• Well, I have a story Ive been working on for a few months now, and I'm sorry about the length of it, but it's gotten to around 8000 words, but I'd really appreciate it if you could read it and give me some feedback, as well as some ideas on where to go from here. ^^

    Here goes nothing:

    Breath fogging up her goggles, Elizabeth waited for the figure that was just now coming down the alley, barely distinguishable from the shadows. Without her night vision goggles, the shape would be about as invisible as she was in the mist-entwined shadows, but it was evident that the figure was well aware that there was someone else in the dimly lit alley. He wasn’t trying to hide it, but he wasn’t being overly obvious either, pausing every ten seconds or so, discretely but constantly checking his peripheral vision, the signs were plain to the trained eye. The assessment wasn’t even conscious- simply something that she knew with a glance. He progressed towards her now; his steps deliberate yet light, and a calculated look on his face. Impassive.
    Now directly beneath her, he paused for another almost unnoticeable check behind him and she breathed out in preparation, fluidly transferring her weight to the balls of her feet on the very edge of the polished metal railing, only carefully maintained balance keeping her from pitching forward. Shifting her goggles further up the bridge of her nose with one hand to make sure they didn’t come off, she gave him another minute glance. This was definitely him, if the description she was given held true. At least six foot tall, with honey blonde hair tied into cornrows that fell to his waist, and the light, yet strong build of a dancer, he was more than a match for someone of her build. Without the training she had undergone, it would have been hopeless. Finally, though, she had him just where he needed to be. Using her arms to push off, she dropped soundlessly from the railing towards him, like a morbid diver.

    In the ideal situation, her descent would take her to land on his back, forcing him into a crouch on the hard pavement. From there, she was in a perfect position to take advantage of any crucial spot she wanted. The jugular, the heart, slipping through the ribs on the left through the back, the spine... So many vulnerable places. It would be over in seconds, and then she would be away, blending into the night as soundlessly as she had come.

    In a perfect situation, of course.

    Perfect situations seldom happened in her profession, not on targets like this. Alert as he was, she was still surprised he caught the slight disturbance of air as she slid off, Stepping back with surprising grace and flattening his back against the opposite wall. She landed with barely a thud, lips pursed in annoyance. This was no unusual matter, so it didn’t affect the time it took for her to rise smoothly from the crouch and let the knife on each wrist flick with an ominous hiss into each palm.

    Here was the time where it was essential to gauge the target’s reaction. A quick glance to the left or right usually indicated a tendency to run. A glance upwards showed someone who had enough sense to see where she had come from. What he did, however, was different altogether. Meeting her gaze equally, ice blue eyes to unknown, her eyes hidden under the thick goggles, he stayed completely still, as if he was judging her from head to toe. Satisfied, he let his gaze wander almost leisurely over the surroundings, completely unhurried, until they finally returned to her, assessing again. The most unsettling thing was that it almost exactly mirrored her own movements, and she made a note to question her informant’s competence, for not alerting her to the fact that he was a professional. No one was this comfortable in such a situation that wasn’t comfortable in his own abilities. She watched silently as he finally stepped forward, just enough away from the wall to be able to move freely, he dropped his eyes.

    After his initial reaction, that meant only one thing. In three long, quick strides, Elizabeth drove her right hand in a quick thrust to the ribs, designed as a distraction as her left swept towards the side of the neck. Both were meant to finish him before he could bring his own weapons out. Both were met by a hiss and blue sparks as metal met metal, two sturdier, more conspicuous blades appearing in his own hands with hurried swiftness. Whereas hers were long and thin, intended to be quick and lethal, his were thicker, built for brutal combat- sturdy enough to withstand the force of another blade, repeatedly. As it was, hers weren’t able to withstand that kind of stress. One fractured and shattered metal fragments across the ground, the other breaking off at the hilt as she leapt backwards to avoid the quick swipe that would have cut her open from left shoulder to right hip. The rational part of her mind then, reserved from the combat, voiced itself, just as his surely did. Both would have known from that single occurrence that her blades had been tampered with. It simply did not happen. Neither let it hinder their fighting as another feint was made, her lunging under the weapons as they passed. Another blade quickly spirited itself from a thigh sheath into her hand, which she ran a quick glance over, and threw away in disgust. Spider web fractures already marred the dull sheen. From that, she knew not to try any of the other twelve or so that had their place on her person. Working with professionals meant one thing- they were all thorough. Her options rising to mind, within a split second she made her decision. Turning on the ball of her foot, she ran headlong at him, doing the unexpected and rolling underneath the stab he made at her, bolting down the narrow alleyway.

