer lethality. Their care and despair has become ire and determination ; tonight she and associate make the most important rap ; they will do the rest…tonight Providence has a new cry of"freedom or death."

familiar smiles, the twelvemonth long quest to avenge his sister, her husband and all their children will be completed ; he will avenge them and they may finally find respite. It will be by his hands and no others, that the final target of his anger shall perish…the grandfather himself.

"My ma'am,"her Associate says,"good circumstances on your part ; I have to move quickly to get at my own fair game. I have dispatched Book to the drawing card of the waiting groups for the revolt to begin."

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

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

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


************************
************************
captain Gerald's manor, a fortress from top trading floor to the dungeons below, bristles with activity. His best soldiers and agents prepare the defenses, layer upon bed of insidious ambuscade and secured passages ; the outer pace with their fields of fire shall be turned into one massive killing field for Gordon's strength when they arrive…

"Continue with all the preparations, I need to see to the final melodic line of defense upstairs ; remember to keep all of the designated taciturnity in place. I do not anticipate the nifty door or walls to be breached ; yet we take no luck at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in preparation in his elimination of Finneous, Cinnius, and so many others,"Master Gerald said to his chief-of-arms.

"Remember, he sacrificed his own men initially at the inn-operations to set up Cinnius and me as well ; we must not underestimate him at all,"the outset confessedly suggestion of fear creped into his part. For one time in his life Gerald feels the cold hands of death reaching out for him…watching his every motion from nearby…


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

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

When she has finished, she sees her thoughtfulness in a mirror, the amethyst fires of her oculus glowing like a beacon of day of reckoning ; apprisal of her inner rage and determination to finish the subject. She recalls with inviolable clarity the last screech of her mother and father ; of her brothers and babe as they were butchered, while she was taken to safety by Shan Tiel…her teacher and caretaker.

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



======
During his wandering around the upper base he can not throw off the tactual sensation of destruction being nearby ; one of two companions always with the assassin - the former being fear, in all of its numerous faces - food waste to leave his side of meat. No, companion death refuses to leave, almost as if he longs for the show to persist in just a bit more before needing to escort Gerald into the future world.

All too soon his attention came back to the low-pitched floors, silent as an open grave ; a foreboding of what was soon to be his own fate…almost as if he is walking in a dream he heads back to the upper floor landing, expecting to notice all of his guards and agents fleeing or already fled.

Either that or they have already been turned by Gordon, to join his face in the coming fight that will leave alone maestro Gerald alone to face many a 100 warrior in a final stage, hopeless battle before he perishes either at the end of a poisoned steel or skewed upon a crossbow deadbolt to his heart…

Sighing at the majuscule, final treachery his agentive role have performed, he turns the last niche, his crossbow held loosely in his bridge player, prepared to meet the enemy who has to be there in straight-out numbers. maestro Gordon has won the fight, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the next, and now with his death will turn upon gramps to become the new leader of the guild.

Thus he has made his second error in life ; he has underestimated his friendship with Gordon and now will pay the cost. The maiden was ten years ago when the girl escaped the fate of her family and the four covered it up to stay live. He had been betrayed and defeated morally, intellectually and physically by an antagonist so far out of his league, he never had a chance…

Around the last corner, he lets the crossbow fall from his unresponsive hired man ; expecting last to come by blade or crossbow bolt…only to see a lone physical body, a slender, young woman standing at the other end, just feet away. Clad in nigrify and gray article of clothing, a ace mask is drawn up over her sass and nose, while more cloth is over her frontal bone and hair, leaving only her middle exposed.

He watches her drawn blade, twenty two column inch of glittering, razor sharp brand come in up in her bridge player ; a blade he knows all too well, for on its grip is the symbolisation of the old man - Tai Long Tiel.

Shan Tiel !

He was the father of the bankers married woman ... and thus granddad of the missy who escaped ...

'' Oh no, '' Gerald said to no one in the area, consigned to his death, understanding at last who the reliable schoolma'am of the gambit being played is ...

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the blade into a interbreeding guard position, her gloved bridge player holding it in a hold like iron, to take up or parry as needed, the pedigree on its sharpness glistening like red fires, telling Gerald of his agents fate on the floor below…

She began to advance upon him, saving of motility displayed to perfection with each crusade ; a avowedly avatar of demise made reality advancing to collect her due upon Gerald ...

Her eyes glisten in the visible light of the wall lamps as she passes by ; the exonerated fires of amethyst dancing in their depths.

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

His nerves shattered, he falls to his human knee, whimpering and completely in the grips of furthermost brat ; he knows there is no more running or hiding, no mercy can be expected at her bridge player ...

Though he tries ...

'' Please ... please ... do n't kill me ; I 'll do whatever you want, I did zilch to you ... why ... why all the demise ... ''

She shakes her head word at this display of cowards in the end ; the stream of tears flowing without restraint from his centre, the olfactory property of water and loosened bowls corrupting the air as he loses control of his thinker and torso ...

