Desmond smiled ever so slightly when he seen the plastic sheeting laid out in the room. Anyone who was watching might have mistaken it for a grimace, as his battered and swollen face only showed the slightest muscle movement. He was dragged in, a large GAC each side of him clasping his arms before releasing him onto his face over the drop sheet.

"So this is the human that tried to rob me?" The GAC that spoke wasn't particularly large for his species.The tension in the room made it obvious that he was feared none the less for lack of bulk however. His use of the word human was more of a racial slur than an accurate portrayal of the man before him. Technically they were all human although there was some talk of the GAC having crossed the speciation line. Personally Desmond thought it wasn't that they couldn't breed with other strains, just that they chose not to. GAC itself was somewhat of a racial slur standing for genetically altered cretin, accept in this case, the cretin's wore the title like a badge of honor.

"We have given him every truth chem available and some test ones too." One of the henchmen sprouted. "He keeps giving the same answer, that he works for no one."

The truth was it was the only answer he could give, since they had injected him he had only been able to tell them the truth. When they hadn't got the answer they wanted they had beat him severely, cracking his ribs and bursting capillaries in his face. He knew that it would only last for a certain amount of time before they would conclude their thoughts and then it would be over. The plastic sheeting was a testament to this fact.

"Bring him in." The boss nodded to one of the guardsmen, who left only to return with another of their kind. Desmond recognized him immediately as the one who had given him the information on his mark. He bore the marks of a beating, blood dribbled down his chin and stained the front of his shirt. With one glance Desmond could tell that the creature had talked, he hung his head not looking at anyone, preferring not to see what was coming. The boss stuck the barrel of the revolver directly on the top of his head, pointing it strait down firing it swiftly. The bullet ripped through his skull, bursting out the bottom of his jaw before embedding in his thigh. With a sudden jerk he fell to the side and twitched a little before lying still. Desmond felt nothing for the traitor, who was now at rest and beyond the reach of these gangsters. The whole exercise of execution had been for his benefit, to show the would be thief how easy it could be.

"What is your name?" The boss turned to him still holding the large revolver.

"Desmond." He fumbled in return.

"Well Desmond, are you going to tell me the truth about who you work for?" The boss gac questioned him.

"Ues." Desmond smiled not getting the word out properly but getting the desired response anyhow.

"Do you want to die slow?" His voice raising in anger now.

"Ues." Desmond couldn't help but smile this time. The situation was actually funny and it was probably the last chance he would get before they snuffed him.

"Your friend here talked already you know, that's why I killed him quickly. He told us what you wanted and how you thought you were going to get it." He pointed at the dead man who was now leaking quite a puddle onto the plastic. "You will die! How is up to you, so I'll ask you, are you working with anyone else?"

"No, I work for muself." Desmond managed, dribbling blood of his own onto the plastic.

"Do you you want us to torture you?" The GAC spat at him

"...No." He replied after a pause. The question had posed a threat to him and it took a mental struggle to get the right answer out. It was the truth, he didn't want to be tortured but he needed to be, his life depended on it.

"Do it." The boss ordered a scary looking post human to begin the torture. For an hour they stabbed, cut and burnt at him, always asking questions over and over, in different configurations. Always getting the same honest answers, until they were left with the only conclusion that made sense. He was unbreakable, mentally anyway, his body was a different story. They had broken his arms and legs but not before shattering toes and pulling fingernails. His body was a myriad of cuts and punctures, most burned to seal the wound afterwards to stop him bleeding out. He had screamed, cried and even wet himself, but not once did he give them what they seek. Not because he didn't want to, many times he wished he could lie and give them the answer they looked for. But he had been given so much theorem that he could not tell a lie. The best he could hope for was to withhold information, the truth was he did work alone, he did come to steal guns from them and he thought they were going to kill him.

"Do you think your going to get out alive?" His torturer sneered at him.

"...No" He squirmed

"Your right." He stood back taking a small shrapnel gun from the table behind him. Lowering it he let the shot rip through Desmond's chest, tearing meat and embedding shards of metal throughout. The force toppled him from his knees back onto the sheeting, blood welling in the many holes left upon the entry of shrapnel. A GAC lent over him as he struggled to breath with metal deep in his lung tissue.

"Do you have anything you want to say before we let you leave us?" The brute sneered.

"Ues..." He whispered with the last of his breath, prompting the man to lean in "Fuck oou." He managed to smiled before his heart stopped.

Somewhere in Desmond's thigh a heart continued to pulse, pumping blood along his spine and into his brain. Along it's path it picked up oxygen from a filter, operating just under the base of the skull. It had been a risky maneuver, being tortured to death, requiring a lot of preparation and balls on Desmond's part, if he did think so himself. However it had paid off in spades as he lay wrapped in plastic with the corpse of his informant, while next door the meeting continued.

Carefully he folded back the plastic trying unsuccessfully to do it quietly. The bleeding had stopped, having been sealed either by the torture or the nano machines his system was riddled with. Similar machine was at work repairing muscle even in his final moments of death. The bone repair nanoids were on standby waiting for him to straiten the fractures before repairing them. Thinking of the vast ocean, Desmond deactivated his pain sensory system. Without the hindrance of any sensation of pain he went about the business of straitening his arms and legs before using a different thought keys, to start the mending. Within five minutes the job was mostly done and he was alright to stand.

He still looked a right mess, the hole in his chest and surface wounds that would have to wait a bit longer, it would be months before every fine detail was restored. The shrapnel while helping fuel the nano machines would likely have to be dug out at a later date also. Looking at the toes on his right foot he had a feeling they would be better amputated and regrown. Shaking the encroaching fog from his head, he took in his surroundings. The room was furnished simply as a sitting room, with a bookcase and a settee. Running his fingers along the seem in his pants he felt for the metal nub that was the end of a tensile wire. Pulling the garrote wire free, he padded over the expensive rug leaving bloody footprints as he crept to the door.

