Turning of the Tides

Outside

Three men came into the first clone's sights. He waited, then fired a shot at the one at the rear of the trio. His head moved to the side at the last moment, and the bullet flew harmlessly into the ground. A shot flew through the the branch holding him up, and he began to fall. Adjusting mid-flight, he landed on a branch mid-way, the harness keeping his arms straight quickly retreating back into his suit. He flipped, landing on the ground. Tumbling forwards, he ended in a crouched position in front of them. "One? They sent one guy?" One of them smirked. The clone's face remained expressionless. "This'll be easy."

The clone launched himself in motion, executing a 180-degree turn, his elbow flinging towards the first assassin's face. It was deflected to the side, a jab aimed back at the left side of his head. The clone grabbed the arm and twisted it around, only to be forced to stop midway and deflect a kick aimed at his head using his bicep. Bringing his leg up, he slammed the heel of his boot into the assassin's neck, staggering him. Flipping his other foot back around in a circle, he cracked him across the head, sending him flying against a tree. The impact cracked his skull, sending bone shards into his brain and putting him out of the fight. Turning around, he suddenly held both arms up as both of his opponents aimed jabs at him at the same time. A knife nearly sliced his throat when one of his brothers came flying through the trees, kicking one of the assailants in the back of the head. Nodding once to him, the first clone charged at the assassin that was currently occupied.

Jabs were thrown and parried. The clone would slam his arm against that of the assassin, twirling it harmlessly away from him, only to have his fist caught and directed off to the side. Forcing his stomach in, the assassin avoided a punch to his ribs by an inch, leaping up and flipping his foot in an arc at the clone's head. It was stopped at the shin by the clone's wrist. At the same time, their heads flew towards one another, only to stop inches from contact when they both realized the other's plan. They remained still for a moment, then both swerved to the right, the clone bringing his leg up, the assassin jabbing with his elbow. The leg thwacked against the assassin's side, the elbow making contact with the clone's chest. Both staggered backwards. Resuming a stance, they charged at one another. Chops were blocked, kicks parried, punches deflected. It was becoming obvious to the clone that there would not be a way to win this without self-destruction. In mid-turn, he nodded to his brother, then took out a detonator. The other clone did the same. Flipping up and around, both clones grabbed their targets and held on tight. Simultaneously, they pressed the detonators. There was a beeping sound, then explosives in their suits ripped through the night, initiating a blinding white light, followed by a booming sound. Each clone was torn from his target, and all four men were sent flying. Their charred corpses landed on the ground, sprawled out and limp.

Inside

Victor has relocated to a windowless side-room. He was standing near the doorway. The genius scowled for a brief moment. He would not be able to allocate as many units to this fight as he'd hoped. Two red lights flashed on his screen, and he brought up the corresponding miniature windows. Two clones lie dead. He was about to take remote control of the rest when the wall blew down in front of him. Victor didn't even flinch, simply turning his attention to the newly-formed hole. The device in his hands reverted into a cellphone, and he slid it back into his pocket. In front of him stood a group of two men, clad in combat gear and carrying firearms. "They brought a businessman to a fight?" One of them muttered. Victor smirked. Jerking his arms up a little, he adjusted his tie, then went to shift his cufflinks, so that they looked better. "I take it you gentlemen are our.. opposition?" They didn't understand the casual nature of this man. "You'd be right." Victor chuckled a little. "Well then, do your job." He closed his eyes, then re-opened them. When he did, his eyes were no longer an illuminated blue. They were a bright red. His smirk widened, showing his perfectly white teeth. "Kill me."

Gunfire erupted in the room, and Victor lurched into motion. Bullets ripped harmlessly through his suit jacket, his body moving in just the right ways as to keep the rounds from causing him harm. Ending up in between them, he jabbed both elbows outwards, knocking the guns out of their hands. "I've seen better shooting from one of my fresh-grown.." His head tilted backwards as both of them swung their elbows around in a unified strike, letting them glide through empty air. Bringing his fists up, he punched both in the rib-cage, then retreated backwards. His arms raised up, one stretched out slightly more than the other, the fingers on each hand outstretched. Both of the men ran at him. A jab connected with Victor's ribs, a knee-thrust hitting him in the mid-section. Grunting, he slugged one of them across the jaw, sending him reeling backwards. Bringing his head crashing forwards, he slammed it against the killer in front of him, forcing him to stagger backwards. Resuming his composure, Victor brushed a loose strand of hair out of his eye.

Another clash ensued. Victor dropped down, landing on the fingertips on each hand, his body held up horizontally above the ground. Doing so reeked hell on the joints in his hands, but he managed to kick his legs up into the kneecaps of his enemies, sending them to the floor. They recovered at the same time he was back on his feet. Victor barely managed to stop a punch with his open palm. The speed with which they threw their blows was incredible. Almost inhuman. "You're fast. I'll give you that." Dropping the hand, Victor dodged a strike, then brought his hand around and slammed the closed fist into the side of the assassin's neck, using the full brunt of his super-strength. There was a loud crunching noise as bone shattered, and the man fell to the ground. "I'm faster. And stronger." Turning to the last one, Victor flexed his fingers, dropping into a combat stance. The assassin took out a pair of knives, then stepped forward a few times, swinging both arms in a horizontal arc at Victor's head. Holding his arms up, he stopped the attack at the wrist using his forearm. His knee came crashing upwards into the killer's chest, destroying the lower portion of his rib-cage. Bringing the knee up again at an increased angle, he he shattered the middle section. Moving his head back, he was about to use the man's knives to end this exchange, when his opponent's boot kicked him in the chest, sending him staggering back. Sighing, Victor reached into his jacket, pulling out a knife. Flipping it around, he drew his arm back, holding the weapon by the tip. The killer took the hint. At the same time, both men flung their blades at each other. One tagged Victor in the shoulder, the other slamming harmlessly into the wall. Victor's knife hit its mark, digging into the assassin's temple.

Turning around, he felt the wound to see how far the blade had gone in. It had barely penetrated. Grasping the handle, he ripped it out, grunting, then tossed it to the floor. He had work to do.

““他尋求報復的人應該記住，先挖兩個墳墓” (He who seeks revenge should remember to dig two graves”)

The Flower of Carnage marched through swampy forest, her ceremonial silk Chinese robe reflecting in the thin fog. As she moved towards the chateau; she could see just how cold the night was, her breath began to somersault before her lips before fading in the night. The rays of the full moon shot down between the forlorn willow trees. She moved through the darkness with such poise, and elegance that the toads felt solace in her presence. Though she walked with the presence of a dignitary; her intentions were that of an assassin. As she strolled up the cobblestone way, a slight smirk came across her face, her twisted nerve had been hit; her whole journey seemed to be the rising action of a movie.

Stopping at the doorstep; the ocean could be heard roaring in the off-set; taking a moment to look behind her; hundreds of Cardinal birds, sit perched within the willow trees. The image of the devil reflected within her eyes; glancing down at the stoop her suscpions had been confirmed, the forces of Dark Magic was being implemented. She could hear that a battle was taking place not too far; with the amount of magically gifted people Jean usually kept; she knew she had been spotted long before stepping foot on the chateau. “Foolish…preparing for an attack by an unknown enemy” Y said, softly.

She casually stepped inside the chateau with her newly crafted Dragon Pit Blade dangling off her shoulders. The moment she stepped inside the door; most of the butlers and servants stopped in their tracks. The looks on their faces, caused the cocaine goddess’s breast to harden, the fear the exalted was humbling. They looked like mice, which had just come home to see a huge snake coiled in their nest.

Despite the possibility of them alarming Cass or Jean of her presence, she had to leave them alone; reaching Cassidy was the number one priority at this point and time. Slipping into what appeared to be some sort of pantry, she ran into what appeared to be an android. “Duchess…” Y whispered; having been caught without any defenses for mental attacks; Y had to attack. “Damn it” she expressed whilst pushing her blade forward only to have the crafty woman dodge it.

“Killing Cass? That’s not acceptable at all” the woman said, using a telekinetic push; to knock Y into a shelf. Pushing her hands along to floor made the tiles erupt in a wave like pattern to throw the woman off guard, a good tactic that allowed Y to get in closer. From close proximity the woman tried an open palm strike towards the jaded dragon’s face, Y countered only to be halted by the sounds of occult chanting. “Oh…boy” she said, tossing the cuckoo back her hand; which she previous had locked in an armbar.