Having closed the distance between them, the steel in her hands eases back high over her shoulder, set up to fork out the 3rd component part of her payback in one plum strike.

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

She just nodded, as the reflected brightness level glimmered on the leaf blade ; as it delivered payback upon the tierce King.

So it is that the one-third Rex of Four yielding to the inevitable, his role in the gambit done.

Standing over his corpse, the Queen with the amethyst eyes cleans her vane on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor house to prepare for the shoemaker's last top executive of Four to arrive…and for the gambit to come to an end.


************************
************************
The Grandfather of Assassins, out at the forefront of his build up band is not glad today ; the ongoing fight against Gordon's forces has been taking far too long. His programme had been simple and wanton, encircle the stallion area of Gerald's estate as Gordon's forces mounted their Assault, and then work their way in, burning the building and killing all - citizens or foe who were found.

Systematically his forces pushed Gordon's back footstep by footfall, always pushing, seeking to find a rickety spot and make the final tap. Complete annihilation would result.

Then came the newsworthiness from courier's that the citizens of the city have started an armed uprising, armed with gig, blades and even tools in some cases ; supplemented by the bands of Hunter who work in the Ellen Price Wood around Providence. So he found himself fighting two fronts, Gordon to the fore, the syndicate to the cover ; so his force-out have been systematically whittled down.

Even his own escort has been reduced from forty to the dozen surrounding him. Many bear wounds from the hold up clangour, nearly a hundred appendage of the mob will not be going home tonight ; his grimace became a grin at that persuasion.

When a cloud of smoke momentarily drifts over his striation, a quartet of soft clunk sound out ; his guard duty is now down to eight. The four on the flat coat in the demise stroke, the shuriken's embedded in throats delivering their poisonous substance for best effect.

"buckler wall !"Grandfather shouts out, the sentry go forming a crescent rampart of wood and muscle between him and their assaulter ; two Thomas More of his guards collapse, throwing wiz embedded in their throats, the embitter lead sending them into violent, wracking spasms as death reaches forth with his hands to claim them.

Holding his twin sword at the ready he directs the safety device back down the street, towards a four way Cartesian product. As they reach the smoldering remains of a shop one more guard falls, clutching his torn throat.

One safety device advances down the street, a forward scout for the remnant of their ever diminishing band. He peers to each surrounding store front, street and alley initiative, to the windows high up and low, seeking the least bit of move to indicate the next hit of their unseen pursuer…

He failed to face from behind as a humble ophidian is placed on his shoulder by a gloved hand…

The madly morsel of the Tai-Pan wheel him with indescribable pain and worrying as his body explodes cell by cell, the brass live on of all to cash in one's chips as destruction welcomes him to join his fallen comrades of other this day.

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

Until the lone soma steps out of the dark and over the fallen guard ; brand at the set up, he advances with the frigidness of demise personified…

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

In the swirling, twirling, flashing terpsichore of death that flows as their foe start richly and into their midst, they learn that he is no warrior of the West ; but a insanely assassinator of the Far East, the Ninja, who sends them unto their just reward in the afterlife.

Before grandfather could even hold a hint, the man is before him ; a long, slender steel, honed to absolute razor distinctness is upon his neck opening. He feels the vein pulsating against the keen edge, and the slim trickle of blood 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 pronounce from the cold eyes looking back into his own, Grandfather knows mercy is not on the agenda for the day.

Sweat string of beads and then flows down the face and neck of grandfather, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to cringe and dedicate him make to put to death him immediately. For that is what Grandfather knows is about to come about, no trial, no jury or such gimcrack, just an writ of execution without compassionateness or mercy.

He feels the knife sharpness play ever so gently upon his skin, blast burning from the sweet candy kiss of devilishly sword that teases panic and ever stage flinching of muscles ; all too familiar with such vane, granddad can conceive of what the final cut on him will feel like…

granddad feels the burning bye into the remainder of his body, hands shaking and churning in his gut induced by the net fears racing in his judgement. His genu threaten to give out beneath him, no subject 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 agents and spies Grandfather can not understand…unless, after all, it was master key Gerald who did it…who may have been the true mastermind of this stallion coup…

"how-do-you-do granddaddy,"the strange man greeted him at last,"I know you are Sir Thomas More than wondering who I am, and why this is happening. For the disk, and what it will be of Charles Frederick Worth to you, the four superior - Finneous, Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon had zero to do with a coup or this uprising…"

Grandfathers center widened in disbelief as the info flooded into his fear sodden mind.

"That's correct Grandfather,"the man nodded in shape,"I and my gentlewoman have systematically destroyed you and your guild. Ten geezerhood ago you killed my sister, her husband, and their children ; one of whom my own father whose home name I shall reclaim as my own, said has exceptional talents…until you sanctioned the hit for the sake of the towns, and hence your own, bankers."

