Got caught. Beam broke... felt myself fall. Didn't get hurt though, am too good for that. I'm working for someone now. Gang man. Guy I was supposed to off. He put something in my blood, I think. Can't know. Says it'll kill me if I double step him. So I won't dare.

Slime. that's what he is... pure and simple. I don't want to be his wench, but that's what I am. I can't stop him. Started killing for him. First job, I just simply shot the guy. The next one I got more creative.

The old me is coming out. It's here. I felt it pulse inside me as I carved out one guy's eyes. To teach him a lesson. Then cut out his tongue. He'll never know. I hear rumors of myself. New names. They think I'm a man. Call me the "Fox." Reminds me of my Miles... I wonder if they think I'm him.

I don't want to be this person. But I don't have a choice. Scared that Chuckie will find out. Or hear word of me. Scared that this will all end badly.

Got another job.

Raye walked through Stars End like she owned the place. She was dressed androgynously. Baggy jeans, a black hooded sweatshirt zippered up. Her hair curled up under a hat, sunglasses hiding those green eyes. She was unidentifiable. Feet brought her back to that abandoned warehouse, the one she had been caught in. This time, though, she got the more comfortable way up, escorted to an elevator buried behind a mass of rusting junk by two lackeys. One man was about six foot and easily weighed three hundred pounds, his arms were bulging muscles covered in sprawling tattoos. His buddy was smaller, more wiry with rounded glasses and a hand constantly resting on a rather large blaster. The lackeys were silent; they simply lead Raye to where she was going. Once inside that same office, the one she had been "recruited" in, Raye was suddenly alone facing a high backed executive chair. Save for the rusting bleakness of the warehouse, his office was lushly decorated: thick carpeting, wood panelling, artwork (he had surprising taste), and light jazz playing very quietly over speakers

"Here I am" She spoke with a touch of sarcasm, eyes narrowing at the chair. She pulls off the cap, shaking her firey hair free of its prison. A delicate hand comes off to slide the sunglasses away; they were quickly folded and placed in her hoodie pocket.

The chair slowly rotated, and Riff lounged and looked at her. His blonde hair fell around his face making him appear equal parts unkempt and rugged. He spoke lazily, watching her through partially lidded eyes. "Hope you didn't come in like that, you'll blow the big secret."

Raye tossed her hat on the desk, leaning her weight against the panneled wall. Green eyes narrowing on him as she slowly shook her head. "I didn't get this far being stupid."

"Then you've already heard the whispers." His feet still resting on the desk's edge as he lounged. "They think you're some crazy-eyed drifter guy from the West End or something, with a sick sense of humor." His face held this strange half smile; as if he were taunting her and pleased with her all at once.

"Most of that is true." Raye was amused, her lips curled up just a little. A hand came to rest on the revolver in its holder, just habit. She propped a a foot on the chair meant for her to be sitting in, leaning forward to rest an elbow on her knee.

Riff spoke again, off handedly, "Well, good. Keep feeding into it. It's a smoke screen and it's useful." He sat up, feet falling to the floor. "You've been pretty slick with the last few jobs, yea?"

"I try." Raye's smile grew into an outright smirk. "May as well have some fun with it."

"Didn't have much trouble with them, did you?" He was toying with something in his hand.

"No, not a problem yet. You have some weak enemies." She spoke lightly, teasing. A push up and she was standing straight once more. "A few even begged." She chuckled coldly, just for a second as she lowered herself into her chair.

Riff's casual smile, his casual cockiness(the kind that made you just want to slap him), his eash going 'haha' demeanor--they all vanished. Without warning, he was cold like a rattlesnake eyeing a mouse. "That was the point. I sent you after bush leaugers, low level nothings." His voice was ice cold, full of bitterness and disdain. "You think I'd turn you loose on meaningful targets right out of the box? Without having a gauge for how you'd handle things?" Even his accent was different. He sounded like Gordon Gekko with ice water in his veins. "This was your first level test, nothing more."

"That's what you think of me?" Raye spread her legs in order to brace her elbows on her knees, bending forward at the waist. "I would have got you, you know." His response wasn't a smile, or was it? There was an enigmatic ghost of something on his lips.

"I don't go by hearsay, or words from anyone. I go by what I see, and until I saw you in action, it meant nothing." Riff rose slowly. "You know what reputation is? IT's gossip...it's people talking. Now, I don't like gossip, except as a casual amusement. What I like is fact." His eyes were glittering. "I like reality and now I've seen a little of your reality, so it's time to see how you take a little more of a challenge." After a pause, Riff flicked an envelope onto the desk. "This is your next one. Not something to be sent in the mail."

Raye reached foward to take it, turning it over in her hands a few times before opening it. "Any special messages?" She popped it open now, sliding out its contents.