“As I lay me down to sleep, I pray my soul is mine to keep; and never step outside this bed. Into all the EVIL, NOW BACK FROM THE DEAD”

Both Y and the cuckoo were knocked to the floor by a supernatural wind, “It’s the Black Cardinal…” Y said; running swiftly down the hall. Hundreds of hooded Red Cardinal foot Ninja; began storm the chateau. Y didn’t care for anyone else in the Owls, if the spirit of the Cardinal found Mercy; hell would break loose.

"Dat was suppose to be for her but I guess one bird is as good a dee next, no?" Briefly checking the condition of Esther Gambler continued, "You dont have many options here mon ami, might I suggest bringing dee lady back to dee Court of Owls. We can treat her wounds dhere. Dee choice is yours....."

Francois looked down at Esther, gripping her face in his hands he turned her cheek. He looked up at Jean. Francois was the 'Red Bird,' the man that stood at Esther's side since she was a young woman. He had been there through her training. He, like his father before him, had made it his life goal to protect the Cotillard dynasty. His family had made an investment in the Cotillards, but over time his personal investment had changed. What had begun as a promise to protect a dynasty had grown into something deeper. As difficult as it was for him to admit it, over the years, this woman had begun to tug on his heart strings. And now, after all this time, after witnessing this man attempt to destroy her Empire time and again, he had returned to kill her.

Francois rose up and pushed Jean backward, "You are crazy. You meant that for her and now you extend your welcome toward her into your court? You son of a bitch." Esther's most trusted guard quickly closed the distance between himself and Jean, gripping the collar of his jacket in both his hands. A smile crept across the villain's face. He casually looked down at Francois's grip on his finely pressed shirt, and, cocking his brow, he chuckled softly. "I could kill you, you snake!" Francois whispered under his breath.

"You can try, Mon Ami, and you will fail. As all others have failed. No matter how much passion fuels your desire to enact your revenge upon me...and I know there is passion," the words slithered through Jean's lips mockingly. Jean gripped Francois' wrist and squeezed it tightly until it weakened and he slowly let his hold on Jean go, "I am, how you say, untouchable." Jean smoothed his shirt.

Esther grimaced and opened her eyes slowly. Feeling a deep wound on her side, and reaching for it she stared down at her hand. The moist warmth seeped through her dress, drenching the palm of her hand. It was bloody. "Perfect." She whispered to herself. She had put up a serious fight against Surreal, but the damage done to her physically seemed to have come from the explosion. She surveyed her surroundings in search of her opponent. "She's probably gone." Leaning against the rubble around her she stood up.

"ENOUGH. Francois I refuse to allow you to speak for me. And you..." Esther stepped forward, closer to Jean. Holding her side, she turned her mouth up in pain. She pushed Francois to the side until she had come face to face with her ex-husband. In all the years that had passed, she had thought about this moment, mulling it over in her mind. Would it happen? What would she say? What would she do? There was a moment of silence. She narrowed her hazel eyes, looking squarely into his. He leaned his head to the side, still smirking. "You are reckless. I suppose old habits die hard."

"Esther Cotillard. You'll really have to tell me how you managed to be so...well preserved." He eyed her exposed leg and torn dress. Raising his hand up he lifted the loose strap of her torn sleeve. She slapped it away quickly.

Gambler had placed Esther in a rather interesting position; were this a chess game, her Queen would be in check. Leaving the scene injured would put her in a more vulnerable position than accepting Gambler's false invitation. The worst thing she could do at this point was to reveal her allies who had been residing in New France since it's resurrection. She could not show her hand, and thus, agreed to make her trip into the Lion's den.

"I need a Doctor, Jean, and you are taking me to one."

With hostilities mounting and the whereabouts of the World's greatest martial artists still uncounted for Jean knew time was of the essence. Compounded by the Cotillard Countessa's substantial injuries out in the open they were an easy target. "We've got to move." His calm and collected voice adding some level of uneasy reassurance while the wind carried the sound of emergency vehicles closing in from off in the distance. Rapidly typing along his miniature wrist gauntlet touchpad Gambler quickly activated a remote satellite linc igniting the elegantly sophisticated multi-point sequential V12 engine of his modified Lamborghini "Sesto Elemento." Its sleek design and blacked out frame were anything but subtle as it charged out of the hotel's underground parking garage sliding around in a hundred and eighty degree turn alining itself perfectly alongside the curb and its awaiting passengers.

Entering under its wing like doors Esther smirked, "I'm disappointed Jean, you use to have taste." Her verbal jab arousing a devilish grin from the Aristocrat Assassin. Thinking back to a time when they were the most power and beloved couple in the country. Having elevated the nation to heights that rivaled the most storied empires while maintaining the integrity of the people. Villains who had down more for their own countrymen and woman then any hero ever had. An unstoppable maturation of political manipulation and combat intelligence all the while cloaking their families fabled clandestine history of legendary assassins, but that was then. That was before Jean's ideals were poisoned by his never ending arrogance and inability to shake his self-induced paranoia. Forcing Esther's hand as she feared for not only her own safety but for that of her country. The architect of a military algorithmic style coup d'état, the deadly beauty had almost ended the reign of the LeBeau Legend only to be betrayed by her own forces. Narrowly escaping France under the guise of a faked death, exiling herself to South America were, unbeknownst to the rest of the World, she secretly began to rebuild a formidable empire.

"Mercy! Mercy come in damn it!" but it was no use. Security protocols dictated a full scale communications black out in the event of an attack meaning anyone caught outside the Chateau would be on their own. However the Cajun had several cleverly implanted fail saves including but not limited to a direct line to the Vogue Vixen and the Arc hive mind. Tapping his index finger against his temple he tried once again to contact the Court. "Claire? Claire?" but there was no response. There was nothing but an empty void in the subconscious space between thought and reality. "Somethings wrong, dee Arc has been compromised." Gambler said with a sense of urgency. "We need to go somewhere safe, I'll not jeopardize mademoiselle safety simply because you are either to inept or arrogant to protect your own establishment" Francois lectured. Maintaining his concentration the assassin didnt bother to face the condescending protector as he responded, "We have no other options. She's lost to much blood and dhere's no telling dee severity of her internal injuries. Any longer and she'll bleed out entirely.""Then what do you propose?'"Hang on!" Flipping a multitude of switches on the illuminated dash board. Causing the car to elevate as its wheels stylishly folded underneath the carriage launching itself into the air while transforming various components that intricately vacillated the cars configuration.

Flying over the main grounds the field leading to the Chateau was peppered with advancing assassins. The vehicles computerized holographic night vision windshield frantically mapping out and targeting each one while simultaneously displaying vital information alongside the screen. "Dee roof is our best option" proclaimed the Living Legend as the computer analysis zoomed in on the LcH member Warp. His dazzling display of systematical swordsmanship unintentionally clearing a path for the late arrivals. Hovering the craft several feet above the Chateau Gambler dispatched a military grade zip line fired directly into facilities frame. Harnessing himself to Esther Francois immediately dove out sliding down the steel cable followed by the vaulting aristocrat. Who then proceeded to address Warp. "Bai is it? I do not believe we have been formally introduced, my name is Jean Luc LeBeau. We need your help mon ami, and we need it now. Can you get us safely inside?"

Harnessing himself to Esther, Francois immediately dove out sliding down the steel cable followed by the vaulting aristocrat.

She wiped her blood stained hand against her gown and looked up at Francois. "Get out the Resource Integration Gear (RIG). I need to know how much time I have left." Esther was losing blood, rapidly, and she had been less prepared than she would have liked for the particular circumstances. She could hear the explosions from below her. The roof of the building was too much of a clearing, they needed to move quickly and out of the visibility of their opponents.

Meanwhile, Gambler proceeded to address Warp. "Bai is it? I do not believe we have been formally introduced, my name is Jean Luc LeBeau. We need your help mon ami, and we need it now. Can you get us safely inside?"

Esther watched as Jean made conversation. Francois passed his hand through his dark hair, moving the strands away from his eyes. He slipped off the bag quickly , removed the device and handed it to Esther. She crouched down on one knee and strapped the two piece device to her thigh holster, and the other around her wrist. She removed a blade from the holster and created a horizontal tear from the slit in her dress. In one quick movement she tore the rest of the fabric and used it to tie around her waist tightly, creating a compress to slow down the blood.

"This should be adequate, at least until we get some needle and thread," she said as she glanced up at Francois. Esther reloaded her gun and got back up. She looked at Jean and Warp, "I'm sure we can find our own way down, but you are more than welcome to join us."

She hit the button on her wrist, activating the RIG which created a holographic display before them. "The RIG will show us where to go, and how to maneuver throughout the building safely. It identifies unstable structures within the building and is equipped with a heat sensor...Which means less surprises for us," she looked up at Jean, "in case some of your unexpected visitors get too close. Speaking, of, why are they here?"