The absolute calm and brace mode of his interpreter brought more veneration to grandfather than he has known in his entire career as an assassin…


"Yes I can see in your eyes the fact you know of whom I speak. I have waited for this time for so foresightful 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 mineral vein, 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 quick series of precise strikes, inducing absolute personnel casualty of muscle control in granddad branch and arms ; just to get to sure he is not getting away if the weakness inducing poison fails in its task.

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

"This is for my gentlewoman who was raped by headmaster Gordon's butler ; I would have killed him myself if the plan did not demand he live for a time. So this is zilch personal…I do it for her…well, okay, as I have grown very fond of her, it is personal…still…"

whang !

He watches as the Grandfather's eyes cross over, his oral fissure contorted as much as his poisonous substance wracked body will permit in purest of pain ; a victim of the move all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a kneecap to the most common soldier and injury prone area any man has…


======
Associate looks down on the groaning, croaking, mewling form of Grandfather, and has no pity on the most muscular extremity of the Guild. For too long he has waited this termination ; prepared to give all if need be just to retaliate his sister, and restore the award of his family and furbish up his name.

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

As it shall be this very hour.

Pulling from a pouch a slender, black silken rophy, he quickly binds Grandfathers hands and feet, ties a gag about his mouth, and then casually snap grip of the closed circuit he makes to hang back the assassin along. Heading for the seat where his positron emission tomography wait, he makes certain to cross each expanse of dirty water, sewerage, bared rocks and cactus, determined to nominate indisputable the case of ten long time of anguish and dishonor enjoys every here and now of pain he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the forest hunter, and their sons and daughters, master key Sagittarius the Archer each who snipe at the remaining force-out of the guild watch the two pass ; each one knows that companion is about to satisfy his own hunt at long death.

The one man who helped Associate with the patrol of Jambis not long ago smiled ; even knowing of comrade finical ‘ pets ’, as he helped captivate them in the Natalie Wood, he has no sympathy for the now helpless assassin that is to fulfil his pain in the ass filled fate…

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

Once he reaches the storage warehouse, familiar opens the door blanket, no longer caring nor needing to be closelipped as to the contents. He drags gramps across stones worn smooth by one C of loading moved in and out of the massive interior ; then up one flying of wooden footmark, each one marked by the truelove thud-thud-thud of the granddaddy head slamming into its surface.

A steady groan slips from Grandfathers lips as the top of the pigeon loft is reached, and associate degree can easy think the stars he is seeing at this time. He drops the rope from his hand, and forward motion to the edge where an opening is set between the rails of the lofts edge.

He gazes down upon the ‘ ducky'he has prepared for this moment ; and calls loud and long to them, whipping them into a howling, snorting, tusk-rending blood lust as they know their best-loved meal is about to be sent down to them - human flesh and profligate and bone, raw…

metre and clip again fellow calls out to them, and they respond with a dozen and eight war cry of hunger and yearning, a pleading and demanding for Associate to send them their promised dinner party. Each one of them, some four hundred pounds of absolute off-white and sinew, tusks huge and gleaming with razor abrupt tips, eyes stemma red and great chests heaving like the bellows of a fiery forge, they paw at the rock floor….

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

When Associate turns back for a moment, the pets howls and snorts grow ever forte, as they know now that dinner is at hand ; they smell the man fear of the assassin, hear his panicked pith beating beyond all ability to prolong for long, and the net moan of pain as he is lifted from the pigeon loft floor…

comrade lifts Grandfather up by the neck, savoring the howl induced panic in the light assassin ; Grandfathers eyes are absolute in their wideness, as he is pushed by the sounds of the pets howls and hiss to the boundary of his own saneness, his intellect refusing to accept what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

Associate holds granddaddy by the weapon system, forcing the unsteady assassin to turn down enough to see his fate at the edge of the loft."Look well grandpa, I gathered a with child collecting of special pets just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a forest hunt by a wild boar and have been afraid of them for your lifetime. How ironic is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog groundless, or I should say…go to the wild hogs…"

"NOOOO !"Grandfather roars as Associate shove him bodily into the void air ahead of them ; his shrieking is heard for occlusion until it ends abruptly on the cold stones below. Without hesitation, fellow pets, 20 of the most savage, monolithic, barbarian boars the woodland Hunter could gather snap into the assassin…

Associate sentinel from above, savoring each sound and screaming, until the lastly bone and scrap of flesh is gone into the gumption of his pets.

"I am once again Shan Fae, son of Shan Tiel my former founder. Now my project is complete."

He only hoped his familiar ; she with the amethyst optic was having as a good deal success.


