Izabela strolled into his office confidently, her black steel-toed combat boots making no sound as she stepped up to his oak desk. The office was prodigious, even for an executive’s, with the desk and chair set across the room facing the door. To one side was a leather couch with a coffee table and to the other the wall was dominated by bookshelves filled almost overflowing. The room looked as it always had, with only one exception: tonight, instead of papers and files cluttering the desktop, there was only a single file folder and a pistol with laser sight and silencer. Even Damian was in his usual place, sitting in the leather executive’s chair behind the desk, turning to face the room and smile at her as she had entered the room. He motioned to the folder on the desk and she silently reached across and opened it. No words were necessary; they rarely were between the two of them.

Fury welled up inside of her as Izabela read the file and committed every gruesome detail to memory. It was a contract—an assassination to be made to look like an accident—nothing new to her as she had done many of these for and with him since she started working for him over a year ago. The target was a rapist and murderer; his latest victims were the nine year old twin daughters of a wealthy businessman in town. The file contained everything she would need to carry out the assignment; pictures of the girls taken when they were found slaughtered and dumped in an alleyway across town from the father’s home. She fought to control the anger for a moment before she closed the file and looked across the desk at him. He nodded to the pistol as he flipped a coin across his knuckles with practiced ease. With his other hand, he set a small, wireless earpiece next to the pistol. It was a newer, better and smaller, version of the ones they usually used, fitting into her ear and becoming completely unseen.

The pistol was lighter than her Desert Eagle, and the sight and silencer came off easily enough as she put them into the pockets of her knee length black leather jacket. The pistol she slipped into the waist of her black cargo pants, adjusting it to sit comfortably at the middle of her back before pulling her jacket around her. The coin slipped out of his hand, dropped onto the desk with a soft thunk and rolled off to land on her boot. Without hesitation or thought, she bent to pick it up. As the light hit it, she noticed a strange gleam and turned it over in her hand. Upon further inspection, she saw an unusual image on the face of the coin, that of an old woman sitting at a loom weaving a tapestry. Her grey hair was pulled back into a single braid extending to just above her waist. After a moment, the woman turned her grey eyes to her and smiled, then the image was gone.

The confusion must have been showing on her features for he raised an eyebrow at her as he extended his hand, palm up, waiting for her to return the coin. A moment later she placed it in his hand, shaking her head to clear the lingering image of the woman. She took a second glance at the folder, letting the anger fuel her, controlling it as she returned her focus to her job. Less than five minutes later she was getting into her Passport and putting the key into the ignition. As she turned the key the image of the girls laying mutilated in a pool of their own blood came to the forefront of her mind. She focused on that picture as she drove to the bastard’s building, parking across the street a few buildings down.

Why the fuck can’t anything be easy? She hated complications, but the guard at the door wasn’t so much a complication, but more of a minor irritation. She watched the front of the building and the people and traffic passing on the street for a few minutes. There was an alley next to the target’s building with a door into the building. She stepped out of the vehicle and locked it, hitting the keypad to activate the silent alarm as she walked across the street, mingling with a few people headed towards the building. At the alley, she moved away from them towards the door, slipping into the building unseen. The elevator was in the large open lobby, watched by the guard at the main desk. In the back corner, down a short hallway and hidden from view was the door to the stairs. She looked up into corners and around the edges of the ceiling for cameras, shaking her head slightly as she easily spotted them. It was almost too easy to get inside.

The image of the old woman suddenly came to mind. Something deep inside of her told her this woman had something to do with all of this, but she didn’t have the time to figure it out, she had a job to do. She looked around for another moment before pulling her jacket tighter around her and heading towards the stairs. The target’s apartment was on the top floor of the eight story building, and it took her less than a minute to reach the door to the floor. She paused only a moment to look around and make sure the hall was empty. Seeing that it was she stepped out of the stairwell and proceeded. The man’s apartment was at the end of the carpeted hall, and within seconds she was standing next to it. Carefully, silently, she reached for the knob, checking to see if the door was locked. She knew it would be... Only an idiot would leave it unlocked at this time of night. Of course it was too easy til now for it to be unlocked. Why can’t anything ever be easy? Because if it were easy, he wouldn’t have sent you, silly. The pistol was light in her hand as she pulled it out of its hiding place with one hand. With the other she pulled the silencer out of her pocket, fitting it into place. A moment later she pulled the sight out, adjusting it to its proper place, before lightly knocking on the door.

