Somewhere in Hong Kong, a man and a woman sit around an old cafe. The atmosphere is dark and smoky, with numerous conversations filling the room. The walls are wooden and ancient, the floors in a similar state of disrepair. The cafe has stood for hundreds of years, and has the rustic decor to prove it. It caters mostly to the local population, but the duo at the booth are clearly westerners.

"This is bad," Cordelia says quietly. "In a single day, we lost three high profile agents. The Bureau is small enough as it is. To lose such important operatives has dealt us a heavy blow." The young woman flicks an ash from her cigarette, the smoke cascading against her long black hair. "...Oy. Are you even listening, Johann?"

"Yeah, yeah," he replies, sipping a gin and tonic.

"How can you be so blase at a time like this? This is a serious matter! Natasha lies dead--slain by Elegy, the exact ones she was sent to assist! Why would they betray us? They've been nothing but loyal till now, and were two of the Bureau's most promising rising stars."

"Who knows," Johann replies casually. "Guess even stars burn out eventually."

"It's been two weeks since the incident in Russia. Esther went in and cleaned up their mess. She got Vorinov, so at least our client was satisfied. But now...for the bosses to sanction hits on Phoebe and Jade. How are we supposed to find them? They could be anywhere by now."

"Don't worry. They can't hide forever," Johann replies, a lanky young fellow in olive colored clothing. "They've narrowed down the places they could've fled to to three different locations: here, Morocco, or somewhere in Cuba. None of these are huge countries. It's only a matter of time before they are found."

"...Hmm. Maybe you're right," Cordelia replies, clueless to the fact that they're in none of those places. "The Bureau's intel is good. But judging by their work, I suspect that Elegy is equally as sly."

"Yeah. You can say that again...," Johann replies, vaguely smiling. "That Naples hit of theirs was a piece of work. It was beautiful--the kind of job we can only pray for. It was fine art. There wasn't an agent in the Bureau who wasn't chartreuse with envy after that. It was swift, brutal, and best of all: justice was on their side. You can't ask for a more perfect hit than that."

"...I know. Worrying, isn't it?" Cordelia asks, flicking an ash. "Suppose we do find them. What then? Jade's an expert markswoman, and I hear Phoebe uses poisons of all kinds. Are we even up to the task of dealing with them?"

Johann smiles. "...Cordie. It's not like you to doubt yourself. You are a top assassin, and so am I. The bosses trust us. They didn't make us Bureau taskmasters for nothing, you know."

Cordelia shyly smiles. "...I hope you're right."

"Of course I'm right. We're a force, you and I. They teamed us up for a reason--together, no one can stop us," Johann says.

The duo call it a night, returning to their hotel room soon afterward. They take off all their clothes, proceeding to share a passionate evening under a Hong Kong moon. The Bureau had paired them up two weeks earlier, assigning them the task of disposing of the now renegade agents Phoebe and Jade. Johann and Cordelia started working together, and somehow, they wound up falling in love. Or Cordelia did, at least, though she would never admit it to Johann. Johann, on the other hand, is more of a player; a fact that Cordelia is well aware of. Still, he's a handsome young thing with messy blond hair, and if they're going to work together, Cordelia figures she might as well enjoy things while they last.

And enjoy them they do--till the wee hours of the morning. But in the end, they know they still have a mission to do. Their job is to hunt down Elegy--but they're not the only ones after them. On the opposite end of the world, a stern looking man enters a large office.

"Ah. Agent Larson. Sit down," Dillmore says. "Coffee?"

"No thanks," Larson replies.

"Then let's get down to business. I won't lie to you, Larson. This mission is going to be dangerous," Dillmore says. "We, the CIA, have been investigating this organization for damn near ten years, now, and we're still no closer to even knowing its true name. We believe it's called 'The Bureau', though that could very well be an alias. It's very hard to tell--vagaries are their business, and you'll never find a group more tight lipped or paranoid than these people. As you already know, they're believed to be an underground agency which brokers contracts to assassins. Clients contact the agency with 'requests', and the agency, in turn, passes said requests onto the assassins. It's a three man operation: client, broker, and assassin on the bottom rung.

We've been trying for years to gather definitive information on this organization, but to no avail. The case steadily grew cold, until just recently when some interesting intel arrived from France. We had a man in Paris investigating a pair of young women with suspicious passports, but he's since gone AWOL. Edward Flax was his name. A fine agent.

After that, we sent Agent Tiller over to Paris to investigate Flax's disappearance, and that's when he turned up dead: poisoned in his own car. It was a lethal cocktail--clearly mixed by a skilled alchemist. Obviously, someone objected to the work he was doing. They wanted to send a message, but all that did was confirm what we already know: These women Flax was investigating worked for this 'Bureau', and their names are Alice Northcott and Jill Lemaire," Dillmore says. "At least, we think that's their names. The lease on their penthouse was signed as such, although they could be mere aliases. We're sending you in as Flax's replacement, Agent Larson. Do what you can to find these girls by whatever means necessary. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Larson replies.

Days go by, and Phoebe and Jade continue to evade the Bureau and the CIA. The former combs through Cuba, Morocco and Hong Kong, frustrated by their utter lack of progress. The latter focuses solely on Paris, continuing to investigate and question the locals. Larson keeps an eye on the penthouse, soon realizing that it has new tenets. He questions said trio, finding that they have little to do with Elegy. Larson looks for a paper trail, interrogating the building's manager as to where they may have gone. He's clueless, but does mention the fact that Miss 'Northcott' and 'Lemaire' had left their stuff behind.

"What became of their items?" Larson asks.

"Not sure. I imagine they hauled it all off to the landfill, though," the super replies.

Strange.

Larson jots this down. He then checks the airports, using that famous CIA pull to gain access to flight records. As expected, there are an overwhelming number of them. He collects said documents, returning to his apartment with a stack of papers up to his chin.

In the coming days, Larson meticulously goes through each and every one of them with a fine-tooth comb. He investigates the records, taking what he already knows of the Bureau and starting a process of elimination. He's in no hurry, and wishes to make sure that every line's dotted and every T is crossed. He is a patient man, unlike his flashy pal Tiller or ambitious colleague Flax. Their impatience got them killed--or at least it did with Tiller, and Flax is likely the same. Larson doesn't work that way--he knows how to wait things out. Quietly. Cautiously. Persistently. He adjusts his sharp glasses, eyeing the flight records under a small desk lamp. He's a well dressed man of average height and weight, looking to be in his mid to late thirties. He has a brown crew cut and gray clothes, his beady eyes hinting at a shrewd intelligence. He wonders where the girls have gone--where they may be hiding, and what they could be thinking. After a week's work, he narrows it down to four possible countries: Norway, Finland, Iceland...

or Switzerland.

Meanwhile, in said country, Jade gets a chill running up the back of her neck. She gives a small jump, continuing to stare out the large bay window of her cottage.

"You okay?" Phoebe asks from across the dining room.

"Yeah. Just...getting a bit stir crazy is all."