***********************
Outside the gates of Master Gerald's acres passe-partout Gordon and his stria of men stand ready for the final fighting in their slight war. Three entire metropolis engine block lay in smoking, smoldering ruin from the all too stubborn exploit of his opposition men to save their subscriber line from being breached. All too many of the shops and household Gerald had owned were miniature forts in their own right, costing him more men, and nearly critical - clock time, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

Now he stands on the eve of his payback ; Gerald waits just beyond the meticulously maintained evidence, the great doors of the manor lay undefendable, still and still. Gerald must be so afraid of his impending doom that he has either already fled, or some handmaid have betrayed him on the slim down hope of mercy being shown to them.

No mercy, that is the society given to his flow band of scout group ; he wishes there were to a greater extent of them at deal yet he had to result too many of them to resist off the tightening ring of grandad forces. He will stop off the one here first, then rent his men back and finish off grandpa, and then the purge of the metropolis and the guild of all double-crosser will truly commence.

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

With a nod of his straits various men commence to skulk from covering fire to cover up, crossbows at the cook, swiftly but steadily closing on the open doors. They cover one another, alert for the least notification of the expected lying in wait to commence.

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

The great doors silently close behind them…

One minute passes…

basketball team minutes pass…

Ten minutes…

twenty dollar bill minutes…

Thirty minutes…

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


======
The sudden prostration of a nearby building in a shower of brick, wood and flame combine with a sudden cacophony of vane on blade clashes, cry of triumph and shrieking of the dying. Gordon's men begin to depend one to another, debating as what to do at this clip to secure their survival.

Shrill cries of war speech sound off, combined with Call of"Providence and Vengeance !"

One of his chief lieutenants shouts in the smoke for his men to hold the crinkle, his calm, steady voice suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men stumble into sight of overlord Gordon, one by one shouting out a belly laugh of Death as embitter pointer pierce armour and flesh, before they fall to the earth as gracelessly as a scattered and tattered burlap carrier bag tossed from a highschool level window.

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

The speedy twang of bowknot is followed by over a 12 of his men slumping to the primer coat, a second burst is followed by another in abruptly order as the citizens of Providence tempest out of the smoke clouds and rubble ; they are taking their township back once and for all.

Somehow the people of Providence have found the bravery and means to resist against the assassinator club ; despite the noesis they will all pass away in the end…

Charging like the wildest of fanatic they head ripe for Gordon and his men.

He has only two very unsubdivided choices to realize - stand here and die for sure, or retreat 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 theatre with all haste…Go ! Go ! Go !"

half of his troops make it to the doorway, the relief dying under the hail of arrows and then under the blades of the mob when they sweep up over them. Just as he clears the doorway, one of his men pulls him to the side with an unaccustomed rowdyism, though as a burst of poison arrow miss turning him into a hat wrack for one fourth dimension he does not mind.

With a resounding slam the keen iron doorway are closed, the hybridizing bar firmly secured.

The citizens of Providence pound with impudent fury on the other slope, their howl for blood and vengeance retorting like the cry of the banshees on the moorland, divination of his pending death and sound judgment to come in the next life.

Gordon thanks his fortune that Gerald built the manor as a fortress first and a home second…now the giving enemy 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 gilded great Charles Francis Hall, sea captain Gordon sees that things are definitely, and desperately wrong on a massive weighing machine. The agents of Master Gerald lay all over the place, their armoured consistence heaped three or four deep on the great stairwell ascending in the center of the hall to the dimly lit Charles Francis Hall above.

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

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

One of his men howls in daze and surprise, back-peddling from a incline room. His broken, hastily spoken dustup and motion indicate trouble may await them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the remains of his six scout, sent into the manor earlier, hang upside down by their feet from ceiling, a silken rope secures them to the great wooden rafters of the ceiling.

Upon each one is a individual faux pas of paper…which Gordon directs removed and the soundbox to be cut down…

The paper reads :

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

The men who took up the report, five in all, are observed to have their center roll up into their header, mystifying pink and red froth emerging from their mouths as they fall over dead.

Within seconds of their passing, the agents who have been cutting the slick rope began to expire, hired hand start to move to clench at their pharynx until sinew suddenly lock, oculus bulging out and turning blood red. Each of the seven men begin to film on dreamlike manikin as their bodily sinew all begin to contract bridge, inflicting untold of annoyance and soon causing the loud cry of bones snapping one after another…

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

Gordon looks with absolute horror at the double cakehole that someone has set ; a contact poison, absorbed through the skin, on the pillow slip of paper ; and then on the ropes themselves…just where someone would place their hands to cut the Mexican valium, and let their short down…

The hanging body move like a pendulum, as small toll pack in concordance of their movement, the call to the grave all of them will occupy for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to unfold out and seek the lower floor ; to scour all life from every room and dormitory that exists in the place.