"Chere, that's a great question. It may have something to do with dee fact that my wife's body is here."

Esther smirked and shook her head, "It may have been wiser to bury her, but I guess you're just too sentimental, hmm?" She closed the distance between them and looked up at his face, parting her lips and scanned his features. He looked down at her lower lip as she dragged her tongue across it subtly.

"So sentimental. You should see all the remnants from our marriage I held on to after you left me," Jean said cocking a brow. His gaze remained on her lips.

"You mean, after you tried to kill me?" she asked, smiling. Raising his hand to her cheek, he dragged the tip of his thumb across her lower lip and let his hand fall, grazing her left breast, landing on her hip. He moved it to the small of her back.

"Old habits, Chere."

"We are wasting time." Esther activated the RIG and stepped away from Jean, smirking mischievously.

Beep beep

The device scanned the surroundings and created a hologram pointing towards the building's west wing. Holding onto the ledge, she dropped down to the side of the building and onto a balcony of a guest bedroom. She picked the lock to the swinging french doors and went inside. Gambler and Francois followed suit.

"Bathroom...bathroom..." She scanned the lavishly decorated room hurriedly, spotting the entry into the provate bathroom. She hurried in, threw open the top cabinet above the sink and scanned the bottles. She slipped off her gown quickly and threw it to the floor. "Francois, cover us." Her guard stood watch, activating his RIG.

Removing a bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet, Esther dumped the contents onto her wound. She rummaged through the sink drawers, and found a medic kit. Removing a sterile needle and thread, she began to thread her wound.

"Ugh..." Her breathing quickened as the pain began to race through each and every one of her nerves, "Merde..." her fingers moved quickly and she grimaced as it pierced her skin again, and again; closing the gap of her wound. She then proceeded to re-bandage herself. She adjusted her black, satin push-up and garter belt, and tightened the straps of both her thigh holsters. Jean stood in the doorway of the bathroom, watching her closely.

"Francois has already sent out a distress signal. You will have reinforcements here within the hour. "Your" Chateu will be saved." She said as she adjusted herself.

"And dee catch?" Jean leaned against the door frame, eyeing her figure. Esther slipped the remains of her gown back on.

"You said 'owls don't build their own nests,' that they take other people's nests and make them their own, right?" She eyed him and moved closer to him until she was inches away from his face. "You took my home after it was destroyed, Jean, and you rebuilt your own home on the remnants of my dynasty."

"I was paying homage to your legacy."

"You were stifling any evidence that there ever was a legacy."

Jean chuckled, "Whatever you say Chere. What's your point?" He snapped back quickly. His eyes narrowed as he inched his face close to her hair, taking her in. He grazed the back of his hand against her exposed thigh.

"If you built your home on whatever was left of the Cotillard chateu, then you built on top of the Pont du Gard ruins." A smile crept across Jean's lips. "I've come back for the Dropa Stones."

She stood poised in her room, sipping a tall glass of champagne as if just returning from a dinner party. Everything was still and silent, except the curtains on the doorway to her balcony that flowed in the nighttime breeze. They were going to get in, regardless of the teams efforts, so why not give them an entrance she would see coming? She had requested a room that opened to the ocean, and from where she stood she could see the moon's bright reflection broken in the restless water. As night had fallen and the battle drew nearer she had changed into her primary combat uniform, an elegant green strapless suit with opera-length gloves that left her hands exposed. It was all designed with her dignified tastes in mind, while remaining practical for battle. And from the sound of near silent footsteps making their way from the roof above her room to the balcony, the costume would be put into effect shortly.

As expected, three assassins landed agilely on her expansive balcony, weapons drawn. Sprinting towards her she smirked. "Pathetic."Raising one arm effortlessly a blast of emerald magic energy shot towards the man to her right of the center assassin, causing him to crumple and fall as if struck by a seizure. "One down." She taunted arrogantly. One of the remaining two apex assassins leaped forward, flipping over her with refine grace. As she prepared to strike them with as little effort as the first, the doors to her room burst open. A fourth assassin rushed to aid the two men watching her, while a fifth walked in with an unexpected air of confidence. As he spoke she could detect a smirk through his black mask, "You didn't think we wouldn't bring toys to handle you, did you Enchantress?" And with peak human reflexes the man unsheathed two thin swords, glowing with golden energy. Almost within the same movement he sliced through the air with both blades, sending two thin lines of golden energy towards her.

Caught off guard by the extreme impact of the energy, she was sent flying out of her room and over the balcony. Her body skidded against the grass, tearing up the manicured lawn until being brought to an eventual halt. Raising her hand to her head she stood up in a quick recovery, her eye catching the four assassins mounting over the balcony and once again running towards her. The glint of gold flashed in the night and she raised an open palm towards the incoming blast, a green force field erected to eliminate the oncoming force. Her eyes crossed in fury at her humiliation as she lifted one of the four assassins, quickly closing in on her, and telekinetically sent him hurtling towards another, knocking them both unconscious. With superhuman agility she sidestepped and ducked away from two more of the mysterious gold swords' energy projectiles, and retaliated with another beam of magic energy that took out the second to last assassin.

Now walking, the apparent leader was only a few yards away from her. The light from the moon cast down on the scene, an eerie light that complemented the battle's tension. Something about the silence of an ongoing war made the two seem even more alone, as if the moon and the ocean were their only companions and time itself were frozen in their brawl. Standing at her full stature Enchantress watched with cool eyes as the man began walking not towards her, but circling her, like a predator closing in on its prey. She smirked. That was his miscalculation from the beginning: she was the predator. With superhuman reflexes her hand shot forward just as he was beginning to raise his weapons. A continuous beam of energy shot into him, and a satisfied smirk covered her face. "Fool." His body elevated off the ground as the energy continued to pour into him like fire being injected into his veins. "Please," he managed to choke out, "you've won. Make. It. Stop." But it didn't, not until his body stopped convulsing in unbearable pain and fell motionless on the moonlit grass. With one final look of contempt at the lifeless body, Enchantress made her way once again towards the mansion, undoubtedly filled with similar scenarios, to end this war before the sun would rise.

Surreal SaDiablo was quite possibly the world's most formidable martial artist and without a doubt one of the most skilled assassins to ever live. It only made sense that the men she had sent to descend upon the nest of the court were impeccably trained. They all had boosted stats and none of them stayed down for long. Cassidy was in the process of fighting a group of three, usually a number that she'd make small work of. But this was not easy, it was grueling and difficult and it took all of her concentration.

Currently located in the front courtyard, she was fighting with everything in her arsenal to hold off the deluge of assassins, knowing that if they breached the Court Chateau, it would leave her no other option than to detonate. What their goal was here was hitherto unknown and at this point, it simply didn't matter. Swinging her katana with brutal force, amplified by her telekinesis, black blood spurted through the air, staining her face.

The unmistakable noise of an aircraft landing on the roof caught her attention and in that moment, she was on the ground after having caught sight of Jean and a woman who looked all too familiar on the roof. Her blade a foot away, the young assassin resorted to her telekinesis, blasting the interlopers off of her and buying her a few seconds to pull her blade back into her hand. Yelling through the clang of battle that had overtaken the area, she yelled for Claire, warning her about an assassin right behind her before jumping back into the fray.

A sound reminiscent of thunder, but with a human cadence, sneaked through the air, sending shivers up the spines of everybody in attendance. “As I lay me down to sleep, I pray my soul is mine to keep; and never step outside this bed. Into all the EVIL, NOW BACK FROM THE DEAD”

Her eyes went pitch black and for one full minute, the world went silent, or at least their world did. In what appeared to be a faint, Cassidy hit the ground.

'STARKS IS DOWN. I REPEAT MERCY IS DOWN." The clear voice of Claire Swanepoel rang out throughout the courtyard. All eyes were on Cassidy, even the assassins paused in the middle of their work. In the commotion, a multitude of Red Cardinal foot ninjas, devotees of the religion that Sha had left in her wake, stormed the chateau.

Her eyes opened and it was a whole new world. Colors were clearer, but her head was full. Something was so very wrong and anybody looking at her knew it. The one feature of hers that was apparent through the suit was her red hair and as of now, it had taken a deep auburn tone, almost as if somebody had mixed black in with it. The assassins that had been surrounding her had been decimated in the flash bang of a bright red bubble, one that had momentarily illuminated her position in the courtyard, visible in the night sky for a surrounding mile.

"Duchess, get me Cuckoos, now! I need an evac." It was seconds before the bewildered woman and five of Duchess' Cuckoos were fighting through a horde, making their way back into the building. Something was wrong inside her head, there were thoughts that weren't her own, thoughts that belonged to somebody she hated.

