"Claus!" Matilda says, rushing over to the orphanage entryway.

"You're back!" Jacob adds, the other kids crowding around nearby.

"Where's big sister today?" Amy asks, nun Doreen smiling as she stands nearby.

"She'll be along soon enough," Claus replies, thunder rolling in from afar. "She's got good news for you all. She wanted me to tell you ahead of time, but I'll let her give the news herself."

"Awwwww! Come on!" Patrick says with puffed cheeks.

"Tell us now!" Shamus adds.

"Patience, lad. Good things come to those who wait."

Lightning crashes in the distance. Somewhere in the hills, a lone figure creeps its way through the land. As it approaches the orphanage, rain steadily begins to fall. Its intensity grows with each step, plitting against the figure's black cloak and matching hood. The storm steadily gets worse, the figure approaching the building with an item on its back. As it grows ever nearer, the children all watch, yelling and cheering at the approaching facade.

"She's here!" young Lisa shouts.

"Big sis!" Maxine yells. Claus stands nearby, the kids all waving as she makes her debut.

Just as she's ten yards away, Claus' face goes pale. "...Wait! It's not her! Everyone! Get inside! And grab your guns!"

The children all scurry around, rushing inside as a heavy rain pelts the land. The figure drops her hood, revealing Phoebe's face and ice cold dark blue eyes. She grabs the item from her back, raising the minigun with a vengeance.

"This one's for Jade, you brats!" Phoebe yells, a hint of madness in her eyes.

The girl shoots the massive weapon, standing wide to support its hefty weight. Bullets tear through the building, children screaming as they fire shots back outside. Their weapons are real guns, but their aim's what you'd expect out of children, wildly missing their marks.

Claus dives into the building, ducking for cover under a pew. The lobby is a makeshift church, complete with organ and a pulpit standing at its head.

"Die!" the children all shout, firing shots through the windows and the open front door. Faye taught them how to shoot, fearing this day might come sooner or later. Everyone has a piece, even nun Doreen, firing off a shotgun from behind the pulpit.

A noisy gunfight ensues. The kids fight for their lives. Phoebe fights for Jade's memory. The orphanage tries its best, but is simply no match for Phoebe's awesome might. She mows them all down, creating a slaughter that would make an angel weep.

The children's cries die down. Just Doreen and Claus are left standing in the bullet ridden church. Phoebe stalks inside, walking in like a zombie with a face as dead as stone.

"How could you...?!" Doreen screams. "You've slaughtered innocent children! Hell will have a special place for you, demon!"

Phoebe stands stoic, drawing her M9 and shooting the nun square in the face. Blood splats against the organ, adding red to the towering golden pipes.

Then, it's just Phoebe and Claus.

"...Tell me one thing, boy," she says quietly. "Was it you behind Faye's plot to assassinate Jade and I?"

Claus stands motionless. "...No. In fact, I suggested you become allies."

"...I see," Phoebe replies. After a lengthy silence, she shrugs. "...Oh, well...," she says, shooting the boy in the heart.

As the lad drops to the ground, thunder crashes, shaking the lamps and the chandeliers. Phoebe holsters her gun, turning around and leaving the wrecked orphanage. The place is left standing in tatters. All that's left is the faint smile pulling on the assassin's lips.

Days later, Phoebe returns to Florida. She visits an old graveyard, a soft drizzle falling from the sky.

"Hey, Jade," Phoebe says, staring down at a fresh headstone. "Just wanted to let you know I got rid of Faye's little friend. Vilencia said he was no good. Said he was the mastermind behind Faye's schemes. Whether or not that's true, I don't know. But I killed him all the same--I had to make sure that you were avenged.

I still can't believe you're gone... You were always the optimist. So why? Why did you die before me...?" A quiet thunder rolls in, the wind steadily picking up. "...I told you not to leave me. And yet you have. It's not fair. You were the better assassin. It should've been me who died.

I'm terribly sorry, Jade... I let you down. I failed to protect you. That was my one role in life. And, as usual, I came up short. I should've killed Faye when I had the chance, back when she was asleep on the living room couch. The thought had crossed my mind. I came this close. If I had, you would still be alive..."

The weather quickly worsens. Rain starts to pour as the wind nearly blows Phoebe's umbrella away. "They say a hurricane's coming. Most of the city's already been evacuated. I don't care... Let it sweep me away. I don't want to live in a world without you." As lightning crashes nearby, Phoebe stands unfazed, gently touching the top of the stone.

