The binoculars lowered, and a pair of midnight eyes blinked at him. "Cardinals, you say?"

"Will that be all for you today?" The clerk smiled at the young woman politely as she glanced around the crowded street. There were hundreds of people wandering through the stalls of the open air market, and it looked as if she were searching for someone. When she didn't answer, the clerk reached out to tap her lightly on the arm, and she pulled away suddenly with a flicker of disdain in her navy-blue eyes. "I said, miss, will that be all for you today?"

"Yes. Thank you." She gathered the packages under her arm, and was gone in a swirl as her coat fluttered behind her. The movement caused her hood to slip, and the weak sun shimmered brilliantly on the snow-white hair that blew loose and fell to her knees.

He was dressed in an expensive, tailored tuxedo, and the woman that hung on his arm was just as classically clothed, in a long white gown that matched the surprising snowiness of her hair. They stepped from the limousine and sauntered together up the walk toward the French embassy's annual ball, and the man smiled and leaned close as if to kiss the woman on the cheek as they entered. "Remember, half a mil if we manage this tonight."

The woman gave him a demure half-smile and pretended to smooth her dress over the thigh holster hidden in the folds of satin. He just laughed quietly and brushed the curls back from her face.

"Time to kill, Riya."

She awoke with a start, and the gun was in her hand and her eyes searching the dimness of her room before she noticed the source of her disruption. The phone rang again, shrill and irritating, and she dropped the pistol and rolled from her bed. Across the floor she shuffled, to where the cell sat crying its piercing shriek, and she'd just clicked the talk button and pressed the receiver to her ear when a voice she knew immediately began to speak. "This is Agent Wilkes. Authorization code Four-niner-Delta. Confirmation, Nora-Orphan-Indigo-Riker. You there, Kinoshita?"

"Nn, hai." Riya sighed and flopped back into her bed again, fingering the trigger of her pistol lazily. She waited, and eventually the man gave a quiet chuckle that sounded breathy and annoyed. "Talkative this morning, aren't we? Did I wake you? I didn't take you for the lazy type."

She blinked and yawned with sleepy contentness. "I had a long night."

"Well, you might be having a few more long nights. Intelligence just confirmed that the SOTF has dispatched another pair of Legion to assassinate you. Our contact has been unable to obtain the names of the Agents, but the second assassination order has been signed and released. We value your business, so consider this a free tip." There was silence for a few moments as she took in this new information, and Wilkes finally sighed. "You're becoming quite popular, Kinoshita. As spokesman for the Wolves, I must relay that there has been concern amongst some of our higher ranking officers regarding these orders. I have been authorized to offer you protection, if you should feel the need. However, in light of your... impressive reputation and record, I daresay that could be taken as an affront to your abilities."

Riya made a nearly inaudible sound of disapproval. "I daresay you are correct. Thank you for the notice. If any further information is received, I would appreciate being notified. Until that time, find a less traceable means of contacting me. I will be in touch."

Click.

Nearly eight months had passed since she had gone rogue from the International Fleet. In that time she'd killed an uncountable number of targets, had sold the plans she'd stolen from the IF Central Command Post, and at twenty-one, was a self-made millionaire and one of the Wolves' most valued assassins. Life was pleasant for Riya. She did her job and did it well, and being paid to do what she loved best nearly made her happy.

And now someone else was trying to kill her. Again.

Not surprising, that. Immediately after her defection, the SOTF had dispatched a pair of Agents to retrieve the plans and return her. They were too late. She was comfortably wealthy and living in her safehouse in L.A. when they had stupidly decided it was time to confront her, and Riya did not appreciate being hunted. She killed them easily. It gave her instant fame amongst the commanders of the Wolves, and added to her already favorable reputation after the theft of the Excalibur plans, she was given agent status and provided with information few non-IF officials were capable of obtaining.

It made her want to laugh. The Wolves, despite their subversive reputation against the International Fleet, were still what she considered amateurs. Take her cell phone, for example. They used it to contact her. She knew the line was traceable, for she'd done just that; traced Wilkes' calls back to his office in southern Florida. Surely, they could do the same, but with more than twenty safehouses scattered across the world, and the means necessary to survive more than comfortably, Riya was a nomad. She could be out of any state within an hour. It made her hard to hunt. It made her a ghost.