Outside the door to the Arc it became too much and Cass went down to her knees, clutching her head. The Cuckoos immediately formed a formation around her, simultaneously protecting her from any enemies that may have made it in and probing her mind for answers.

"She's too full. There's somebody else in there."

"Somebody angry, somebody loathsome."

"She smells like magic."

"She isn't right."

"We need Claire."

She could feel her body being moved into the Arc and hooked up to the machines that Duchess had devised, but her mind was elsewhere. The beast inside of her had raised it's ugly head.

“Glad we could finally meet again Cassidy, of course you don’t need to know who I am. We are one now; I can feel and taste your every thought. I can taste your lust for love, just as easily as I can smell your stench for revenge. It’s funny, as much as you appear to change; you never really do huh? Who do you think you’re kidding, you say we were friends; truth of the matter is WE DIDN’T know ONE THING about each other. You called me friend, because Jean called me Love, when the world called me Vile; you too called me vile. You allow your emotions to override instinct, your no assassin, you’re a poet proficient in nothing but gaining a false since of Empathy for the feelings of others; nothing about you impresses me.

You’ve been nothing but a sheep to the Lebeau family, answering the calls of daddy dearest always afraid to leave home. The sad thing is, you don’t realize how expendable you truly are. I died and people created a religion, and a way of life dedicated to just me; what will become of you? You have no legacy, you have no right, and you have no accomplishments you took poor Ethan’s for your own; when you die you’ll be buried next to the family pet.

Darkchild committed atrocities and was denounced by you for it, I committed Atrocities and was denounced for it; but not Jean; that’s your weakness, it’s as clear as day, continue to put on that façade about being someone important; because what happens when he’s dead? You won’t be important.

An ardent combination of anger and hurt rose inside of her and her back arched as she struggled against the machines, the will of the Black Cardinal kicking in.

"I wanted to like you, because he loved you. I wanted to be your friend, because I respected you. Perhaps I was naive and idealistic, or perhaps I just had a heart despite what I'd been put through. That was always the difference between us, Sha. You'd burn everybody you ever loved to the ground, god knows you almost did, if you believed in it enough. You opened my eyes to how badly people you put your trust in could betray you. So...thank you for that, I think.

See, I'm happy with my place in life. I know who I am. I know where I stand. I suppose some of that is because of you. But most of it's because of me. It took me a long time to figure it out. I'm not by Jean's side because I rely on him. Haven't you learned yet that it's the other way around? I thought you were more observant than that. My emotions are what keep me human. If I didn't have emotions I'd...well, I'd be you, wouldn't I?

You give me chapter and verse about how I'm not important. I don't know if it's to grate my nerves and make me second-guess myself or if you genuinely feel that way. I'm going to open up your eyes for you, though. You, right now and every time you come after me, make me important. I am enough of a thorn in your side that you continuously snipe at me and try to take me down. If I was truly such a speck of dirt on the bottom of your coveted boot, then I wouldn't even warrant that. Food for thought, Sha."

Her eyes opened wide as she snapped out of what appeared to be a coma, flailing wildly on the table before calming down, forcing herself into a calm pattern of breathing. Turning her head, she pulled out the probes, still fighting against Sha in her head.

Your children will hate you for putting them in the middle of this lifestyle.

"Duchess, something...really bad happened. Somebody tried to bring Sha back. It went wrong." Standing up, she straightened her hair and attempted to get back into the fighting mindset, only slightly unnerved by the cadence that the Cuckoos worked in. "She's in my head. If I can't contain her and we can't figure out how to get her the hell out and back into a rotting pit of despair or if I do something incredibly out of character, I need you guys to promise me that you will shut me down." A resounding silence swept through the Arc as Cassidy headed towards the door, preparing to face battle.

Kaz will leave you. Or he'll die. Just like everybody you love dies or leaves you.

"If push comes to shove, close down all of my higher brain function. If it's necessary, lobotomize me."

Darkchild will come back. Nobody ever stays dead.

Bringing both hands up to her forehead, she pushed against it, wanting to tear her own hair out. "You will, this time. That's a promise."

"If you're unable to bring me back, kill me. That's an order."

Pushing through the doors of the Arc, the Ronin Assassin triple-checked her weapons, Duchess and the Cuckoos spreading out behind her as they began a search of the Chateau in order to clear it.

Katashi had been standing there, his capable ears listening in on the various fights. Blades sunk into flesh. Men boasted to one another of their skill. Women murdered their opponents. All the while, the Japanese assassin remained silent on the center of the rooftop. His eyes shut, and his body relaxed, his mind having gone into a semi-meditative trance. The sound of the Frenchman landing, followed by his voice addressing him, graces his ears. Both spoke, including the woman. A single finger held up in their direction, and the Japanese killer listened.

There was the faintest sound of padded boots landing on the roof, then metal carefully gliding free of the confines of a polymer sheath. The lithe killer in the center of the rooftop exhaled slowly. His fingertips flexed, testing to see if his power had yet to return to him. Time remained at its normal pace. For once, the cold murderer spoke. When he did, their was an icy edge to his voice. One that conveyed the lack of soul, or emotion he truly felt over this prospect of being confronted. "Considering that I.. dispatched the last of you so easily, I am assuming they sent someone more skilled to deal with me?" He spoke not to Gambler, or his female companion, but to the new enemy.

The fact that his target had heard him approach from so far away, the enemy assassin was stunned for a few moments. Then he smirked. "If they believed in luck, they would of just said you got lucky. But you'd be correct, for the most part." The Japanese man's eyes opened half-way. They too, like his voice, reflected a lack of spirit. "Ah." A singular declaration. An acknowledgement from a disinterested butcher. His fingers gripped tight around the familiar hilt of his blade, pulling out to the side. Steel slid across leather, and his blade came free of the sheath. "I see." The bleak eyes opened fully, revealing two blank, bright grey eyes. An abnormality among someone of his race, inherited from his father. "Let's get this over with, then." The enemy hadn't even waited for his opponent to finish speaking. By the time he had, his blade was swinging at the Japanese killer's head in a horizontal stroke.

The Miao Dao came up vertically, blocking it, then rotated to the side, deflecting. Stepping back, he swung right. It was parried, and a cutting blow was returned back at him. Deflecting it, Katashi kicked his enemy once in the chest, staggering him. He attempted an overhead blow, but was interrupted by a recovering swing from his enemy's blade, and forced to retreat back. The exchange picked up in speed. Each blade hissed over its enemy's limbs, missing it by a hair's length. Neither man was moving at a human speed. To an outside observer, it would sound as if there was a high-pitched whistle going through the air every few seconds.

They finally landed a blow. Katashi's arm was sliced across the bicep, and the assassin had two fingers removed from his left hand. Both men stopped to breathe. Then, they struck. First Katashi swung up and to the right, only to have an overhead blow catch his blade. Pivoting around, he swung at the man's side. The assassin blocked by holding his blade diagonal. Slipping his finger through a leather loop on the bottom of the handle of his blade, Katashi stepped back, holding his blade to the side with one hand. Exhaling once, the cold killer swung his blade in an overhead one-handed strike, crashing it down towards his opponent's head in what looked to be a deliberate matter. At the same time, he minutely twitched his midsection to the right the slightest bit. The assassin took the bait, and his blade went to parry Katashi's strike. At a moment's notice, Katashi released the hilt for a few seconds, moving the finger in the leather loop to the side. The blade swerved to the right, angling down at the killer's neck. Gripping the hilt, the Japanese murderer gritted his teeth as steel sliced through his side. The enemy killer realized his mistake, and started to try and recover from his error.

He was several seconds too late. The Miao Dao sunk into his neck, carving all the way down to the spinal chord. Ripping the blade back, Katashi leaped up and spun his leg in a reverse 180 degree arc, hitting the still standing corpse in the waist. The force behind the blow sent the body flying across Chateau roof, coming to a rest near one of the edges. Recovering, he stood still, his blade angled down and off to the side. "Not quite skilled enough." The female offered for Katashi to follow. His head turned from side to side, in a stoic manner.

"STARKS IS DOWN. I REPEAT MERCY IS DOWN."

Even the stone-cold killer froze. Their leader, of sorts, had been incapacitated. Suddenly, a sea of red crashed down towards the Chateau on all sides. Walking to the dead body he had just slain, his open hand picked up the katana his opponent had been wielding, and gripped it. Turning, he ran to the opposite end of the roof. There was a moment of calm before he swiveled around, beginning to run, his legs pumping at a speed that no human man could ever hope to achieve. Lifting up, the Japanese terror launched up, then rocketed down to the crowd.

