NationStates Jolt Archive

ACT ONE: PROLOGUE

An unknown location, near the northern border, United Indiastan

A number, like any other. That's all she was. Number six-hundred and seven. Her bunk was a bunk like any other, the middle of three, set along the stone wall in the rooming hall. The other initiates were all like her; girls in their mid teens, from all over the world, sent here to train under the auspices of the Navis Nobilite: the almost ancient institution for the training of female telepaths. This was the one hundredth and seventy eighth initiate class that the Navis had taken in over it's two hundred year history. Kestrel felt she should probably be impressed, but somehow wasn't.

She'd been assigned a rating too - she was a P6. According to the rating system, P1's and 2's could pick up surface thoughts and emotions - they were called Empaths. P3's and 4's were the true Telepaths - they could read and send thoughts, sense, and even suggest emotions. P's 4-9 were the Enhanced. They possessed either precognative abilities, allowing her to see into the limited future and predict the immediate actions of those around her, or they had telekinetic ability. Both groups too had full telepathy in addition to their more unsual attributes. . Lastly, there was the virtually unheard of P10 - the legend says that only one P10 would ever exist at a time, they were so powerful. It was rumored that the Navis Headmistress was the only P10 alive in the entire world. It was also said that she could see the future, and kill with her thoughts - such tales generally abounded about a boarding school.

The initiates had been warned that the training wasn't for everyone, and that some students would be forced to drop out. There was no shame in it, they said, but they also said that they couldn't allow untrained telepaths out into society. Because of that, they'd actually implant a suppression chip that would inhibit the owner's telepathic senses. It was also said that the mental dicipline that the Navis required actually drove the male human mind insane, so that was why no boys attended the school. They were all given suppression chips instead. The training itself was to last six years, which was usually when the girls turned twenty two. To Kestrel, that almost felt like a lifetime.

The instructors, all obvious graduates themselves, all looked eerily familiar: there skin had turned a ghostly pale white, while their other features; hair, eyes, lips, even their tounge, had become ashen black. This was supposedly caused by the mental strain caused on the brain. It would happen to all of them, so they had been told not to be alarmed by it. It still freaked out more then a few of the sixteen year olds, nonetheless.

One Year Later

The Initiate training was over. Of the seven hundred initiates, thirty six had dropped out at the easiest level. The first year's focus was mostly upon mental dicipline: learning that no matter how much you might want to, you shouldn't go reading people's thoughts. The blocking out of 'broadcasted thoughts' was another part; normals didn't, and couldn't, know that their minds are like open books to those who can read them, and it was against this tempation that the Navis sisters needed the most instruction and discipline. Kestrel was deemed to be an exceptional student, in the top 10%, which pleased her mother quite well when she got the annual report on her daughter. This was the first time she'd done well in school ever, so the turn around was greeted with pleasent suprise.

Still, the second year looked even more challanging then th first. Now neophytes, the class would start the physical training process, while moving on to developing more advanced mental skills. It was said that this was the part that drove the early male students insane, and Kestrel wasn't sure she'd make it - she never was any good at sports or anything when she was younger.

Eight Months After That

Exhausted was a good description of the state of the entire class. Their fitness training was supposedly adapted from the army, and had run more then a few girls ragged. Combined with the stressfull mental conditioning, almost all of the girls had started blanching. Even Kestrel's hair had turned black, and she looked more pale then ever. She'd also grown about two inches, and put on about ten pounds of muscle weight, but those were afterthoughts. But she could run a mile in under ten minutes, which was quite the feat for her. It also earmarked her as a candidate for the Ghosts, but the inductees for that program wouldn't be told for at least another year and a half. So, in the mean time, the studies and training continued.

*Poof*
TAGGED!
*Poof*

Year Three: Ghost training, eighty miles east of the main Navis compund

Of the five hundred and ninety six remaining sisters, one hundred were chosen to be removed from the program in order to participate in the Navis's secret Ghost program. The second year course had taught the girls self-defence martial arts, but now they were learning those of the offensive variety. Gun training, sword training, stealth, infiltration, and reconnisence were the important topics. By the end of the year, all were expected to be profficent in nearly all weapons possible - because the Ghost never knows where she'll be sent next. More running, more weightlifting, more of everything that could wear down the endurence of the trainees, trying to crack their developing mental barriers. A few did crack under the stress, and they were medicated and removed form the program, but it was neccisary to break the fragile ones here, in order to protect the reputation of the Navis. Everyone else coped, more or less, but not before every last one of them had gone stark white; this, as it happens, is the aspect from which the combat group drew it's name. Not that anyone besides them knew their names, but if they had to gues, that was usually part of the reason they'd think of the name.

0330, Pakistani Wastelands

Seventeen of the trainee Ghosts stood at attention behind the Avenger APC, while their drill seargent began going over the mission specs. They had all donned full combat gear, and were preparing themselves for their first field exersize. they had been told it woudl be a live-fire training experience, but they hadn't been told that they would actually be killing people. Three years ago, the group of teens probably couldn't aim a gun properly, but now they had been molded into highly efficent killers. They were almost frightening to be around, as they'd adapted to the knowledge that they were trained killers, but had yet to re-establish their own, "civilian" personalities, leaving them being cold, sadistic, and entirely unpleasent.

And Kestrel was the Squad Leader.

The mission itself was fairly simple. An enclave of wanted indivduals had been located on the fringes of Indiastan territory, and enclave harbouring known terrorists and fugatives from the breif Keshava Uprising several years past. This enclave, and all who dwelled in it, was to be eliminated. A simple building to build search and destroy mission. Resistance was expected to increase as awareness of the raid grew, but the threat was not supposed to be great. The squad would disembark about a quarter mile frmoteh target, and inflitrate in on foot. Eighteen Ghosts vs. a village of several hundred. A piece of cake.

0501, Deep Wasteland Training Mission J-7C

Seven buildings down, twelve to go. The children had been the hardest, sleeping so peacefully, unaware that they'd never wake again. No alarms had been raised, nothing and no one had stirred, despite nearly thirty people having been killed in the last ten minutes. Two Ghosts to a house, cleared using knives and swords, rifles shouldered untill resistance appears. The objective, it was told during the ride, was to eliminate as much of the opposition without firing a shot.

The house Kestrel and her teammate approached was about as nondescript as it could get. Built out of alablaster and what looked like mud, the doorway was open and unprotected. Right before stepping through the cloth "door," she saw the first obstacle. A dog was lying curled up in the corner on the opposite side of the room, just accross from three people sleeping head up against the wall. Silently, she drew out her sidearm, an air-powered needle gun, loaded with sedative darts. After she screwed the silencer in, she droped to her knees and fired the dart into the dog's hindequarters. It whimpered slightly, but didn't stir. Good. She holstered her pistol, drew out the twelve inch blade that she'd been using, and crept into the room in a crouch, her teammate right behind her. Suddenly, the covered ended. A scream erupted from the neighbouring house; someone who'd gotten up for a drink had come back to find their husband being slaughtered, and let loose with the vocals. The cry was short lived, though, as it was promptly cut off and replaced by a faint gurgling, followed by a thump. This caused the three people who were previously asleep not more then five feet away from Kestrel's knife shoot up and yell themselves before they could be rushed and silenced. After quickly checking the rest of the small house for people and finding none, the pair clean and put their blades away, and check the clips and charges on their hellguns. It was going to be a long night.

This cleverly disguised tag is slightly surprised regarding the suppression chips for males. Since, ya'know...

Hold the rifle up to your shoulder. Look down the barrel. Lead the target if it is moving. Relax. Squeeze the trigger. Snap-CRACK! The two-stage shot rips through the air. The particle laser, unseen while traveling at the speed of light, slices into the soft flesh of the child running between houses carrying an old AK and a few belts of ammunition. Less then a second later, the gun jumps as the caseless rocket of a shell is expelled down the secondary barrel, the mini-missile boring in on the spot already cut open by the laser. Upon hitting the now-exposed flesh of the target, in this case the running child's back, the shell explodes messily, leaving very little left of the target's chest. Targets, that's all they were. One kill. Find the next. Kestrel sees with her other sight a man appear in the window accross from her, a floor up, armed with an old American rifle. She takes aim, and as she saw, he appeares right on time. Exhale, squeeze the trigger. Target now sans head. Suppression fire being applied to buildings accross the street. Good. Advance route clear to the next house. Move on. Take aim. Kill.

---

Two hours later

The squad assembled at the eastern entrance to the small walled village. Ther APC had pulled up after the firing started, in case they needed help. Kestrel, under the watchfull eyes of her sergent, took stock of her squad. Six of them had suffered from minor gunshot wounds, one a moderetly severe hit, and one trooper appeared a little shell shocked from a concussive grenade that blew out the wall she was taking cover behind. No dead. A government Repo squad would be by later in the day to bury the bodies and the village. By nightfall, there'd be no sign anything happend here. Nothing, except the memories of the eighteen young women who had committed the massacre of the three hundred and twenty nine residents here. But they'd soon learn to forget, least they be able to sleep at night. Of course, that wouldn't stop the nightmares...

Six years later.

Graduation had come and gone. Her squad had been kept together, but right now they were off active duty rotation. Two years on, a year off. She'd made sergant in the last cycle. But even her precognative abilities wouldn't warn her how much change this off year would bring. Kestrel had moved out of the Navis barracks, as was her right, and moved to New Delhi. She'd never seen such a thriving metropolis before. She'd found work in a record store of all places, where they just figured she was really into emo music, and had accepted her at face value. She could feel the stares and looks people gave her, and it discomforted her. At least in the shop, she felt at home. It was on the job, less then a month after starting the job, that she met Ramesh. he was tall, dark, and handsome, with a gentle streak a mile wide. Their relationship proved to be the stuff of a romantic movie, but like most of those movies, it ended in tragedy.