That, and they believed she was loyal to them. Riya was loyal to no one but herself. It was just that the Wolves paid her more than any other paramilitary outfit she'd contracted with, and she liked money.

She glanced down at her watch and silently reprimanded herself. Already one o'clock; more than half the day wasted. It bothered her that she could have slept so long; it made her feel as if she were losing touch, and if she hadn't been absolutely exhausted, she certainly would have punished herself for her indolence. She hadn't been sleeping well lately. No, not just lately; for the past eight months. She almost felt vulnerable when she slept, and the security of invisibility had faded since she'd gone rogue. It was just her imagination, she always told herself. There was nothing out of the ordinary, being paranoid and wary at all times now. After all, she was a fugitive. It was healthy to sleep with her guns and feel foolish for imagining people following her in the shadows.

Truth was, Riya was missing something. The same something that used to sleep beside her, that fed into her constructed vision of immortality, and that provided her with the companionship she did not want from the rest of humanity and tried to compensate for in her killings. She was without her partner.

It was ridiculous, to think that she could miss the girl. She'd just gotten in her way. She'd just been immature and irritating, and she talked too much. She wasn't a cold-blooded killer like herself. She was just a liability.

But Riya missed Thoth.

"Baka," she muttered quietly as she stood and stretched. It wouldn't do to sit and dwell over the past. What was done was done, and she'd left Thoth with all she'd ever wanted to know about her. Riya tried to reassure herself that the girl would want nothing to do with her after she'd realized she was a murderer. A sociopath didn't have friends. They didn't.

She pulled on her trousers and plunked down onto the floor to lace up her boots. Holsters on each ankle were secured, and she slipped a pair of .45 automatic glocks into them. Another matching pair of Browning High-Powers were tight against her ribs in a dual underarm shoulder holster, and Riya buttoned her loose coat over herself to hide the weaponry. A knife in her wrist sheath, a garrotte wire in the collar of her shirt, and she was Thanatos personified and ready to kill.

She slipped from her suite with one last look around the empty, barren room, and began to stalk down the street.

A month back Keith had come to her with the job. Kill Colonel B. F. Skinner. Easy job really. Eddy had gotten her the forged papers, she'd altered records to make everything match up and herself look like a perfectly trustworthy angel, she'd gotten a job as a secretary and it went from there. Everything that she thought that she would have trouble finding out was easy. The other secretaries didn't know what was said in the bedroom or the office should stay there.

Skinner. She still didn't understand why exactly they wanted him eliminated. Someone had their priorities out of array. From what she'd heard back at Soldats headquarters, it had sounded like this man was dangerous. He knew too much. He could destroy the organization.he seemed like a sort of puppy dog. Didn't matter. The job was easier than expected and the cash was already in her account. She didn't like working for Reeder, the man was an idiot, but he'd inherited the organization when Phil died. She doubted Reeder trusted her, she didn't blame him either. If it weren't for the money she'd kill him herself. In fact, maybe that was a good idea. Everyone else would probably thank her anyway. He'd made the organization that Phil had built up a complete joke. She'd joined because of what Phil had done for her, she'd given her allegiance to Phil, Reeder hadn't done shit to deserve anything. Except die. Yes, it would be a day of rejoicing when he was out of the picture. Keith would probably take over for the blundering idiot. Then she might admit to being associated with the Soldat organization once again.. until then she'd just stay out of sight out of mind.

A month since she'd acquired her job at the IF Headquarters. A month of waiting and listening and shifting through databases while evading any triggers and alarms. She'd found out who he met with what transpired, when he was going out of town, what messages he sent to others within the IF. Enough information to sell or give at her whim. Enough information to know that he was leaving tomorrow to go to meeting over in Egypt. And she really didn't want to go to Egypt and Reeder was getting antsy for him dead. She'd do it today. She'd gotten the gun in via Keith under the charade of a plumber since the toilets mysteriously started leaking. He'd wanted a tour anyway; he'd always wondered what the enemy's headquarters looked like. It was a lot easier to get it done that way than try worry about how she'd get it through the security today.

"Where are you off to?"

Asuka spun, her hair swinging with her and a smile spread wide as she took in Justin standing in the doorway in his boxers. "Where else would I be going?"

He covered the few steps between him in seconds striding in his usual graceful manner. "Can't you go in late today? I don't have any appointments until 10. If I can take off until then, you can also. I give you permission." He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close. "I am your boss after all, I can do that."