"I hear you. But we need to keep laying low--wait a few weeks and see if they find us out here. My guess is they won't. I went through great pains to cover our tracks, and even planted a few diversions along the way. If they took the bait, chances are they think we're in Kowloon by now."

"That's good. But still...I can't believe they killed Vorinov so fast," Jade says. "It was such a bloody death. I'll bet Esther was to blame."

"Are you really so surprised? I told you, didn't I? If we didn't kill him, someone else would," Phoebe replies.

"I feel bad about Natasha. I thought killing her would spare Vorinov, but I guess I was wrong."

"'Tis all a checkerboard of nights and days, where destiny with men for pieces plays," Phoebe says. "Their numbers were simply up. No sense regretting things in the past."

"...You think it's as simple as fate?" Jade asks. "What about god? What if he's real, and we're both destined to go to hell for all that we've done?"

Phoebe rolls her eyes. "Please... Not the god delusion again. I thought I talked you out of that archaic line of thinking ages ago. There is no god--no heaven, no hell, no limbo. When you die, you're not going anywhere. It's like flipping off a light switch."

"Is it?" Jade asks, turning to her. "Think about it, Phoebe: How many wars have been fought in the name of god? How many people have died defending their faith? Two thirds of the world believes in god in some form or the next. Do you really mean to say you know better than all of them?"

Phoebe locks eyes with her. "...Yes. I do. People are lemmings, Jade--they go through life with permanent neutral zones on their faces. Most don't have two thoughts of their own, and thus must rely on others to tell them what to think. This is the basis of all religions--the inability to think for oneself. In the old days, it was hardly people's faults. The Vatican went through great lengths to suppress knowledge; to keep ordinary commoners from even being able to read. They kept them nice and dumb, and the dumber they are, the more compliant they become--a practice that has continued more or less to this day."

"But what about the evidence?" Jade asks. "What about the stories of what happened to Jesus? Are you trying to say he never existed?"

"No," Phoebe replies. "Most scholars agree that he did, but those stories associated with him have been greatly embellished. Think of all the hypocrisy, Jade. Thou shalt not kill? You said so yourself: How many have died in the name of holy wars? Why are you so interested in this, anyway, all of a sudden? I'd say we have enough problems as it is without adding crises of faith to the mix."

"...Sorry," Jade replies meekly. "I know I shouldn't talk. I know I'll never see heaven, but at times like this I can't help but consider this stuff when there's people after us."

"Jade...no one will see heaven," Phoebe replies. "Because there is no heaven, and there is no hell. Such ideas are only humanity's selfish desire to outwit death. But there is no outwitting death, nor is there any escaping it--its sweet embrace takes us all in the end."

Jade gives a pause, looking slightly unnerved. Phoebe stands in silence, staring out the window at the falling snow. The vixen holds a smile, folding her arms as she watches the alpine landscape. "Death is nothing to be afraid of, Jade. If you fear it, it'll find you faster than a stray bullet. But if you embrace it--even love it--then it's a powerful friend indeed. Most are afraid of death, and thus are easy marks for it. I saw it a million times--the people we killed always looked so petrified before they died. This is because they feared death--they were too attached to life. But death will come when it comes, and there's nothing you can do about it. Once you lose that attachment to life...then anything is possible."

"...Phoebe...," Jade replies, contemplating her partner's words.

Phoebe turns to her. "Don't get me wrong, though: I'm not talking about suicidal ideation, here. I don't welcome death--but if it comes, I'm perfectly fine with it."

Jade blinks twice. "...Yes. Everything you said makes sense. That's pretty profound, Phoebe. I didn't know you were so smart."

Phoebe shrugs. "I'm nothing special. Just another fool like everyone else. The only difference is, I recognize I'm a fool, which in turn hopefully makes me more enlightened."

"...A fool thinks he's a genius, and a genius thinks he's a fool. Is that it?"

"Indeed," Phoebe replies, the two staring out at the land.

Meanwhile, down in Cuba, Johann and Cordelia look around for Phoebe and Jade. They scour the whole country, keeping an eye out for a pair of suspicious white women.

"...Well, we've searched every inch of this nasty little island. Havana. Santiago. Even the rural coasts. Looks like they're not here, either," Cordelia says.

"Indeed," Johann replies. "Still, it's nice seeing the world--even if it is under the pretext of hunting rogue agents."

"Speak for yourself, Johann. I couldn've done without this--I can't stand hot weather."

"That's too bad. You look simply stunning in that bathing suit," Johann replies.

Cordelia goes red. "...Moron," she says bashfully.

"Well, best get used to the heat; Morocco's gonna be even worse," he says casually.

"...Tch. Don't remind me," Cordelia replies.

The two traverse the streets, dressed as tourists amidst the local population. Cordelia sports a ponytail and a white string bikini, Johann a plain white T-shirt and khaki shorts. They try to blend in, but their pale skin makes them stick out like sore thumbs. This hardly works in their favor, but they also know that Phoebe and Jade would suffer from the same problem. Anyone could pass as a tourist in a non-white country, but stick around too long and you're bound to attract attention.

Meanwhile, over in Iceland, a land of polar opposite weather, Larson begins his investigation. He chooses this nation first, believing it's the most likely one that Phoebe and Jade could've fled to. He visits many cities, checks various records, and conducts numerous interviews. He follows some promising leads, but finds that none of them point to Phoebe and Jade. Many are hiding in Iceland. Traditionally, it's been a country where people seek asylum from foreign governments. But, as it turns out, Elegy is nowhere to be found. Larson travels the cities, most of which he has no idea how to pronounce. He's fluent in several languages, but Icelandic is definitely not one of them. He continues to turn up nothing, getting the sneaking suspicion that he's in the wrong place.

Eventually, he packs up, deciding to leave the country after a mere two weeks. He could've stayed longer, but he's been with the CIA long enough to know when a trail's gone cold (and since it's Iceland, it's very cold). He calculates his options, deciding which country comes next.

And, as luck would have it, it's Switzerland.

Larson boards a flight, arriving at Zurich Airport around 10:00 AM. He should've got here sooner, but his flight was delayed due to snowy conditions. He counts himself lucky--at this time of year, it could very well have been canceled outright. He leaves the airport terminal, entering the fresh, bitter coldness of Zurich's streets.

Larson hails a cab, taking it to a hotel located several blocks south. Along the way, he takes out his reading glasses, reviewing his notes on the current case. He's chasing down a pair of assassins, of that he has no doubt. And good ones, at that--Tiller lies dead, and Flax is likely the same. Larson knew them well. He'd met Flax at the academy, and Tiller was a personal friend of his. After Tiller's death, his wife Julia became a basket case. Larson knew her, too, and last he'd heard, she was receiving psychiatric treatment and her kids had been taken away. This is the kind of foul legacy these assassins leave in their wake. Larson seeks vengeance, and will stop at nothing until it is found.