A state came upon him that no living man or woman had ever witnessed. A demonic state, fueled by sheer fury. Fury pent up over twenty-eight years. Fury over a father that had abandoned his son and wife. Fury over a mother lost. Fury over the death of a sister. Cold, burning, hellish fury. Chinese and Japanese steel whipped around like a horrifying tornado, slicing off limbs and piercing through torsos. Red began to stain the green of the Chateau's fields. Screams began to fill the night, seemingly overbearing the hails of emergency coming from within the building. With each fresh cut, the butcher became to bear the colors of his enemy's cloth. The ink on his body was coated in the fluid of those he killed.

It was terror personified. Dread given mortal form. A single monster standing in the way of an ocean of hell's many devotees. Forcing it to find another way to flow into the Chateau. But it did not relent. It did not stop. The demon was determined to best its foes. The beast would defend its territory.

Instantly, the highly anticipated battle commenced. Bobbing his head out the path of a vicious sword thrust, mysterious Impero quickly tapped the blade's midsection with his index finger, effortlessly snapping it in half. This however, was no feat of physical strength, it was pure skill and control at display. To a grandmaster of exotic, even supernatural martial arts, exploiting the weak points in even the strongest objects was a task far too basic. "Huh?", the now unarmed assassin stepped back, shocked at The Genius' first act of retaliation. "That's not possible, that sword's blade, isn't it supposed to be made of bainite steel?", another assassin asked, the other simply shrugging off the curious question in favor of charging towards manipulative Impero. Executing an aesthetically pleasing butterfly kick aimed precisely at nefarious Impero's head, the highly skilled assassin performed his attacks at such a speed that it seemed almost inhuman really. "You keep on surprising me", the intimidating enigma commended, parrying the kick with his palm then instantly countering with a thunderous forward roundhouse kick across the assassin's jaw. And for a moment, Impero's arm had been paralyzed by the assassin's kick, fortunately though, the charming snake's knowledge of the body's vital points enabled him to free his arm from brief paralysis by not tapping but specifically pressing and rubbing the very same vital point.

Slowly clapping his hands in a taunting manner as his opponent fell of his feet from the sheer power of his kick, Impero offered his advise, "A butterfly kick. Not something particularly useful in a combat situation. Yet you managed to perform it with excellent speed, almost as if it were a simpler attack", The Genius praised yet mocked simultaneously, calmly pacing around his grounded opponent while the others dashed towards him, ready to put their numerous weapons to use. First a barrage of shuriken were hurled towards him, the masked enigma dodging every single one in an artistic manner, "Die!", one of the assassins screamed slashing his sword with the intention of cleaving through their cryptic opponent. Sidestepping the slash, Impero followed his evasion with a quick stabbing hand strike on the assassin's shoulder, instantly paralyzing him by exploiting an overexposed pressure point. "You lot are actually quite.. effective", The Genius admitted, "But, unfortunately for you all, I've lost interest". In mere seconds, Impero was surrounded by his opponents, however, the condescending mystery remained poised and composed, his immense, almost insane self-confidence never wavering. "Enough of this nonsense!", the assassins demanded, seconds away from simultaneously assaulting their masked target. A smug chuckle emerging from within Impero's mask only infuriated them. Seemingly disadvantaged, the martial arts grandmaster offered the first real glimpse of his true fighting skill, quickly subduing every single one of his opponents with a lightning-fast combination of artistic palm strikes and light jabs, instantly paralyzing their nervous system.

"I admit, you are dangerous opponents. Even my personal guard would struggle and possibly even fail against you. But I am Impero. The deadliest martial artist that the world has ever seen", the intimidating puppeteer stated, his handed folded behind his back as he spoke. "Gentlemen", enigmatic Impero concluded, walking away from the paralyzed group of assassins as they soon all erupted simultaneously, their blood and organs splattered across the ground. While his attacks had initially paralyzed them, they had actually served a deeper purpose, the exploitation of the more difficult vital points in the body. As he left his location, satisfied with what he had learned from his opponents, the time to set his initial plan in motion has arrived. While he could very well defeat his opponents through sheer skill alone, deadly Impero's location prevents him from doing so, revealing his true martial arts mastery with several Court members in the perimeter would be foolish, there are still countless secrets that he does not wish to be known. His brief display of knowledge on the more exotic pressure points was a risky course of action in itself. Spotting the next wave of assassins, Impero's intentions to learn of this enemy's identity was now the only thought coursing through his remorseless mind. Concealing himself in the eerie shadows, Impero waited, silently for his enemies. The very second that they were within inches from his well concealed self, The Genius struck, elusively and effectively.

A sharp adamantium blade protruding from the masked mystery's left gauntlet, Impero swiftly pierced the blade into the back of his victim's neck, the blade managing to drive into the assassin's spinal cord. No more than a second after killing his first victim, Impero followed by brutally snapping his next victim's neck, using the shadows to his advantage. With only one assassin remaining, the manipulative snake emerged from the shadows, utilizing his gauntlet's unique technological capability of manipulating an opponent's internal body fluids. Instantly taking control over the numerous fluids in the assassin's body, nefarious Impero forced the skilled assassins to his knees before approaching from behind, standing mere inches from his victim's body. "Let's make this simple shall we? There is information you have that will benefit me greatly. I can either torture you in ways you didn't believe possible, or..", the shadowy enigma continued before finding himself standing in front of the kneeling assassin. Dropping to a single knee, the endless darkness shrouding his mask's eye holes, Impero instilled a paralyzing fear into the man, "..Well, you'd best pray that you are fearless and your mind unbreakable. You have a choice. Your body, it has been trained to be the perfect fighting machine by your superiors. You believe yourself to be a diamond, hard and brilliant. But to my hands.. you are a mere balloon, my every finger a needle waiting to make you pop", he warned, placing his palm on the top of the assassin's head. "Now then, tell me. Who is the leader of your organization?".

Pseudoarcheologist would have you believe that the Dropa Stones, or Dzopa Stones, number in the hundreds. Over seven hundred to be exact, yet nothing could be further from the truth. Originally discovered in the Himalayan mountains deep within intricate cave systems that had previously been inaccessible do to a massive land slide, the four stones had been buried inside the shallow graves of what scientists now believe to be the first superhumans to have lived on Earth. Possibly the Adam and Eve of an entire race of meta-human mutants. Over the centuries some of the Worlds most nefarious and captivating radicals had pursued the stones and their unquestionable power. Such men as Rasputin, Adolf Hitler, Chaing Kai-shek, and eventually; Jean Luc and Esther Cotillard LeBeau. Granting their abilities to anyone with the innovative fortitude and unmitigated desire to dominate the human race. However the only time that all four artifacts had been in the same location, at the same time after their original discovery, was October 13, 1307; Rochelle, France. Friday the 13th and the day the Knights Templar's were betrayed. It was during this time that while their brethren were imprisoned and subsequently executed for their fabricated crimes against the Catholic Church, a small band of Templars escaped France and with em, the Dropa Stones. Attempting to disperse the artistic archeological antiquities in four separate continents for fear that if they should fall into the wrong hands it would lead to a catastrophic global disaster.

Eventually three of the four stones were discovered and lost repeatedly throughout the expansion of the known World, until finally coming to rest within the lavishly secure confines of the Les Assassins Silincuex with Jean Luc in possession of two of the artifacts while Esther procured one of her own. Locking them both away in their Vatican style vault beneath the Chateaus illustrious foundation. But when the forces of the Mad Titan Darkchild obliterated the country Jean had feared them destroyed, lost beneath the remaining carnage of a once proud nation. His plans for building the Court of Owls atop the shattered remains of the once magnificently constructed home of the Cotillards was a way of making sure no one would ever be able to unearth the stones should they have survived the devastation. In truth, the Cajun's fabled Arcadian was an intricate instrument in his efforts to re-locate the stones through magnetic pulses sent through the Earth's crust drastically altering its gravitational pull. Its effects were unknowingly witnessed everyday as the French tides became rapidly more aggressive, but now, as Esther and Jean strenuously tried to ignore the mounting sexual tension, the former LaS Sifu revealed the plot behind her unexpected resurrection. "If you built your home on whatever was left of the Cotillard chateu, then you built on top of the Pont du Gard ruins, I've come back for the Dropa Stones." 

