She walks the dark city street, black coat billowing about her legs as her feet hit the rain-slick pavement in steady rythm. He walks easily, untouched by the swirling crowds of partygoers and late-night shoppers.

Abruptly she stops and looks around, scanning her surroundings until she spots the alley way that she seeks. Uncaring of potential risk, she steps into the blackness and walks deeper, skirting piles of refuse and the occaisional stray animal. Within moments her eyes have adjusted to the gloom, and she sees as clearly in noonday sun, picking out her quarry before he has even heard her approach.

She stops before him, ignoring his shocked cursing as she seemingly appears from nowhere and extends a slim, pale hand. Muttering softly to himself, the scruffy looking man places a small package in the waiting hand and retreats half a pace, nervous sweat mingling with rainwater dripping from the guttering overhead. With futive eyes he watches her open the pack and check the contents, pinning one item to her coat breast and pocketing the other. He almost turns to run as she reaches under her coat, but catches himself when he sees a bulging envelope in her hand. He takes it quickly, almost snatching it, and begins to edge past her, heading for the street. She steps aside to let him pass, drawing an item in each hand from her pockets. In one hand, the photo that had been in the package. In the other, a small block of dark plastic.

Hurrying past her, the man barely feels the contact of cold plastic against his neck before the biting cold of an aerosol injection rips through him. He sees the ground rush up to meet him, but doesn't feel the impact as it smashes into his face. His last concious thought is that with all this happenning to him, he should feel something...

Finished studying the picture, she lowers her arm, returning the air hypo to her pocket, then glances down at the crumpled figure beside her. There was little chance that he could have identified her, but caution has kept her alive for a long time. She continues watching until the last twitches of dying muscle had fade away then turn back toward the street, pocketing the photo as she goes.

Music thumps loudly from the nightclub, washing over the queing people outside and the raven haired woman in the leather coat that walkes straight past them towrad the doors. The bouncers, spotting the VIP badge at her breast make no move to intercept her, save the one by the cloakroom that offers to take her coat as she enters.

Inside the club proper, her looks and short, figure hugging dress draw admiring looks from thoseclose enough and not too busy drinking, dancing or romancing to notice. Moving gracefully in time to the music, she heads for the bar, flshing a dazzling smile to those who catch her eye and politely dodging any who ask her to dance, the image of a girl meetong friends to have fun.

At the bar, she spots him and slowly, to be sure he notices, moves to take a stool beside him, casually brushing his body with her own as she sits. Darkly hansome, he is more rougrishly charming than his picture would suggest, and he turns it on full blast as she sits down. She orders a drink, which he offers to pay for. When she acceps, the barman simply nods and moves away, granting them a little more privacy. She leans over to whisper a coded phrse in his ear, then moves away with an apologetic look on her face when he seems to choke on his drink. Abandoning her own glass, she stands and turns to leave, a glance over her shoulder showing him close behind, a puzzled expression on his face.

She reaches the exit a pace or two ahead of him and pauses to reclaim her coat. Shrugging it on, she produces a slip of paper from the inside pocket and hands it to him. He unfolds it, reads the contents and smiles. He looks up, shaking his head in wry amusement, and looks around for her with no success.

A short distance from the club a park sprawls for acre upon acre, a the lake at it's center shimmering in the twin moomlight. The man walks toward the clump of trees described in the note, and spots her as he draws near, her pale skin almost glowing in the faint light. He sighs and holds out a hand for the expected package, but is suprised when she moves close in a flash, her body moulding against his and her hands pulling his head down to hers. His arms wrap around her as her hands move down his back and a silent command runs down the nerves to her fingers. She plays up to his caresses for over a minute, then steps back coyly and rakes her hand edge first across his stomach. The now razor-sharp nails slicing easily through cloth, skin and muscle. He drops to his knees with a cry, clutching at the wound, trying to hold back the flow of blood. He feels his limbs grow heavier and heavier as the neurotoxin injected by her nails does it's work. Soon enough, he lies on the damp grass, aware but immobile, as blood continues to flow from his body. He can see her standing, almost hidden in the shadows and tries to speak, to ask why.

She watches him, sees his lips tremble, and guesses what he is trying to do. She looks around quickly, spotting one of the dozens of decorative fountains that dot the park, and moves toward it. She looks back at her prey as she walks and he hears her voice, softly spoken but as hard and cold as ice.

"Surely it's obvious why, isn't it? You pissed someone off."