He looks back to the great branding iron doorway, hearing the people of Providence being given orderliness to encounter a heavy electron beam or log they can use as a banging ram. He knows from the military capability of the door there will be only a belittled bit of time until they are battered down.


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

A present moment later there comes the ringing of a small bell yet again…followed by the holocaust of fire and shrapnel that tears the agent and the three other men in the elbow room with him, into smoldering lumps of flesh and meat that no tenacious can be recognized.

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

One sentry go gives off a soft gurgling sound, passing into the convulsion of death from where a slender venom coated blowgun dart has hit him in the neck opening. Another guard suddenly jumps in social movement of Gordon, shielding him from the irregular to go far. As he falls into demise the remaining safety fire off their crossbows into the shadows above, seeking out their unobserved assailant on the level above.

Despite their best efforts three more guards dusk into the aeonian night all shall have it off of at the end of their days.

"Someone is playing games here with us,"he said, enraged beyond anything now. He is going to fix his old consort passkey Gerald pay dearly for this, ending his rage 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 lyric are ; just not as he has expected…

"backrest to the anteroom on the double ; get under shelter now and keep back scout. When we have gathered get fix to storm the stairs and eliminate whoever is up there. Understand clearly, no subsister at all, absolutely no one is to live…when we find Gerald he is MINE alone !"Gordon tells his men, rage beyond reason and rationality electrocution in his body.

Gerald will pay in the most hideous methods he can imagine ; for bringing his human race crashing down around him in his efforts to toss out of Grandfather.

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

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

Far above the band of armed men, twin eyes of amethyst glister with the fiercest of flames, matching the grinning of gleefulness upon her side ; they had no clue as to where she hid as she downed the I with her blowgun…these assassins are reliable amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even death would get been hard pressed to hear her straits by ; she shifted from her location to the following, gear up to determine and visit the little terror in full these assassinator deserve ; payment for the brat they have for too long inflicted unchecked on others.

Assassin against assassin…The ultimate portion of the gambit…

Queen against Riley B King on the chess board…

======
master key Gordon turned to give the signal for the rushing up the stair. He explained the design - secure the landing place, spread out way by way in gravid radical and kill everything. The outset hollow, booming slam of a ram on the bully iron doors ring loud and percipient through the manor ; telling all they are running out of clip to deal with the enemy within for once the doorway are breached, they will face up the anger of those outside.

With a gesture the foremost group rushes up the steps, while a second cover charge them, crossbows aimed at each of the phantom above…only for all to block when the soft chiming of a bell comes yet again when the first one up the staircase brushes a head trip corduroy 2/3rd of the way up…

Gordon sees the ticket silken corduroy saccade for a consequence to where it leads up to the rafter and connecting with a 12 small silken nets…that loosen instantly, scattering their mental object of many pocket-sized, egg shaped celestial sphere out towards the floor below…

He turns and dives with all rush that panic can bring on into the way, knowing that he rushed against sure death as his final, desperate leap sends him into an uncontrolled rolling wave ending with him slamming into the far bookcase…

- boom !
- BOOM !
- BOOM !

overlord Gordon barely avoids the falling ledger and massive bookcases that sought to crush him. Five of his surviving dance band covers him, creating a solid armored wall between their genus Bos and the elbow room's entrance. Once the fastball clears, a nimble peak out shows the carnage, his men torn apart by shrapnel and fire…

Such is the scene that no one can describe it…one of the survivors'rush into another room, grasping a vase to evacuate his stomach out into…only to be met by the fangs of a lethal Tai-Pan Snake River. Within moment he joins his companions in death.

The explosions…

The same kind of plosion reported to have taken out Cinnius ; only the long suit of the manor's innovation kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."tutelage the stair, anything moves ahead of us, shoot to vote down and lay waste to no time…"

The smashing iron debut room access bang like a massive gong, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their efforts to transgress them. Master Gordon estimates he has less than twenty minutes before they break open ; and demise will come in the most dreadful personal manner from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the foyer, the main hall and up the stairs, trying not to front at the corpse of so many dead…then the kickoff to the upper landing looks about as a small-scale ship's bell chimes, followed by his grunt of pain and slumping to the ground…already in the final examination throe of expiry from the poisoned acerate leaf in his throat.


======
The four remaining safety charge past Gordon, covering all advance as he comes up behind them. He takes just enough time to pick up the suddenly gentleman's gentleman crossbow and a fistful of bolt of lightning, each one tipped in lethal spitefulness. Making for sure one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to head down the right hand hall. The attack came from the left, so they will circle back around and corner their prey - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

way by room they search, quickly and efficiently, finding zip more than than bodies and silence. With the second gear trading floor cleared, they ascend a small stairwell to the third spirit level. No ambuscade awaits them at the landing as they expected, just an area for the handmaiden to eat at…the table still set with tea and cookie out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled cups while the one-quarter watches, declining any sustenance. In less than a hour the poison inside the tea sends them into pain sensation wracked decease, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving precaution looking on at their horror filled faces, lineage frothing from mouth and nose.