Hours go by, and night falls over the Swiss Alps. Jade stands in the shower, closing her eyes as she feels the steamy water against her skin. She does her best to relax, but finds it an increasingly difficult task. She knows that people are after her--the Bureau, and likely the CIA as well. But that's not what troubles her most. In fact, it's the furthest thing from her mind. What bothers her is her past--her actions up to this point in life. What has she been doing, murdering people to make a living? What right did she have to kill all those people? How many dozens, nay hundreds of corpses has she amassed? Some of them deserved death, some of them didn't. But was it really up to her to play the role of executioner--the shadowy gun for hire? For a long time, she told herself it wasn't her fault--that the Bureau was to blame for forcing her hand. And in many ways, it's true; the Bureau is, after all, little more than a glorified mafia. But Jade is tired of running; tired of hiding from the truth. She killed those people. She pulled those triggers. She built those bombs. Her. The girl looks down, staring at her own hand through the stream of hot water. The hand that's taken a hundred lives. The hand of the reaper. The hand of death. A shower doesn't wash it off--there's blood there to last a thousand lifetimes.

Jade's limbs start to tingle. She hears ringing in her ears. She leans against the wall, giving a weak, delicate stare. She sees Mia's face in her mind--sees the little boy from the picture in Flax's wallet. He was probably his son. God knows where he is by now. His father lies dead in the sewers, his corpse probably bloated and oozing with pus. Assuming the rats haven't picked it clean, that is. And it's all thanks to Jade--she stole that little boy's father from him. And Mia...little Mia. God, forgive me for killing your dad. I didn't mean to do it. It was just in the contract, and arms dealers and Russians are bad little boys indeed. Not all Russians, though. Vorinov was an okay sort, but I couldn't save him, either. Instead, I killed Natasha, and got us into this whole mess...

Jade breathes a sigh, collecting her thoughts before stepping out of the shower. The girl towels off, getting dressed in a tank top and panties before returning to the living room. As she arrives at the sofa, Phoebe looks up from her book. "...Save some room for the fish, will you? You were in there for hours. Are you okay?"

"...Yes," Jade replies stoically. Only she's not. Her heart is in turmoil. Phoebe closes her book, reading Jade's mood instead. She walks over to her, sitting on the leather recliner across from her.

"...Jade. Listen to me," Phoebe says. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you haven't been yourself lately. I know these circumstances are trying, but please...try to hang in there. This will blow over eventually. And if the Bureau finds us, I need you in top fighting condition."

"Phoebe...," Jade replies weakly.

"You're stronger than this, Jade. So pull yourself together. I don't need you doubting yourself at a time like this."

Jade gives a frown. "Phoebe...I'm sorry about all this. It's my fault we're in this mess."

Phoebe sighs. "I told you to stop apologizing. I was just as tired of being dragged around by the Bureau as you were. I don't regret your decision, Jade. In fact, I admire your resolve. All that said, though, your timing could've been better. I know you liked Vorinov and all, but killing Natasha was unwise. It just made the Bureau hate us all the more."

"...I know. She just made me nervous is all, monitoring us like that. Still, I shouldn't have killed her. I'm sor--"

Phoebe stops her cold, placing a finger on her lips. "Enough with all that. No more sorries. Just give us the old Jade back." Phoebe taps her nose, causing Jade to smile and blush.

For as long as she can remember, Phoebe has been like a big sister to Jade. She always cares for her, and often picks her up when she's feeling down. Jade's not one to express emotion, but Phoebe always seems to be able to tell when Jade's feeling malaise. In many ways, Phoebe is a larger than life figure. She's smarter than Jade. More responsible. More sexy. Killing is about the only thing that Jade exceeds her in--even Phoebe would admit to that much. But Jade has deep respect for Phoebe's skills, and Phoebe feels the same for Jade, knowing their abilities accent each other.

As Phoebe returns to her book, Jade heads to the window, looking out at the night. The land is pitch black due to the late evening hour, the sky overhead alight with stars. Their cottage is very remote, tucked away in the mountains where city lights can't reach. The night holds many secrets, as does Jade's tempestuous heart. Emotions swirl through her head, high from Phoebe's words but low from ghosts of the past. As usual, Jade breaks even, staring up at the crescent moon.

"...Phoebe," Jade says. "Do you remember when we first met?"

Phoebe gives a smile, closing her eyes. "...How could I forget?"

It was roughly two years earlier, back when Phoebe and Jade were living ordinary lives. Jade was a student at Maple High, a school in her hometown of Modesto, California. She was a stellar student, particularly excelling at sports and science class. She had a couple of friends, but for the most part was happy to keep herself to herself.

And for good reason, too. For although she had yet to become an assassin, she was already harboring a dark secret.

"...Jade," her aging grandfather had said. "I don't have much time left. Shoulda known all them years of smokin' would catch up to me."

"Grandpa!" Jade replied, worriedly watching the old man cough. The house was old and dingy, with bits of light creeping in through the walls.

"Listen. As you know, we survive on my pension checks. When I croak, they're all gonna go up in smoke. We can't let that happen; not when you're so damn close to graduatin'. Ah, how I wished to see it... Watchin' you get that diploma of yers woulda done me proud."

"Grandpa...! Don't say that! You will live to see it! You will!" Jade said tearfully.

"...No," Jed replied, slowly shaking his head. "I ain't fool enough to think I'll make it that long. I got a year or two at best, and that could be pushin' it. That's why...when I die," the old man said. "...You gotta keep my death a secret."

Jade blinked twice, giving a very long pause. "...What?"

"You heard me, girl--you gotta keep collectin' those checks! It's our only income. How else are you gonna survive?"

"Wha...? What are you saying? I could go out and get a job!"

"No way. I won't hear of it. A girl as young as you shouldn't be workin'. You just concentrate on yer studies. Do well on them SATs. A job would only distract you. And besides, ain't nobody hirin' people yer age."

"...But--!"

"We got no choice, lass. It's just the two of us here, and when I'm gone, yer gonna be left all alone! Oh, how the thought sickens me...I wish yer mother were alive, but that cancer took her quick."

"Grandpa...what exactly are you proposing here...?" Jade asked.

"Come on, girl. Yer smart. You know damn well what I'm proposin': You gotta keep my death under wraps. Bury me in the backyard--I already dug a hole ahead o' time. Covered it with a tarp and some leaves. All you gotta do is throw me in and toss some dirt in when it's time."

"What...?! But grand--!"

"No buts, already! This is our property, and our house is very remote. No one'll know a thing. And besides, yer the only one left alive who knows I even exist."

And bury him she did. A year later, old Jed passed away, and Jade laid him to rest in the backyard. It wasn't her debut with death. Her mother's passing was the intro, and her grandfather's was the second act. She was just fifteen, yet already well acquainted with the concept of death. She sang a song for old Jed that night--an old Irish elegy passed down through her family for generations.

Months rolled by, and Jade continued collecting Jed's pension checks, forging said papers and paying the bills the way he'd taught her to. For a year, she lived by herself in this way, continuing this strange and solitary existence. The house steadily fell apart around her--a residence which was already in desperate need of repair when Jed was alive. Jade coped however she could, but the isolation did much to warp her fragile teenage mind. The girl became introverted, rarely speaking but to give short, one word replies. She continued harboring her grandfather's secret, the weight of its darkness taking its toll on her soul. More than once, she questioned whether or not she did the right thing. Her grandfather was always eccentric, but had repeatedly insisted on being buried behind the house. That was fine, Jade supposed--but to keep collecting his pension checks? That was more than a bit shady. Not that she could complain. It was, after all, her only source of income.