    …

    His footsteps soon matched hers as she turned down the moonlit, mist-shrouded maze of streets. He couldn’t simply let her live after that, even though he blanched at the thought of killing someone for his own convenience. He reasoned with his conscience- she had tried to kill him first. Left, right, straight, left, left, at every turn her figure was always just ahead, a shadow in the mist, until finally, it disappeared and he was left at a four way intersection, stumbling to a halt. People did not just disappear, especially if you could still see them a moment before. He studied the street warily, pausing to get his breath back and tasting the damp, slightly fetid air that swirled around him, growing thicker by the minute.

    He had known he was being followed since he left the meeting earlier that night, keeping to the shadows and backstreets that he knew like the back of his hand. After all, if he couldn’t lose someone in his own territory, he didn’t know it well enough. After a while he had made sure that there was no one behind him, yet it was impossible to shake the fingernails-on-blackboard feeling of being watched. And then she had appeared. Dropping from a second story balcony wasn’t the least original of ideas, but being as jumpy as he was, he heard the intake of breath and stepped back out of sheer instinct. She really hadn’t looked like much- thin, slightly shorter than him, holding nothing but a pair of knives more akin to vegetable peelers... It was almost laughable that anyone would have sent someone as fragile as that after him, but then when she started moving, attacking, he realised his mistake. Her slightness leant her surprising speed, and it was almost sheer luck that he got his own blades out in time. When her daggers broke, he felt a twinge of guilt. Sure, she was trying to kill him, but shouldn’t it have at least been a fair fight? She seemed determined to continue until the next blade hit the ground, snapping like glass, and then she had used that admirable speed to run…

    Turning at a movement, he blinked, disorientated.

    There she was, behind him, but… He had for a single moment, seen two figures. One was unmistakably her, etched in shadow through the mist, but barely distinguishable behind her was another. Perhaps a man? After his first impression, though, it was gone, and she had started clambering up the precariously attached ladder that led up the side of the squat building next to her, recklessly trusting her weight to the rusting rungs, so even when one did snap underneath her, her weight was off it by the time the process finished, and it fell to the ground with a clatter. He followed her steps, vaulting up the old structure only slightly more carefully because of his greater weight. Even still, she was over halfway before he got to the bottom, and he didn’t notice how she swayed precariously on the top rung before vaulting over. Seconds later, he followed suit, using one arm to swing himself over the lip of the roof in one easy movement and landing in a crouch, his shoes making the gravel hiss as it skittered over towards her.
    She was crouched next to an air vent, the dull aluminium barely glinting under its layer of grime as she used it for support. Was she that tired? Perhaps his assessment of her was wrong. But he was rarely wrong- most often his life depended on it. As he stood and started walking towards her, his daggers once again finding their way into his palms, she rose. Or tried to. Standing up slowly, leaning heavily on the vent casing, she took a step forward to keep her balance. His first thought was that it was a ploy, then that he had somehow managed to injure her, but he knew he hadn’t even gotten close enough to touch her. She seemed to realise suddenly that he was there, her eyes narrowing as if she was trying to focus, and straightened, swaying slightly. He took a careful step forward, just a shuffle, really, and she didn’t move, watching him. The moment seemed to stretch out for an hour before anyone finally moved, the sounds of the city a mundane backdrop to the scene. Finally, she took two steps backwards, as if considering running again, but before he could react, her knees collapsed out from under her and she hit the roof without a sound, the light of dawn breaking the horizon in a wash of gold.

    He strode forwards, putting one blade to her throat, half out of disbelief of what had just happened, and half out of habit, before kneeling down. After putting two fingers to her throat to check her pulse, though, he put both weapons aside. Her heartbeat was dangerously feint, almost impossible to fake, especially after such a chase. Rocking back on his heels, he let out a breath. What had happened? People disappearing, double vision, them collapsing without warning… It had been one hell of a night. With a resigned sort of sigh, her shook his head and leant back over her form, relieving her of all the weapons he could find and putting then to one side. Each, he noticed, had been tampered with. Once the sizable pile had gained its last addition, he pulled her goggles off and pulled down the cloth that covered her face. One glance, however, and he was reeling backwards, his eyes wide.