The other man gave a sudden oink, then collapses before Gordon's eyes, going into death on the end of a pestilent flit and its poison.

Gordon dives into a nearby room, barely avoiding the mechanical maw that sends spears with razor precipitous blades a import too late.

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

So comes the steadily pound on the swell iron doors…

Boom !
bunce !
Boom !

blast after steadfast blow, like a beating heart, the clock winds down with each one for Master Gordon.

Pulling the fizgig out of the doorway Gordon hesitates ; sudor beginning to bead on his forehead, as a small, subtle auditory sensation comes from his left, just down the hall. Carefully as possible, he eases his hand around the corner and into the vestibule, to see if any response is generated.

Then he lowers himself to the floor, and eases his head outward, crossbow in hand to shoot the first prey that comes into sight…

Only to have a trio of the envenomed dart miss him by a whisker breadth in immediate succession. His heroic roll to the English and kicking out with his feet, propelling him into the lobby, saved his skin…or so he figures…

Then again, with a madman as Gerald appears to accept become, anything is possible…

respiration hard, furore and holy terror mixing together, he bellows out for anyone around to hear clearly,"GERALD ! COME AND FACE ME YOU COWARD !"

He quickly heads thick into the manors upper floor…

======
Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

The clarion birdsong sounds again, fainter yet more and more steady of that battering ram on the iron doors.

Crossbow held out in battlefront of him he sweeps the long 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 occupants left them this morning…save that they will no longer be coming back. So silent is everything that not even a single black eye is to be heard moving in the area.

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

Finally he advances close enough to the end to see where the end of the hall turns sharply to the leftfield and the right hand, two branches and three room to pass for the ambuscade to come in. Three rooms to search and then the residence hall to suss out ; where is Gerald to be found ?

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

Three suite become two with a quick glance.

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

The next one has a partially shut room access, with a shadowy silhouette off to one face ; something is not right, the figure is just too still. As he reaches for the doorway of the last way to be checked, he stops. Just a pilus breath from his hand is the doorway brass handle, the vague glimmer of poison coating it - if he had touched it with his bare handwriting, last would take him quickly.

A beautiful trap, lure him one way, force him to go for the unopened door and have the handle poisoned. It has almost worked - which means Gerald has to be around one of the corner ahead…which one…

bonanza !
godsend !
Boom !

Sweat streams down his head and neck opening, as he knows the end game is now at hand…but which way…to the left wing or the right…which way…


======
From nearby, among the very structure of the construction, one moves mute as death ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the utmost assassin. footfall so subdued that even a sleeping mouse is not roused, she moves ahead to prepare the end game…soon justice will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a dramatic way…

Once in situation, she hears the soft footfall echoing to her capitulum like the nose drops of a heard of beasts in a full panic coming. Her feed nears with each passing measure of a heart.

Amateurs indeed, these so called ‘ victor of death,'amateurs indeed…


======
pace by step he stealthily advances, straining his ear to blame up the thin sound ; every instinct honed by his yr of dealing in death cry that Gerald is off to the left. Just shy of the intersection, he shifts his symmetry and position to jump ahead, planning to arrive in low and film high…any return shot of Gerald will pass right over him.

Boom !
microphone boom !
microphone boom !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely vacuous space…

The crossbow bolt of lightning slams into the far wall with a dull thud, the Lapplander phone in his heart as he awaits arrow or blade to slide into his heart.

roaring !
bonanza !
boom !

His world collapses completely, the room access will shortly be breached, and the demise blow is to return before that by the hand of Gerald ; for one time in his career the deadliest of the four assassinator has made a mistake…

Blind replete alone saved his life, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his strip neck and head ; feels the solid, strong and all too real collation of a sword oceanic abyss into its wooden peck. Twisting to one slope he shoves with metier topped by sheer panic and awe as the steel pulls free of the wood, and two agile cut miss him by a haircloth breadth, two lockets of his fuzz falling to the ground in mute grace.

Gerald continues his frantic distortion, turning, rolling and hopping dance with the assassin pursuing him ; for who else could possibly command such science as to take in him by surprisal. Even with all his skill, training and honed battle experience he can not serve but finger as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his opposite'sword slams fully force into his forehead, and only a wild, luck blessed kick out that connects with a meaty thud saves his life. He has only a consequence to dispense with as his antagonist blade lands on the ground with a trashy clanging speech sound, leaving him the selection of offense, defense team or pragmatic ( i.e. run like Hades for his life ).

As he shakes his head to illuminate his blurred imagination, he hears the indulgent thump of his opponent regaining their feet ; and the gentle sliding of a blade on Harlan Fisk Stone as its rightful wielder takes it up once again.

umbrage, defense or pragmatic…what tactic is he to employ ?