Asuka let the briefcase fall to the floor and slipped her arms up Justin's chest and around his neck. He really was quite cute for being employed by the IF. Dirty blond hair. Chocolate eyes. Strong muscles. He rated the best she'd seen for a long time. Too bad she had to leave. "You know that I'd love to stay here with you, more than anything." She smiled up at him before getting up on her tiptoes to kiss him, he pulling her in tighter and returning it. When they came apart she turned and picked up the briefcase. "But someone has to be around if something goes wrong. Wouldn't want any pompous generals breathing down your neck now would we?" She saw him cringe slightly. He'd told her about the General chewing him out after an information leak somewhere beneath his command. And he'd also told her a lot of other things too. Although he had beautiful lips, he just didn't know how to keep them closed, not that she minded of course.

"Are you leaving today then?" He still believed her cover story for taking time off to get away. So beautiful and yet so gullible. She'd told him that her mother had taken ill and she needed to go visit her in Toronto and that she'd be back in a few days. How is it that she'd known him only a month and yet he trusted her so completely? She felt a little sorry for him vaguely wondering what he would think when he found out the truth.

"Yes, my plane leaves at one. The replacement will take over after lunch time."

"Call me when you get there?"

"Of course." She doubted that she would, but it would satisfy him for now. She gave him another kiss before leaving. Part of her wanted to stay. But it wouldn't work out… An assassin for a paramilitary group just didn't have real relationships with a high ranked military officer. Maybe some day when he got out. She'd have to keep an eye on him, wouldn't want anyone else to steal such a prize.

The weather was nice out so she walked the four blocks to the IF headquarters. Probably the last time that she would take a walk like this around here. Beautiful place really, but she wouldn't miss it much. The streets of Berlin were much less crowded than Manhattan, she definitely wouldn't miss the crowds. She gave a little wink at the security guard as she went through the detectors. Cute guy. Nothing compared to Justin but still nice. Why had she always thought so badly of the military when there were people like them working for it? The guard gave her a shy smile and handed her the briefcase after barely glancing through it. She probably would have been able to smuggle the gun in herself. But that took the risk of not knowing for certain if he would be there. She didn't live by risking that much.

The fourth floor was a bustle of activity as usual, anything less and she would have turned around and walked out certain that they had found out. She exchanged friendly banter with some of the other workers as she made her way to her desk and sat down. The Colonel would be in his office until 12:15. Meeting with Captain Stanford at 3. Meeting with General Davis at 4:15. Lunchtime would be best. Less people around, easier to get out. No one would hear with the silencer but every precaution could be the one that would save her life.

Justin came in around 9:15 and called her to his office. The rooms were virtually sound proof, at least the walls, you could still hear things from under the door. And there were no windows out to the main floor. Privacy. "I've confirmed you appointment for Captain Hayes for 10. Lieutenant Mitchell will meet you over at the cafe on Park street at 11:30. Colonel Reems wants to meet with you at 3. And then you're free for the rest of the day." He wasn't even listening. Just sitting there staring off into space. "Uhh.. Sir?" He jolted to awareness. He hated her calling him that but if she did anything less it would probably get more people to take notice of what she did than she wanted.

He got up and walked around the perimeter of the room before stopping right behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know that he was there, she could hear his footsteps. He closed in to her and sliped his arms around her and held her tightly breathing in the smell of her hair. Her eyes dropped clossed and she had to remind herself what she was here for. Kill Skinner. Perhaps it was good that she was leaving today, any longer and she might not be able to. "Are you sure that you have to leave?"

She gave a nod. He already knew the answer.. why did he even ask? He let his head rest on her shoulder and started kissing her neck. He slowly turned her around and just stood there staring at her for a moment. "Have a wonderful trip." He placed two fingers under her chin and tilted it up. "I'll wait for your call." He kissed her gently, more gently than usual. It made her slightly uneasy. Did he suspect something? Had someone found out and told him? No... she'd been too careful. She'd taken care of everything. He couldn't be. He broke away and made his way to his desk resuming the demenor that he took up in the presence of his peers. "Go ahead and send in Hayes when he arrives"

"Yes sir." She turned and left. The rest of the day drug on, taking phone calls, arranging appointments, dictating messages. Twelve rolled around and she was about to take her lunch break. She wasn't expected to come back since she was taking off for a few days and by the time they figured out what had happened Skinner would be dead and she'd be on her way back to Berlin. The floor was nearly empty. Everyone in the cubicles were on their break and most people in the offices had their doors closed and were on the phone or in meetings. She opened the drawer and took out her purse slipping the gun inside. She hit a button on the computer to print out a document and left. Very convenient how the network printer was right outside the colonel's office. She was just around the corner from the office when she heard a what could have only been a gunshot.