"Alger Oben. Diplomatic liason to the Verrin Cluster, one of the trading partners that deals with Rhydin and Star's End. Not a terribly notable military power. But rather rich in mineral value, and hence they buy nice protection." His name made Raye smirl. A devilishthing, teeth showing.

"Oooooh? What he do?" She quirked a brow. "He's going to have a bad week...." Raye clicked her tounge against the back of her teeth as she thought.

"He lives a nice life, doesn't have to walk in the lower warehouse district, understand?" Riff sat again, the casual smile returning; it was like the frost melting in spring. Or Spring Break. "As usual, the details are up to you. Be creative - but don't be seen. Those are the only rules I give you, little fox. Don't be seen, don't be heard, and get the job done. Beyond that, you're free to indulge yourself."

"Don't call me little." She growled at him.

He smiled. "A privilege of rank."

-------to be continued-------

((This is adapted from live play. Also thank the player of Decavalier! Also, it will be alternating story and perspective pieces, you'll know the difference because for Raye they will be in italics and for Riff they'll be posted by him and not me.))

Part 3.

-------

They talked shop for awhile. He had some good advice, but quickly the conversation turned. The whiskey burned in Raye, turned her mind. The past few weeks had made her more bold, more cunning.. and she had an idea. If she could seduce Riff. Make him love her. It would be harder for him to kill her later? on a whim.

That?s what she told herself. It was a survival technique. Chuckie would forgive it? if he ever found out.

Words, smiles, winks and nudges. She thought she had him. She thought she had opened a door. And then he took her hand. Just a few presses, a few key pushes and she had melted. Become a ball of hypersensitive nerves. His touch electric.

Raye followed orders. Not cheekily, but happily. Sit, move, breath. And he made her feel like she never had before. Somehow this was better than sex. This was more addicting than sex. All he did was rub her shoulder, but he may as well have laid her over his desk.

Once he was done she collected her things and left. Two missions in mind. Kill the Ambassador and get Riff to melt like that for her.

Neither were easy.

The man turned his head slowly, tilting it up to catch sight of the silky voice that had been addressing him. He had muddy brown water for eyes, and raked her crimson clad curves mercilessly, a violation of a look; pools stopped on that brunette hair( a wig, pined on by Raye herself, almost perfectly natural looking). His fat lips curled back in a sickening smile as he stood to pull her out a seat. A round man, with arms that seemed too short, humpty dumpty sitting on his wall.

"Please, sit down, Miss...."

He would pause for her name, nodding and smiling once he got it,

"You can call me Alger."

No last names, but his first would confirm for Lerida that this indeed was the man she was after. The voice fell from him slippery smooth, as if it were a dark pol pouring from his mouth, coating the floor and the table. Anything he came in contact with was slick.

From not far away, a dark clad woman with red hair pinned up was sitting, watching. Raye wouldn't let her new toy play alone. Not yet. She sipped her wine(whiskey made her look too obvious) and watched the pair from half lidded eyes. Mascara thick and deep on her face; the makeup hid her true colors, she liked to think. This test was important, would determine if she could handle the real deal.

And Raye's instructions had been clear:
1) Meet the man.
2) Earn his interest
3) Get him to agree to a date at the Ambassador Hotel the following night.

Now it was up to that pretty girl.

Alger retook his seat, smiling at her, slick and slippery: more oil.

"So, what does bring a pretty lady like you to a table like mine?"

"Anything can be shared, m'love." His chubby round face turned a crimson red as she ran her toe against his leg. A shudder wracked his body, pulling at him, forward a smidgen. "And what is your name, belladonna?"

Head tilted right, to look her down, that outfit was driving him wild like a beast and he couldn't think straight, despite all the warnings and all of the trainings and everything a man of his power would go through all he could think of was her waist in his hands and her hair through his fingers and the sweet seduction of her breath on is ear and....

Alger was lost.

Raye watched carefully over her wineglass. Yes, she was feeling good about this. Could even, perhaps trust this woman. She was going to kill her decoy after the hit... cause them both to be poisoned. But not anymore, not after this display. Perhaps she could use her again. A slow smile crossed her face as she saw the man lurch forward. "Good job, little fox, good job." It was all a matter of position.

"And what is your name, belladonna?"

And how many times had she said this name of hers, she almost scoffed at it herself.

But a furl of her tongue spoke the world, as though her tongue was velvet itself.

"Lurr-ee-dah"


A smile of the cheshire cat; vamping it up, she reached a hand across to gather the wine to her hand. In the motion, slow and daintily executed, her verdant-ripe eyes tumbled to the eyes upon her, marking her for a death of some kind? A trill twittered within her spine as it arced in her scant manuever of shoulder, decolletage and breathy swan-neck propped utterances.