Jade focused entirely on her studies, not wanting to disgrace her dead grandfather by doing poorly in school. She kept up her good grades, but found it increasingly difficult due to the weight on her conscience. For months, her biggest concern was doing well in school.

That is, until one fateful afternoon.

It was an idle Friday, and Jade had just returned from school. She'd rode her bike home as usual that day, and her ass was still sore from the painfully long ride. Her house was on the outskirts of town, and it took almost an hour for her to get to school and back.

Just after 4:00 PM, she spotted a police car pulling into her driveway. Her heart sunk in her chest. 'They've found me--the jig is up' is all she could think. She raced to the kitchen window, watching a lone officer approach the front door. He seemed in no hurry, but that did little to put Jade's mind at ease. She swiftly turned around, darting to the living room and opening an old drawer. She rifled through some junk, retrieving her grandfather's .357 revolver.

"Use this in case of emergencies," he'd said.

This was an emergency, of that Jade was pretty sure.

Her heart thumped in her chest. She flicked open the barrel, disturbed to find that no bullets were inside. Her eyes grew wide, the girl reopening the drawer. She shuffled around inside, looking for anything resembling 9mm bullets.

Knocks came from the door. And not friendly knocks, either. 'I have a warrant' style knocks.

"Shit!" Jade said, continuing to desperately look for bullets. Finally, she found some, tucked away at the back of the drawer. She took out the box, nervously loading the gun in her hand.

"Hello?" the officer said from outside, his silhouette visible from a curtained window. His tone was oddly friendly. Jade was expecting something more along the lines of 'Police. Open up'.

Jade filled the barrel with a total of six rounds, the maximum amount of bullets this antiquated firearm could carry. It was indeed ancient--her grandfather had purchased it fifty years ago just after returning from Vietnam. But why was this cop after her? Did he know what was happening? Know of the fraud, and of her grandfather buried in the yard? The officer knocked again, this time with decidedly more force. Jade gave a gulp. He was apparently running out of patience.

The girl raised her gun, cocking the hammer the way her grandfather had taught her to. Old Jed taught her to shoot (or at least, how to shoot a revolver--Dragunovs and M60s she would later teach herself). He was a bit of a survivalist, not least due to his time stationed in Saigon. The cop remained at the door. Jade stood motionless, crouching behind the counter. She felt both nervous and scared. She considered running away, but this was her house--her grandfather's house. She wasn't going anywhere. Suddenly, the cop tried the door. Jade's heart sunk.

Did she forget to lock it...?

As the cop wandered in, her question was grimly answered. The two of them locked eyes, spotting each other from across the dimly lit kitchen. There was an uncomfortable pause. After a long silence, the cop reached for his gun. But not quickly enough. Jade pulled her trigger, landing a bullet square in Officer Friendly's eye. The man tumbled back, falling down the steps leading up to the house. Jade froze in place, heart pounding in her chest. Her mouth was dry as a bone.

It was her first kill.

Jade's eyes widened, face twisted and pale. She eyed the dead body, as well as the blood splattered onto the door. She slowly approached the porch, heart racing, gun trembling in her hand. She stared down at the corpse. He'd fallen in an odd position--one no living person could stand. His badge read Officer Jones, his Glock 22 lying on the ground by his side. Much good it did him today. Jade cringed. She couldn't believe what she'd done. She'd taken her first life.

It was the start of a brilliant career.

She stood unable to move; unable to speak; unable to easily breathe. She then looked ahead, eyeing the squad car parked out front. She knew she had to act fast, lest somebody drive by and see what was going on. It was hardly likely--the house was so remote, days could pass without ever seeing a car. Still, it was possible. Jade took a moment, collecting herself as she considered her next move.

...The body. Yes. The body comes first. The body must be dealt with. But then, what do I do? It looks quite heavy. Jade bent down, grabbing Officer Jones by the boot, attempting to drag him into the house. But she didn't get far. As expected, he simply weighed too much. Jade gave a sigh, looking around for another idea. She found one, suddenly grabbing a tarp, covering the body with said bluish item.

Good. For now, that hides the body. Now comes the car. Jade gulped, nervously approaching the vehicle. She traversed the long driveway. Upon arrival, she found the door open, with various beeps coming from the front seat. The girl peered inside, finding the keys were in the ignition. She gave a long pause, knowing full well what she had to do. She weakly climbed inside, warily closing the door behind her. That made things very quiet. Jade could hear her heart pound in her ears. She slowly turned the key, starting the engine before backing out of the drive. She didn't have a license, but Jed did show her how to drive his old beat up truck.

Jade hit the streets, driving the dead policeman's patrol car. Her heart continued to pound, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was scared half to death, but was also exhilarated--perhaps even slightly turned on. If anyone caught her now, it'd be all over with--a fact that only added to the thrill. She considered her next move, contemplating what to do with the car.

She had several options, one would be to dump it somewhere in the wilderness. In the woods, maybe, or in the hills where no one could find it. But then, it was a cop car--it probably had some sort of tracking device. Another option was to destroy the car, perhaps by lighting a rag to its gas tank. That was a viable option, but would be noisy, not to mention Jade lacked the proper tools. The third option would be simply to keep on driving--drive as long and as far away as she could. But then, there's that tracking device again--once Jones fails to return, they'll likely track his car using GPS.

Suddenly, Jade paused, recalling that there was a quiet lake nearby. Yes...that may be her best bet, she thought, driving toward said location. After a few minutes, she arrived, thankfully spotting no one in sight. There were a few boats in the distance, but they were so far off that they were dots on the horizon. Jade drove toward the shore, eventually finding what looked like a suitable place. She stopped the car by an embankment, wondering what to do next. Should she slam on the gas, then jump out at the last second? No... that's too dangerous. That kind of thing only happens in the movies. She then put the car in neutral, getting out before pushing the car from the back.

"Hnnnnnnnnnngh...!" Jade said, cringing as she pushed with all her might. Despite her best efforts, however, the car barely moved an inch.

"Need some help?" a mysterious woman said. Jade froze in place, swiveling around to find a girl approaching her.

"Who's there?!" she asked, hovering a hand over her holstered gun.

The stranger merely smirked, approaching the car before giving it a swift kick. It slowly began to roll, leaving the embankment before crashing into the lake.

"...I am called Esther. And I, too, have little love for the police. I've been watching you, young Jade. You have a certain aura about you. Death loves you, child."

Jade gave a pause. "Death...loves me?"

"Indeed," Esther replied, watching the squad car sink to the bottom. "I can see them clearly; the souls circling around you. You attract death, and can kill so easily."

"...Who are you? What do you want with me?!"

"I am an assassin, and I come with an offer of peace," Esther said. "Fine work with Officer Jones, by the way. He was a dirty cop--I was to dispose of him, but it looks like you got there first."