Flashing a placating smirk the Arashikage trained assassin shook his head mockingly before responding, "Dhen I fear my love you will be saddened to hear dat dee stones are lost. Buried beneath the reminder of Darkchilds war." Moving closer now placing his other hand on Esther's immaculately carved hip the Master of Manipulation pulled her in close without warning, "But dat doesnt mean dee trip must be a total......lose, no?" Arrogantly brandishing his own sense of charismatic charm before stealing a kiss. A robbery that mirrored their first encounter back before they had fallen in love. His actions igniting a flurry of controlled emotions inside his former lovers heart which in turn triggered the stinging burn of her hand swimming across the side of his face. "What dee hell do you think you're doing Jean?" Her anger reserved yet poignant. Another slap followed coupled with a deep huff before the Cotillard Countessa forcefully snatched the back of Jean's hair slamming backwards into the door as she wrapped her lips around the lower lip of the Cajun. Biting down slowly pulling away applying just enough pressure to stimulate his nerve endings inducing a sense of pain and simultaneous pleasure. The heated exchange quickly escalated when Jean snaked his hands behind Esther scooping her up and smiling as she instinctively coiled her legs around his body and squeezed. Passionately working around Jean's neck before he rolled along the elegantly handcrafted frame pinning her curved body against the door. Once again pausing as Esther jerked Jean's head back with a hair pull, "This changes nothing" her breasts rising and falling with every breath, "My dear, it changes everything" he hissed Esther dug her nails into his back dragging them upwards with an almost sadist like enjoyment.

Their sexual escapade serving as documentation that indeed they were two of the most self-absorbed narcissists the World had ever produced. Arrogantly throwing caution to the wind dismissing the all out invasion content of staying in eachothers embrace. The only fighting coming from their jockeying for position so they could see themselves in the mirror while performing.

Y had only one purpose that purpose was to cut the head off the Black Cardinal; it didn’t matter who was currently mounted on. The Cardinals wasted little time in engaging the Owls; this bought her a little time before both groups caught up to her. Running lightly on the balls of her feet, she didn’t make the slightest of sounds. While the Owls were in the process of standing up; The Cardinals had been established to keep the order in the world; by any means necessary.

They were trained to hunt and kill the world’s most foremost assassins; The Black Cardinal herself was never an assassin; however the time she spent analyzing them allowed for her to train them accordingly.

Y slithered towards the interior of the living room, the body of the owl’s most loyal servants dismembered and scattered throughout the room. “Green Dragon.” One of them said, bowing before removing his weapon. “Cardinal…” she said, slowly tapping on her sheath.

Slowly they began to circumvent the room; her eye’s caught everything; the way his feet pointed, the way he held his blade; even how many times he took a deep breath. He came in quickly; Y repelled his strike with her blade, barley flicking it. His sword dug into her sheath, but none the less it withheld.

Now on the offensive, Y came in for a right ended strike, deliberately aiming her weapon at the man’s sword on the right hand side, while in the same motion she spun, around churning her feet within the tiled battle field, and sent an elbow back towards in the man’s face. As the blood slowly dripped down his face, she once again took note, to the posture of the Cardinal. The basics of swordplay would be his downfall. Creating a bit of distance Y moved backwards then quickly dashed forward, while in the middle of running she slid until she was right under The Cardinal, and then kicked upward causing his body to bridge over the kick; before he could even rebut; from her crouched position Y pushed off the ground kicking the Cardinal in the back of the head knocking him out.

“Pity” she said, finally unsheathing her weapon to deliver the fatal blow. The Cardinals were persistent, but they’re leader rest within the city of Naples; the Owls were a much more imminent threat; each and every one of their members commanded enough training to give Y a hard time.

Walking across a threshold she cradled the hilt of the blade with her fingers; her eye’s blurred out the sight of Duchess and her cuckcoo’s. She focused in on one person and one person only, The Black Cardinal.

“I’ll make sure Jim Lee does your portrait” Y said; removing her ceremonial white garb revealing her jet black lycra outfit. She stood in a cocky bowlegged stance with her blade lightly touching the ground. The fresh red blood of the cardinal slowly streaked the duration of the blade before making a small drip on the floor.

Removing her Black Rose Blade, the Flower of Carnage pushed her blade forward sending the Black Rose blade spiraling towards Cass in a rose like spiral.

Using the opportunity to get close; she dashed across the room with her secondary blade (Dragon Pit) creating sparks as she dragged it on the floor. As she moved towards the Assassin Queen; the profuse smell of Iron lingered from the cardinal blood.

Drawing close the Apex Predator leaped into the air performing a masterful corkscrew; throwing her hand down hoping the Queen would go on guard, once her foot hit the ground; she attempted to send her elbow into the face of case; whilst in the same motion trying to low strike towards her abdomen.

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

-Rudyard Kipling

20 minutes ago

The view was one that could easily be misinterpreted by an amtuer as a meeting of some world organization cult. Figures of owls mounted across the room, the members all wearing their pure silver customized Court rings. This was a collaboration of the worlds most justifiably and arguably powerful people on the globe. And they were all standing huddled in the dark like a kennel of common dogs, "I'll...be right back" He says walking casually yet swiftly out of the conference room as Mercy begins to address them all.

The silence. A sign as foreboding of battle as the sound of gunfire. His heavy footsteps billow through the halls, making way to the armory. Behind a large 12 inch thick door with a navy hatchway styled lock in the center. He opens it to find rows of weaponry and armor, though his main goal lay in box on the top shelf. Strapping on dual customized holsters the vintage villain sticks his twin Desert Eagle plasma pistols in either side, admiring the craftsmanship for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye he notices several thick packs of C-4 each weighing roughly five pounds. Below that lay a spool of barbed wire, and next to that, a simple spool of copper wire most likely left over from something Cassidy had been crafting. Gears begin to turn under the furrowed brow of his caramel face, before his eyes widen and a grin of ill intent rises.

Now

A dozen black boots kick in the front of the upper chateau windows, infiltrating the living quarters first. The sound of gun fire can be heard from each room as though it were a decided tactic before hand. In the hall the dozen gather and the seeming leader raises a fist in the air to signify silence. the fist turns into two pointed figners signaling them onward. They slowly move forward in a crouched position with rifles in hand, the sound of whistling growing more with each step.

A scoffing of feet running short distances from an unknown point, the sounds impossible to track as they bounce across the flawlessly acoustically designed walls. An over excited lesser ranked assassin fires off a round at the darkness and a red bolt flies back at him. It melts his face mask, eating towards his skull until his commander pulled it off reveling a bald white man with several scars on his face. They continue to only speak in signals, the commander telling him to put on his ski mask and get back in formation. They whistling starts again sending them jerking back into a stiff crouched position, moving on again. A small smooshing noise is heard under the high pitched whistle. They stop at a cherry wood door and coverit from all sides. The commander counts off of his leather black gloved hand, lipping "1...2...3!" The door is kicked down easily as they all gang way into the breached abode.

outside

Flucks sits on the diving board by the pool, with a spool of copper wire in his hand that trails off into the grass. He laughs lwith giddy anticipation and pride, before sending a small sliver of energy riding up the conductive coil

Inside

The group turns their flashlight equipped rifles onto the surroundings to find a computer screen with a gif of samuel L Jackson giving the middle finger while smiling. The last man who was the shortest of them all, was the only one lucky enough to actually know he was going to die nd maybe say a prayer, as his eyes level with a doorway lined with Plastic explosives, strands of wiring split into multiple ends, each stuck in one brick. the wire is road by a red spark as the man closes his eyes and awaits the unavoidable.

"Hahaha! happy independence day mothaf^ckas!" His eyes wide like a child at the fireworks, an excited smile bearing his daggered white teeth.

Now

The Contessa feels like something most odd must be going on both inside and outside of her room which remains unscathed. Their is a man dressed in black standing on her window, trying to kick through it with the look of annoy on his face, she can read it from his eyes. He shoots his sidearm at the glass from the window as the bullets break into tiny bits, as steel meets enchanted glass. Naamah calmly walks over to her window and looks at the man with a warm smile painted on her face. "Protection circle." she says as the tips of her fingers touch the glass, her entire room starts to glow with golden glyphs shining everywhere. Her entire room in blanketed with magic. The seals have kept her in the dark so to say, dampening her room, she is was unaware of the dangers that now present themselves before her.

The man stands staring at her face with anger burning in his eyes, he is held in place by a rappelling gear and rope. His boots are large and built for this type of job, they have an interesting tread on the bottom of them. Naamah notices the design instantly. "You boys must be well funded." she says with a chipper tone to her lovely voice. She is so preoccupied with the assassin at her window, she hadn't even noticed the three others that had made their way into her room. They entered by way of her door which she had left open for her tea party. Now she knows why no guests arrived. They draw their pistols and lock onto their target and ready their aims, flicking their safeties off. "Care for some tea?" she says warmly.