It was a Tuesday morning, six months before she'd be due back for active duty, that she learned just how fast her relationship had taken her. She'd been feeling sick the last few weeks, so she decided to see her doctor. There, she found out she was pregnant. Naturally, this was a problem. She'd lose everything she'd worked for over the last ten years, her baby not the least of all. Life just seemed to come to a grinding halt. She couldn't keep the baby, that was sure. The chances of it being a telepath were about 50/50, which was enough for the Navis to take it away. She couldn't give the child to Ramesh, as she'd be back in the barracks before it was born. And she knew that she couldn't just run and not return. They'd find her, eventually, and the results would not be pretty. And not having the baby wasn't an option either. So what did she do? She waited. As her service notification came, she vanished, leaving nothing behind of her civilian life. That was hard enough. She knew there'd be no going back to that paticular life. But, when she got to the compound, things would start going down hill faster then she could ever imagine.

OOC: Indy.... you might have to count me out of this, as I have exams coming up.

They didn't let her keep the baby. Of course they didn't. She'd been relieved of duty during the last three months of the pregnancy, and confined to the barracks. The birth was painless enough; they performed a simple c-section, and cut her 'tubes while they were in there. She never even got to see the baby. When she came to, a few hours afterwards, one of the nurses mentioned offhand that it was a girl. She'd never know her daughter, though, later, her daughter would know her quite well.

The fallout of this would, in the end, have repercussions all over the world. Kestrel was expelled from the Navis, a punishment that at the time seemed a little light, as it was strictly forbidden for Sisters to breed without authorization. A week later, after a night of heavy drinking, she found out why they'd let her off so lightly.

The taxi driver let her off at the usual stop in front of her old apartment; the one she had shared with Svetson in what almost seemed like a different life. He was gone, but strangely the key still worked. Her things were all pretty much where she'd left them: in a heap. She found an assortment of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and tried to drown her sorrows in the bottles. It only really seemed to make things worse, untill she eventually fell asleep, crying.

---

They came in the middle of the night: three black-clad women, coming for Kestrel. They scaled the wall of the apartment building and broke in, silently, through the patio door. She was helpless. Before she could even wake up, they'd pinned her down physicly and mentally. Two of them held her down, while the third, the tall leader-like figure, produced a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid. Kestrel couldn't really struggle, and before she knew it the liquid was injected into her thigh. A few moments later, the effects hit her. It was a psychic stimulant, designed to heighten the senses of the user. It was a drug designed to produce telepathy in normals, but was said to be very effective for use when torturing people, due to the heightened sene of pain. Suddenly very aware of her peril, Kestrel started to attempt resistance, but this was met only with several blows to her still-tender abdomen. This pursuaded Kestrel to resist less.

The worst part hadn't even started. The taller leader pulled out a studfnider and began running it over the wall beside the bed. After a few minutes, she found a beam long enough for Kestrel's outstretched arms. Signalling the other two, they hauled her over to the wall and held out her arms to the level specified. The apparent leader then produced an extendable ballpeen hammer from her belt and a pair of large looking nails. These made Kestrel's eyes widen as the two shorter women held her arms out.

THUNk, THUNK, THUNK. The nails held her up to the wall while they started the next grisly punishment to the now rather distressed Kestrel. They had enough sense to gag her, as the screams would have surely alerted someone to what was happening. Of course, the hammering probably did, but the screams would be a much larger give-away. Brandishing a switchblade, the tall women set about the carving.

---

When the police found her that afternoon, they thought that she was dead. They were wrong though, despite the loss of blood and shallow pulse. Carved into her chest was the Navis crest, a spread-winged two-headed eagle with one eye. Not having ever seen the symbol before, the police thought her to be the victim of some sort of cult attack. Kestrel had stopped bleeding, at least, but the damage had been done. The scars would be there forever. And to add to the physical misery, they threw in some hefty mental blocks to shut out most of the basic memory-suppression techniques taught by the Navis. Now, no matter how hard she'd try, the memories of the killings from her training would never go away, indeed they'd never be far from the surface. She'd never sleep right again. If life could get worse, you'd have a hard time convincing Ms. Amea.

End of Act One

<tag>

<Tag>

Act Two: A Job's a Job

She'd spent two months in hospital after the ordeal. She'd spent nearly three years in therapy to help find new ways to convince her mind to forget the murders she'd already committed. It'd pay off, and her life would become normal again. Well, as normal as could be for a rouge telepath, brutally cast out of the only real home she'd ever known. Life went on, and Kestrel was a survivor. Wary of more reprisals, she'd left the country entirely, bound for the empty deserts of Terraus where keeping a low profile would be easy. She kept up her physical conditioning while in exile: working out and practicing both her swordplay and shooting. All the while she worked, slowly, to undo the mental damage done to her so many years ago. It was hard, but she managed. Untill the past caught up with her, twenty years after the fact, that is.

The job was one she could easily do. But it was one she was loathe to do again.

A desert tortise trudged slowly past, the weight of a great [TAG] on it's back...

:mrgreen:

Kestrel had taken quite the liking to her new home. The dry, hot desert was quite a change from the humid, swampy northlands of Indiastan. She had a small two-bedroom house about an hour's drive out of the nearest town. It came complete with a small porch on the front and a vegtable garden on the side. It was less then modern, but it was solidly built and the price was right. Twenty years she lived alone, working on occasion in town, earning just enough to keep her fed. It wasn't much of a living, but she wasn't expecting much. She finally felt happy and at peace in her new life, when he showed up that fateful Thursday. It had taken twenty years, but her mind and body were finally hers again. And, as she later cursed, his damnable timing would, ultimetly, throw everything she'd worked for right out the window.

She knew he was coming, of course. Seeing the future does that for you. Armed with this little bit of knowledge, she waited for him on the porch, leaning against one of the support beams. He strode up and sat on the small bench to Kestrel's left, just like she figured he would. He smiled, but she couldn't, wouldn't, turn to face him. It'd been so long... forever. He was her contact; the man who had set up jobs for her squad while they were undercover, way back when. A lifetime ago. But, here he was, sitting on her porch like they'd last parted company yesterday. He even still wore his old black jeans and sportscoat, though they looked rather out of place out in the desert. He'd aged somewhat since their last meeting, but they were still far older then their faces suggested. Kestrel, for instance, could fool the casual observer into thinking she wasn't a day over thirty, while her guest's age would most likely be pegged at about sixty. No one would suspect the more then two centuries cout of years split between them.

"Hey kiddo. So, how've you been?"

"Come on Sam. You found me. That must mean you already know."

"Ah, straight to business then, as usual. Nothing changes, eh?"

"Well, some things change my dear Sam. I don't know what your'e doing here, but it can't be good."

"And I thought you could see the future."

"You know what I can do. Hell, we cheated so much back in the casinos that you probably know what I'm capable of better then I do."

"As much as I'd like to, my dear, I doubt that very much. But, I assume you'd like to why I'm here, so I'll cut the tension and spill it. They know you're here too. They want you back, or at least on a leash, so they've sent me."

Her eyes widened. The Navis finding her again was her worst fear. Shocked by this, she sat down next to Sam on the bench. "Go on. What do they want?"

"Well, it's quite simple. They want you back on the job. You always were the best, and you know even after all this time they havn't found anyone good enough to replace you in Dagger Squad. Now, they said you'd be hesitant at this point, so they told me to 'set your mind at ease' with a few conditions of your coming back to work."

"What, like maybe this time they'll shoot me if I fuck up again? Hell, I'd probably be too lucky for that."

"Now now, settle down, they knew you'd be a little... unhappy with them finding your home, which, I might add, looks like a very nice home, so they've offered some concilliatory terms."

"Ahh, how kind."

"Isn't it? First off, you won't officially be back with the Navis. Jobs will come to you, through me, just like this one. Second, they want you to work solo, so you won't have to work with any of the new zealots. You know that your little 'lapse in discipline' set them back almost thirty years in mental conditioning and indoctrination? They were absoultely dumbfounded that you'd do something like that!" He laughs, though it dosn't ease any of Kestrel's discomfort. "Yep, if you thought that the old Ghosts were fanactics, you should see the new ones..."

"I'd rather not."

"Nah, I didn't think so. Anyway, they're going to pay you like a contractor. Money's spread over six nontraceable accounts in different countries, all under different names. They were gonna use seven, but the one you've already got now will do just fine. They also said they'll re-arm you with the best of whatever you'd like. Guns, swords, a tank, you name it, and they'll have it here in a week. Sound good or what?"

"I dunno. Whats the catch?"

"The catch... well, they don't want you loose. You're known to more then a few people, people who the Navis don't want to find you. They said that they'd protect you if you came back to work for them."

"And if I don't?"

"Well, that's the catch. They said that if you don't come back, they'd string you up from that cliff face over there, sans a few parts they don't want anyone else to find."

"Thats a great employee relationship program they've got going there. Work or get fuck'd."

"Hey, life's imperfect. And it'd be such a waste to have such a pretty girl like you hanging off some goddamn rocks for being a stubborn jackass."

She smiled weakly. "Guess there's not much choice then, is there?"

"I don't think they ever intended there to be."

"Tell them..." she sighed, as fresh tears rolled down her dusty cheek "...I'll do it."