Jade stood motionless, the woman's presence making her tense. Esther was a frightful sight, dressed in white gothic wear and lace up boots. She had dark red hair tied in a bun, her bangs elegantly snaking down her head. She stood with folded arms, her brown eyes circled with mascara sending chills down Jade's spine.

"You're...an assassin?" Jade asked warily.

"Yes. I can't say more than that, though. The bureau I work for is very secretive," Esther said. "Come. I'll give you a ride back home. You'll have a long walk ahead of you otherwise."

The girls approached a car, an old red convertible with a black top parked in the lot. Jade gave a pause, spotting what looked like a pair of bullet holes in the roof. She was hesitant to get inside, but Esther did help her out--she figured it's the least she could do. The two climbed inside, Esther starting the car before backing out. As the duo reached the road, Esther briefly looked to the side.

"...Listen, kid. I have a proposition for you," she said, using a diminutive despite not looking much older than Jade.

Jade felt uneasy. "...What kind of proposition?"

"Come work for us," Esther replied bluntly. "You have great skill. You'd go far as an assassin."

Jade went pale. "...What? Me...? An assassin?!"

"Indeed. You would be brilliant at it. I've been watching you...you have all the makings of a great killer. I know all about you, Jade--know of your past...of the old man buried in the yard." Jade's eyes widened, heart sinking in her chest. "...Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. You're not the only one collecting a dead relative's pension checks. It's quite common in Japan. Ever been there?" Esther asked.

"...No," Jade replied.

"Maybe you'll go someday. You get to see the world, working for the Bureau," Esther said.

"...Why have you been watching me?" Jade asked.

"Well to be honest, I found you quite by accident. I was doing research on Jones when I ran across your house out there in the wilderness. It was on Sycamore Street--just one of the few homes Jones would pass during his patrols. I was plotting out his death when I suddenly became fascinated with that house of yours. I considered using it as a base. Honestly, it was so run down, I thought for sure no one lived there," Esther said, giving a laugh. Jade quietly cringed, offended by the insult to her family home. She knew it was dilapidated, but still, she was proud of it--it was the place she grew up in. "When I realized someone lived there," Esther continued, "I began spying on you in addition to Jones. It's a hobby of mine--I like to learn about my targets as well as people around them."

"How did you learn about grandfather?" Jade asked.

"I learned of your old man from the mail you throw away. Sorry to invade your privacy--it's part of the job, and that's what shredders are for. Sad how he died and left you alone. I know how it feels--I've been an orphan all my life," Esther said with emotion. "...But now, I have a family. And that family is the Bureau. They take good care of me, and they can do the same for you."

The two soon reached the house, Esther pulling into the driveway before smiling at Jade. "Consider what I've told you today. You'd make a fine assassin, of that I have no doubt. I come offering friendship, but I understand if you need some time to think."

"...Thank you," Jade replied, all too eager to leave the car. As she closed the door behind her, Esther leaned forward, eyeing her from the open window.

"...Oh. But don't take too much time--it'd be a shame if the cops found out you killed old Officer Jones." Jade froze in place, eyeing the smirk on the woman's lips. "I expect your answer in two days' time. I'll send an agent to meet you at Ned's Diner Sunday at noon. You know the place, right?"

Jade balled a fist. "...Yes."

"Good," Esther replied, putting the car in reverse. "Now go take care of that tarp. I'm sure the hole in the backyard is deep enough for two."

As Esther drove away, Jade was left alone in the driveway. She quietly gnashed her teeth, knowing full well that she was being coerced. If she said yes to Esther's proposal, fine--all would be well. If she said no, however, Esther would squeal to the police of how Jade killed Jones. Is this how assassins worked? Was this how this...'Bureau' got things done...?

Jade quickly turned around, eyeing the blue tarp with a vengeance. She angrily flung it off, aghast by the sheer number of flies on Jones' corpse. She ruffled her nose at the stench, grabbing his feet before forcefully pulling him away. She dragged him out to the back, pouring some lighter fluid before striking a match. In a blaze of glorious light, the crooked cop went up in a pyre of flesh. It was a grizzly sight--a fitting tribute to usher in Jade's new career.

The next few days passed woefully slowly. Jones and his car were buried, but Jade still felt uneasy. Ned's Diner at noon. What would await her when she arrived? An agent to welcome her in? Or an ambush to snuff her out? Jade paced around the house, keeping her .357 close at hand. She considered running away, but knew that Esther had her by the balls. She'd seen her personal letters--probably even knew her last name. If Jade ran away now, she'd likely be on the run forever. She couldn't run away. She had to face the music, if for no other reason than to find out more about this 'Bureau'.

When Sunday rolled around, Jade got on her bike and rode over to the diner. She wore a white sleeveless dress and sun hat, looking for all intents and purposes like an ordinary girl. No one would suspect the many secrets she held within. The dead cop. The checks. The hidden gun tucked under her dress.

Twenty minutes later, she arrived at Ned's Diner--a cozy little dive in the middle of nowhere. She parked her bike outside, warily approaching the front entrance. Cars dotted the lot, suggesting the usual weekend crowd. Nothing strange was outside--but who knows what was lurking just beyond those tinted glass doors. Jade reached for the handle, a lump forming in her throat. She took a deep breath, boldly swinging the diner open.

As she stepped inside, she found the place filled with its usual clientele--mostly older folks looking for an excuse to get out of the house. Jed had been one of them. He used to come here, often dragging Jade along for the ride. Did Esther know of this? Is that why she chose this place for a meeting...? As Jade looked around, a well dressed stranger caught her eye. He wore a sharp gray suit and tie, looking to be around forty or so. Jade knew he was the one. She gulped, instinctively on her guard. She didn't like the looks of this guy.

"Greetings," he said as she neared the corner booth. "Please. Have a seat." Jade hesitated, gun stirring nervously under her clothes. The girl sat down, eyeing the stoical man in front of her. "You are Jade, I presume?"

"Yes."

"I've heard about you. Esther believes you have potential. We shall see."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Owen, and I handle potential recruits. Esther invites you to join us. May I ask: What is your reply?"

Jade fell silent, knowing she had little choice. "...I accept."

"Very good," Owen replied, as if expecting that answer. "Now before we begin, I should tell you that discretion is everything in our line of work. Before you join our ranks, you must prove your loyalty to us. We shall give you a task. You have exactly one week to finish it."

"And what task is that?" Jade asked, unnerved by his businesslike manner.

"Here," Owen said, slipping her an envelope from his white gloved hand. "The details are inside. Don't read it here--wait until you're alone." Suddenly, Owen stood, gathering a small briefcase and a panama hat. "Best of luck to you. Burn the letter when you're done. We don't usually write things down, but recruits are a slight exception."

"...Wait!" Jade replied, watching the gentleman take his leave. Owen left the establishment, driving off in a black sedan.

Jade was left alone, holding the envelope in her hand. It had nothing on the front, but the back was sealed with an intricate letter B in navy blue wax. Jade pocketed the letter, leaving the diner before returning to her bike. She pedaled with fervent speed, eager to read the contents of the shady paper. As she got back home, she tore it open, reading its contents through the bleak kitchen light.