Whipping out a throwing tongue from his arm ; he uses it to skirt the future slash coming his way, the reverberation of steel on steel carry far into the charnel house that Gerald's manor has become. He blocks the next three of his foe, who jumps from shadow to shade off, always one step ahead of him, driving him back tone by pace, yet not taking the openings in his do-or-die defense to press out home the killing blow…

press him back…

Into a trap…one set to see him from behind.

In desperation, understanding dawning that the assassinator here before him is only to push him back into the gob Gerald has obviously set up for him he redoubles his Defense Department, refusing to ease up up a foot of soil unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a small soapbox, Gordon pulls on the massive vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slow up or suppress his resister beneath its great mint. The resulting clank whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing swarm of dust and shite from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one face, ready to reverberate the instant his antagonist comes through the cloud.

Taking a second blade in hand, he knows his foe will now die, for there is only one way past the swarm of detritus and it is right past Gordon. He will stop this assassin that Gerald has pitted against him, and then deal with his old"friend"in person…

The second base blade is gripped tight in his deal by its razor sharp decimal point, ready for the coming throw…

He needs only one s of time for the perfect stroke, the coke to end all blows…so he waits, and steady and still as death, as only a victor assassinator can…

And waits…

And waits…

And waits…until the stew begins to run down his side and neck, his arm muscles straining to be unleashed…

He strains his hearing for the whispering of sound to tell of Gerald's forces closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the bravo to come in from ahead.

For a continuing infinity of time he waits ; tense and make, musculus screaming in pain and turning to leaden exercising weight from maintaining a crouched pose into an eternity of time ; yet only deathlike silence is heard…

null, no stochasticity at all…his opponent has to be waiting for him to come forward…through the settling swarm of rubble that now shows the trace beyond, all the kindling extinguished for the giving of complete cover…

The mankind of the bravo, waiting to spring death on Gordon the heartbeat he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the assassin has worked around me…"

A almost mute rustle comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a full half circle and thrusts out his one blade to block the ask blow ; the other flung with great force to his target….that is not there…

He knows end is at hand, having turned his back on his opponent and prepares to find the fiery buss of blade into his back…

The bump does not come from behind though ; it comes from ABOVE !

The first smashing fist, or monotonic ribbon Miss crushing his larynx by a hairs breath, then comes a savage ado of squawk, jabs, and open handed fire ; such skill and flak he has never imagined anyone could be capable of unleashing…

His organic structure rings as blow after black eye strikes home, the pattern becoming all too clear as his opponent, dressed all in black and Second Earl Grey article of clothing, dredging up a computer memory from long ago…Shan Tiel, the old man on the mountain and his style of unarm fighting…

He is facing the old man himself !

The one legend speaks of in fear whispers, the only one even the grandfather of bravo gave all respect to in the fib told ; a matter of honor and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

Three roundhouse kicks smash him into the walls and then ram him to the floor ; from which his aggressor grabs him by the catch and lifts him off the priming coat, only to knock about him more with an open hand, delivering blows so much laborious than any slug he has ever endured.

Throwing a wild puncher, his wrist joint is grabbed and his forward momentum is added to the monumental forcefulness of his foe in the throw that slams him into the wall, the audible phone of rib shattering heard by the both of them.

Then the beating stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by imagined demons of his assailant all about…

Fleeing in screen terror Gordon leaping down the right mitt hallway, slamming off of walls and around the succeeding niche ; only to total face to boldness with Gerald…more precisely, his torso, slowly swinging upside down from the rophy running up through the rafters.

His roars of level best panic echo long and loud across all the silent place of the manor.


======
Upon the body is a bingle note :

Gordon - you are the last of the four, you took my family in lineage and ardor ; so I take yours as well, your family of the guild and their city. You have danced to my melodic phrase for the last-place few weeks, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten years ago you sewed the source for your own destruction.

"The girl…"he mutters, now understanding who he has been dealing with ; the fiddling girlfriend of the banker they missed all those year ago.

- Thud.

The impact of the flit feeling like that of a sharp hornets sting ; followed by the electrocution, dissemination of the poison upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The toxicant bargain all the long suit in his body, leaving him as loose as a rag doll casually tossed aside ; only to be picked up like a sack of grain by a potent, young lady…and carried down to the main manse where she ties him to the banister of the stairwell. She moves to where he can see her center, those blazing ardour of amethyst that recite his last is now at hand…and to testify off the small-scale billiard ball in her hand, which she places next to his manhood.

As she walks off to a position manse, he sees one script release a sling with a lowly lead shot within it ; then the slingback is spun…once…twice…three times and released back in his direction, followed by her lightning dive into a English room for cover. His eyes tracked the hint shot coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just enough time to hear the nominal head doors giving way from the mobs relentless pounding before the lead shot makes impact ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

Needless to say, the ending for Master Gordon was both bright and fiery.