"That's my girl. I'll be back in a couple of days. Get a list of gear together, and maybe some names for those bank accounts." He leaned in and brushed her cheeks with his hankerchief, smearing the dusty ever so slightly. "And get some rest. I can guess you'll be wanting it while you can get it."

She didn't say a thing, but leaned up against his shoulder and wept. She knew what she'd be asked to do, and hated them all the more for forcing her to do it.

Sam was back the next day for the equipment list. She'd ordered no less then three different handguns, four rifles, and a pair matching swords to go with a new combat optics set, microbead radio, juveant drug supply, and poison synthisizer kit. She'd also asked for a few thousand Terrusian Pau's, but as Sam gave her the wallet full of bank cards, he mentioned how money'd never really be an issue again.

"Suppose I should make my mortage payment for this month then, eh?"

"Only if you want to kiddo, after all, you don't officially exist."

"Yeah. I remember that always took the fun out of doing taxes."

"Heh, that it would. Word from the wire's there's a job coming in soon; so pack a few things and get ready to ship out. Chances are next time I'm here, I'll have both your new stuff and your first job. Alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. I was afraid you were gonna say that. Don't hurry back then. Take your time and such."

"Thought you'd say that," Sam says, grinning.

"That's my line" replies Kestrel with a smile.

Sam was back a few days later. This time he drove his jeep right up to the front door, and sauntered up to the front door carrying a large wooden crate. It looked heavily, sounded heavy, but it didn't seem to bother the older man.

"Hey kiddo, your shit's here. Lend an old man a hand and fetch the bigger box? It's in the back, thanks."

"Yeah, sure, no problem. Though I am older then you, you weirdo."

"Hey, age treats a man differently," he called from inside, huffing a bit as the box was placed carefully down onto a table inside. "You should know. I am, what, your third contact man? You've out-lived the others."

"Fourth, actually Sam, but the others didn't die of old age," she grinned, "No, most just outlived their usefullness. Bah, but they were mostly assholes anyway."

"Aha. Anyway, sensitive stuff's in that one," he points inside, "The one you're carrying has the guns and such you ordered."

"And the blades?"

"Yeah, they're on the passenger seat. Couldn't just leave those little masterworks in a box, now could I?"

"Anyone else could, but you did always have a sentimental side, even for trivial shit."

"Well, hey, maybe that's why I havn't 'outlived my usefullness' after all these years? I mean my wit, charm, and good looks may have helped, but they'll only get a guy so far," he added a broad smile. "Course, I do have other talents."

"I don't know what star-eyed teenage interm back in Personel hired you," she went on jokingly but they've probably been shot since then, so I guess it's not your fault," she added a chuckle, "jackass."

"Well, now you've offended my tender sensibilities, Ms. Amea. Now I'll just have to go sulk for an hour before I give you your breifing."

"Oh, well then," she laughed sarcasticly, "Don't let me stop you."

"Alright kiddo," Sam turned turned serious, almost grave at what could only be related to 'the flip of a switch' "Lets get down to business. First things first," he produced a bottle of blueish liquid and a capped syringe as they sat down together on the porch bench, "You'll take this. Concentrated Juveant. That'll set your biological clock back a fair bit, though the effects will only be temporary. For about a month and a half you'll be able to pass for a sixteen year old. Well, you would, if you tucked them in a bit," he pauses momentarily, "After that, you'll age right back to where you are now in about three months. Course, your height and weight won't change, but that's ok. You're not very tall as is."

Ok. But why do I need to pass as a teenage girl again? Please don't tell me I need to kill some pedophile."

"Nah, not that bad. Upstairs just wants you unrecognizable. They also sent a good supply of makeup, and we're gonna dye your hair too. Were you a blonde... before?"

"Nope, brunette. Never really thought blonde suited me."

"Well, anyway, you'll be seeded in the target area about two or so weeks before the big show, then you'll hang around for about a month to avoid suspiscion. Employer's providing the arty for this, so you'll travel light. Target is a political leader of some sort, supposed to be giving a speech when you pop one in him. Anyway, you packed? Once this prep shit is done I'll drive you out to the airport."

"Yeah, I'm packed," she said hesitantly, "Where am I off to?"

"The Federation of Sentient Peoples"

Twenty Two Hours Later

Not only was she now a blonde teenager, Kestrel was strolling through the Griffin International Transportation Hub, pulling her suitcase behind her. The flight was long and boring, and she'd slept through most of it. The inflight food was barely passable, but she'd had worse in the past. Now, she was heading for the exit looking for her contact. She'd been told that he'd have a sign with her "name" on it, and that he'd be tall, grey-haired, and older looking. The cover was that he was her father, which made sense. Of course, hugging a total stranger took quite the bit of acting, but Kestrel was more then equal to the task. And Mr. McCaffery didn't complain.

"David McCaffery?"

"Yeah, that's me. You're Amanda, right? You're a little younger then I thought you'd be."

"Yeah. That passport worked out alright, thanks. And as for age... looks can be decieving," she added in a devious smile to press home the point.

"Ah. Well, the train's waiting over at the station. Shall we?"

"Why yes. Lead the way."

The walk to the maglev train station was short. After they'd found a private booth to sit in, McCaffrey started explaing the specifics.

"Ok, first target is Federation President William Jackson. He's giving a speech at a rally this weekend. Secondary target is VP D'ron Christopher Smith. It'd be great if you could get him too, but after the primary target is hit I doubt you'd be able to get the Veep. Got that?"

Yeah, yeah. Memory's photographic over here. What kind of arty you supplying?"

"We've scrounged up quite the gun for you. A Rolling-Dasinal Adjustable Bore M-101 Sniper Rifle, with a standard sniper kit, including binocular scope with NV, IR, and up to 100x zoom. Four round mag. Basicly a 15mm rail-rifle. You familar with those?"

"Yeah, I've worked a few in my life. 15mm did you say? That's a pretty big rifle. I assume it comes apart in a hurry? I'd hate to have to lug that thing around whole in a pinch."

"We've got full specs and whatnot for you. Everything's waiting for you in your hotel. We've booked two, by the way: one for you to stay in, and another down the street overlooking the park. Range and LOS are good, so you shouldn't have any problems."

"Good. I take it the second hotel's booked under another name?"

"Yeah. Again, the reservation stuff's in a briefcase in your room, along with the bank confirmation of the transfer of the ten million."

The rest of the ride was quiet. A car was waiting for them in the parking lot at the train station in the Manilowian captial, accross town from the hotel. Later, as they pulled into the parking lot of the Red Tree hotel, McCaffery spoke again. "Alright, we're here. Speech is on Sunday, and it'll be on almost all of the TV channels. Word of advice: the police'll have the entire city locked down in no time, so I hope you've got somewhere to lay low for awhile before getting out of the country."

"Oh, don't worry about me. I've done this a time or two."

"Well, anyways, best of luck."

Five Days Later, Sunday Morning

The rail-rifle that she'd been supplied with was quite the impressive instrument to be sure. Kestrel had adjusted the regular optical sight to her eyes during her downtime, and had practiced assembling and dis-assembling it too. She'd become quite good at it, and felt ready enough to head over to set up for the big show.

With the rifle case tucked away in her suitcase, Kestrel checked out of the Red Tree Inn, and headed up and across the street to the larger Grassy Knoll Resort and Hotel. "If that isn't ironic," she thought, "Then I don't know what is."

Later that Afternoon

They'd started off with a few community leaders. Kestrel had spotted Jackson and D'ron sitting together, flanked by what she assumed to be the Secret Service equivlent of the Federation. She could have popped him one any time, but was waiting for him to deliver his speech. She would have rathered just hitting him while he was idle, as it owuld have made taking D'ron out much easier, but she had been told that was how her employers wanted it done. And after paying her so well... who was she to argue?

They announced his name. He stood up, waving, and came to the podium to the cheers of the crowd. She aimed carefully. The rifle was so large that while a headshot was usually a requirement of a confirmed kill off of a normal rifle, very little survived being hit with this paticular thing. Plus, the employer had also said they wanted the body to be recognizable. Thus, that ment the head had to stay in one piece. Easy enough, the sternum was easier to hit anyway.

Deep breath. Steady the gun on the tripod. Relax the grip and look through the scope. Exhale. Deep, steady breath. Adjust the sights as needed. Grip the trigger. Exhale and hold. Check the final aim. Pull the trigger. End a life.

Pandemonium. Chaos. President Jackson was dead, that was for sure. She scanned the stage for D'ron, but he was no where to be found. Damn. She was more then a littled suprized with what happend next, however. The crowd appeard to surge forward, rushing the stage. Then, to Kestrel's shock, the armed guards opened fire into the crowd. It was a massacre.

Still, she cuold only watch it for a few seconds. The rifle needed a quick cleaning, in order to remove her fingerprinted and DNA. That was easy enough. Sure, they might have found other evidence of her from her being there for half an hour, but that wasn't a big worry. She left the rifle on it's tripod; it was too big to carry with her, and it would be a dead giveaway in the airport. After wiping down the hand grips and the sight, she headed out with her suitcase to join the throng of people fleeing form the park. She'd planned on walking to the train station and then heading back to the Hub. She'd fly back to Terrus, for now, and hopefully have a little down time. Hopefully.

End of Act Two

Act Three: Into the Fire

A year had gone by. News of the killing had shocked people the world over, but Kestrel hadn't heard much about it, lacking a TV and all. Life had returned to as close to normal as it would ever be again. Sam came by every now and then, to chat and have tea, but he hadn't brought anything to her about a job for some time. This was good, as Kestrel was in no hurry to go kill more people. She kept preparing for it, though; it was inevitable that they'd send her out again. Still, every time Sam parked his dusty old jeep in front of her porch and came to visit for the afternoon, she always got a little nervous. It usually vanished pretty quickly, but the feeling kept popping up every time he came by.