Jade

We welcome you to the Bureau. This is your initiation. Fail, and you won't get a second chance. To seal your entry with us, you must now prove your worth.

In a suburb in rural Montana lives a man called 'Carlo Corsini', a former New York mobster who now lives under witness protection. He thinks he's safe out west, but a client seeks to prove him wrong. Corsini was a major player in the Italian underworld, and his cooperation with the FBI has landed numerous figures in jail. Assassinate Carlo Corsini, as well as his appointed FBI bodyguards Harold Chambers and Evan West.

This is a threefold mission, but Corsini has been protected for years, and his guards have grown lazy. We believe this a suitable test. Eliminate them all, and you will officially become a member of our agency.

B

Jade looked further down, finding Corsini's address and further details listed below. She then felt something strange, finding a credit card taped to the back of the sheet.

Use this as you see fit. It will cover your expenses, up to a total of $10,000.

Jade froze in place, staring at the number of zeroes on the page. She counted four of them. Just like that, they'd given her more money than she'd ever seen in her life.

Her look turned serious, wondering if they'd given her this money out of faith in her skills. She'd like to think as much--or maybe they're so rich that $10,000 means nothing to them. Still, how would she go about killing her targets? They were three men, and she was just a solitary girl. Jade then paused, figuring this might work to her advantage. No one expects such a young assassin, much less a female one. Yes... She has the element of surprise on her side.

No one will see her coming.

The following day, Jade boarded a train to Great Falls, Montana, having purchased the ticket with the Bureau's credit card. She felt nervous along the way--almost as though she were being watched. She figured it was paranoia, but she couldn't be sure--after all, she wasn't alone for the ride. Various other passengers filled the cars, most of them elderly sightseers enjoying the sights while they can. None of them seemed out of place, save for a lone blond girl sitting toward the back. She was young and attractive, eyeing a small laptop computer. She sat as still as a statue, eyes fixated to the screen.

Several hours later, the train arrived at the station. Jade took her leave, having packed nothing at all. That wasn't Jade's style, not to mention the fact that she had a credit card with ten grand on it. She walked out to the streets, feeling a bit chilly as she looked around. One week. That's precisely how long she had to kill three men. And dangerous men, at that: two FBI agents and a former mafia goon. Killing them was a tall order. In hindsight, this was actually one of the harder jobs Jade ever received, especially considering she had to face it alone.

Killing three strangers... Jade paused, contemplating the morality of such an act. Would her grandfather approve of this? He wanted the best for her, and the agency did give her a lot of cash. Still, he'd never approved of killing. The lives he'd taken in Vietnam had haunted him his entire life. He was quite religious, but after getting sick, that all changed. If god had given him lung cancer, then old Jed apparently had no use for him anymore. Jade smiled, hailing a cab as she thought fondly of the old man. Maybe he wouldn't approve. But so be it--her grandfather was dead. Jade had to fend for herself.

"Where to, missy?" the cab driver asked.

"Umm...are there any sporting goods stores around here? Like, I dunno...ones that sell guns?" Jade asked.

"Heh. Are you kiddin'? They're a dime a dozen 'round here. There's one right up the road. Wanna go?"

"Yes please," Jade replied, the two driving through the streets. The cab reeked of tobacco, and had a dirty pair of dice swinging from the mirror. At some point, the driver smirked.

"...What's a lil' thing like you want in a sporting goods store?"

"...Oh, I dunno. My dad's into rifles. His birthday's coming up, and I thought I'd surprise him."

"Ah, you're a good girl," the driver replied. "All my daughter ever gets me is neckties--if she even remembers, that is."

The two arrived at the shop, Jade paying the cabbie before walking into the store. She was briefly taken aback, shocked by the veritable arsenal surrounding her. Guns of all kinds lined the walls--pistols, rifles, even camouflage hunting bows. A bow wouldn't work for this hunt, though. Jade needed a rifle--preferably one with a scope on top.

"Help you?" a neck in a checkered shirt said.

"...Yes. Uh...I'm shopping for my father. He enjoys deer hunting. Which of these rifles is best?"

The old man gave a smile, launching into a lengthy explanation of the Remington 783. Jade looked over the weapon, admiring its walnut design--and, more importantly, its scope.

"I'll take it," Jade replied.

"Ya sure? This fella ain't cheap, ya know," the man said.

"I'm sure. Please wrap it up for me. And that hunting bag, as well."

The girl purchased the rifle, leaving the store with said item tucked into the bag. It wasn't an easy fit, but Jade managed to conceal it, returning to the cab soon afterward.

She then headed to a hotel, renting an ordinary room for the evening. She could've rented a suite, but didn't wish to anger the Bureau by draining the credit card. The girl settled in for the night, acquainting herself with the rifle's owner's manual. It was a big, long thing, chronicling the care of the firearm with excruciating detail. She found it a boring read, but did find a particular point of interest:

It could be taken apart.

Jade looked to the rifle, eyeing its tall, lengthy design. As it stood, it was hard to conceal--Jade barely managed to sneak it in. Taking it apart would be good, but Jade knew she needed the proper tools.

The next day, Jade found a hardware store. She bought an assortment of tools, proceeding to return to her room and take the weapon apart. It took longer than she thought, and putting it together took even longer. Jade gave a sigh, realizing disassembling it wasn't convenient. Still, she had no choice. The weapon was large--moving it around fully built wasn't an option.

As Wednesday rolled around, Jade realized she had five days left to complete her mission. She was running out of time--if she delayed any longer, she could be in serious trouble. She purchased a rental car, leaving town in a dark gray SUV. She loathed such gluttonous vehicles, but seeing how it's the countryside, it may very well come in handy.

Jade drove through the hills, her disassembled rifle in a bag tucked under the seat. Butterflies flew in her stomach. She knew she was nearing her destination. Jade would later cringe at what an amateur she was back then. Still, all things considered, she wasn't actually doing half bad. In three days' time, she'd procured a ticket, a rifle, and a rental car, and was now on her way to her target's house in the hills. She'd even learned of rifles; of how to assemble and disassemble one. Granted, this was all on the Bureau's dime. But if nothing else, Jade was showing signs of resourcefulness.

Jade traversed the countryside, finding nothing but drivel on the radio. After what seemed like forever, she finally saw it: the cabin off in the distance. It stood perched on a hill, looking large and foreboding under the dark gray skies. The property was lined with trees, which helped hide Jade's vehicle from sight. She drove around the property, parking a mile behind the cabin. Thunder boomed from afar.

It was time for her first sanctioned hit.

"Sounds like a storm's comin'," Agent Chambers said from the cabin's lower rec room.

"Nothing gets past you," Agent West replied, dealing a card.

The duo played blackjack, idling away the hours the way they normally did. Three years had passed since they'd been assigned watch duty of Carlo Corsini. It was boring work, but the pay was good, and there were worse things than reporting to a mansion all day. Their job was uneventful. The most trouble they'd run into was a bear trying to raid the rubbish bin. They'd managed to drive it away. But now, a new threat was lurking outside...