The last bodyguard slumped to the floor at her feet, his face a mass of bloody tissue and shattered bone. Riya frowned. It was so irritating when they resisted. The first three had been simple, quick deaths, but the fourth was undoubtedly the same SOTF agent she'd seen with her target before. He'd tried to shoot her. She didn't appreciate that.

A sound from behind changed her frown into a tiny hint of a smile, and she slowly turned around to face the man who sat in the corner of the room, fumbling as he attempted to shove a clip into the gun he held in shaking hands. What a sad little man. She almost felt ridiculous, killing him; he appeared nowhere as dangerous or anything near murder-worthy as he huddled there. If she wasn't being paid an outrageous sum for this hit, she might have considered it beneath her abilities.

He looked up at her with wide eyes as she took a step closer, his fear making the harsh light in her midnight eyes soften to amusement. Then he even tried to intimidate her. "Don't you know who I am?! I'm a Colonel in the International Fleet! You can't kill me!" He finally succeeded in loading the gun, but he double-cocked it in his haste, and her smile grew. Baka. Too long out of the real killing fields, and look what a soldier turned into. Pathetic, really, and he pushed to his feet and aimed the weapon straight at her. A little bolder now that he had his toy. "Back away, you bitch. I'm calling the fucking guards, and you're going to the Belt."

He actually had the nerve to reach for the call button. Riya shot him in the face, and he slumped over his desk.

What a nuisance.

She tucked the gun back into her belt and looked disdainfully at the bodies on the floor. What was that litany? Step on a crack, and break your mother's back... She made an inaudible hiccup of enjoyment and nimbly hopped over the fallen bodyguards, careful to avoid the puddles of blood and scattered remains. Where once Riya had agonized over leaving any trace of her presence, it was nothing concerning now. She was a fugitive. She was a rogue Agent of Legion. They already knew that the white-haired ghost who killed their officers was one of their own. No need to hide her fingerprints or change her modus operandi. She was free to leave her mark.

The bag she'd dropped inside the window lay open, and she quickly snatched the rappel belt from inside and began to hook herself into the static line she'd previously secured to the roof of the IF headquarters. She liked rappelling; ever since her L3 final in the SO-AIT, when she'd dropped from the ceiling after disabling Hale, she'd made it a point to practice regularly and use it as often as the situation warranted. It reminded her of the look on his face after she'd appeared from thin air and smiled at him. She liked to think she'd get another chance like that someday; another opportunity to watch him through her scope and pull the trigger.

Riya was standing in the windowsill, clipping her 'biner and ATC to the rope, when there were footsteps on the other side of the office doors. The gun was instantly out of its holster, and she was holding the line in one hand and her pistol in the other when a girl burst into the room, a revolver raised and a scowl on her face as she took one look at the carnage and met Riya's eyes.

"Goddamnit! I wanted to kill him!"

Something like laughter flitted behind her eyes, and Riya raised an eyebrow at the girl, gave the tiniest, coldest hint of a smile, and whispered "Cafe Florian" before she threw herself backwards out the window.

"Goddamnit! I wanted to kill him!"

The other girls cold expression shifted slightly as she rose an eyebrow. "Cafe Florian". And she was gone. Asuka could hear footsteps down the hall. MPs. She glanced down at her gun. Damn it all! She was not going to get caught now especially after she hadn't even been able to do the kill herself. She shoved the gun into her left boot. It left a slight bulge but they wouldn't notice, safer than trying to stash it somewhere only for them to find it later. So far she had done a good job at leaving no evidence to even make people suspicious of someone matching her appearance; she was not about to start now.

The MPs started gushing into the room and Asuka was trapped. A few held their guns trained on her others were inspecting the bodies. They expected survivors? When they'd been shot in the face? She held her hands up putting on her best terror-stricken and confused face. A minute later she found herself being led out onto the main floor with two MPs flanking her. She could run... and make it certain to them that she was involved.. but if she played it out.. she could get out of here fine. How easy would it have been to try escaping a building as big as this if you had every MP in the building after you? Didn't look promising. Risks she didn't want to take... and all because of that girl...