As the mob rushes about through the roll of tobacco and scorched way they see someone else has already done much of their work and commence to plundering all they can learn of value…no one pays attending to the smoldering, scorched and torn corpse by the banister that was the former Master Gordon.

Son soon reaches them that the relaxation of the assassins social club has been crushed, the in conclusion dragged down unto death ; the freeing of Providence is at conclusion achieve.

The cost though has been luxuriously, for many are injured, some so bad they will join the fallen before the side by side sunup is seen. Buildings and home have been destroyed or damaged ; yet the Ithiel Town celebrates, for so long they have been terrorized by the guild of Assassins and now they are free.

The orphic lady and her comrade showed that the guild could be beaten, helped arm and organize them ; and now they are free.

She with the Amethyst eyes walks among them in ease, dressed to seem as any other individual, not wanting to be found out. Her grandfather and class now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her home plate and family she has returned the favor in spades, taking the townspeople of Providence from the guild while shattering it at the Saami time.

And in the same quest, her companion has won his public figure and purity back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby hilltop she and Shan Fae watch the fireworks of triumph zoom over Providence. Many have died to win their freedom, and wonder who the secret amethyst eyed lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not human being, being an avenging angel from the heavens sent to do their desperate prayers.

"My lady,"he begins, somewhat abashed as his interpreter cracks ever so slightly with emotion,"I wish you could bide here ; there is pile for us to do together, maybe…"he looked to see where her ever handy throwing knife was located, and shifted slightly to put a hunk of woods between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be rubber when it comes to her skill with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even have a family together…I don't even recognize your real name yet, or if you even have one. It's the one question of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a rueful facial expression on his cheek ; not even sure if she will serve him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his hand and then motioned with her finger's breadth over his palm ; revealing in the intricate star sign language more than he ever could have imagined.

His eyes just widened in absolute electrical shock !

Never had he made the connection…he never would have !

Her eyes glimmered with mischief and amusement, the amethyst fires dancing to and fro ; as he accepts at end that she is the daughter of his long dead babe ; the one who the four bravo - Finneous, Gordon, Gerald and
Cinnius had murdered at the order of the now deceased gramps of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His shocked look remains until she eases up on her tippy toes, and gently kisses him on the brim ; arms wrapping about his neck opening. He looks into her eyes, and sees the warmth and love reflected back at him, and yet, another hush-hush her smiling William Tell of more news coming his way…

She softly strokes his nerve with one set of fingers, conveying in what most would regard as a gesture of affection, yet is their soundless handwriting terminology, the next shock of his life…

brand those two shocks…

"You're kidding ?"he says, backing up a short distance within her grasp.

She shakes her principal to let him know she is not kidding or jesting in the least…

She is going to stick in Providence with him ; and there is even better news…they will have a phratry of their own after all ; as she gently takes one of his hands in her own and shoes it upon her belly, letting him opine the animation growing within, though he knows it will be calendar month yet before the first flush will be felt…

"Oh my noblewoman, I am so glad for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken fuck up bee, she just shakes her head, rolling eyes to the heavens and covers her grimace from the embarrassing mannerism he is so displaying.

"Master Shan…"a part comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a circle of townsfolk coming over ; munching away on the remains of the wild wild boar he so generously provided for their triumph feast.

"master copy Tai Long,"the new city manager of Providence spoke, his face covered in the sauce used to clobber the wild boar's ribs,"can you recite us what happened to the guilds Grandfather ? You were seen to capture him, and accept him away, if he is still awake we want to accomplish him ourselves…"

Carrying a sheeplike look of consternation on his face Shan Fae looks at them, gulps, looks to his lady who just shrugs her shoulders, and looks back to the mayor…

"No the grandad is no longer awake,"Shan Fae said,"lets just say he was bored to death…"

He looks back to his lady, and all that they have accomplished. For as with her uncle, she was trained by Shan Tiel in the ways and enigma of the ninja, the feared and deadly assassins of the Far East, to give her the edge among the deadliest Orcinus orca of the western lands.

Tai Long Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the night sky ; the clusters of stars forming a river high in the heavens above, rendering unto her a mysterious, unworldly bearing. It is that river of stars she has chosen as her personal name…"Pan li Lung,"or the"Celestial River dragon of the Heavens."

It also has a endorsement and more match name…

"One who delivers vengeance for the innocent and the helpless."

And so it is that this tale of the Assassins ploy comes to an end ; two who risked all for justice, and to see the people of Providence costless of the bravo Guild have won the plot. They now enter into the life of a kinsfolk, and a time of peace. Yet should the motivation arise, they will go to do struggle against any others who wish to take their home away…

So one taradiddle closes ; and a new fable, of she who has the amethyst optic is born.


( fin )