They hadn't foreseen the need to post a guard directly outside a room containing only corpses. Still risking getting caught in the hallway without a weapon was not his style, instead he chose to sit on the lounge as the nanoids performed their work. From here he could make out the voices of the meeting taking place next door. For the last couple of months he had been watching the gac mafia, carefully detailing as much of their operation as he could. They were careful, as most long term criminals tend to be, the informant had been most useful in giving him the minor details he often needed for closure.

Using the wire Desmond cut into his own arm, squeezing the wound just hard enough to remove the small round metallic object inside. Thinking of the beautiful building he had helped to procure for organization, never before had it been used in such a fashion and it was unlikely that the GAC would use it again. He felt a pang of regret that such a well structured and beautifully maintained place was squandered so wastefully. After it was purchased for the organization, it had sat disused until now. From his research he knew that this was considered a discreet, maybe even covert, meeting of two lesser factions. As he sat staining a perfectly good settee, he strained his ears listening for any small details he didn't already know.

He felt a rush as his original heart came back on-line and his brain was getting a better flow of blood. While the thigh setup was good for keeping him alive, the small heart wasn't up to running all the peripherals like limbs and by rights he shouldn't have been up and moving before now. Still Desmond wasn't the type to shy away from risk. The shadow meeting was wrapping up, both parties despising each other while simultaneously needing one another. Old men playing back room politics, a dangerous game for their seedy type. Desmond stood quickly and stretched, feeling tender muscle tearing as he did so. Better that it tear now then when he was relying on it later. Moving quietly he took position behind the only door into the room and opened it inwards as noisily as possible.

"What the Fuck." Exclaimed one of the two men guarding the room next door, the sudden ghostly action startling him.

It had the exact response that Desmond had anticipated, the spooked man came to investigate, shot gun held forward as if to shield him from any harm to come his way. With a practiced hand Desmond slipped the loop of wire over the thick head of the genetic superior man. With a skillful twist, he crossed the wire and set the automation into effect. A shot ripped across the room tearing wallpaper and sending plaster chunks flying into the room. Within a second however his gun became a secondary concern as the wire automatically tightened, cutting into the flesh with ease. Discarding the weapon the unfortunate elite of the human race, tried desperately to save his neck as the relentless wire sunk into his flesh.

Ignoring the flailing man Desmond retrieved the fallen weapon, taking a second to check it over before pushing the now bleeding victim into the hall. A shot gun blast cut through the goon ending his life, while the relentless wire continued to severe arteries and windpipe alike until his head was separated from his body. Desmond used the momentary confusion to launch his own attack, shooting the remaining guard square in the face, dropping him instantly. A large thump from within the meeting room vibrated into the hall as the solid desk inside was tipped onto its side. The odds were against him, each mob boss having three bodyguards a piece. While risks were Desmond's forte, he had no intention of testing the limits of his nano life protection system, at least not again this day.

Taking the small metal ball removed from his arm earlier, he rolled it under the door towards what he hoped was still the heavy wooden desk. Earlier in preparation for the meeting a shielding device had blocked all wireless signals from the area. A precautionary measure against remotely activated devices or even communication signals sending out information. Desmond's small ball device however was a way around the blackout. If close enough to the source it would remotely detonate a device, one that he had spent hours building into the material of the desk, which he then had placed inside the house. The house he then helped the mob buy.

The explosion tore through the immaculately crafted furniture, sending splintered wood in every direction. Optimized for shock, the blast did little more than pepper the unprepared gac, leaving them shell shocked. Slipping quietly inside the door while the stunned goons picked themselves up Desmond sidled along the wall surveying the room quietly. Through the dust filled air he counted the figures as they struggled to gain composure.

Stepping away from the wall, he advanced on the dazed guards and let the closest man have it. The shot ripped through the flesh on his chest, sending him down. The hulking behemoth to his side barely had time to register his comrades demise before lead ripped into his face. Quickly he pumped the gun and fired again ripping his way through their flank, leaving torn bodies sprawled across the carpet. Blocked by his own boss the bodyguard could only watch as his employer died before his eyes, some of the shot passing by to catch him in the face as burnt gunpowder added to the air pollution. Stepping over the writhing bodies of the fallen Desmond ruthlessly pumped shot after shot at his torturers until they all joined their companions upon the floor.

Reaching for a pistol which lay abandoned on the carpet he checked the piece carefully. When he was sure it was in good order he pointed it down blasting a slug into the head of the closest goon. Each shot signaling the final demise of the wounded Desmond dispatched them ignoring curses and pleading the same. Somewhere behind him the hard wired phone rang as he fired the last shot shattering the mans skull and destroying his brain. Picking up the phone he listened in silence, curious as to what the waiting associates might say. He knew both outfits had people on standby nearby, both expecting to be double crossed by the other. The shots would have caught their attention strait away, but from a distance they would be powerless to do anything right away. The call was simply to assess the situation and for a whole minute both parties stayed silently listening to the other breath.

"They are all dead!" It was Desmond who finally spoke first.

"Who is this?"

"A change is coming, I suggest you be prepared." The antique phone clicked as Desmond hung up on the henchman.

It was time to move. Soon every party with a finger in this very secret pie would be looking for answers. All he planned on leaving them with was this pile of corpses. Climbing out a discreet back window he winced or maybe it was another smile as he disappeared into the shadows. From here on in, he planned on being a faceless man, pulling strings from behind a curtain. Manipulating his will throughout the order, always just out of sight.