The brought her into one of the empty offices and set her down in the chair keeping their guns trained on her. After what seemed like an hour, although in reality, probably much less, a captian entered scowling at her. A captain all for her? But she hadn't even done anything... The questioning drug on much longer... Why was she in there? She heard a gunshot. How did she get there so fast? She was already down there to pick up the printout, which was still at the printer as evidence of that fact. They'd implied that she'd done it, but after her award winning performance at pretending to be shooken up and some tears they slowly gave ground. Eventually they'd asked if she'd seen who it was and what they looked like. She told them. The white hair the dark blue eyes... and they froze. And a few minutes later she was free to go. It wasn't until she was halfway down the street that it dawned on her.

White hair like a ghost. Midnight blue eyes, cold as ice with a mercy even colder. But it couldn't be. She didn't work for Reeder, she worked for the Wolves.... Unless...

"Cafe Florian".... What did she want? To kill her because she knew that it was her who'd killed the Colonel? No. She'd had plenty of time to take her out in the office why would she do it in a cafe. It made no sense. There would be too many people at the cafe to just shoot someone. But then again it was even more crazy to go into a building full of military personel and shoot someone, and she'd been planning on doing that herself.. Only one way to find out. Besides if Noir wanted her dead she'd turn up dead eventually... Asuka had a good reputation in the business but Noir hadn't been around nearly as long and had an even better rep... she wouldn't have been able to hide long even if she wanted to.

And if it got out of hand, she could always kill the girl. That made Riya feel better.

She rode her Ninja through the streets. Ironic, that she, the daughter of parents slain in a motorcycle accident, would use such a vehicle. But she liked it. It was fast, and maneuverable, and she wouldn't have to lean out the window to shoot at followers as had happened before in enclosed cars. That, and it was sleek and white, and Riya liked the story of death riding a pale horse. She grinned to herself at the thought.

Other motorists honked their horns and cursed loudly at her as she wove in and out of traffic, running red lights and skidding around corners. The wind whipped her long hair behind her in a snowy cloud, and the wraparound Celenes' blacked out her eyes. She rode, and reviewed the information she'd obtained during her search.

Asuka Boddington. Assassin for Soldats, one of the smaller paramilitary organizations that operated apart from the reign of the Wolves. They had been a promising unit a few years back, with their leader being considered for potential agent acceptance into the Wolves. His death had brought about a change of command, and their new commander was one of the targets on the very, very long list of assassination orders Riya had been given. She just hadn't gotten around to him yet; not high enough of a priority. Save him for a bad day. An easy hit to lift her spirits.

But this girl... she had potential. Reading her dossier had reminded Riya of another killer she knew, one who was as hot-headed and manipulative as Boddington. Too bad Quistin never got into the business. Riya would have killed her eventually if she had, but it would have been amusing, at least for awhile. Perhaps Boddington would prove to be as entertaining as Quistin could have been. If not, her gun chambers were full, and the girl could only run for so long.

The Cafe Florian came into sight, and she pulled to the curb in front of the restaurant, kicking the stand and sliding off before her forward movement had even come to a halt. She brushed her hair back, folded the sunglasses into her front pocket, and walked through the french doors, past the tables, and straight to the booth in back where her prey sat.

There were words before she'd even sat down. "Hello, Noir."

She raised an eyebrow again, this time in careful calculation, and folded her arms across her chest. That this movement put her hand on the butt of her pistol, secured in its underarm shoulder holster, apparently did not pass the girl, who grinned angrily at her. Riya schooled her expression back to cold neutrality, nodded once, and leaned back lazily in her chair as she regarded Boddington through veiled midnight eyes.

She froze, her eye fixed on Noir. She hadn't considered that Noir would be able to find out who she was so quickly considering she didn't think she was that well known. Soldats wasn't anything near the Wolves especially with Reeder in charge. But then again it hadn't exactly been a surprise that Noir had figured it out. Asuka picked the newspaper up off the table and folded it up and placing it in her briefcase again.

As she turned back to Noir she remembered the gun tucked in her boot. Now that Noir was actually here and she was aware of who she actually was, she was feeling a little unsure. Before she'd shown it all had seemed so safe but she wasn't sure how much she could trust her, and before she actually realized who the other girl was the easier it had been to glare at the girl and yell at her for shooting the colonel.....