"...I love you, mon chéri. That's something I should've said a long time ago, back when you were alive. I think you knew it, though. At least I hope you did. Goodbye, my love. I'll visit you again."

Phoebe returns to the condo, the weather worsening with every second. She settles in near a window, gazing at the threatening skies outside. Rain runs down the glass, casting shadows on Phoebe's cheeks. The shadows look like tears. Only, they aren't--Phoebe has none left to cry. The girl sits bleak and dreary, watching the storm with stoical eyes.

She then gazes down at the table, eyeing her M9 sitting nearby. Slowly, she picks it up, taking a look at its silver design. It's a weapon that's ended countless lives--a weapon that's been with her many years. And yet, it's an inanimate object. It feels no remorse. And in truth, neither does Phoebe. To her, humans are a disease; a blight on the planet bringing ruin to all that they touch. Pollution. Global warming. Deforestation. Animal extinctions. These are just a few of mankind's proud legacies.

Phoebe loathes humanity, and justifies her killings as necessary acts.

But there was one human that she didn't hate. And that was Jade. Cute, deadly, unpredictable Jade. Phoebe lived her life for her. Now that she's dead, Phoebe feels nothing but emptiness.

She raises her trusty M9, pressing the barrel against her head. She sits in total silence, contemplating pulling the trigger. She might as well end it here. She has nothing left to live for. As she's just about to end her life, she stops short.

...Would Jade want this for her? No. She wouldn't. She puts the gun down, gazing back at the storm.

Days go by, the weather deteriorating along with Phoebe's mental state. The girl remains indoors, Hurricane Ester continuing to batter the coast. Ester is close to Esther, a thought not at all lost to Phoebe. It gets her reflecting on things. On her career as an assassin, and on the countless lives she's taken over the years.

She gets more and more malaise, especially recalling the slaughter at the orphanage. The blood. The frightened nun. The children all screaming, their broken bodies left behind in the aftermath. Rarely Phoebe felt remorse, but killing a room full of children made her more than a bit queasy. She once faulted Faye for such an act. Now, she was no better than she was--a filthy child murderer.

Phoebe shuts down inside. She becomes like a bot, suppressing her feelings as best she can. She takes on a new identity, deciding to dye her hair black as well as her clothes. She changes her hairstyle as well, tying it into a high ponytail, assuming the appearance of a gothic teenage girl. It wouldn't be the first time. She had a phase like this in high school, but never thought she'd be returning to it.

After several days, the weather finally starts to clear. Phoebe leaves the condo, deciding to take a stroll down the promenade. She eyes the ravaged coast, debris strewn everywhere as far as the eye can see. The place looks like a war zone, Phoebe drawing parallels with her own tempestuous heart.

Eventually, she finds a restaurant, an outdoor cafe that somehow managed to weather the storm. She takes a seat at a bench. Darkness looms overhead, the sea breeze carrying an unusual chill. Phoebe stares out at the coast. As the seagulls cry, she hears faint sweeping sounds come from nearby.

"Sorry," a young man says, accidentally brisking her foot with his broom.

"It's fine," Phoebe replies, noticing the boy sizing her up. He wears a plain white uniform--stark contrast to Phoebe's black goth dress and matching heels. "What's wrong?"

"Oh. Nothing. Just...cool dress," he says shyly, continuing to sweep.

Phoebe blinks twice. "...Thanks. But I'm in mourning, you know. It's not just for show."

"I see. Sorry to hear that. Who died?"

"...A dear friend. She was everything to me..."

A lengthy pause ensues.

"I'm sorry. Was it the storm?"

"No," she replies. "It was...something else. Anyway, I don't mean to bore you. You like working here?"

"Mmm. It's alright. A bit boring, though," he replies, cleaning off a table.

"Must be nice, having a normal job. I kind of envy you," Phoebe says, whimsically staring at the sea.

"Why? What's your job?" he asks.

Phoebe meets his eyes. "I'm an assassin."

He gives a pause. "An...assassin?"

"That's right. Or at least I was. But those days are over now."

"I see..."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"...No. I believe you," he replies, sounding less than convinced.

Phoebe smiles. "Believe what you will. But I'm telling the truth. You're the first person I've told. I usually keep it a secret. But I don't care anymore. About anything, to tell you the truth."

"I hear you," the boy replies. "The world's crazy these days. I sort of feel the same way."

Phoebe eyes the lad, finding his scruffy brown hair cute. "What's your name?"

"Evan," he replies, a gentle breeze drifting by.