    Walking to the edge of the roof, he pulled out a phone, dialling a number with shaking hands. When the other end picked up, his voice snapped across the crackle of bad reception.
    “Maidus?”
    The voice that answered was stifled first as a yawn was heard over the receiver, but then came through clearer as the clicking of keys was heard.
    “Gimme a moment, I had to adjust the ‘sat dish.” It spoke. “Now, Oean, What makes you get me up at this ungodly hour?”
    “I found… Ugh.” He paused for a moment. “Look, I need a flitter, and your med help. Not for me, for… I don’t even know who she is. Her.”
    “Her?” the reply was sceptical. “What now?”
    His tone grew even more serious. “No, Mai, She tried to kill me. I know, I know, but you’ll see when, well, you see her. Okay? Just get it to the corner of Endean and Terra road. I’ll see you there. Okay?”
    There was a sigh on the other end, and a click as the connection terminated, and he dropped the phone back into his pocket, turning to face the figure slumped on the gravel covered roof. Who knew what the hell he was getting into by doing this, but –with a quick glance to her face- whatever, whoever she was, it didn’t matter what happened. She would be dead either way, if he left her here. Heaving her onto his shoulder, he nearly staggered back as he overestimated her weight, finally regaining his balance and descending the ladder. He had no idea how long she’d be under, so he wasn’t taking any chances.
    The vehicle was there when he got there, and he quickly placed her on the back seat before getting in herself and nodding at Mai to drive. By his look of askance, he hadn’t seen her yet.

    “so, what’s the deal with the woman?” he spouted,
    eyebrow raised as he set the vehicle on autopilot, and it lifted smoothly off the road, hovering about two feet off the ground. Leaning one arm on Oean’s seat, he turned around to have a look at her, did a double take and turned back, face white. “Where? How?” he spluttered.
    “I told you. She tried to kill me, did a good job of it too, until she realised that all of her weapons were shoddy, not by choice either, by the looks of it. Then she ran, I followed, and… Collapsed. I’ll tell you the full story later, just drive.”
    Shaking his head, knuckles white, he complied.

    …

    “... Kind of neurotoxin. It was too far through her system to trace what kind, but she must have been hit with a bucket load. You said she had been fighting for...”
    “half an hour. Plus the time she was waiting.”
    “shi… You know the average knockout time for that much is ten minutes?”
    The voices clawed at the edges of her consciousness, drawing her out of the blackness of sleep. Shaking her head to clear it of the mental static, she opened her eyes. The blackness she had experienced earlier still flickered around the edges of her vision, and she kept perfectly still before she made any further venture to move. For all her collapsing not too long ago, it seemed as if everything was in working order, as she gradually flexed first her fingers, then her arms and so on, until she was sure that everything was okay. From what she could feel, she was held down by two wide cloth bands, one across her chest and the other across her thighs. There was just enough room to shift without actually being able to move, and they pressed down further when she tried to shrink back from them. Finally certain about what she could fell, she opened her eyes.

    She was in a reasonably bare room, set up almost like a hospital, with a pallet bed on which she was lying, a small dressing table next to her with a pitcher of water and a glass, and a chair on the opposite side under a barred window, from which the weak light of smog-filtered dawn crawled through. Looking at it closely, she noticed the way the cushions were indented and strewn on the recliner, putting to the back of her mind that someone had been watching her sleep, and started to relive how she had felt before she blacked out.

    Elizabeth had started feeling dizzy right after she started to run, but had accounted it to her long period of utter stillness before such frantic movement, and it wasn’t until perhaps the third street she had run down before she was sure it wasn’t going to fade. Her breathing was shallow; it was harder to keep her eyes open, pins and needles raced up her limbs. It had started to seem as if she was running through syrup, her limbs on fire as she struggled to push through away from danger. Finally she had spotted the ladder and slipped sideways as he ran past, clambering up the ladder as slowly as it had felt to run. The dizziness struck hard as she reached the top, and it was only a life-or-death grip on the rungs that stopped her going backwards towards a certain broken neck. After it passed, she stumbled over the lip, barely sure of where she was going before she found the vent casing, holding on for dear life. From then on, the tremors had started, shaking her body as if she had hypothermia, and she felt real fear as she sunk down into a crouch, waiting for him to climb after her.

    When he did, though, she hardly noticed. Her vision had doubled, and it was an effort to even make out where she was, let alone that he had already heaved himself onto the roof, and was watching her. It was only when he moved that she could make out a figure amongst the lights that now danced across her vision, preluding the darkness that had to be next. The worst thing was the helplessness. The fact that she knew she could not defend herself at all, despite her entire life being devoted to that cause. It was there that she had found the wave of strength to stand, planning to go over the edge. It was not an honourable way to die, but she would be able to choose her own fate. Never again would she be helpless as to what lay ahead. For all the bravery and desire to do what she planned, the dizziness hit full force as she stood up, sending her reeling back before she finally realised there was no stopping the darkness that blanketed her mind , and gave up. She was certain it meant death.