Eventually it happened. She knew when, of course, when that feeling just wouldn't go away...

The Manor, Northern Der Angst

The Nine, the newly established leadership of DA who had yet to prove their ability to rule, sat together at Althena's place. Nobody talked; they all knew the problem.

They had known about Gruber's plans, and they had helped him. In secret, without him knowing, to be sure, but still...

And he was still alive, in hiding. In the end, he had found out about it; found out that he, who thought that he was playing with... with lessers, with normals, with... mere puppets, it was he who had been played with.

Not a single one of The Nine knew what Gruber was planning exactly, but they did know that the risk of letting him survive was... unacceptable.

There had been rumours. The rest of SATO was almost certainly angry with them, and the risk of being permenetly occupied by them was there. It was a real danger.

But... doing it by themselves, while being possible, was alos an unacceptable risk. The telepaths had been integrated into soldats, and it was certain that Gruber still had some... friends.

As bad as it was, some foreigners had to be contacted. Someone who could do most of the work themself, without relying on further information.

"It shall be done," Althena sighed. All of them knew that it was necessary, though, still, they didn't like it. But morals had to be checked at the door in their line of work, and they all knew it.

---

Kestrel's House, the Terraus Desert

"So that's it eh? Go to Der Angst, find this 'Gruber' chap, and take him out?"

"Yeah kiddo, that's about it. Pretty straight forward, no?"

"To be honest... no, not really. Real informative Sam. Where the hell am I even supposed to start looking? Whats my cover? And whats this about there being lots of other teeps in DA... Damn it, this is sounding worse every time I repeat it."

"Look, Kes," he sounded about as serious as he could, "You arn't the best because you're sent on easy missions. Yeah, sure, that last one was a softie. They just wanted to make sure you could handle something a little easier to make sure you could handle the stress. Now, from what I understand, he's holed up somewhere near Siegen, which is near the east coast."

"There, Sam, a few details. That wasn't so hard, was it?" she said dryly.

"Now that's quite enough sarcasm for one day, dear. Now, you're to go in quietly, and blend in. As it stands, they don't care how he dies. But, they'd prefer if it looked like an accident. That means either burning the remains, or making sure they're just never found again. That clear?"

"Yeah, crystal. Security isn't that tight, but I should still keep the arty to a minimum, eh?"

"Er... yeah. Hey, you stay outta here," he said with a chuckle as he tapped the side of his head, "Getting close to this guy might be difficult, as it's figured that he's still got some loyal men under his command. He likes teeps, but is a rather conservative fellow. Chances are the best bet to getting close to him is through one of his bodyguards. They're slightly less... morally upright. "

"Great. That just made my day..."

"Yeah. Anyways, they've still not finished rebuilding from their civil war, so there are more then a few ruins about that'd be good for ambushes and whatnot. Also, small skirmishes are still reported to pop up between rebels and the loyalist coalition, and most people carry some weapons around, but..."

She cut him off. "Yeah, beat ya to it. Keep it as low-profile as possible. Right. So, when do I leave?"

"Ah, tomorrow. Take what you need, but travel light. You should be able to pick up most of what you need over there. And carry lots of cash, as their electronic banking systems havn't all been rebuilt, and you'd hate to be stuck soemwhere, broke."

Right, right. I'll see you tomorrow Sam."

"Ok. While you're at it, pack up everything else you want to keep. You won't be coming back here. They've got a new place for you, still low-key, but just somewhere else. It pays to stay on the bounce."

"Oh? Yeah, I suppose it does. Where do I get to live next? I've come to like the desert climate."

"Well, it'll take some getting used to then, I suppose. You'll be living in Grafton's Isle, GMC."

"Interesting. Never seen snow before..."

Siegen, Der Angst

Inflitrating the area was easy enough. Security really was as lax as she'd been told it was, and no one really cared to look over her credentials too much. The faked Angstian passport helped a fair bit, too. Cameras, she thought, might prove a problem, but they were the least of her concern. Right now, she had to find a place to stay, while figuring out how to get in touch with some of the shadier types from local law enforcement. They'd probably be the best bet as far as leads would be concerned.

---

It was a good thing she'd brought lots of cash. Finding a decent enough place to stay without registration was hard enough, but bribing the police officer... that was something else. After more then a little bit of haggling, he told her that one of Gruber's chief informants was a mid-ranked army officer, part of the division overseeing the area. Profile had said he was a fairly large, if not overly bright, junior officer, who had enough of a penchant for gambling and booze to have needed an outside source of income. And, as it happened, that role was filled nicely by Gruber's group. Taking the man down wouldn't been too hard; he had a small apartment in the city, where he spent his spare time between the gambling dens and the nearby base. She'd just have to break in, extract the information about when he's next going to met his contact, and then dispose of him. Easy enough...

---

It was about 2 am when the soldier stumbled in, accompanied by a rather poor looking woman. Kes was sitting on the couch, a silenced handgun in one hand, and a roll of duct tape in the other. She sat facing the entrance, and watched the pair, obviously drunk, stumble into the living room where she sat waiting. Before they could even turn the light on and know she was there, she fired a pair of shots at them; one into the woman's head, the other into the man's gut. That done, she leapt up to the sprawling, bleeding mass of humanity with the duct tape before the downed man could register just what the hell was going on. With practiced ease, Kestrel quickly had a strip coverering his mouth, before she turned him over to bind his hands. Cringing in pain from the bullet hole in his intestines, he had little will to resist.

She propped him up on the couch and sat in a chair accross from him. He couldn't sit up straight, and his face was as covered with sweat as the front of his shirt was with blood. His eyes and thoughts pleaded with her for mercy. She heard them both, and responded.

"Mercy? Maybe later. First, you're going to tell me everything..."

---

She showed the quality of her mercy once she was finished. A single gunshot to the forehead. It was the least she could do...

Now, she had another lead. Jervis, the now-deceased officer, was to meet with his contact in two days. He didn't go back active for a few days after that, so he wouldn't be missed by anyone offical untill well after Kes got everything she needed out of him. To keep up appearences, she took both of their wallets and IDs, while binding up the woman with tape and propping her on the couch next to the dead man. Armed robbery wasn't that uncommon, and hopefully no one would notice the smell...

Two days later, Siegen Hotel bar

He sat in the corner, looking every bit as suspicious as Kestrel though he'd be. Decently tall, unshaven, unkempt and heavyset, he looked like a out of work bouncer. He looked to be nursing a beer or something, but it obviously hadn't been touched. She smiled as she thought about the blade up her sleeve and the suprize he was in for before she walked over to his booth. She could tell from across the room that he was a low-level psi, but that didn't bother her very much. She was rather skilled at breaking mental blocks. She'd get what she needed out of him.

He had his eyes glued on her as she came accross the room. He could feel the void that her mind seemed to broadcast, in place of the usual noise of thought that came from a normal. He didn't appear the least bit concerned when she slipped into the booth opposite him, and gave him some very bad news.

"So sorry Comrade, I have some bad news."

"Oh, do you? Well, make my day little girl. Don't take too long, I'm busy."

"Jervis isn't coming. The KOE picked him up with a friend last night. I'm here to keep your ass safe."

"Really? And just who the hell are you?" he snarled.

"The friend he was with, who they didn't catch," she said with a grin.

"Heh," his demeanor seemed to lighten a little, "Ol' Jervis did have decent taste in girls. But if they caught him, how'd you know to meet me?" he still, however, looked unconvinced.

She then spoke to him without speaking. "Oh, he told me what he needed to."

He grinned, and responded in kind. "Thought so. Look, thanks for the heads-up. It's been real nice talkin' to ya, real swell. Now, I gotta piss and get the fuck outta here before I find out if you're KOE bait, so if you'll excuse me..." he said the last part aloud, "I'll be seein' ya."

"Sure, sure," she said, smiling to herself. She had planned to invite him to some place a little more private, but the men's room would have to do...

---

She'd come prepared. She followed him to the men's room, before slipping into the adjacent ladies room to don a plastic apron and gloves. After making sure the coast was clear, she drew her blade and made her move.

But he hadn't lived so long being sloppy and, naturally suspecting a trap, didn't pass the time without a little preperation of his own. He produced a rather hefty looking handgun, and doubled checked it. He waited for her to come though the door. He got ready even as he heard it squeek open a fraction. He waited for what he thought was just the right amount of time before swinging around the corner, gun leveled perfectly for a chest shot. Only then he was suddenly thrown off just as he fired, a sharp pain in his abdomen. There she was, on her knees, her blade now buried in his gut, and he'd been the one to jump on the blade.

He tried to cry out. She pushed him back into a stall, driving the blade deeper as they went. He tried to struggle, but his strength seemed to escape him while her grip was as tight as a vice. He tried to stop her as her eyes seemed to bore straight into his mind, but his mental walls couldn't stand up to her relentless assault. He spilled his guts, metaphoricly and literally. Kestrel now knew where to find Gruber, how many people guarded him, and what she'd need to do to neutralize them. And he now had the difficult task of trying to clean his innards off the washroom floor, a task not so easy when you're losing blood faster then a broken aquarium. Kestrel threw the bloody apron and gloves into the trash bin as she left, thinking nothing more of Stanton Richards, who she'd left behind with a gaping hole in his belly.

He died badly.