Later that evening, the two wind up in Phoebe's condo. They both crawl into bed, proceeding to make love under a rainy skylight. Phoebe rides Owen from above, gently moaning as she feels him inside of her. It makes her think back to Jade. She'd promised to get her laid, but obviously that never came to be. And now, it'll never happen. Jade died a virgin. The thought depresses Phoebe, but is quickly drowned out by the heat and passion of the night. As Evan reaches a climax, Phoebe climbs off of him, sitting at the side of the bed.

"Hey. You okay?" he asks, hand around her waist.

"I'm fine," Phoebe replies, walking naked to a window. She stares out at the city, thoughts of Jade swirling through her head.

"Did I do something wrong?" Evan asks.

"No. It's not you. It's just...even at a time like this, I keep thinking of Jade."

"Jade? That's the one who died?"

"Yes. We were very close. We carried out many contracts together."

"Man...I still can't believe you two were real assassins. That is so damned cool!" Evan says frat boyishly.

Phoebe rolls her eyes, ass pointed his way in disapproval. "No, it was not 'cool'. We killed a lot of innocent people. Not that I cared, of course, but Jade certainly did. Unlike me, she actually had a conscience. Every innocent person she killed ate away at her soul. Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore, and betrayed the organization that we worked for. She did it out of principle. She was really a good person. It should've been me who died..."

"Come on, babe. Don't say that...," Evan says. "I wouldn't want you to die." He walks over, placing an arm around the girl.

"Evan...!" she replies weakly. The duo share a kiss, resuming their night of lust.

The next day, the duo wake up around noon. They head out to the kitchen, chatting over a cup of joe.

"A...minigun?" Evan asks.

"Yes. It belonged to Jade. She found it somewhere in a warehouse in Saint Petersburg," Phoebe replies. "Never got to use it, though. But I did. Seemed only fitting to avenge her death with the thing."

"Yeah. But all those children...," Evan says.

"I know. It made me sick. But they were all armed, and I wasn't about to let Jade's death stand. Those maggots had to pay. And besides, kids are overvalued. They would've grown into adults. Might as well end their pain early."

"You're pretty cynical, huh?"

Phoebe smiles. "I guess. Jade used to accuse me of that, too."

"So...if you don't mind me asking, just how much money have you made over the years?"

Phoebe shrugs. "A few million, I guess. Enough to pay for this beachfront resort you see around you. But whatever. It's just money."

"Incredible...," Evan says. "I never knew people like you really existed."

"Sadly, we do. And the scary part is, we're not really the bad guys. Most of the people we killed had it coming to them. Not all, of course. But most. Gun runners. Mafia gangsters. Corrupt officials. Abusive husbands. You name it, we killed them. And I'd do it all again."

"...You really have no remorse?"

"Not an ounce," Phoebe replies. "The way I look at it, the more people I kill, the better off the planet will be. Humans are a plague to the Earth, destroying, deforesting, and polluting everything that they touch. I applaud the start of World War III. Means the planet will get another badly needed thinning of the herd. I hope countless millions die. Billions, even. Maybe then the Earth will have a chance to heal."

Evan pauses. "...That's dark."

"No. It's honest," Phoebe replies, casually sipping her tea. "...Well? What do you think? Now you know the real me. Still care to stick around?"

Evan gives a pause, eyeing the girl from across the counter. She stands a dark silhouette; a goth lolita cascading against a wall of overcast glass. "...I do," he replies. Phoebe blinks twice, slightly blushing as she turns away.

The two keep seeing each other, days going by as the couple grow closer and closer. By day, they hit the town, strolling through the city and getting to know each other better. By night, they hit the clubs, coming home to make love all through the night. Phoebe tries to keep things copacetic, but eventually she can't help it, finding herself developing feelings for the lad. It just kind of happens, despite her best efforts toward the contrary. Soon, a month goes by, the two becoming nearly inseparable. One night, Phoebe looks him in the eye.

"...Can I trust you?" she asks.

Evan pauses. "...Of course," he replies, the duo sharing a kiss.

The next day, the couple decide to have lunch where Evan works. The young man sits nervously, looking around with apprehension.

"What's wrong? Embarrassed to be seen out with a goth chick?" Phoebe asks.

"Huh? Oh, no," he replies. "It just...feels weird being a patron here for once."

"I see why you've kept me away. The food here's lousy," Phoebe says, dropping her fork.

"Really? I think it's quite good," Evan says. "But then...you're a millionaire. I guess your standards are high."