Up in the master bedroom, Corsini lay in bed with a woman half his age. The duo moaned and groaned, proceeding to do what men and women do. The girl looked disinterested, but Corsini focused intently on the task at hand. He wasn't as young as he used to be. It's a wonder he got her at all, but apparently there were no shortage of women who loved being a mobster's whore if it meant living a posh life. Want to attract a woman? Lick a hundred dollar bill and stick it to your forehead, they'll come runnin', Corsini's father used to say. Apparently, it was the truth--at least for this kind of woman.

But somewhere off in the distance, a different kind of woman hid in the trees. She stood with a pair of binoculars, spying on Corsini through the cabin's tall bay windows. The interior was easily seen; the cabin's south end was essentially a wall of windows. Jade watched in silence, rifle in hand as she awaited the right moment to strike.

She lowered her binoculars' sights, eyeing the agents in the rec room on the first floor. They played a game of cards, occasionally fiddling with their phones or taking a swig of Coors Light. Jade raised a brow. Such taxing jobs these FBI agents have. Protecting a criminal snitch by letting him live free in a large mansion. Nice to know our tax dollars are well spent.

Jade sighed, knowing she had to play this one out. She counted four residents, which did not bode well for her. Her rifle wasn't silenced--a single shot could give her away. It may very well kill one, but the noise would alert the other three to her presence. She couldn't allow them to flee. She had to kill all of them--even the concubine on the second floor.

Jade gritted her teeth. This initiation clearly wasn't going to be easy. She could've guessed as much, but still, for an opening contract, this was one hell of a job. Suddenly, thunder clapped. Lightning tore through the sky, causing Jade to jump. The girl looked to the sky, eyeing the dark clouds gathering overhead. They all seemed cold and gray, with no signs of a silver lining anywhere in sight. Slowly, it started to rain, pelting Jade with tiny droplets of cold water. As she began to feel disheartened, a light bulb went off.

That thunder was rather loud...

Jade slowly raised her rifle, taking aim at the pair of FBI agents. They were on the first floor, and were without a doubt the biggest threats in the house. The concubine was harmless, and the FBI guys surely didn't allow a mafioso to carry a gun. If she could just get rid of the agents, Jade thought, patiently watching; waiting them out. She eyed them through her scope--a pair of forty something whites you'd expect out of the FBI. They were damn near opaque--one even had a pocket protector. But they also had something else: service pistols--guns far more deadly than old Jed's six piece. Not that she knocked it; it had already saved her life by killing a cop who had entered her house. She'd brought it just in case--the Remington was good, but you can't be fumbling with a hunting rifle in a close range shootout.

Jade kept watch of the agents, the storm around her progressively getting worse. The thunder and rain intensified, gales whipping up as though protesting Jade's very presence. Jade stood undeterred, still as a statue as she watched her prey like a hawk. She kept her aim steady, holding the FBI gentlemen square in her sights. Suddenly, lightning flashed. Jade knew what was coming next. As a crash of thunder rang out, Jade pulled her trigger, letting fly a single shot. It tore toward the mansion, shattering glass as it dug deep into West's skull.

"What the?!" Chambers said, standing up and drawing his gun. As thunder crashed again, a second shot crossed the room, striking Chambers through the chest. The man fell dead to the ground, Jade watching through her scope.

She slowly lowered her weapon, heart pounding so loud she could hear it over the rain. She'd timed her shots perfectly--firing just as thunder crashed, drowning out the sound. She raised her gray binoculars. As expected, both Corsini and the woman hadn't heard a thing. Jade faintly smiled.

She was good at this killing thing.

She raised her rifle once more, pointing it toward the second floor. Eventually, the concubine got up, heading to a bathroom located not far from the bed. Jade held the girl in her sights, watching as she nakedly cleaned herself up. Better scrub harder than that, my dear--you're about to get much messier, Jade thought, waiting for the right moment. She considered letting her live, but figured it was best not to leave any eyewitnesses. As a burst of thunder rang out, Jade fired a shot, catching the girl straight through the neck. She briefly lurched forward, eyes wide as she clutched her bloody wound. She watched in disbelief, eyeing the mirror before crashing dead to the floor.

"What the hell was that?" Corsini asked, sitting up in bed as he eyed the bathroom light. He couldn't see her corpse from where he was sitting, but he did notice a small bullet hole through the window.

As he realized what it was, a second shot found its way into his forehead. His body jerked backward, blood splattering onto the bed sheets and the walls. As the man fell dead in bed, Jade lowered her rifle.

Her work here was done.

She turned around, heading back to her SUV. She chose dark gray for a reason, figuring it would blend in well with the overcast skies. She got into the car, placing her rifle and binoculars in the passenger's seat. As she started up the engine, a seductive voice came from nearby.

"Well done," it said from the back seat. Jade jumped, at once turning around.

"Who...?! Who are you?!" she asked in surprise.

"My name is Phoebe. I was assigned to evaluate your skills."

Jade blinked twice, suddenly recognizing who she was. She was the girl from the train--the one sitting at the back with the laptop on.

"Evaluate my skills?" Jade asked.

"Yes. Such is my task in the Bureau. I am an evaluator--but one of many. You got that done with style, Novice Jade. Esther was right. You'll go far in this business. I hate to admit it, though. Honestly, that chick gives me the chills."

Jade gave a pause. She had to agree, but wasn't about to verbalize it. "How did you get in here?"

"Simple. You left the door unlocked."

Jade looked to the door. "...Did I?" she asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Don't worry. It was your first hit. You were bound to make a few mistakes," Phoebe said. "I know I certainly did. My first job was three months ago. I'm new to this group, myself."

"Oh?" Jade asked, suddenly curious about the vixen in the back.

"I had to kill an army general," Phoebe replied. "Four stars, too. A real big wig. It was another civil servant hit. I think the Bureau gives those as initiations since the US government is their biggest threat. The guy was a war hero. I thought he'd be difficult, but turned out he was easy as pie. Apple pie, in fact. His wife had baked it, and I'd managed to poison it, killing them both."

"I see. So you use poisons, huh?"

"Indeed. They're quick and reliable. Best know what you're doing, though, or you could damn well poison yourself," Phoebe said. "Let's head back to town. I'll give you my evaluation along the way.

Jade began to drive, leaving the property before returning to the streets. She listened to Phoebe's review, occasionally glancing at her in the rear view mirror. Somehow, she put her at ease. Unlike Esther, Phoebe was personable, and spoke candidly of the Bureau.

"...Who are they, exactly?" Jade asked as said organization was brought up.

"Beats me. I don't know much, myself. I found out about them through a mutual friend," Phoebe replied. "Sorry to spy on you like that. They didn't tell you you'd be watched, did they?"

"...No," Jade replied, slightly annoyed at their lack of disclosure.

"They never told me either. Then out of nowhere, some guy named Johann appeared after I killed General Clemence. He said she was watching me, and gave me much the same spiel I'm giving you. I think they watch in secret to avoid making new agents nervous. And, of course, to make sure they carry things out."

"Secretive," Jade replied.