Siegen, Three hours later.

She'd cleaned and changed, and made ready the heavy weapons. The attack on Gruber's compound was going to be a bitch. The house was fairly isolated, and Gruber lived there with no less then fifteen guards, all soliders of, apparently, some training. But she had a plan.

Down in the town square, there was a rather large stall set up selling just about every kind of weapon you could want. Private ownership of amost everything short of nuclear weapons was permitted, so it wasn't at all hard for Kestrel to purchase an RPG, a .30cal machine gun, and some other odds and ends. She threw them all in the back of the old pickup who's keys she'd found on the now-deceased body of Stanton Richards. After that, it was only a matter of finding some some able-bodied teens who looked desperate enough to be willing to risk life and limb for a few bucks. Being that the town was still nearly a decade away from recovering fully from the war, she found a group quite easily, playing basketball on the non-cratered half of an outdoor court. She parked a little ways away, pulled her scarf up over her face, and went to talk to them.

"Hi boys," she called.

"Hey, who are you?" one of the called back.

"Someone who needs to borrow you for a bit.

"What the hell does that mean?" called another.

"Well, it means that I'm going to pay you a lot of money to do something very illegal for me."

Their mood seemed to change at the mention of money. "How much?"

"Thousand each, assuming that you can handle a gun well enough. And you'll get to keep the gear, too. I won't be needing it."

They conferred amongst themselves for a minute, before apparently agreeing. "Alright, fine, we'll help you. Whaddya need?"

"Well, there's a house a little ways away from here. I need you to basicly set up across the street and shoot the shit out of it."

"Thats it?"

"Well, the guys inside'll probably shoot back. Course, they probably don't have a .30 cal."

"Yeah, sure, we can do that. When do we get payed?"

"The money is in a suitcase back in my hotel. I'll leave the key in my truck, and you boys can go pick it up when you're done."

"Ok," says the one who appears to have been elected the spokesman, "Sure, that'll work. You want us to leave you the truck?"

"Nah, you can keep it. I'm leaving soon anyways. Now, here's the rest of the plan..."

She explained the rather simple plan to them. They basicly had to set up with the .30 and the RPG across the street from Gruber's house. They fire away for a few minutes, then run like hell back to the truck parked a few blocks away before heading to Kestrel's hotel for their money. What she didn't tell them was that she was planning on sneaking in the back while this was happening, as it was likely that the rear guard would be lessened during such an attack. It bordered somewhere between foolproof and foolhardy, but it was a risk she'd be willing to take.

---

The distinctive shriek of the RPG, followed by the less destinctive bang of it exploding against the opposite side of the house was her signal. She'd belly-crawled her way right up to the back door, and was lying behind a bush no more then five feet away from a pair of guards who sat flanking the door. When the rocket hit, they perked up, and from inside Kestrel could hear yelling and the thump of boots as the .30 and a few smaller guns opened fire. Figuring that most of the men inside were occupied, she made her move on the two guards, rushing them from the side. She moved silently, and despite now being alert, they didn't know she was there untill the closer guard had her knife in his throat, and the other had taken two bullets from her silenced gun.

She was in. The rear, as she had hoped, was pretty much abandoned as the chatter of automatic weapons fire continued. To her left along the back hallway was a flight of stairs, going down. Before going down, however, she confiscated one of the now-dead guard's rifles.

A deep breath. Down the stairs in a hurry. A short hallway, two doors, one open. A man stood between them. It was him. He saw her, a black-clad angel of death, and dove into the open door as she fired at him. No hits. The door slammed shut as she raced towards it. Before she could get there, the second door flew open and a great hulk of a man stepped out and hit her in the head with the butt of his gun, sending her sprawling and her causing her rifle to go clattering away across the concrete floor. She didn't stay stunned for very long, and before he could turn the gun around, she had recovered and spun around to kick him in the back of the knee. Another, smaller man came out behind him, firing his pistol enthusiasticly. His aim was poor, but he still managed to graze Kestrel through the shoulder as she lunged, rifle replaced with her knife, at the first man. The force of the collision sent them both sprawling, but as the second soldier's gun clicked empty, Kestrel nailed him square in the chest with her knife, thrown from her position on her back.

The brute had used that time to his advantage, hefting his considerable bulk back to his feet. His gun too lay several feet away, so he did what seemed sensable; he cracked his knuckles and tried to bash Kestrel's skull in. She avoided his first few punchs easily, but there wasn't much room to work with. She counterattacked, hitting him several times in the gut, but it hardly seemed to faze him. Landing what she thought to be a rather solid kick to the solar plexus seemed to be where she went the most wrong, as he barely seemed to notice, and proceeded to rifle his meaty left fist right into Kestrel's stomach, while his right landed hard on her jaw. After this rather vicious pummeling, she crumpled and fell into the corner. Seemingly triumphant, he stood up straight and walked slowly over to the prize he thought he'd have a little fun with before she woke up.

Of course, what he didn't notice at the time, and the first major flaw in his plan, was that in the corner lay the rifle that Kestrel had lost when he butt-ended her the first time. The other major flaw came from the fact that while he was used to people beig KO'd by his right hook, he had never met Kestrel before. She was decidedly conscious, though in considerable pain from her now-broken jaw. Naturally, she was rather angry about that, and decided the best way to repay the gentleman was with a good dose of lead.

Oddly enough, he didn't think that was a very fair trade.

The door lock, as it turned out, didn't happen to be bulletproof.

She burst into the small room, the empty rifle disgarded in favour of the pistol she'd thus far been keeping hidden. To her general annoyance, in the far corner of the room a smallish rusty metal door sat ajar, leading down a dimly lit tunnel. It was fairly long, and Kestrel couldn't see anyone at it's end. After she did a quick check to make sure it wasn't a trick, she ran down in search of her prey.

The tunnel appeared to come out into some sort of drainage ditch, a good quarter mile away from the house. The gunfire had stopped, which ment that chances were Gruber's bodyguards were not that far behind. This almost distracted her from the vision that her brain pushed into her thoughts.

Duck.

She generally obeyed these unconscious orders, and it turned out to be a good thing too, as Gruber was trying to ambush her at the tunnel's end. She ducked right under the rather hefty looking wrench he was using as a bludgeon, and repayed the favour by snapping a shot off at him, hitting him in the arm. He stumbled, and fell to his knees. She tried to probe his mind, but didn't sense much of anything.

Finally, she had him.

And while his mind was certainly able to defend itself, she knew that he wasn't strong enough to threaten her back Kestrel watched him, carefully, her gun pointed at his head.

"Doesn't look like he wants to fight back..." she thinks.

She was right. Apparently, he had given up, just holding his left arm, from which tiny drops of blood were falling to the ground.

"Why?" He asked, with his mind. His lips weren´t moving at all.

"It is my job."

Gruber chuckled. "Your job? Helping the normals continue their oppression of our kind?"

Kestrel was slightly surprised. "Rather talkative, you are."

"Yes. Yes, I am. It happens, you know, when you plant your great dream for the future of your kind, just to realise that you have been played with... It is aggrevating, so to speak."

Kestrel looked at him. "Well... The loser pays the bill."

"Don't you want to... act in the interest of our kind, rather than in the interest of them?"

Kestrel laughed, and spoke aloud "You aren't serious, are you? 'Our kind' is worse then you know."

She took her aim, ready to fire. Gruber closed his eyes, a smile on his face. "You were oppressed, too, weren't you? All of us were. We need to work together... Not against each other."

For a moment, she hesitates, but then, slightly lowering her head, she pulls the trigger.

"Your time hasn't come... yet."

---

Escaping DA was a little more difficult then getting into it, but Sam was always good with the documents, so all she had to explain was the fact that she looked like hell. Always the actor, she purposefully teared up when asked, and mumbled a sob story about an abusive relationship and needing a vacation, which worked well enough. Within twenty-four hours of Gruber's death, she set foot upon the cold ground of GMC for the first time in her life.

Her welcome, as it happend, was only slightly warmer then the weather.

Sam met her at the airport. He told her he was relieved that she got out ok, that it was good to see her again, along with all the usual pleasentries after one just risked their life to end another. Kestrel wasn't in much of a mood for talking - of course, having a broken jaw usually sees to that. She'd had a brief visit to the hospital before leaving DA, where she blew the rest of her cash on the bill for her checkup. She'd had her jaw set, and also found out she had four broken ribs and some slight damage to her shoulder. But, they told her that after a few months rest she'd be whole again. Of course, in that time, she'd have to get settled in a new residence, so she wasn't all that sure how restfull the time would be.

Sam, as it turned out, was also going to be living in there in DA, but he, of course, didn't tell Kestrel where. She'd known him for close to fifty years, had even shared a bed with him a time or two way back when, but had yet to see how the man lived. Their relationship could only really be described as 'odd' at the best of times.

---

The weeks rolled by, slowly, with Kestrel eventually getting used to the cold, bleak climate. Of course, the best part was that it was summer here. She found herself spending a suprising amount of money on a new wardrobe; one which she wouldn't freeze to death in. And heating. She'd spent more on heating in the last two months then she had in the last ten years. Of course, she was actually paying the bills this time, which was actually something new for her.

It had all been a fairly boring few months. Untill, as it happened, her usual Tuesday afternoon grocery shopping was oddly interrupted.

Duck.

It was about as simple as that. Something in her mind told her to do it, and she did, right as it said to do it. And then, she was fine. Of course, this time, by ducking out of the way of a sheet of slush kicked up on the sidewalk by a passing truck, she ended up in the snow drift aganst the wall of her building. Even more suprising, however, was the fact that the snow drift seemed to protest.