"...Are you accusing me of being snooty?"

Evan pauses. "N--no! I didn't mean it like that."

"It's okay. You're probably right," Phoebe replies. "After all, Jade and I lived high off the money that we made. Expensive homes, restaurants... I've tried not to let it go to my head, but I guess I've failed..."

"No. You're all good. I was just being a douche."

Phoebe smiles, the two continuing to dine at the cafe. Gulls fly overhead, a cool breeze coming from the sea. The beach is oddly empty. The sun tries to shine, but the overcast skies persist.

As Phoebe and Evan converse, a young woman keeps tabs on them from across the street. She sits in a red sedan, cringing at the wheel as she watches them talk back and forth.

"You sleeping over tonight?" Phoebe asks.

"Sorry, I can't," Evan replies. "Promised my dad I'd help him with something."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Just...fixing the patio. It took a real beating during the storm."

"Hmm. Too bad," Phoebe says. "Guess I'll be sleeping alone again."

"Sorry, babe. I'll come back tomorrow."

"It's fine. You have your own life, after all."

Soon, the two part ways, sharing a kiss as Evan returns to his house. He still lives with his parents, which makes Phoebe half believe his story. Still, something seems amiss. The girl returns to the condo. Unbeknownst to her, however, a woman stalks her every move. She follows her into the building, tailing her up to the twelfth floor where she resides. As Phoebe walks into her house, she spots the woman standing at the door.

"Bitch!" the stranger screams.

Before Phoebe can react, she's shoved to the ground, the woman charging into the house.

"What the...?" Phoebe replies.

"I knew he was cheating!" Laurie says. "But with you...?!" she shouts, looking over Phoebe's dark silhouette.

Phoebe takes a moment. "...Oh. I see," she replies, rising to her feet. "You must be his girlfriend. And I'm the unwitting mistress he's been fucking behind your back."

"Shut up!" Laurie exclaims, a wrathful girl with brown hair and skimpy clothes.

"I understand your rage, but directing it at me is wrong. I had no clue he was seeing someone."

"Liar!" Laurie yells. "I can't believe this...! I thought Evan was different. Should've known men are all the same..."

She takes a look around, shocked by the lavishness of the place. Jealous, she glares at Phoebe, suddenly drawing a switchblade.

Phoebe pauses. "...I wouldn't do that."

"Why not?! I've got nothing to lose!" Laurie says. She doesn't seem all there. Phoebe looks down, spotting needle marks on her arm. "Evan was all that I had! And you snatched him away! You bitch! I'll fucking kill you!"

Suddenly, she darts forward. Phoebe evades, sidestepping and tripping her feet. Laurie crashes to the ground, knife bouncing away and sliding across the floor. She then looks back to Phoebe. Phoebe draws her M9, pointing it down her way.

"...Sorry, chick," she says dryly. "But you seriously chose the wrong house today."

Laurie's eyes go wide. A breeze whips up as a flash of light comes from Phoebe's window. And then...

Silence.

Days go by, with Phoebe making no attempts at all to contact Evan. The young man tries calling her, but she ignores his attempts, locking herself in her luxury condo. Eventually, he stops by her house. As he knocks on the door, Phoebe answers, stoically staring him down.

"Hey," Evan says.

"...Oh. It's you," Phoebe replies stoically.

"What's going on? I tried calling you, but you never replied."

"Sorry. I've been...tied up with something lately."

"Oh. Assassin duty, huh?" he asks.

"...You could say that," Phoebe replies, detecting his sarcasm. He never really believed her story. That much she can tell, which is part of the reason she told him to start with. She hardly blames him. After all, who'd really believe the revelation that she was an assassin?

"Can I come in?" Evan asks.

"...Sure," Phoebe says, widening the front door. As the lad steps in, she slowly creaks it closed behind him.

"...I missed you," Evan says, giving her a warm smile.

"...Is that so?" Phoebe asks.

"What's wrong? Are you mad at me or something?"

"No," Phoebe says. "How'd the patio go?"

"...Huh?" he replies. "...Oh! It went fine. Yeah. Dad and I patched it up nice."

"That's good," Phoebe says. "Oh... By the way, something came for you while you were away."

"For me?" Evan asks.

"Indeed. It's here somewhere...," Phoebe replies, rifling through a closet. "Ah. Here it is," she says, suddenly tossing Laurie's head.

"Dyyyaaaa-a-a-aaaaahhh!" Evan shouts, catching the head before dropping it. He stares down in shock, Laurie staring at the wall.