    However now, she found herself restrained in a style akin to an asylum and alive of all things. It was hard not to believe that fate was playing cruel games with her, but then the voices resumed. Not resumed, she realised, simply grew to an audible level again.
    “…Splitting image of her, I know.” The deeper one spoke, his voice carrying through the thin walls. She strained to hear the words clearly.

    “We can’t be sure though” the lighter of the voices now. “It’s not certain enough to call a meet. We need to do some more testing, run some blood samples… The usual. I can’t do it from this batch, though. The level of toxin is simply too high- it pollutes any results I might get, but if she’s of Camille’s children,” She could even imagine him shaking his head, leaving the sentence hanging. It struck a chord in her, though. She had never known any of her history apart from waking up on the streets since she was eight, and that only from what others had told her.

    “How she even got in with that crowd, I wonder. And you just happened to be her target while she’s set up… It’s way too coincidental. But…” The sound of shifting chairs brought her to her senses, and she feigned sleep as the footsteps neared, her head resting against the firm block of foam that served as a pillow. “She should be starting to rise to consciousness in the next hour or so, probably not fully functioning for a day or so, though, while she heals. At least she’ll be docile. We can’t afford her running off, or even worse, facing you when she actually has all her wits about her.”
    “Don’t even try to imply-“
    “You said it yourself, Oean. She nearly wiped you from the databanks while she wasn’t even all there upstairs. Imagine what she could do now.”
    “Hey, I was surprised. I did end up bringing-“
    “Shhh,” Oean was cut off again, no lack of humour in the second voice. “We don’t want to tempt fate and wake our slumbering charge, do we?

    The door handle turned, and she heard the feint buzz as an electric lock was deactivated, watching in bemused fascination from under her lashes as the door was slowly opened, inch by inch in an attempt to not rouse her prematurely. When she saw the door was half open, still not wide enough to allow view of her or the bed from outside, Oean slipped through, as delicately as if he was walking on glass. He stopped however, the door swinging to bounce with a soft thud on his heel, when he saw her. A mix of emotions ran across his face; Surprise, annoyance, and then a sort of awe. She opened her eyes, seeing no sense in continuing the charade.

    The two of them were like night and day, but both wore the same stupefied expression, gawking at her as if she was an apparition, not as if they had put her there themselves. Oean was tall, with a lithe build almost like a dancer, and the blonde, blue eyes that lent him such an angelic look. Mai, or she supposed that was who he was, was completely different, with skin the colour of mahogany and short black hair that lay flat to his scalp, sporting the rotund figure of an academic. He seemed totally unprepared for the sight of her awake, still in shock as Oean recovered. His entire face changed in the blink of an eye from stunned disbelief to a well schooled neutral.
    “You’re awake,” he said clearly, immediately suspicious. His eyes flicked towards Maidus, probably searching for some sign that his associate was complicit in her early awakening. The dark-skinned man was either an expert actor, or he was found free of all guilt, as Oean turned back to her. Striding over, he slipped a thin, curved blade from his belt and raised it, coming to loom over the bed. She kept her silence with little difficulty. What could you she say? Her eyes regarded him with what she hoped was neutrality, despite the energetic swirl of emotions that threatened to raise her pulse and quicken her breath, and their gazes locked for near three seconds. He dropped his eyes first, only to flick his gaze down enough to bring the blade to her throat, dangerously close to the steel embrace that she had given to so many others. A shallow breath, assumingly to keep the anger lurking behind his eyes under control, and he snarled his first question.

    “Who are you?” his voice broke the silence, the pieces falling onto the palpable tension that rested between them instead. Behind him, Maidus made to put a hand on his arm, but pulled back at the last second. She made a note that he had a reasonable temper, gathering her thoughts before she increased the tempest. He didn’t seem like he would actually harm her, judging by the snippet of conversation that she had been privy to, and the only other option left from not answering was to break and talk freely. There was only one choice that she could handle the consequences from. Breathing deeply, she held her silence, closing her eyes and imitating the sleep of the deaf. The pressure on the knife grew a fraction firmer, closer to breaking the skin, but it didn’t increase, even when she refused to answer his repeated demand. The pressure was released suddenly
    Three shuffling footsteps told her that Maidus had drawn close, close enough for her to feel the disturbance of air as he made some movement.
    “I don’t think-“ the quiet voice of Maidus cut in, reprimanding, and her eyelids flickered open for a second to gauge what he was doing and stayed open, showing the first trace of emotion that she had since they had walked in. Her eyes briefly flickered wider in shock. Oean had drawn the plunger of a syringe, enticing a golden liquid into its chamber, and was holding it with a determined air above the inside of her elbow.