They open fire as their friend watches from the window with a smile on his face, a smile that quickly turns sour. The bullets shatter much like the ones fired at the window as they hit crimson skin, huge bat like wings spread outwards. The Contessa smiles wickedly at the man at the window, as she spins like a prima ballerina as razor sharp wingtips slice through flesh like a knife through butter, and three thuds are heard as heads go rolling around her room. She moved to suddenly, to liquid, and the shock of them seeing their bullets break into nothing as the slender woman morphed into a She-Demon before their very eyes was too much for them. Had they not took the time to click their safeties, and announce their intent to her perfect ears. They might have squeezed off a few rounds effectively ravaging her pale flesh before the change to crimson. They might have disabled her, and rendered her unconscious. "Pity" She says as she picks up one of the severed heads and goes to show it to the man at the window.

His body is laying lifeless on the cord, her eyes gaze at him with wonderment. No signs of damage, no blood. "Did he faint?" she thinks to herself, as she drops the protection seal from off the window. Her nimble fingers unlock the lock mechanism, then she slides the glass open. A few moment later and she is able to bring the seemingly unconscious man in through her open bedroom window. She pulls him into her room and unlatches his rappelling gear, as his dead weight gives way and he drops to the floor of her room. She puts her ear to his chest, and hears his heartbeat. He did he fainted at the sight of three of his comrades being decapitated before his very eyes. Naamah giggles as her mind starts to wander with idea's of what to do with him.

Then it come to her like something out of a nightmare... "Rex!" she says in a tone that demands listening. "Quickly I want this man to wear you." Naamah undressed the man from his own clothing all the way down to his tighty whities, and then she stuffs him inside of the living suit of armor. She opens the face plate and gives his mouth a quick check for any way that he might kill himself before she gets to have her fun. She finds a tooth filled with poison and removes it from his mouth. Then she closes the faceplate and smiles wickedly. "Rex grab your big guns love... Its time to do some hunting." The living suit of armor grabs two very large guns. Anti aircraft guns to be exact the kind that would normally be fired from a large truck or a tank, not a mobile suit. Rex can handle these toys without much effect however.

Then Rex goes off into the chaos of the assault, his armor feels no pain, and has no fear, and will not quit. The man inside the living suit of armor starts to slowly come out of his blackout, as Naamah can hear him screaming the sound of which is like sweet music to her ears. He is going to have one heck of a wild ride in front of him before he is gunned down by his own team she thinks to herself. Once you put Rex on their is almost no way of taking him off, his strength is so much greater than most creatures made of flesh. Naamah takes a cup of hot tea and follows close behind the dynamic duo, she wouldn't miss this show for anything.

Flashback: One Week Ago

She bit the tip of the pen and looked up at the computer screen, then back to her documents. She sat in the catacombs of the Vatican, in this hidden library. The room was dark, and the two of them were alone. It had been days of this, mulling over transcripts and details. Her exhaustion had at last caught up to her and she felt she was beginning to lose her focus. She looked up at the "Red Bird," Francois. The young, dashing french man ran the tips of his fingers through his hair and brought a thin cigarette to his lips. He pushed himself onto the ledge of the table and bent down towards Esther to light the cigarette in the flame of her candlelight. The light radiating from the flames danced across his face, and he looked almost eerie. Without moving her head, she raised her glance to look at him as he lit the cigarette.

"Should you be smoking that so close to these documents?" She said, cocking a brow.

"Mademoiselle Cotillard, when you've bought dee Papacy...you can do whatever you want, non?"

She laughed at this, shook her head, and brought her gaze and focus back to her work. Three days prior Esther had arrived at the Vatican discretely, and had convinced the Pope to give her access to the documents she currently held in her hands. This was only one piece of the greater puzzle, the rest lay in the rubble beneath her destroyed home, and the current residence of the Court of Owls.

"Do you think that they will let you in? That they will know what is coming?" Francois took a drag of the thin cigarette and rolled it between the tips of his fingers. He looked at her intently as she leaned backwards in the chair and looked up at him. She thought for a moment.

"I don't know. That is a risk I have to take. I doubt very much that he knows he has enemies plotting against him within his own organization."

"Do you believe Mercy knows?" Francois blew whisps of smoke through his lips.

"I don't believe so. I would think they would have done their best to stifle the traitors, Impero, zombibigfoot and Jake Malcolm..." as the final name escaped her lips, she looked down and away from Francois's gaze.

"Will he believe you?" Francois questioned.

"From what I recall, my ex-husband is too paranoid not to believe me."

Now

Francois stood guard outside the door as the two became...reacquainted. Esther pushed herself off of Jean and pushed a strand of hair away from her face.

"You are not bashful now, are you, Mademoiselle?"

She laughed curtly. "Of course not!" Jean still smiling adjusted himself. "I cannot say I did not miss dees lips, Chere." He whispered, cupping her face in his hand.

"At last, we can agree on something...But enough of this. I have pertinent information for you, but in exchange I will need your help. I need access to the Dropa Stones as well as the various maps that my father had encased in the catacombs."

"I told you, Chere, those trinkets are lost. Gone forever. You can tank Darkchild for dat."

"I don't believe you."

Gambler smirked.

"And unless you tell me the truth, Jean, I'll just sit back and let your empire fall."

"What are you talking about?" Gambler's eyes narrowed as he watched the Cotillard Contessa move towards the sink and adjust what was left of her dress. She ignored him.

"Esther. Answer me."

"Promise you will give me back what was mine."

"Fine I promise." She eyed him, moved forward, removed her dagger from its thigh holster and held it up to his throat. Jean put both hands up and laughed, "I swear."

"So they still exist." Esther questioned, dagger still at his throat.

"Oui, Chere. They exist."

She slipped the dagger back into its holster and without looking at him she said "Impero, Zombiebigfoot and Jake Malcolm are plotting to destroy your empire from within."

Patiently awaiting the vulnerable assassin's response, deadly Impero lightly tapped his helpless victim's forehead, "I'm waiting. Do not disappoint me", the calculating enigma warned, before his cowering victim yelped in agony from Impero's last tap on the man's forehead. "Refuse to talk eh? Well, I suppose I'll simply have to.. extract the information out of you", the cunning snake chuckled nonchalantly, "What have you done to me?", the assassin asked, unaware of the pressure point that Impero had exploited through his repetitive tapping on the man's forehead. With three methodical taps on the particular pressure point, the masked mystery forced the assassin's nervous system into a hypersensitive state, rendering the slightest ridiculously painful. "Painful isn't it?", The Genius taunted.

Despite the incomprehensible pain, the victimized assassin channeled all that remained of his impressive willpower and silenced himself, fighting the endless sensation of pain that overwhelmed his body. "It can all stop, provided you tell me what I want to know", the composed puppeteer promised before brutally slapping him with the back of his hand, knocking the assassin onto the moist grass. As the man writhed in agony, intimidating Impero calmly paced around his victim, his hands confidently folded behind him, "You've surprised me. I honestly didn't believe that you'd resist this long. Your mental training and conditioning, it's uncanny. But as it has been eternally destined to be, Impero always succeeds", The Genius admitted, slowly pulling out twin kunai. Twirling the bladed weapons, cryptic Impero paused for a moment, turning to face away from his victim, his mask's technological capabilities detecting a plethora of activity in the perimeter. Turning his face back, nefarious Impero instantly pierced both his victim's thighs with the kunai. As the assassin continued to resist, eerie Impero knelt down on a single knee, mercilessly grabbing his victim by the throat, "So much resistance, perhaps I should just kill you, slowly".

The victim's continued silence compelled the vaunted masked mystery to slowly dig his fingers into the man's throat as he tightened his grip, instilling greater pain in him as his fingers literally pierced into the assassin's throat. The pain soon became far too unbearable, the assassin's hypersensitive nervous system was simply too much. "F-fine! I'll talk..", the man broke, blood gushing from his mouth. "My leader, her name is Surreal Diablo", the assassin revealed, The Genius tightening his grip, "You had better hope that you're speaking the truth", Impero's cold soulless stare piercing into the man's very essence. "It's the truth, I swear!", he assured, a satisfied smirk creeping into Impero's concealed face. "Good. But in order to be certain", Impero paused, quickly delivering a lightning-fast karate chop on the side of his victim's neck, almost instantaneously weakening the physical structure of the man's neck via pressure point manipulation. With his victim's neck weakened, Impero violently tore off the man's head from his body, "You must die".

With his objective of learning of a potential rival's identity, cunning Impero was pleased, having accomplished what he had come to accomplish by exerting as little as effort as possible, and revealing only brief flashes of his true martial arts grandmastery. Walking away from the brutalized body of his latest victim, mysterious Impero opted not to contact his Witch-Hunter lieutenant, Aisha, considering the possibility that any communication line regardless of how futuristic the technology was, could be intercepted. The information regarding the success of the sleeper agents scattered across Portugal will be given to him once he returns to the elusive organization's main headquarters. For the time being, The Genius would reformulate his plans to bring about the end of the biggest problem in his grand plan: Gambler.