For shooting the colonel.

The tramp! She had no right! Wolf or no wolf... I was there I had claim. She stole my kill! Does she realize how long it took me to get that set up? To get all the information? To plan the right time? All with minimum risks of being discovered or even identified? If you were anyone else I'd shoot you right here. I'm sure someone would pay me for killing you off...

Asuka narrowed her eyes letting the silence between them linger a bit before leaning forward her arms folded on the table. She scowled at Noir and dropped her voice low enough that no ease droppers could easily hear. "Do you realize what the fucking hell you did back there? You. Stole. My Kill. Weibsbilden. And then of course I was stuck there to deal with the MPs. Oh yes! Look at me, just hop out the window and let the little secretary get screwed over. Oh yes. How fun. Not that we're subtle or anything."

"There will be others, Boddington. There are always others."

She gave a quick, insincere smile that faded from her features before it even began, and set about surveying the girl before her. Long red hair, almost as long as her own. Eyes that were a shaded green-blue, almost the color of the ocean, and predictably, that scowl. She didn't look very tall, or strong, or even particularly dangerous. Riya wondered how many weapons the girl was carrying. She bet she had more.

But what was fascinating was that this Soldats assassin wanted Skinner hit, too. Very interesting. Riya expected a certain level of orders from the Wolves. They knew better than to give her easy kills; she considered it an affront to her abilities, and they considered it a waste of money, to pay her hit fee when they could easily find a lesser assassin. So this Skinner had to be, consequently, a prominent figure. Her research of him had yielded little. Thus, it must be in intelligence, and it must be important. Routine enough. But why would some little backwater organization like Soldats have the audacity or the means to put out an order on the Colonel?

"That is not my concern," she said coldly, and toyed lazily with the butt of her pistol; not enough of a movement to draw attention from the general populace, but definitely enough that Boddington, assassin that she was, would take note. Riya did not appreciate being berated for things that were not of her doing. She had been contracted, she had completed her mission, and now, she would be paid. That Boddington had her own agenda did not really interest Riya. That she had interrupted the other girl's hunt was not a concern. Perhaps other hunters had strict rules about entering another's territory, but Riya obeyed no man's law but her own, and Boddington could either learn politeness very quickly, or Riya would teach it to her.

That's it? Noir didn't care in the least. Stuck up, arrogent tramp. Was the girl *trying* to get a rise out of her? Quite possibly... A lot of effort just to get a little afternoon entertainment. Why not just go buy some little dolls, tie strings to them and make them you're little puppets. Pull their strings and make them do what you want. Living with the illusion of having the absolute power over something must be more entertaining than poking someone and seeing how far they'd go before they snap.

Somewhere in the back of her head a voice was screaming at her to mellow down or she'd get shot. Maybe that voice was right. Noir was playing with the butt of her gun. Asuka cursed herself for taking the job of being a secretary as cover. She cursed herself for making herself go to work unarmed everyday for a month. And she cursed herself that her other guns and weapons were in her appartment a good five blocks away. Almost as far away as the gun in her boot.

Asuka sat up and leaning on the table again, folding her arms over each other. She'd probably already burried herself in a hole with her smart-ass mouth, no sense making it worse by Noir having suspicions about her going for the gun. What the hell was she doing here anyway? She wondered if subconciously she had a deathwish...

A waitress made her way over to the booth and Asuka shifted her glare in her direction causing the girl to suddenly remember something that she forgot. She turned back looking to Noir droping her glare and her scowl.

What did Boddington mean by why? Why did Riya kill Skinner? That was easy. She was paid to, and it was fun. Maybe it was why Riya didn't care she'd interrupted the other assassin' hit. That wasn't too difficult of a question to respond to either; it was every hitman for himself. You didn't ask people if they were planning on killing someone, just so you could be certain not to interrupt them. It didn't seem like a very logical question. Perhaps Boddington was asking why Riya had even given her the means to meet with her.

To that question, Riya didn't know the answer.

It was amusing, that much was certain. No one, save Thoth, had ever had either the courage or the stupidity to show such disrespect. It was just not done with her, with Riya Kinoshita, with the Wolves' Agent Noir. So in its rarity, it was a rather entertaining change from cold politeness and military civility. That, and Riya was in desperate need of entertainment. She couldn't kill someone every day, and in the interim between hits, she found herself stuck in her suite, avoiding the agents that the IF kept sending after her and sitting around sullenly.