    “Who. Are. You.” He repeated slowly, the tip of the needle drawing closer. She glanced at the bottle that he had drawn the drug from, and nearly swore out loud. It was one of her own, the tiny vial containing enough Hydroxyzine Hydrochloride to knock out a man of Oean’s size. Even though the threat wasn’t as immediate, considering that she now knew that what was in the syringe didn’t have any great potential for harm, she wasn’t keen to undergo any kind of induced sleep. She tensed, straining against the bonds as they pulled tighter, away from the syringe in his hand. Oean held it steady despite her, and she increased her struggles. Even if he had reservations about harming her, there was no harm in putting her to sleep again and again, until she answered his questions.

    “If that’s what your choice is, so be it.” He hissed, still obviously enraged at her defiance, and made to plunge the needle into the delicate skin of her inner arm. Maidus swore, grabbing him, and she jerked back, throwing every ounce of energy that she had against the bonds that held her. The strap that held her torso down gave way with an audible snap, the elastic material lashing out towards Oean and giving her time to draw her legs out from under the remaining restraint. She heaved herself over to the opposite side of the bed, fighting off nausea, and used it as a barrier between herself and Oean, just recovering from the whip-like action of the strap breaking.

    He almost lashed out at Maidus, who had come and placed a hand on his shoulder. Staring at him for a moment, his shoulders relaxed, and some of the anger flowed out of his form. It seemed that the man had a calming effect on Oean’s temper

    Liz stared at the pair coldly from behind her makeshift barrier, wordlessly fighting the nausea that had once again clouded her senses and taking in as much as she could.
    “You have only one choice,” he said finally, breaking the silence with heavy words. “You will stay here until you answer my questions or I find out myself, and I swear you will pay the consequences for your stubbornness if you continue this.”
    “And in that time, I will gladly end my own monotony or simply figure out a way to escape the confines of this comely cell of mine. There are many things I fear, but my own death is not among them. It seems others value it so lightly that I should do the same, if simply to follow the flock. I value honour too much to simply give up,” she replied, the first thing she said –true to her nature- being as much jibe as eluding the question.

    He stopped, his fists clenched tightly, until he controlled his temper once again.

    “I apologise, then. Speaking as equals, on our honour, I will answer any questions you have if you answer mine. An answer for an answer, no reservations. You break the deal, you stay, I break the deal, and you have every right to go. First of all, who are you?”
    “Fine,” she murmured almost sullenly, breaking the tension with the hint of a grin as she tossed an ornate dagger onto the bedcovers. It wasn’t like she would need it any more. With smothered shock, Oean checked his belt and found the space where his had been. She would show him that she wasn’t someone that he could throw around. If this wasn’t on her conditions, she was leaving, even if it meant a decent fight. “I am Elizabeth. Who are you?”
    “Elizabeth who?”
    “That remains under debate,” she snapped back under her breath, “Now answer the question.”
    “Oean Celestine. Who do you work for?”
    “No one, not anymore.”
    “You wanted to kill me on your own? Really?” He murmured with undisguised cynicism.
    “You were my last contract, idiot. I’m no longer a guilder.” And never again, her tone promised, even if her words didn’t.
    “Who did you work for then?” he pushed deeper.
    “The silver dagger guild. I’m not ashamed of it either.” She added the last part as her mind flew back to when she had been admitted. Barely eleven, off the streets, fighting with tooth and nail, she had made it into the elite guild on her own, with no one to be able to rely on and no regrets. Not now, not ever. It had kept her from dying in a back alley when the winters came. “But what about you, Blondie?” If they had enough equipment to run those tests they were talking about, and weren’t in a hospital, Oean had to be in some secret organisation, if not running it himself. It also explained why he was her target, and it also meant that he would be unwilling to divulge any information about it. If she could just exploit that one loophole, she might be able to get out of there without killing someone. Her past had stained her hands red enough.
    “Who do you work for?”
    “I work for myself,” he answered tersely, making her leap within. She might get out. “I’m a mercenary.”
    “The hypocrisy you’re displaying is admirable. An answer for an answer, we agreed, or I would leave. If you can’t be truthful, then the deal is off.” She said clearly, her tone allowing some of her growing anxiety at captivity to show through, the edge making her words sharp.
    “No-” he started getting up.
    “It was implied,” she said in answer, her eyes narrowing. “That you would even honour our agreement; else I would have forced my way out of here then and there. Now, an answer for an answer, or so help me I swear I will get out of here whether you try and stop me or not. You didn’t have the foresight to tranquilise me further, and you’re paying the consequences. Hence, I am more than certain that I will leave the victor, and you will never find me again, else at my choosing. Ever.”
    If only she felt as confident as she sounded.