Her mind was at war with itself, attempting to shove out the consciouness of Ziccarra just as anitbodies would a foreign intruder into the immune system. It was to no avail, the stubborn will of the Ninjan queen was not to be trounced upon. Every hair on Cassidy's body stood on edge as the Apex Predator known as Y intercept approached her. On the attack with nearly unrivaled mastery, there was only so much that Cassidy could do to avoid it. She wasn't looking for a fight and she was going to need her for what came next.

A swiftly erected telekinetic shield was adequate for blocking the blade that came thrusting for her. It was not, however, so good at blocking the elbow aimed directly for her face. There was a cracking in the air as blood spewed down the front of her face, her eyes immediately blackening. This was followed immediately by a quick strike to the abdomen, the result of which was at least one torn muscle and a searing pain coursing throughout her core. Fighting back the urge to blast Y Intercept with everything she had, Cass clenched her fists by her side and went down on one knee, as if about to pledge allegiance to her like a knight to queen.

Spitting some of the blood that had pooled into her mouth on the floor, she looked up at the devil in human form and forced herself not to shudder. "She's in my head. I want her there less than you do. There are tentative plans for how to get her out, but I need your help for what comes next. You're the best chance we've got to counter Surreal and her men. There's nobody here who's on your level. Help us out and I promise that when all this is said and done, if Duchess and her girls can't get Sha out of my head, you're free to kill me yourself, no resistance."

To cement her point, she grabbed the katana from her back and slid it across to the other side of the room as a show of camaraderie. "For the time being, we have mutually beneficial goals." Remaining on bent knee, blood continuing to stream down her face, the determined assassin looked up at Y, knowing that in the next minute she'd either be dead or on her way to fight what would possibly be the battle of her life.

Y’s eyes winced at the sight of a warrior bowing to her; the sight turned her stomach just a bit, more so when the woman dispatched her own weapon. “Pussy” Y retorted, with an intense anger swelling in her cheeks. She had half a mind to remove Cass’s head any way. Y’s blade rest just a few meters from Mercy’s neck a simple flick of the wrist would’ve ended the life of the Self-proclaimed Assassin Queen. “Everything is so flashy with you assassins, Every last one of you...caught up in the theatrics, caught up in an emotion.” She said, turning around and sheathing her weapon. Y was confident in Claire ability to dispatch the Black Cardinal from the mind of Cass; regardless of that; the Cardinal was fated to rise again.

“Mercy, to Mercy?” A voice broke out from the darkest pit of the room; Y instantly removed her weapon being extremely familiar with the tone and pitch of the woman. From the veil of darkness the highest echelon of all assassins moved from the darkness surrounded by foot assassin from the Cult of Cardinals. Y eyed the crimson clad Surreal, even though her face happened to be cloaked in the mischievous darkness.

“So you’re a Cardinal now?” Y said, slowly unsheathing her weapon again. “Get out of here” Y said, turning her head backwards towards Cass and her companions. The Black Cardinal’s body was in the hands of Jean; he seemed content in keep Sha as an ornament; now all she needed was to keep herself from becoming the next vessel.

“Sǐ shíjiān, xiào xìng” (*Time to die b!tch) Surreal said sternly, she was usually a graceful yet poised person; Y could only suspect her recent affiliation with the Cardinals spurred this aggression.

“Shì bùshì zǒng shì” (Isn’t it always?) Y responded; taking her lead foot back as the foot assassin came towards her. Their strategy happened to be novice; trying to overwhelm her with their numbers.

The Cocaine Goddess pushed her blade forward, allowing the shards to cut through any one who made it within her personal space. One by one the Cardinal grunts fell to the ground before; Y’s goal was the newly anointed Red Cardinal.

With the light extremely limited, Y’s instincts played a major part in survival. Kicking off of a grunt, she sliced through the arm of another; only to be mule kicked towards the ground by none other than Surreal herself.

“Tired of watching me gut your bodyguards?” Y asked, rolling to a crouched position. Surreal did nothing but smile; whilst sheathing her blade. “You know more than anyone, I’ve always taught hands on” she said, taking a fighting stance.

The Cocaine Goddess smirked, taking a stance of the Ju jitsu discipline; having been taught this by ju jitsu master Royce Gracie himself, she hoped this would give her the jump on Surreal.

Y wasted little time; sending a series of small kicks towards Surreal; which were instantly repelled and returned by Surreal. As the two prolific martial artist fought in which could be described as a personal bout; the remaining Cardinals began to chant a hymn; one that Alistair; The Master Cardinal had wrote himself.

Y connected with an opened palm strike towards Surreal’s face; followed by a quick bicycle kick which happened to be strategically blocked. Much to Y’s dismay; her attacks did little to nothing to Surreal.

The chanting grew ever more errie with the intensity of the fight; the sound of thuds could be heard resounding in the house of Owls. Y went for a bold strike towards Surreal’s face but the master, stopped the punch, and then countered with a quick strike to the tendon. Y’s body quickly arched in pain; the sharp throbbing pain did nothing to stop her from finishing the bout.

Surreal left her feet to attempt what, Y only assumed was a roundhouse; catching the woman with her foot extended, Y picked Surreal up, and slammed her down hard on her back. The older assassin arched in pain bawling her fist to fight the pain.

Sticking with her discipline Y went to mount the woman, only to be flipped backwards out the window. The cocaine goddess landed on the moist lawn, only to be quickly followed by her former teacher.

Battling against a misty dark backdrop; with the luminous moon peeking out through the jealous clouds; Y and Surreal countered each other’s kicks and punches until they reached the mouth of the forest.

As they banged around the tree’s both Cardinal and Owl began flocking in a panic into the night; frightened by the action going on beneath them. Surreal’s mule kick landed right in Y’s abdomen but the Apex Predator blocked it adeptly. Y pushed Surreal’s foot up, only to have that trail leg smash into her own bottom lip. As Y was back flipping back, Surreal came down and pushed both her feet into Y’s chest which planted her firmly on her back.

The thuds and counter thuds grew louder as the two elite assassins dueled outside, the situation inside remained ignorant to the two, as the fight became more than she student vs teacher. Y sent a kick at her teacher; one that was countered instantly; however Y sent her other foot flying into the face of Surreal which actually knocked the assassin off her feet. Y ran in trying to mount the downed assassin; however she ran directly into Surreal guard which resulted in her being put in an arm bar.

Surreal pushed her hips off the ground and tightened her legs, a loud pop came from within the Viper’s arm; followed by a hollowing shriek. For good measure, Surreal covered Y’s face with a cloth until she passed out. “Red Cardinal to Master Cardinal…I’ve got the package…too bad it wasn’t marked fragile”

Cynthia had arrived to the location that Naamah had told her to meet her at, only there was no sign of her friend anywhere. "Stood up... Again." Cynthia parks the car and frees herself from its luxurious air conditioning. She leans up against the side of her car, and flares up a smoke. Newport lights 100's are the flavor of the day, and she has never been one for bothering herself to remember to shut the headlights off. She looks over and notices them still on, and her face becomes even more contorted with frustration. She takes her time finishes her cigarette and then re opens the car door, leans in and kills the lights. "Next time I choose the place." she says mockingly, mimicking her friends voice to the best of her ability.

She looks out over the edge of the lookout point and she can see much of the area. She can see a lot from way up here, she can even make out the sign of a struggle taking place at the new headquarters, some guys dressed all in black are reeking havoc, also many other gifted individuals are all running a muck as they posture themselves in such amusingly frightful ways. Cynthia chuckles to herself, as she head to the trunk of her Porsche'. She waves her keypad in front of the S in Porsche' written in silver letters on the rear of the car, and a click is heard as the trunk snaps open. Inside the trunk lays a briefcase containing her Sniper-Rifle. "Baby" As she likes to call it, and a tripod used for holding her perfectly still. Baby has one of the best you can buy Hi Tech scopes attached to her.

Next she makes her way over to the perfect spot, keeping in mind all of the things only a Master sniper would know and she sets up shop. A few moments later and she is doing what she does best as she fires round after round, often times just shooting the other solders weapons from their tightfisted grips at the most inappropriate times, causing them to fail to falter. She has fun just adding the extra effects or the hands of god as she likes to call them. It would be all to easy to just start blowing holes through peoples heads, spilling their brains out all over the pavement. Instead she makes the hidden golden shots, like firing a round that redirects something else that is happening in order to cause many botches.