"I thought I could trust you, you know," Phoebe says, drawing her silver M9. "I even asked you that night. And you looked me right in the eye and said 'Of course'."

"...P--please...!" Evan says, starting to shake.

"How many girls have you fucked?" Phoebe asks. "You were never at your father's house--you were out banging someone else, weren't you?"

"N--no! It was just you and Laurie! I swear!"

"Lies," Phoebe says. "I'm such a fool, sleeping with a guy so quickly... I suppose I was just lonely--desperate for affection after Jade's death. But don't you worry, Jade... Nothing can replace you, love," Phoebe says with an odd smile.

Evan gives a pause, noticing Phoebe's strange eyes. Quickly, he bolts for the door. But he doesn't get far. Phoebe shoots him square in the leg.

"Gyaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!" the young man shouts, falling to the ground in agony. As he wails in pain, Phoebe half smiles, watching him writhe at her feet.

"Hmmm...," Phoebe says. "Looks like Faye was right: Hearing you scream really is intoxicating."

Evan continues to yell, holding his leg in blinding pain. As his screams persist, Phoebe looks up, concerned that the neighbors might hear. She raises her sleek M9, giving the lad one final glance. "...So long, lover boy," she says, pulling the trigger.

Slowly, she lowers her gun, eyeing the young man's bloody corpse. She recalls a nature film. When a black widow finishes mating, she'll often kill and consume her partner. While Phoebe has no appetite, she still knows what she has to do. The girl bends down, proceeding to grab Evan by the boot. She drags him with all her might, leaving a trail of blood in her wake.

Eventually, she reaches the bathroom, hoisting the body into the tub. She then returns to the hall, fetching an electric saw from the closet. She flips the item on, its motor buzzing away in her hand. She then returns to the bathroom, commencing with the bloody business at hand.

Phoebe raises her saw, proceeding to slice Evan's body into tiny bits. She casually hums a tune, blood splattering against her face and the tiles surrounding her. First, the arms come off. Then come the legs. Then the head. Then that other little bit. Phoebe gives a smile. She considers keeping it as a souvenir, but thinks better of it in the end. She then cuts the fingers and toes. After that, the dicing begins. She does just this, then flushes them down, piece by piece. At one point, the toilet backs up. Phoebe gives a cringe, proceeding to plunge the bloody corpse down the bowl. Eventually, it all goes down. Phoebe sighs with relief. It wouldn't do if a plumber found body parts in the pipes.

Soon, day turns to night. After Phoebe cleans up, all that's left if Evan's terrified head. She couldn't very well flush that. No matter how you slice it, there's simply no easy way of disposing of a head. Accordingly, she throws it in a bag, dropping it right next to Laurie's severed mug. She smiles down at the two. They look good together. She tosses the bag in the closet, closing the door behind her.

Eventually, she returns to the couch, sitting in the living room in her bloody dress. Blood drips down to the floor, a stoical stare on Phoebe's face. Dead silence fills the room, the lights from the streets the only things illuminating the condo. "...There. I took care of them, Jade. Always wolves at the door... But don't worry. I got rid of them."

Phoebe stares to the side. After moments of silence, a ghostly visage appears. "...Nice," the young girl says, looking oddly familiar.

Suddenly, Phoebe goes pale. "...Jade...! There you are! I knew you'd never leave me...!"

"Of course I wouldn't, Phoebe. I will always be by your side."

Just then, Phoebe pauses. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "...No. It's not really you. I'm starting to see things. I'm cracking up."

"No. It's really me, Phoebe," Jade replies. "There is an afterlife, but it's nothing like what they say. I can't stay for long. I'll visit you again."

As Phoebe sits in shock, Jade vanishes before her eyes. Phoebe is left alone, staring blankly at a chair. Slowly, she slinks in her seat.

"...My god. I'm going insane."

Slowly, the night drifts by. The following morning, Phoebe wakes up alone on the couch. She pours herself a cup of coffee, her black goth dress now stained with Evan's dried blood. She recalls last evening's events. She doesn't care about Evan. What bothers her most is seeing Jade. It couldn't have really been her. It must've been her mind playing tricks on her that night. There's no way it was really a ghost. Only fools believe in such nonsense.

Phoebe heads to the bathroom, taking a shower before changing into another goth dress. She then opens the closet, grabbing the bag of heads from the shelf. She ties it up good and tight, then heads downstairs, tossing the bag into the compound's trash compacter. As the machine crushes the bag, Phoebe stands in silence, recalling her encounter with Jade.