Now, homeless people in GMC were not all that common, but most often those that braved the temperatures could be found huddling around heat vents. And, as it happened, Kestrel just happened to land on one. Because of it's rather odd location in the lee of the building complex, and thus buried in a snow drift, only one person was camping near it, the young woman whom Kestrel had managed to land on.

"Ah! What the hell? My roof!"

Kestrel was still working to dust herself off and stand up in the almost waist-deep snow before she registered that she wasn't hearing things, and that someone else was starting to push her away.

"Thanks lady. You gonna help fix this mess?"

She blushed, and started apologizing. "I'm really very sorry... do you live here?"

"Yeah, I do... whats it to you?"

"Well... I did land on your, er, snow drift. I'm really sorry. How can I make it up to you?"

"Ten bucks for some hot soup at the the Joint'd do just fine..."

"Hey, why don't you come in? This is my building. I live by myself, and wouldn't mind having some company for dinner."

"You arn't, like, some kind of serial killer, are you?" the girl asked, her eyes brightening at the thought of a warm dinner.

"Nah, though I was in the military. Come on!"

"Alright, just thought I'd ask. Lets go."

---

They shared some pasta and salad, while Kestrel asked the girl, Adrianna, where she was from, and the rest of her life story. Her story was rather depressing for dinner conversation, but Adrianna didn't mind telling it. Her parents, she said, were both officers in the military, and both had died in the Grafton's Isle War when she was very young. She'd grown up in an orphanage, but left when she turned eighteen. She tried to get government assistance, but was told she couldn't untill she had a fixed adress, and the waitlist for subsidized housing was tremendous. Kestrel, never having been without a home, felt quite bad for the poor girl, and invitied her to stay the night. She had a second bedroom, and anything was better then a bloody snow drift.

The night turned into a few days, and a few days turned into weeks, and then months. Eventually Kestrel just accepted Adrianna as her de facto roommate, welcoming the company for a change. It seemed, at the time, perfectly natural for the two of them, after nearly a year of living together, to go down to the Ministry of Internal Affairs and stand in line for a few hours in an attempt to have Kestrel basicly adopt Adi. Sisters, they'd call each other. After the forms took their sweet time churning their way through the system, it was eventually done. Kestrel had a family.

And to think it all started with a subliminal command to duck.

Sam hadn't been by for quite some time. So long, in fact, that Kestrel was almost starting to worry about him. She'd made cursorary attempts to find him in the area around her apartment, but thus far had turned up empty. She knew that he'd be a devil to find when he didn't want to be found. Still, she was suprised that it wasn't too long after she started looking for him that he showed up at her door. He smiled his usual charismatic smile, and asked Kes down to the cafe up the street to discuss some business. She couldn't refuse, of course, and they were off.

After they sat down in a quiet booth, coffees in hand, Sam broke the silence.

"So, do you know why I've brought you here?"

"Not exactly, though I doubt it's good news," she sighed.

"They arn't happy about your new 'family,' Kes. But, they said that they'd go along with it, so long as it didn't impede your work."

"Well, how generous of them," she intoned sarcasticly.

"Yeah, well, despite what you may think, a few of the higher-ups do have souls and are willing to overlook this because of what happened with your first stab at family. But, I'm told, you're tredding on thin ice."

"Well, it's good to see they care." More sarcasm.

"Also, they got a bit of a complaint with your payment for the last job. They'd asked for an accident, though they said that because of the circumstances, they understand that you couldn't pull it off. Course, now they've got his martyrdom to worry about, but thankfully that's not our problem."

"Bah, fuck 'em. If they wanted him dead as bad as they said, then they shouldn't complain about how he died. They should just count their blessings it won't be traced back to them."

"That's what the NCO said. And generally, they agreed."

"Good. At least there's some sense in the world."

"Sure. Now, for the real business."

"Another one? So soon? God, my jaw's barely healed..."

"Yup. It has been close to a year, you know. I've been keeping an eye on you, and they just sent me word that they think you're ready for another assignment," he put his briefcase up on the table, and clicked it open. "So, here's the file..."

End of Act Three

Act Four: It's a Family Business

"Ok kiddo, here's the deal. We've got a contact from inside Tartarus. The agent has hired our services to dispose of one Lord Abominari, who is one of their Governors and brother to the Emperor. Someone dosn't like him, and wants him and his family... removed."

"Whole family eh? Kids too?"

"Yeah. There's two, a girl age ten, and boy age twelve. But, to ease you minds, you'll be using this." He produces an otherwise inasupicious bottle of clear nail polish from his breifcase, and hands it over. "Cyanide and water. There's enough in there to kill them each twice over."

"Alright, how do I deliver it?"

"A job has just become available at the summer home they're going to be staying at. You'll have an interview with the house manager, upon whom you should use your, ahem, powers of pursuasion to get the job. After that, just lay low untill they arrive, and posion them at dinner or something. Make sure they're dead, then get the hell out of there. SImple as that."

"Summer home eh... what about guards?"

"They'll have some, but now that the Emperor's got a kid, Lord Abominari is less important since he's no longer heir. Expect anywhere from a half to a full dozen agents around the property. They're lightly armed, so nothing you can't handle."

"It almost sounds too easy. When do I leave?"

"Tomorrow. Take the train to the airport. Here's your ticket, and your Tartaran ID. Good luck."

"The tag points to itself."

Kestrel walked back to the apartment alone. She had to think. It was tempting to take Adi and run off, never to be seen again. Of course, she knew that wouldn't work. They'd catch up with her if she ever tried to settle down. They always did. That was their job, wasn't it? And as self reliant as Adrianna had proved, she doubted very much that she would take to a life of constantly moving from city to city, country to country. No, she'd have to do it. But that didn't mean she wouldn't stay disgusted with herself for a few days.

Those poor kids... they should have had a chance at life...

No. It wasn't her problem. Morality had to get sidelined. Another painful memory to be filed away, where no one could dreg it up. Where it would only haunt her in her darkest of nightmares. Nightmares, she realized, that were becoming all too common...

---

She was in her room packing when Adi came in to ask just where she was off to.

"Oh, just some out of town business. Gotta pay the bills somehow."

"You do know I've seen a few of your account statements, and that I know you don't really have much to worry about..."

"Thats not the point. It's a long, sad story. I suppose I'll tell you one day, but not right now. Instead, make yourself useful and help?"

"Yeah, sure. How long are you away for?"

"Couple of weeks. It'd be nice to see the place standing when I get back, if it's not too much to ask. Do whatever, just clean up when you're done."

"God, you sound like my mother, or what I've heard mothers are supposed to sound like. Don't worry sis, I'll be fine. Just enjoy the flight for once."

The flight was long and boring, as usual. Customs was a hassle, as usual. Getting to Littoral was a hassle, as usual. So far, it had been a perfectly normal assignment for her. After checking into a nearby hotel, she walked down the beachside road to the estate. Upon arriving at the correct address, she rang the gate bell for entrance. She was met by a guard, and lead towards the house.

Mrs Hearne walked into the hall, and smiled kindly as she met the woman waiting for her, just like she had done on four previous occasions. Extending her hand as she reached her, the older woman gave the visitor a quick look over; first impressions were important to the old housekeeper, and a person’s appearance was a good indication of character.

“Miss Caterina Vessal?” She indicated towards the direction she had just emerged from, not allowing for an answer before continuing. “Lady Ashworth is waiting in the Drawing Room, so if you will follow me.” She quickly turned and started back towards her mistress’ location, not wanting to keep her longer than necessary. “I’m pleased to see you are early, nothing worse than tardiness in my opinion.”

She guided them out of the main hall, a sweeping staircase dominating the room, walking a little way down past its left side to a large door, left slightly ajar. A quick tap against the wood, and Mrs Hearne pushed open the door, allowing the guest to enter first, before she closed the door behind them. Inside the room, a dark haired woman stood waiting, having risen at the knock. She had an air of superiority about her, her eyes giving the impression that she considered everyone else in the room beneath her as she looked first at the newcomer and then at Mrs Hearne, who made the introductions.

“Lady Ashworth, Miss Vessal.” She turned to Caterina. “Miss Vessal, Lady Serena Ashworth, owner of the establishment.” Her task momentarily finished, she stood off to one side. Lady Ashworth smiled kindly but her eyes did not convey any warmth. “Please, Miss Vessal, will you be seated?” She lowered herself down into her chair. “Would you care for refreshment?” Indicating as she spoke a table containing a choice of beverage.

"No thank you, Lady Ashworth." Kestrel said, bowing slightly with due deference, as she took the seat indicated. She made sure to keep good posture and a pleasent smile, as was proper. Her folder with her resume sat on her lap, ready to be given to the Lady when she asked. As she waited, she starting peering at her mind, trying to gauge her thoughts. She dosn't get much, just a snobbish attitude that could be expected from the nobility towards the common folk. Mrs Hearne seems a little more impressed with her, so that's where Kestrel decided to start working on her.

Glancing at Mrs Hearne to ensure that the woman was ready, notebook in hand for taking down any details. Looking back at Caterina, she spots the folder in her possession. “You have brought references with you?” Holding her hand out, she accepts the documentation, scans her eyes briefly over the pages before handing them to her housekeeper to run a more detailed eye over them. “I don’t know how much you know about our requirements, so I shall run over them for you.” She coughed lightly to clear her voice. “My husband, Lord Ashworth has invited some acquaintances to use the house for the summer.” Her tone showed how unpleased with this she was. “It is not necessary for you to know who at this point, but needless to say, this leaves us with a shortfall in the number of staff remaining here." She once again glanced over at Mrs Hearne, before turning back. “Therefore we need to hire extra staff.” She frowned questioningly at Caterina. “The agency did tell you this was only a temporary position? It’s just the last applicant was under the impression it was permanent.”