Then Boddington tilted her head slightly, and gave a slight frown, and Riya was struck by how similar to Thoth this girl was. She hadn't noticed it before. She even looked like her, and now she was doing that same tilt of the chin and expression that Thoth always used to fix her with when she was angry yet curious. The comparison was disturbing, and Riya removed her hand from her weapon, blinked in mild surprise, and glanced lazily around the restaurant.

Asuka made a motion to the waitress and the girl came over a little apprehensively, probably remembering the glare Asuka had given her earlier. "I'll have a water, no ice... and a baked potato." The waitress turned to Noir. "Get something, It's lunch time. Our jobs after all give us a good appetite. My treat. Besides, I got paid for the job in advance anyway."

But Boddington was making a rather belated attempt at civility, and for lack of any other reaction or tactic, Riya followed suit. She smiled politely at the waitress, made a show of thinking flightily about what she wanted, and finally asked for some tea and soup. It got her a grin that turned nervous the moment Boddington made a face of disgust, but despite the same sentiment, she maintained the facade. Wouldn't do to attract unnecessary attention by being rude. It was dangerous enough being seen in such a public place, when those Legion had been so recently dispatched. She'd have to switch houses again tonight. Maybe London would be nice. Or Japan. She could visit Yamomoto, and pick up some new toys, and...

Noir was pretty much a celebrity in her line of work even though she'd been in it a shorter period of time than some of the others. She assassinated her hits like it was going out of style. She had more jobs done in her short period of time in the business than Asuka had in twice as much time. But then again, Noir didn't seem to care if anyone knew who'd done the hit, and she doubted that she spent a month to get everything in place either. She'd heard all sorts of rumors where Noir came from, where she'd gotten her training.. and didn't believe a word of it. And where the Wolves found her.. she had no idea where to begin.. the Wolves...

"Nn, iie," she murmured quietly, setting down her cup in order to stir her soup idly. She tasted it, and then stirred some more, and was toying with the handle of her spoon for a few moments before looking up to meet Boddington's gaze. "I was unaware of a Soldats order. Perhaps you might advise your commander not to interfere with another organization's contracting."

Boddington made a sound of a disagreement and opened her mouth to speak; Riya just raised a hand and resumed sipping her tea. Every time the other girl would make to speak, Riya would just fix her with that same blank look that had been worn when so many men were sent to their deaths, and silence would continue. It wasn't that she didn't want to speak, or couldn't find anything to say; but it was risky, this conversation, and she was busy weighing her options.

What did she have to lose, realistically? The International Fleet's Agents of Legion were unable to capture and kill her, and she was one of their own, one of the best. Reeder and his sorry excuse for a paramilitary unit and his hired guns couldn't touch her. No one could touch her. She was Noir. Her ego reasserted that fact, and she almost smiled, her eyes shading to the happy, soft blue that was always present when she killed. It was to act, to play a little. She only hoped Boddington would know well enough to play along when Riya wanted some amusement.

The glare did come though when Noir implied that she was a novice. How dare she! If she'd found out who she was she would have known that. She knew who Reeder was. She know what Soldats was and what a joke Reeder had made the organization. She wouldn't have missed anything like that. Asuka had been working much longer than Noir and the other girl must have known that full well. Why the hell was she doing this?!

"No need to go for that. I see no need for violence here." She smiled politely at Boddington and placed her teacup in its saucer, then took a spoonful of soup and smiled again. "Mmm, oishii. Delicious. How is yours?" Boddington fixed her with a suspicious look, and Riya shrugged and dropped the act. Her face fell into familiar blank lines, and she regarded the girl flatly. "Very well. I will drop the pretense."

"You were close to having me. I was careless." Riya folded her arms across her chest again and leaned back. "I am not sorry for taking your order. But it was impolite of me. Perhaps I will have to owe you." The implication of such did not please her, but the thought of hunting alongside this girl was promising enough to disregard most of her wariness, and she blinked in anticipation.

She took one last sip of tea and then stood, brushing the hair away from her face as she glanced down at the girl. "But I must leave, before I am found. Have you ever visited Paris? Mayhaps I will have to show you around the city someday." Riya leaned closer. "And I am Riya."