"There is an afterlife, but it's nothing like what they say..."

Phoebe scratches her head. That doesn't sound like something she herself would say. If it really was her own mind, it must've been the deep inner recesses of her subconscious. Also, Jade seemed so vivid. Phoebe could almost reach out and grab her.

Soon, she returns to the house, sitting on the couch and flipping on the TV. The news of the world is grim. Russia continues its conquest, now controlling two thirds of western Europe. Nukes have also been launched, destroying Los Angeles, with Washington responding in kind with a bomb to Pyongyang. Apocalypse fills the air, yet Phoebe doesn't care. She's too numb to feel anything.

As she stares blankly ahead, a quiet knock comes from the door. Quickly, she snaps to attention, eyeing the door with suspicion. She creeps across the room, finding a girl standing alone in the hall through the peephole. Slowly, she opens the door, gun stirring under her clothes.

"...Yes?" Phoebe says.

"Greetings," the girl replies. "You must be Phoebe, one half of the fabled 'Elegy'. I'm flattered to meet you. You're practically a legend in our line of work."

"...Who are you?" Phoebe asks. The stranger smiles, wearing a green and white dress with brown straps.

"My name is Fiona, and I work for a certain group. I thank you for ridding us of Dawn, as well as effectively ending the Bureau. They were our biggest threats. With them out of the way, our business can now flourish.

Phoebe gives a pause. "...I see. You're with another assassin's guild."

"Correct," Fiona replies. "And I've come with an offer. But we can't talk here. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Yes," Phoebe replies, suddenly closing the door in her face.

Fiona blinks twice, quietly knocking once more. "...Come on. Don't be like that. I'm extending an olive branch to you, here. I know how hard it was for you to lose Jade. I lost a partner, myself. Died last year. Her name was Natasha. Perhaps you've heard of her."

Suddenly, Phoebe pauses, eyes wide as her face goes pale. She knows that name, alright. Moscow Natasha--the start of Elegy's woes. But is it the same person? There's more than one Natasha in the world. Phoebe calls her bluff.

"Get lost," she shouts, heading back for the couch.

"I know you killed her, Phoebe," Fiona says. "Or perhaps it was Jade. Either way, it hardly matters anymore. She defected a long time ago. I'm not here to kill you, nor am I on some glorious quest for revenge. I simply offer you my friendship. After all, we assassins must stick together!~" she shouts.

Phoebe grits her teeth, suddenly swinging the door open. "Be quiet! The neighbors will hear!"

As Phoebe looks around, Fiona slips her way into the house. "...Nice pad," she says, taking a look at the place.

"Who do you think you are?" Phoebe asks. "The last time I trusted someone, she killed my partner and longtime friend."

"You've gone rogue, Phoebe," Fiona replies. "This isn't good. A rogue assassin is a threat to all that they see."

"...You came here to tell me that?"

"And to invite you to Genesis."

"...Genesis?"

"The agency I work for--a group far older than the Bureau," Fiona says. "And before you say no, hear me out. The FBI's after you. It used to be the CIA, but now that you've returned to the US, the FBI's taken over the case. They've discovered where you live. You're a wanted woman, and they're close to making their move."

"Then let them come," Phoebe replies. "I don't care, anymore. Let them kill me. I've got no reason left to live."

"...You don't fear death?"

"Fear it? I would welcome death at this point."

Fiona's eyes light up. "...That is very wise. An assassin who welcomes death can only be described as enlightened."

Phoebe gives a pause. "...Call it what you like. With Jade gone, I don't care. Let the whole world go to hell."

"That seems to be happening, anyhow," Fiona says. "But we can offer you support. All we ask is that you join us."

"Forget it," Phoebe replies. "I'm through trusting your kind. Now get lost. Don't contact me again."

Fiona frowns. "...I'm sorry to hear that," she says. "Still, it was nice meeting you. It's not every day I get to speak with a living legend like yourself."

Phoebe shakes her head. "...I'm no legend. Just a murderer who spreads misery wherever she goes."

"Such is our job," Fiona says. "We are the reapers, after all," she adds, casually taking her leave.

Fiona walks down the hall, turning her back to Phoebe without a second thought. Phoebe watches her go, her gait both swift and elegant. Just who was that girl? And what is this 'Genesis'? And was this 'Natasha' the same one that Jade killed back in Russia? Phoebe ponders these things, eventually closing the door behind her.