"Ah. No, the agency hadn't said anything to either effect. But both are acceptable."

“Mrs Hearne, we really must change agencies, I specifically told them...” She shook her head as the old woman mumbled some words in agreement. Lady Ashworth gazed back at Caterina, her eyes running over her appearance, but not for the same reason as her housekeeper. “The position is temporary, and will last only for the summer, you would not be needed upon our return.”

"Of course."

“Tell me, Miss Vessal, why do you want this position?” She reached over and took a leaf of paper being offered to her by Mrs Hearne detailing previous employees, which she scanned down as she waited for an answer.

"Frankly, I need work. It's hard enough finding something good that you could live on." She continued in this paticular vein for a few more minutes, all the while subtly seeding thoughts of compassion and empathy in the two. She could see it was working, and smiled when she finished.

Lady Ashworth smiled, she appreciated honesty in staff, after all it usually meant they weren’t about to steal the silver. “Your references seem to be in order. Mrs Hearne will check them out, naturally. You wouldn’t believe some of the things applicants had tried in the past.” She gave a snort that verged away from being ladylike. “You are currently staying in a hotel?” She read from another piece of paper containing contact details. “Well be in touch."

The housekeeper watched as her employer continued to question Caterina, not that the woman actually knew what she was doing, but if anyone could sit through an interview with Lady Ashworth, then that person was held in pretty high esteem by Mrs Hearne, who had escorted many sobbing young women to the door. There was something about the woman sitting opposite that made her hope for her success....

Praise be to Gehenna, for doing most of the work.

The references did, of course, check out. It paid to be thorough in this line of work, and all of the requierd bribery and blackmailing had been done to secure Kestrel some otherwise top-notch "former employers." Satisfied with that, Lady Ashworth conferred about the decision over to Mrs. Hearne, who was in favour of bringing 'Caterina' aboard. And so it was done. She'd work in the kitchen, and would start immedietly. They brought her in to stay in the servant's quarters, which was fine enough with her. The guests were supposed to arrive in a week and a half, which ment that Kestre had to stay patient and wait until then. But, you didn't get to where Kestrel was without a little bit of patience, and so she absorbed herself in the duties of a household servant, making sure her cover was flawless. It was hard work, but certainly not the worst she'd ever done.

So she waited. And eventually, on a rather inauspicious Friday, Lord Abominari and his family arrived in their chaufferred luxury sedan. They had come to take a break from life in the capital, away from politics and government. They didn't think that danger might have followed them here.

Kestrel just hoped it would all be as easy as Sam had said.

After the family arrived, the servants busied themselves getting things settled. Dinner was to be served at seven, and the four of them were all going to eat together. Perfect. Kestrel was working in the kitchen, giving her ample oppertunity get her job finished.

Six fifty five. The soup sat simmering on the stovetop, waitnig to be dished out. Kestrel was just returning from her room, where she had grabbed the small bottle of poison. She rushed into the kitchen, where Ivan, the head chef, almost started to curse at her for taking too long a break.

"Gods woman, it's almost time! And I'm not serving this damn soup myself! Get going!"

"It's alright Ivan! I'm here, I'm here."

"You're lucky. You'd be out on your ass if they caught you late."

She did as she was told. Once the chef had gone back to tending the ham, and the otehr two assistants were looking the other way, Kestrel emptied the bottle into the four soup bowls. She pocketed again, before picking up the trayand moving it over to the stove, where she ladeled the thin vegtable soup perfectly into each bowl, being sure not have it splash up the side or over, and also being sure to mix it up just right.

Seven o'clock. The four guests sat at the large table, Lord Abominari at the head, His wife across from him, and the two children steated opposite each other along the long edges. Kestrel entered the dining room with the soup and bowed, as was custom, and was generally ignored, as was also custom. She placed a bowl in front of each of them, and ducked back into the kitchen as quickly as she could. Opening the door a crack and peeking through, she could see them all start eating. And, before long, most of the house could here them all start to cough and hack, before spasming violently and dying. Kestrel didn't stay long to watch that part. She had watched just enough to make sure that they'd be dead, before making a dash for the garage, and car she had waiting for her.

The guards reacted, mostly, by running to the scene. So did most of the staff. All of them didn, in fact, save for one. Her absence was finally noticed when the sound of a roaring engine and screeching tires echoed up form the basement garage. She had already passed the gate, and was roaring down the street before anyone really had time to connect the dots. By the time the local police had but out an APB on her, she was already boarding a flight out of the country from the Littoral airport. She'd made it out clean.

Before too long, she was on en route back to GMC, and her home. The flight, like all flights, passed pretty muh uneventfully. It wasn't untill she fell asleep on the train that something... unusual happened.

Bleh. A rather uninspried post. But it had to be done. Untill next time! *cues the music*

She slept, and she dreamt. She avoided sleep for this very reason, prefering to stay awake through the use of stimulents and restful meditation. The dreams... they haunted her. All the faces of the dead, they crept into her dreams, never allowing her peace. This was her punishment. But, for reasons she did not fully understand, she had allowed herself to fall asleep on the hour long train ride across Marshall City. Her dreams that afternoon, however, were unlike she'd ever experienced before.

She saw a verdant green world, hanging alone in space. An angel flashed before her eyes, before it was relaced with a smooth head of some kind of helmet turning to face her. Set in it's narrow 'face', a single orange iris seemed to peer right at her. Before it spoke, the scene changed again. Another world hung before her, but not the same one. A black cloud wa enveloping it, and she saw that the world was dying. Horrible black shapes, liek giant spiders flirted across her vision, and their ghostly screams echoed in her mind. The green world came to the fore again, and it was being approached by the spider-ships. But from the world came another host, green in colour, resembling great sea beasts as much as starships. They fought in the heavens with the ink-black nightmares, but one by one they fell. The black devils surrounded the lush green world, but the black cloud never came. From all about her, as if they came from the ships that still hung in her vision, she hear dark whispers. "What do you want?" they said. She found herself unable to answer. Then, as if it was a clarion call, a single echoing voice seemed to well up from the planet itself. "Who are you?"

She was jolted awake as the train came to a stop, and one of the nearby passengers shook her awake. She thanked the woman, picked up her bag, and headed for home. It was a short walk, and she felt that the cool air would do her some good. The dream was still stuck in her mind. She thought about it all the way back to her home. She was still thinking about it when she came in, and walked down the hallway into the kitchen. She abruptly stopped thinking about it when she found a strange woman in a shirt and boxers making some eggs on the stove, and Adrianna cuddling up next to her in her bathrobe.

"Oh! Hey sis!" she jumped a bit when she turned around to see Kestrel standing there, more then a little suprised. "I didn't hear you come in! Kes, meet Becca. Becca, my sister Kestrel."

The following few days were a little awkward for Kes, but the more she thought about it, the more she didn't mind. So Adrianna perferred women... whatever. It was none of her concern, and she was glad that Adi had found someone to be happy with.

She did have more pressing concerns. The dream was stilling knawing at the edges of the mind. She didn't know what she was supposed to do, but she felt like she was supposed to do something. That's when she saw the ad in the paper - 'InterPlanetary Expeditions hiring for extra-solar archeaology project.' For some reason, it clicked in her mind. She should go apply, maybe as a security advisor or something. She's trick them into hiring her if they didn't have an actual job for her, if it came to that.

Three weeks later

She had said goodbye to Adrianna, assuring her it would only be a few months. She was going into space! This was the oppertunity of a lifetime, one she couldn't miss. Everything was in order, and she was ready to go. The crew she'd be assigned was interesting enough - Dr. Stanka was supposedly quite the archaeologist, thuogh his assistant, Dr. Lewis, was soemthign else. She'd met the pilot briefly before the trip, and was impressed. The rest of the crew were stowed away in freeze tubes like so much baggage, since the ship wasn't able to accomodate them all normally. It was a tree week trip to this newly discovered system, and then they'd expect to be there for a month before returning. She'd left a note for Adrianna to give to Sam if he came by, instructing him to tell the bosses off... for now.

End of Act Four.

PS: See Kes's offworld adventures HERE. (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=147146)

Act Five: A Silhouette of Doom

It was nearly three months later before Kestrel returned to earth. She wasn't exactly sure what to do with the Vorlon she'd brought with her, but for now he seemed content to stay in the shuttle. She had landed in a small private airfield on Marshall Island, and rented a hanger. After makign sure Alkesh would be fine, shea headed off for home.

What she found was not entirely to her liking. There was an envelope nailed to her door, with a small Navis crest on it. Not liking the looks of that one bit, she tore it down and opened it.

"May 10th. (This was about a month and a half prior)

Dear Kestrel.

We hope this letter finds you well, if at all. We'd like to voice our displeasure with your decision to leave us again, and as such we'd like to appear personally before the Matriarch's council. Adrianna will be waiting for you, and Sam will be by to lead you here."

She couldn't believe it. Sure enough, Adi was gone. They took her. So she waited for Sam.

He took his time, and came by a few days later, looking none the worse for wear.

"Hey kido..." he almost mumbled.

"Don't you start with me you fucker, where did they take here!?" she said, almost hysterical.

"Whoa, whoa." he tried his best to calm her. "Come on, let's sit down first. It warrents that, at least. And a stiff drink, I'd think."