    …

    Fuming now, somehow wondering why she could have affected him so strongly, he stood, stepping towards her. Perhaps it was just that her voice carried such quiet authority that he cringed like any well brought up child would, but he had seen her running, coming damned close to killing him last night, and that was under the influence of whatever had been in her system, slowing her down.

    She finished with one last sentence, though, eyes locked completely onto his. Blue eyes, the ice blue that would freeze you to the spot right before you realised you were dying.
    “Now choose, before I take it into my own hands.”
    “I- I can’t tell you that.”
    “Then it is decided. Move” she suddenly moved towards him, just as quickly as the night before. It took practised resolve not to spook like a bird, even as he came to his decision. Honour or no, she was too precious to his cause to waste.

    “No!” Just like that, she moved in to attack, like everything had been planned. She grabbed his wrist and he let himself be pulled down, hooking a leg behind her knees as she aimed an elbow into his stomach. She evaded it at the last second, both of them moving back in perfect synchronisation and moving flawlessly into the next move. A round kick aimed for his throat almost connected, stopping his own grab for her and pushing her into the corner as she took a step to regain her momentum and channel it into the hook behind his own knees. A quick step evaded that, but within a moment, though, he felt his back hit the door with a thump as a hand slashed at his side and her left foot caught him squarely on the jaw. The structure shuddered, but even his weight couldn’t move the reinforced wooden door more than that. She seemed to figure that out and quickly moved to the window, staring at the bars intensely. He was too winded to get up just yet, but he wasn’t bad enough not to notice that the dagger hadn’t moved from the - she could have well killed him.

    Once her back was turned though, he judged his ability to remain upright was well enough and heaved himself to his feet in a fluid motion, or tried to. At his first movement, invisible hands dragged him forcefully down to the ground as she quickly whirled to face him. It could have been his imagination of course, but when she turned around, not only was her face a strained mask of effort, but whether it was the light sidling through the windows or a reflection, her right eye was a pure, shining gold. Before he could take in more than a glance, though, he felt something send a sharp blow to his right temple and the room swam before him, not quite at the point of passing out. As he watched, though, she turned back; her shoulders hunched with effort, touching each bar on the window once at the top and bottom, murmuring.

    There was a moment where his vision doubled, right before he blacked out, but he could have sworn he saw the bars fall apart into the all-consuming darkness, her figure jettisoning out into the open space and onto the roofs of the adjacent buildings. By then, he knew deep down, that he had no chance of getting her back.

    He lay there for another two minutes, regaining his breath and motor functions while processing the situation. Honestly, he had never been this off-balance, but perhaps it was just the fact that she had known how to completely control the situation, to make him break his promise with that damned question. Then, the thought hit him. How had she even found out about Camille unless she was fully aware of who she might be, therefore furthering his suspicions. But then again, they had been talking. Surely too quietly for her to hear, though? Nothing made sense anymore, and he shook his head, getting up slowly. He really had no hope, did he?
    “Maidus?” he called, the door clicking open as the rotund figure of his partner poked through the gap. His eyes were wide, taking in the situation, but they finally stopped roving on a spot behind his head and instinctively, he turned to see what it was. The bars which had secured the window were completely gone; the stumps where they had been were simply rusted pieces of metal. Peering down at the drop between the window and the next building, he cringed despite himself. They were on the fifth floor of the complex, a two metre drop and a three metre jump between where he was and the tiled surface of the next roof, with nothing to grab hold of in between.

    It was insanity.

    As a thought occurred to him, he turned. “Mai, why didn’t you keep her under? Dose her with something? We just lost the missing link, I swear it. “
    Maidus gave him a helpless look, mirroring Oean’s exactly.
    …

    She hit the next roof, her feet barely grazing the surface as they met the damp tiles and pushed off into a sprint, half leaping across each gap that separated the slick rooftops. The activity was so instinctive -jump, roll, run, jump, roll, run- that she could lose track of what she was doing and think. She hadn’t been fair, she knew. She had deliberately backed Oean into a corner, but she needed to find out some answers for herself before she could face him, although she would make sure it was on her own terms next time. She was afraid of very little, but feeling out of control in a situation was the bane of her existence. It could destroy her utterly within minutes. And then there was the... It was hard to describe. The -she foundered for a word- Power? When she had realised that there were bars on the window, her feeling of terror and powerlessness had peaked and a sense of hyperawareness had taken hold. She had felt, rather than saw Oean try and get up after her, and then the bars... A soon as she had reached for them, concentrated on them, they had just crumbled under her touch, falling to the ground. As cliché as it seemed, it was like some twisted miracle.

