The warm beams of a summer sun shone down on the illustrious enigmatic assassin. Known to many as Mercy Sheridan and to a select few as the Sanguine. She was the leader of the Sicarii and for this instance, her position as the partner of Quintus Knightfall was perhaps more important. The two had come into contact when she was undercover as Mary Sullivan, an Internet reporter uncovering events having to do with the corrupt US President and his dealings in Venezuela.
That had been what felt like a lifetime ago. Having trained with Quintus and entered into a relationship with him, Mercy had formed an attachment to his daughter, who had assisted in her Arashikage training. A telepathic summons from her had lead back to the island where she was distraught to find the daughter of her lover chained, shackled and referred to simply as Slave.
The supremacist Charlemagne LeBeau had eradicated the Arashikage and annihilated the island. She had engaged him in combat for the life of Quintus and Ziccarra Liafador's daughter and for the first time in her life, had found herself evenly matched in something more than a spar.
In the end, she had traded a year of her services for the life and freedom of the Knightfall-Liafador heir. It was the only emotionally fueled decision she had allowed herself to make during her duties as a Sanguine. And it was one that she hasn't regretted for a second.
It was now that she finally sought out the mother of the child and former wife of the man she had come to care for more than she would admit to herself or to anybody else. One of the Sicarii agents, Melody Sanchez, had tracked down the elusive and illustrious Ziccarra Liafador to a small town on the coast of Belize. The Hernandez Cartel had claimed the border town as their own, their foothold into Belize. It had begun to ravage the town, the effects of the drugs that they were pushing and the people who were consigning themselves over to be drug mules to give their families a leg up. According to the intelligence of Ms. Sanchez, the Liafador matriarch was attempting to protect the borders and holding steadfast in her efforts to do so, pissing the cartel off at every turn.
There was a small diner in the center of a town, a refuge from the oppressive heat and according to Melody, who had positioned herself as a waitress there and was thus privy to local gossip, a recurring information gathering spot for Ziccarra, the woman who didn't seem able to stop. It was where Mercy planned to make contact.
Clad in oversize sunglasses, a white scarf wrapped artfully around her head to protect from the sun and sand, white jean shorts and a loose draping tank that showed off slender arms, Mercy entered the small establishment and took a seat at the table in the corner of the room, facing the door and waiting.