So they sat. Sam seemed to easily find the bottle of imported scotch she kept in the kitchen, and poured them both a glass. Kes had already drained her, and snatched up the bottle before he could begin.

"Well, as I understand it, they didn't take too kindly to your skipping town. So, about a month and a half ago, they sent a Ghost team to pick up Adrianna. They took her to their base in the northern mountains of Indiastan. But there's more going on then that right now."

She had poured and drained two more glasses, and decided to stop so she'd remember all of what Sam was saying. "Go on."

"Well, seems that the Matriarch and her Ghosts are fighting a bit of a covert war with the government, after they tried to place new restictions on the Navis. Ghost squads have been running hit missions against deputy ministers and the like, while they've replied by purchasing a dozen HANS agents from Zero-One in order to fight the telepaths properly."

"So... they're trying to do what, exactly? Topple an entrenched government?"

"Well, not really. Just convince them the restrctions are unwarrented. Though, I think their campaign of terrorism has the opposite effect..."

"Of course." she said bluntly.

"Anyways, I've also been contacted by said government. They've heard of you, well, that's not entirely correct. They know your handiwork. They're willing to protect you and Adi, if you can take the Matriarch down."

"I'll kill the bitch and her cronies myself. Just point me in the right direction."

"That's my girl."

Kes and Sam drove to the old monastary in a rented old jeep. The road was fairly narrow, but Kes knew it well. The place was built halfway up a mountain and dug into the end of a narrow ravine, completely invisable from the air. It was almost as much a fortress as a place of teaching and quiet refuge for the telepathic guild. The home of the Navis Nobilte was not built this way just for asthetics, however. There were plenty of people who would want to hurt the telepaths, and when the Navis was formed, no expense was spared to keep them safe. Kes knew it's every nook and cranny; she had grown up and trained here. The memories of that, now, seemed like they happened to someone else.

They drove up to the gate, without the knowledge that they were being followed. Kes didn't care; if she failed then she would be dead and it wouldn't much matter anymore, and if she succeeded, the government agents would have no need to come here again. 'Now, she thought, 'Let's try for success...'

The gates were surprisingly forboding, at least more then Kes ever remembered them being. The archway stood about eight feet high and six across, made out of some wood that had long since faded to a dark brown. On each of the double doors was emblazed the Navis crest, a striking eagle. And on each side, small barred windows carved out of the arching rock face overlooked the courtyard beyond. The whole place looked deserted, though Kes knew that each window was manned with fanaticly loyal, and heavily armed, guards.

Sam parked the jeep a few feet back, and just off to one side. The two of them got out and walked to the door and waited. They knew they needn't knock; the whole place was under hidden camera surveillence. Sam wore his usual old suit, while Kes wore a pair of old faded loose jeans and tee, as well as a beaten old brown leather jacket. Hanging loosely from her belt was her sword, a beautiful hand-made Japanese daito with a polished black wooden scabbard. Around her other hip was a long balanced knife, but she didn't think she'd really need that. They stood at the doors for a few moments, and waited for some response.

It was slow in coming. Eventually, the door cracked open, and three figures came out, hooded and cloaked, the first two flanking the third. They first pulled back their hoods. Thee two girls Kes saw look no older then sixteen, though she knew that was probably a lie. Both girls looked like they were Indian, but only one of them had the almost deathly white skin and ashen hair that was typical of the Navis. The other looked normal, and this put Kes through a bit of a loop. Though was really disturbed her was the fact that after a quick scan, Kes discovered that the normal girl was somehow related to her. She couldn't tell how - that would require a deep scan - but the odd feeling was there. Along with a seething hatred of her that eminated from the three of them, despite their perfectly calm faces.

So they examined each other for a moment. The silence was broken, finally, when the woman who remained hooded spoke.

"So, Amea, you've finally come home. And with your lapdog, no less. Well, that's a little unfortunate. I suppose you've got for that bitch of yours?"

"If you've so much as harmed a hair I'll..."

"Don't be so dramatic," she scolded, "She's been kept in the best of care. Now, Sam, I'm afraid you'll have to leave. It's bad enough you've led them here..."

Sam, who was leaning against the fender of the jeep, had about enough time to blink, before a loud crack echoed from the surround and the back of his skull was splattered all over the now-cracked whindshield. Kes winced at the sound of the shot, but didn't move; she knew the shot wasn't for her.

"Such a waste... he was quite usefull."

"So, Anika, what brings you out here on such a fine dreary day? Tired of brooding in the nest like an old hag?"

"Kestrel, Kestrel," she said, almost chuckling, Now that's no way to address your Matriarch. I think I'll need to teach you some manners... Actually, Sandra, why don't you?"

The pale girl nodded, and from under her cloak she drew an ornate looking sabre. She held it in her left, while drawing her cloak up with the other almost as a kind of shield. Seeing as the challange had been offered, Kes drew her own blade and waited for a lunge. The girl, Sandra, was a P5 - formidable and above average, but far weaker then Kestrel. Idly, Kes started scanning her, waiting for her to decide upon her assault plan. The cloak, of course, was a ruse; the dagger was obvious. There wasn't much hiding from a telepath such as her.

The girl darted forward, and stabbed at Kes's thigh, trying to get her to parry and expose her back. The ploy was obvious, and avoiding it was easy. She spun slightly to one side, and hacked down at her assailent's arm with a vicous two-handed slash. The blade bit deeply into the girl's arm, which she had flung out to feebly defend herself. She shrieked and collapsed, blood pooling in the rock and gravel of the courtyard. She wasn't dead, but damn well wasn't fighting with only one arm. Feeling rather merciful, Kes let her live, and laughed as the girl tried to crawl back towards the gate.

Anika was less then amused, and frowned. "Well then. Naomi, help your poor sister-in-mind back into the infirmary.I'll settle this myself."

The second girl nodded, and glared at Kestrel while helping Sandra up. She tried her best to tie her torn cloak around the bloody stump as they went in order to stop the bleeding. They dissappeared from sight as the door closed.

"So... tell me Kestrel. It's obvious you've kept up with your training... But how are the nightmares? Been sleeping well? Or do you still have to resort to meditation and drugs? I've had to live like that for awhile, and I know it does things to people. By the way, did that scar of yours ever heal? The one I gave you?"

Kestrel just glared. That's where she rememberd Anika from. She had since taken over the Navis in all those long years since then, apparently. Idly, with the hand that wasn't holding her sword, she pulled the neck of her shirt down to abotu where the eagle's head had been carved into her flesh. Now it was clean.

"Oh, it seems fine. And I've been sleeping well of late. Have you?"

Anika's lips twisted into a bit of a snarl. "We really should have just kill you... no matter. I'll finish the job. Here." she tossed a small cylinder across the courtyard at Kes's feet. Not sure what it was, she tried to get away from it. A good thought, but the concussion grenade was a little too close.

She was only unconscious for a few seconds, but she was rather suprised to find herself lying in the dirt with a rather painful ringing in her ears and stars in the corners of her vison. Staggering back to her feet, she could feel the hot blood that was just trickling from her ears and a gash on her forehead. She couldn't maintain her balance for long, and sank to her knees. Her sword lay a good three feet away.

Anika walked forward, and stood just in front of her. She bent down, and said something, something Kestrel couldn't hear. He mind was befuddled. Anika drew a long silver knife. She raised it, and came down hard with a slash aimed at Kes' throat.

The blade hissed through the air, the cold straight silver of Anika's knife intent on gorging itself on Kestrel's soft flesh and warm blood. But it wouldn't get its chance. Either Kes wasn't as poorly off as she had otherwise seemed to her assailent, or she had just displayed the suprising resilence in the face of death she was noted for. Either way, she manged to block the fatal stroke, while replying with a solid blow to Rast's gut. Staggering, she doubled over from the hit, allowing Kes to struggle to her feet. Kestrel then gave Anika a good punch across the chin before grabing her arm with her right arm at the elbow, while the holding the fist clenched tightly around the knife hilt with the other. Anika's eyes opened wide in blind panic as slowly her knife was twisted back on her. She feebly tried to break Kestrel's grip with a few weak punches to the side, but Kes was past noticing. In a last ditch attempt, she tried to use her considerable abilities to cause a blinding pain in her opponent by attacking her nerves. None had been able to resist her at the peak of her power, but now she was baffled and rebuked.

'You...' she pleaded, speaking telepathicly, 'You stopped... me. Please...don't... for your daught-URK...'

Kestrel cut her plea short, ramming the long silver knife into her throat, just above the collar bone. It was exceedingly sharp; the curved tip sliced through her pale skin like it was nothing, on through the jugular with a burst of thick dark blood, and into the windpipe. He tried to cry out in pain or terror, but it only came out as a sickening gurgle. Her life was slowly ebbing away and more bloody gushed out onto her chest. Finally, after a last defiant glare, Anika went limp. It was over.

They both seemed to collapse in the dirt together, a dark bloody pool forming below them. And in the door stood Naomi, watching her real mother kill the only one she had ever known. Anger flared in her eyes; the Indiastani storm-troops were charging up the raviene, intent on her monastary. She lost her oppertunity for vengence, but she'd still kill once; she forced herself to shuffle Sandra loose the mortal coil, to insure the wounded girl wouldn't tell them about her and Anika's plans. She desperately burned for vengance, but now was not the time. She knew she needed to escape alive. So she bolted the gate shut, fled down through the catacombs, and out towards the other side of the mountain. Some supplies had been stored away for just such an eventuality, and stopping only to take them, Naomi vanished into the mountains.