    She ran through the emerging light towards the south of the city, clambering up walls instead of taking the streets from some sense of urgency until she finally reached her destination. An old ramshackle building, what used to be a restaurant, had been converted into a home by one of her closest friends. No. Not friend, associate; It was becoming harder and harder to trust anyone at all these days as a friend, especially after last night. Landing on the roof without a sound, she found the old skylight, prising off the cover and sliding through the manhole, only staying long enough to slide the cover into place over her head before dropping down.

    She landed on the wooden floor of what was the kitchen, dropping into a crouch until she knew everything was silent, and then put one foot down, carefully and deliberately. The squeak of a floorboard echoed around the room, deafening in what had been a completely silent environment, and she flinched despite herself. It went against all of her better judgement to do that, but her expression soon changed into a smirk as she heard the feather-light footsteps approaching through the doorway.
    Saille appeared in the doorway, his face set into a mask of accusation as he stepped through the mote of light that pooled below the skylight. He was remarkably tall, with the build of an athlete, and a dark mass of unruly hair that was clubbed in an archaic manner at the bass of his neck. His face itself was smooth, bereft of the markings of age and only the faintest shadow of a beard was cast over his jaw. He stared around, lips pursed, and she slowly eased her weight onto her right foot, moving to the side as he stepped forward. She was used to it now, but his silence could be disturbing. He listened constantly and spoke little, out of habit as much as necessity. Blind from the age of ten, his eyes constantly covered with tinted glasses, his stick a steadfast accessory, it made people underestimate him.

    All of a sudden, he stepped forward, arm lashing out. The stick he had been holding out in front of him extended, hitting where she had been only moments before with an electrical crackle.
    “Saille, you’re getting slow, old man.” She murmured under her breath, the hint of a chuckle in her voice, and he pursed his lips before he let himself relax into a grin.
    “Liz? I could have sworn you just dropped in on me- pun intended. How did you get in this time?”
    She let herself relax, straightening up. This had become a game between the two, springing from years ago. He would try and secure his place the best he could, but she would have to find a way in around any changes he made. She hadn’t been through the front door once.
    “Skylight. I noticed it last time, and I was saving it up for a good occasion.” Perhaps it was the tone of her voice, but his expression dropped again.
    “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quiet, “What happened?”

    Elizabeth looked up at him, and despite the fact that she knew he wouldn’t be able to see his expression; she kept up a brave face. In truth, she was shaken down to her bones from the events of the last day.
    Her voice soft so it wouldn’t carry, she recounted first her mission and then the faceoff on the rooftop, finally explaining what she had overheard whilst she was waking up. His expressions changed little over the progression of events, only registering a shocked look when he heard what the men had said about what she had been dosed with, and how much. Something made her leave out the exact details of how she had escaped from Oean, though. A sense that it was one thing that was better left for her to puzzle over in her own time. She barely believed herself, after all. What chance was there of Saille believing her? Finally, as she concluded, he stared up at the ceiling, a habit he hadn’t lost with his sight.

    The pause was all it took for her mind to start harbouring doubts, and before she knew it, it had conjured up images of one of her oldest associates associating with the ‘them’ that every person with paranoid tendencies knows intimately. Shaking her head slightly, she returned her thoughts to the reality she knew and trusted as he started speaking again.
    “So this was to be your last job?” he questioned, his eyes shadowed behind the dark lenses. At her slight nod of agreement, his expression became even more puzzled. “Your choice or theirs?”
    “By mutual agreement,” Elizabeth murmured. “Elias was hesitant to let me go, but he changed his mind when we met at a compromise. One last job, just to finish off, and he could pass the rest to the understudies and I would be on my way. I suppose I believed that once I was free, I could elude anything that they could send after me, disappear for a while. Apparently they did too, so they decided that they wouldn’t wait until I had finished.” It all made sense, and she followed the thought along, frowning slightly. “Oean, too, seemed like a good target. Not easy, by all means, but nothing above the routine sort of standard. From what I managed to figure while I could think straight in the alley, he could have been a match for me, made more so by the drugs. Nothing was mentioned in his profile to that extent.”
    “It couldn’t have simply been a mess up?”
    “Saille, do I have to fly it straight at you? You know how the guild works, how well they plan, organise and orchestrate every single detail, especially when taking outside hits like that. It’s not something they would just ‘mess up’- .”
    “I know, I know,” he cut her off apologetically. “I’m clutching at straws. Now, though, I don’t think you should go back to your place. It’s too risky for you to go to any usual safe house of yours- they would be waiting for you. Perhaps you should stay here.”
    “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, you know that. I’m not drugged this time,” She hedged, not too keen on having to place her trust in someone in her delicate state. A misplaced sense of pride, perhaps?
    “It’s still possible that it’s still in your system, though.” He replied. “Have you been feeling odd,
    dizzy or anything like that?”
    “Yes, but-“