"...I know. Subterfuge seems to be these people's main game. Still, they pay well. I suppose it's worth putting up with their quirkiness," Phoebe said. "As for your evaluation...

I'd say you scored seven out of ten with the Corsini hit. You wasted no time leaving Modesto, which shows you were proactive in getting things done. You also traveled by train, which is a wise choice for keeping a low profile. Your choice of weaponry was smart--the 783 is reliable, and quite cheap compared to professional sniper rifles. You could've hid it better; perhaps in a guitar or a cello case."

"...I see," Jade replied, having not even thought of that.

"You barely scratched the credit card, which suggests you're both economical and quite resourceful. Plus, I'm sure the Bureau thanks you--they'd never say it aloud, but I'm sure their budget isn't limitless. Yes, they pay well, but it's the client's money we get--the Bureau's just the middleman.

As for the hit itself, I can only say it was brilliant. Yes, you left the car unlocked, but outside of that, your execution was near flawless. Four shots and four kills--all under relentless weather conditions. Your aim was steady and sure, and your timing of the shots with the thunder was a stroke of genius. You may have lucked out with the cabin's layout, but to have such good aim at your age shows you're a natural. Truly, I am impressed. I'm actually jealous... You won't stay Novice long at this rate."

"Novice?" Jade asked.

"Yes. The Bureau calls all new agents 'Novices'. They are the lowest paid, but don't be fooled--you'll still get a good thirty grand out of this."

"Thirty grand?!" Jade asked in surprise.

"That's nothing. In fact, for FBI agents, it's downright robbery. If you were even an Associate, the next rank on their list, your payment would've been doubled. There's a whole list of ranks, and everyone starts as a Novice; the lowest rank on the list. After that comes Associate, then Operative, then Adept, etc, and the higher you are, the better you're paid. Higher ranks get more money, but they also receive more dangerous contracts."

"I see. What is your rank?" Jade asked.

"Novice, just like you. Most agents are Novices, or so I'm told. They form the bulk of the organization, mostly because few agents survive long enough to get promoted. It's dangerous work we're doing. Apparently, only the strongest survive," Phoebe said.

Jade gave a pause. "...How do you know all this?"

"Johann told me. Seemed a nice guy. Laid back, unlike some of the other agents. He watched my first mission, evaluating my progress afterward."

"And what rank was he?"

"Novice."

"...Does anyone get past Novice?"

Phoebe gave a pause. "...Yes. Esther has."

"...And what rank is she?'

"...Mastermind--the highest on the list."

"And to think she's still out there," Jade says, reminiscing with Phoebe back at the lodge.

"Let's hope they don't send her after us. If they do, we're in serious trouble," Phoebe replies. "I've heard some things about her. Scary things. Word is, she's killed over 100 people."

Jade gives a shrug. "That's not so much, in the grand scheme of things. Truth be told, we've probably killed that many ourselves by now."

"Yes. But she works alone. And her methods are brutal--they had to sort Vorinov's remains out for a positive ID. And what's worse, who knows how she felt about that job. It could be she's pissed off at us for having to clean up our mess."

"I'm sure she got paid just the same," Jade says. "But still...she didn't strike me as the kind of girl who does things for the money. That time we spoke in the car, she mentioned she'd grown up as an orphan. I could sense the pain in her voice. I think she sees the Bureau as her actual family."

"...And for us to betray them must seem like anathema to her," Phoebe replies.

"Indeed it does," a familiar voice says from above.

Phoebe and Jade go tense, suddenly turning as a figure leaps down from the loft. It lands in front of them, the duo recognizing who it is.

"...Faye!" Jade exclaims, suddenly producing her P30 from under her top.

"Found us already, eh?" Phoebe adds, whipping out her silver M9.

"Peace," Faye replies, raising empty hands to the sky. "I mean you no harm. I come with a very important message."

"You expect us to believe that?" Phoebe asks, aiming her gun at the girl.

"Relax... Just hear me out. I'm pleased to say it's rather good news for the two of you," Faye replies. "Right now, there is a movement going on within the organization. Your defection has caused some waves--some rather big waves, in fact."

"...What are you talking about?" Jade asks.

"I'm talking about disagreements amongst the Bureau's management. Half of them want you dead, the other half want you back working with us. It's actually caused a rift--the Bureau has split into two separate entities."

"...No way. Over little old us?" Phoebe asks.

"Don't sell yourselves short; you didn't get the title of 'Elegy' for nothing, you know," Faye replies. "Within our organization, titles like yours are only given to exceptional assassin teams. Melody. Harmony. Symphony; all of these have been used before. And now Elegy--your name--the song of death. It suits you well."

"Well thanks for the flattering words, Faye, but I can honestly say we're not going back," Phoebe replies. "You coming here only means that we'll be moving again. How the hell'd you even find us out here?"

Faye smiles. "...Where there's a will, there's a way. I can always find you--I have your scent, you see," she replies, whiffing the air.

Jade pauses. "...You said the organization is split. Does that mean assassins are choosing sides?"

"...No. More like sides are choosing assassins," Faye replies. "Our side wants you back. We are the dissidents--Dawn is what we call ourselves. As in a new dawn for us all, free of the old bosses and their ways. So what if you fail a contract? It doesn't mean death; just recompense in the form of a different job."

"And you think this'll actually work?" Phoebe asks.

"It has been working. The Bureau's been split for weeks, and Dawn's operated just fine. Except...," Faye replies.

"...Except?" Jade asks.

"Except for that bitch cunt Esther. I heard you talking about her. She's been giving us no end of trouble. She's a loyalist, you see, and liked things just as they were--safe with those stuffy house fathers. She's their little pet, and is real chummy with the rest of the higher ups. Owen and Damien are with us, but they've got Esther, Johann, and some other top operatives. They're hunting you as we speak. Last I heard, Johann and Cordelia were in Morocco."

"Then I'd say they're off their mark," Phoebe replies. "Thanks for the info, Faye, but we're not interested in any of this. I told you before: Our days as assassins are done."

Faye coyly smirks. "...Come now, Phoebe. You don't really believe that," she says. "You can't just leave our work. You were born to kill; both of you were. Don't tell me you've been satisfied cooped up in this lodge so long...?"

Jade falls silent as Phoebe grits her teeth. "Don't confuse us with you. You may enjoy killing, but we only did it because we were coerced. I've taken many lives, but not once did I ever enjoy it."

"...And what of you, Jade? Do you feel the same?" Faye asks.

Jade hesitates. "...I...I don't enjoy it, either," she says.

"You sound less than convinced, my dear," Faye replies, giving a shrug. "...Suit yourselves. If that's how you want to play it, so be it. I've come to invite you to Dawn, but if you're not interested, that's your affair. We could offer you protection from the Bureau, but if you're not with us, I see little point. If you should change your mind, however...," Jade says, raising a hand, producing a small business card, "then contact this address." She flings it onto a table, turning around and darting away.

"Wait!" Jade says, watching her leap out a window.

"...Damn! Not again. That's some jump she's got," Phoebe replies. She then eyes the table, reading the address printed on the card.

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