"The merlot, Alger, tell me.....Do you drink of other more...potent pleasures?"

The parabola of her brows was pinched high, as she leant in to show off some more shoulder and pour the wine, drilling its swathe of burgundy to the glass she so cleverly plucked from before one of her glaze eyed admirers.

"I have a fondness for Doe Eyed Splendours....if you should care?"


A nibble at her bottom lip.


Inside, while blistering in the attention, reveling in such fanciful make believe-'twas a good laugh for the reformed-black nugget, a forfeit in paen to the Old Days.

Yet, her heart shone polychromatic-black and white, trying to fit together, a reconciliation of past and present. It was bitter, sweet and infinitely more sour than her own gut could digest after all that life had glinted her way in recent dawns and midnights. Happiness, true contentment...


"I bid you a night with me Alger", she admitted as her thoughts fell aside with the same flimsy disarray as a shed silken night gown. She had let her thoughts glide like ghosts behind the labyrinths within her gaze, letting the men muster what they would of her. This masquerade. Dangerous, enciting. A bright scarlet lie.

"And only you", she begged in a fit of her tongues gliding along the glass' rim. The eyes narrowing in on each face, warning them off from fantasies ever becoming real.

"I'll leave you to ponder it...and the possible position we could get ourselves into."

Hoots, laughs and gasps met her cheeky little coddle of his interest.

A flashy smile and she bent forward to stand, a deliberate lean in to take one last, long extravagant sip, a whimpering moan and all, soft, subtle, and she turned on her heel, letting the low-back gaping of her gown show the pull of muscles roll beneath her smooth-tapered shoulders. Narrow at the waist, hips comely, breasts a side on testament to her feminine wile.

"And uh"

A torch lit giggle.

Smokey, warm, raspy.

"The merlot was mediocre"


A wink


"Doe Eyes are infinitely ...sweeter"

And she turned, making a path through the crowd.

Raye laughed as she looked at the dumbfounded man sit there. Lerida passed right by her and she followed her with her eyes, making sure she got to safety before scribbling in her notebook. She was trying to get a handle on the entourage she was sure had to be there.

If they let statesmen out like this on their own, a hit would be easy.

Anyone with colors was written down, sketched(she had never been happier to be a half decent artist). However, she was sure there were plain clothes out there. Was it that man, who went to the bathroom three times in the past half hour? Or the other, who just stared at the wall behind Alger's head...

She was sure of one thing though. The tall bulky man that didn't even look at Lerida as she sauntered through the crowd. He was trouble.

Alger just sort of stared. The woman's perfectly balanced assault upon his senses had left him almost entranced, and her departure brought him crashing to earth with the same shock as an addict coming down from a delightful high. It left him oh so hungry for more, and even as she vanished out of sight and his eyes continued to strain for a glimpse of her, he was making plans to find her again.

He beckoned an aide over without looking, the man scurrying up in quick reaction. "Find her again. I don't care how, I want her." He had an intoxicated smile up his face, as he mused over Lerida's ghost-image in his mind. What a tempting creature..

The aide scuttled away just as quickly, but heavier steps replaced his lighter ones. (m)"I don't like this. It's a little too casual that she just happened to glom onto you, and play so heavy, then tease and vanish. Sounds to me like a con job."

Alger snorted, and waved the large man off. "By Reh, you say that about every female that I've ever bedded, or looked at, or that has come within a sunround of me."

Rumbled back, "That's what you pay me for."

Alger rolled his eyes slightly. "It is, but you're like a broken record sometimes. I often wish you came with an off switch, you know."

The large man remained unmoved. "If that's what keeping you alive and healthy takes, that's also what you pay me for."

"My boy... sometimes a rose is just a rose. Now, then, time for dinner I think. And perhaps if Grayn is skilled enough, I'll have my dessert sooner rather than later, neh?" Alger chuckled appreciatively at his own joke. The large man wasn't quite so amused.

Riff is a dangerous man. What am I caught up in? Can't refuse. Can't submit.. not inside. This job needs to be done. Have to prove myself. Lerida seems worthy. Have to keep her name in mind.. a pair we make. She's the beauty, the lure, the seductress and I am the arm. I do the killing, yes... I am the spider she is bringing them to.

What am I into? And with the other game afoot. I think that everything is collapsing upon me. Old life is back. Can't deny it. All alone in it.

Got an outside job. OCorr needs some cleaning done. Have to get myself a new broom. A new friend. A new outlook on things. Yes. Miss my OCorr. The look on his face to see me now, black pants, black shirt, black heart.

Should drink less... must keep my wits about me. Kipling. Hated women. I find him comforting though. Yes. I need -his- warmth again. Teeth on skin. Devilish grin. Addiction begining. And from just one -kiss-. God... one more day. Finish the job. Finish the job...