    “There, that decides it. You’re staying here tonight.” As she made to protest, he seemed to teeter on the brink of decision, before taking off his glasses and staring her straight in the eyes. His eyes were an almost pearlescent white, only the faintest rim of grey marking the difference between the iris and the surrounding white. It had its intended result, she supposed. She quietened, realising the gravity of his concern for him to take that action.
    “Look at me.” Saille commanded his voice low. “I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to you because I let you go.” All of a sudden, he took on a different tone. It wasn’t pleading, looking into her eyes intently, but something altogether different. “Come, I’ll show you where you can lie down for a while. Days are short, and it’s not long until nightfall.”
    Through the haze of her exhaustion, she found herself drawn into agreeing. It was true that the days were getting shorter again; only thirteen hours now compared with the usual twenty in winter, though it was only halfway through spring. She shook her head slowly, trying to get her thoughts together. Her thoughts started to wander to the day before, not the events in the small hours of the morning, but the daylight hours. It disturbed her even more and more that she had been taken advantage of so easily. When she searched through her memory, it became apparent that most of her recollection of the day was a blur, the only real moments of clarity starting from heading out to her assignment. A large portion of the day, she barely even remembered more than a vague idea of what she might have done. A glance up showed Saille reaching down to tap her on the shoulder with alarm, and she reached for his proffered hand, just to show him she was all right. As she took it, however, her hands became claws, digging into his wrist as she doubled over with a cry of pain.

    It felt like her head was splitting in two, the pain rapidly spreading to her chest, and then to her limbs until she dropped to the floor, her knees collapsing under her. Saille jumped back with an oath as her grip lessened slightly, and the pain receded, leaving her shivering on the floor.
    “Liz! Are you okay?” He asked, his tone distorted by the ringing in her ears. It was eerie, almost seeming to be underwater. He knelt down on the floor beside her, listening closely before repeating the question.
    “No. Yes. Well, I guess I am now, but I don’t know what just happened.” She replied bleakly, heaving herself to her feet along with him. At least the queer light-headedness that had preceded it had gone along with the pain, and she could think normally again. “It was like... I don’t know.”
    “Try and describe it. That wasn’t something you can just ignore- you almost passed out!”
    “My head... The first time you ever get a concussion, the next morning when you wake up. The amount of pain over that next day in less than a second. ” Of course, she knew it was a lot worse than that, that it had felt like something fundamentally wrong with her. Her mind flew back to when they had tried augmenting the human brain with bio circuitry, technology built into the body itself. It created the perfect android, akin to the 20th century speculation on their existence, until of course they found that after a period of time the body rejected the hardware and they were left unable to function. The subjects were put out of their misery when they realised that reformatting the hardware served to reduce them to the mental capacity of a newborn. The resulting lawsuit had shaken the government down to its roots; right until the worldwide broadcast was transmitted abolishing the ancient, outdated charter of organic rights.

    Her thoughts seemed appropriate, but –with a sinking feeling- she felt the suspicion grow that whoever wanted her dead were trying to put her out of her misery before something went wrong. but she didn’t trust anyone enough to seek help. Even so, it raised new possibilities. What was so wrong with her that she threatened someone enough to hire a ghost? Ghosting –the act of untraceably removing someone from existence- was one of the highest paid guild services that you could hire, just underneath regicide. Not only was it highly illegal, but anyone with a ghosting record was likely to become one themselves.
    “No,” she muttered, surfacing slowly from her thoughts. “I have... A few favours I can call in. I need to be able to do this on my own, Sai. Thanks for the help, but I need to get going.” He looked like he was about to protest, but something in her face made him pull back.

    Swallowing painfully, she turned around, glanced up at the skylight and shrugged. Instead of following the path to the front door, though, she padded out to the back, slipping out the narrow service entrance and pausing on the threshold as she heard footsteps behind her.
    “Just be careful,” Sai murmured, “They’ll be trying harder than ever now.”
    She stopped, turning. His voice seemed pained, but as she spun on her heel, all she managed to catch was the door closing, the sliver of light cutting into the darkness, and then winking out as the latch clicked, leaving her alienated.
    It was too late for regrets now.

    ...