"Ja ne." In one fluid motion she twisted up and walked away. She could feel the girl's eyes upon her as she left the cafe, and a tiny hint of a smile touched her lips before she flicked her glasses back on, slipped onto the bike, and was gone in a flurry of wind. Back to her apartment. It was time to pack, and time to leave.

At first, just after they'd found out, sleep had felt like betrayal. To sleep was to say that her father hadn't mattered, that he'd meant so little to her that she could be at peace enough to sleep the day he was murdered. She hadn't expected to sleep that night. She hadn't even tried.

The next morning they'd seen the picture. That little scrap of a trail had been enough to give her all the energy she'd ever need. Purpose was a precious thing, and Sol had grasped it with both hands and ridden it across the country, and not once had she felt that energy flag until she'd gone back into the little bedroom for her clothes and seen, truly seen what she had done.

Now the plane ride seemed hours long - days long - and Sol was tired. It wasn't incapacitating, not yet, but she could feel herself slowly sinking towards eventual slumber, and that made her angry enough to stay awake.

The plane touched down a few moments ahead of schedule, and she and Gabe emerged into the airport. La Guardia was just as busy as Los Angeles had been, and they threaded through the crowds and outside into the thick air of the parking area to flag down a taxi. As they had in Los Angeles, they took it to a location within a few blocks of their destination.

The man in the wire-rimmed glasses strode through the terminal at La Guardia, shadowing a young couple at twenty-five meters. "Oui."

"I ran the photos you shot back at LAX, but those two aren't in any operative database I've got access to. They're either Wolves or freelancers, and unknowns either way."

"Widen your search. They've had training."

"Military?"

"Spetznaz or Metsada, probably," he replied.

"I'll see what I can find."

"Enrique," the man said, hands trading his phone and his briefcase, "I would like to know exactly what it is I'm doing here."

A pause. "Come on, Henri. These two waxed Cole; we need to know who they are, and why they did it."

"He is dead. This is a job for those moles you mentioned. I have business in Marseilles."

"Henri..."

"I was promised an easy operation. 'Just cleaning, no bodyguards, no complications.' I had better know everything you know, Enrique. Do not string me along."

"Henri, you know I'd never do that to you."

"Find me something on these two." The man in the wire-rimmed glasses cut the connection.

The couple caught a cab, and Henri had another follow them. When they stopped in downtown Manhattan, Henri instructed his driver to keep going. He was dropped off around a corner a block ahead, and after confirming the couple's direction, took a long loop around the block to end up behind them.

His quarry disappeared into the parking garage of a nine-story office building. The logo above the lobby doors read VANGUARD, LTD.

Completely, utterly empty.

They searched the building floor by floor, room by room. There were no people, but that was not the disturbing thing. The disturbing thing was the lack of anything else. There were no desks in the offices. There were no computers or filing cabinets. There were no doors.

Even the faceplates were missing from the power outlets and phone jacks.

It wasn't until they reached the seventh floor that they found anything at all. A phone cord trailed from a wall jack to an answering machine in the corner of one of the empty offices. There was no phone attached. The LCD display on its face reported one message. The caller ID listed no phone number; they had used a scrambled connection.

Gabe stood silently, staring down at the little black box. And then, because at that moment he knew that they had reached a dead end, he reached down and ripped the cord from the wall.

Because there was nothing else to do.

He lifted his head to look at Sol. And saw the shadow on the corridor wall outside, in the instant before it melted into the others.

A man's shadow.

And it had to be a ghost. There were no footsteps, no breathing, no noise of any kind, and Sol couldn't swear she'd seen someone ahead of her, but she followed the flickers in the darkness the same way she'd followed the picture to David Cole in Los Angeles. Determination left no room for uncertainty, and that was exactly the way she had to have it.

They chased the ghost out into the light of day, and it vanished like it hadn't been. There was a healthy crowd of New York pedestrian traffic, and none of them looked like they were in a hurry for anything more than a board meeting. But there were footprints in the dust just inside the doorway too big for her and too small for Gabe to prove that even ghosts wore excellent quality soft-soled shoes.

Standing in broad daylight with knives in their hands was going to draw stares sooner or later. Sol put hers away and then turned around to look up at Gabe. The exhaustion that had lifted briefly came crashing down on her, and she let her shoulders and head drop slightly and blinked at him.