There was shuffling inside and a man’s hesitant voice asking who the hell was there. Sorry to disturb you this late, sir, but I have an important delivery from the office, Mr. Jones, requiring a signature. There was more shuffling, the clicking of the lock, more shuffling and the summons to enter. Shit... Still standing to the side, she turned the knob and pushed the door open, poking her head around the doorframe for a second to get a look at the inside of the apartment. There was a short hallway with a single door on each side ending in what appeared to be the main room. Directly in front of the door was an empty couch. Not good. She had taken only two steps inside the apartment when all hell broke loose. You aren’t the delivery guy! There were shots coming from different directions as she saw the target behind the couch. Her vest saved her from the two in front of her as she took out the target, however the ones from the rooms to the sides hit her in the legs, causing her to fall to the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, and too late for her to do anything, she saw another man coming up behind her. She felt something hard hit the back of her head, saw the fear in the eyes of the man next to her, then everything was blank. Her last thought was of Damian, of how she had failed him.

She didn’t know how long she laid there when a shuffling sound behind her woke her. Turning to see who, or what, was there, she again saw the old woman sitting at a loom weaving the patterns of life. As she looked closer, several threads flecked with gold caught her eye. Not knowing how or why, she knew they were special, and she looked to the old woman asking her about them. They are my servants. Servants? Who are you? That is not important right now. What is important is why you are here. Okay, so why am I here then? Another woman enters the scene, a little younger, more motherly. Do you believe in Fate, little one? I believe that our lives are ours to do with what we will, that we are free to make our own decisions, but that it is ultimately to the Fates to decide if those choices are right or wrong. Why? Are you willing to hand your life over to Fate? Before she can answer another woman appears, a young maiden. Oh Atropos, I know she will! I created her strong for that purpose! Atropos... She knew the name to be one of the three fates that controlled peoples destinies. So... I am being tested by the Fates themselves. But why? The one called Atropos turns to the younger one. Clothos, she must make her own decision. I have always known that my life is in Fate’s hands, I make my own choices based on the situation I am facing, but ultimately, in the end, if I make the wrong choice then my life is forfeit to the Fates to do with as they choose, even if it means ending my life.

The scene changes. She stands on the edge of a playground with many children playing. A little girl falls down and a little blonde boy come to her side, offering her a daisy. The girl smiles and gets up. She feels a knife in her hand as she watches the children, though she is unsure where it came from. The boy there, his life is forfeit. Dispose of it for me. She stares at Atropos for a moment, anger and disgust in her eyes. Kill a child? That would make me no better than the man I just killed! Are you choosing not to do as I have asked? She hesitates. Kill the child or die herself. It’s a test. I know it is a test, but why? Her life belonged to the fates, they have deemed the boy’s life forfeit. So be it.

She circled the playground silently, moving to come up behind the boy unseen. Suddenly, without warning, she steps up behind the boy, her free hand coming around the boy, covering his mouth and pulling his head back to expose the throat. Her other hand brings up the knife, coming across his throat in one smooth fluid motion, cutting deep across his throat, making sure to sever the artery. The other children around her scream in terror and flee while the little girl stands there calmly staring at her. Something in her eyes is familiar, but before she can try to figure it out the scene changes again to include the other two women. Would you like to know why the boy was deemed to die? No. It is none of my business. The Fates have their reasons, it is not my right to ask what those are. If you choose to tell me, that is your choice. Atropos smiled, Clothos giggled. Because he was born to hatred. If he had been allowed to live, he would have become the next Hitler. She could have argued the point, but did not feel like getting into a pointless debate over war being nature’s way of weeding out the weak from the human population and thinning it out. The older woman points to the tapestry to the child’s thread, following it down to its core, showing the hatred in the child’s life. Before she could say anything, she was back in her own body in the apartment of the man she had just killed.

The pain in her chest told her that she would have bruises in the morning, but they were a welcomed ache compared to the alternative. Damian was kneeling beside her, gently stroking her face, moving a stray strand of her long black locks from where it fell over her eyes. His touch was loving, his smile kind. Welcome back, Izabela. I see you passed the test. He helped her up, slamming her against the wall once she makes it to her feet. She winced in pain as she looked at him. The look in his eyes was lustful and she couldn’t help but to smile at him. "Here? Now?? Mmmm..." "Would you prefer somewhere else?" "Well I’m pretty sure someone has heard the shots these assholes fired into me and reported them by now... The cops are most likely on their way if they aren’t outside the door by now." "You’re right." He fired two shots into the body before turning to leave the apartment, taking her hand as he stepped out the door and lead the way out.