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[color=crimson][sub]"[b]On His Demon Head's Secret Service[/b]" // Part 03 // [ [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAzH-YAlFYc]Dami's iPod[/url] ][/sub][/color][/center]
[color=crimson][b]Bludhaven[/b]
Avalon Hills[/color]

The boy walked from the street up the yard toward the house.

A flash-bang grenade was bouncing in his hand, casually tossed up and caught as though he was playing with a baseball as he strode toward the bay window in the house where a group of men were clustered around a table. These were million dollar homes, in a gated community, in American suburbia. But it was still Bludhaven. The police officers who were on the take knew better than to get to a scene too quickly, in case they interfered with one of the mob's hits. And the police officers who weren't on the take didn't want to become a statistic when they rolled up, sans back-up, on armed criminals who were better equipped than the Los Angeles SWAT team. The average police response time to a 9-1-1 call in Bludhaven was thirty minutes.

That clock started [b]now[/b].

The glass shattered as the pitch sailed through the window to bounce off the middle of the table. Several loud exclamations were heard, before the crowd control grenade did it's thing and blew out the remainder of the window. 

At the same time the shards were flying out to litter the front lawn, the small ninja was sailing inside of the house. He fired the first shot while still in the air, the bullet catching a man to one side of the dinner table in the ear. The blood spray from the exit wound flew in all directions as the man was spun around by the bullet. A pair of kid's black Heely sneakers slid across the table, clearing the wine and glasses as the child planed out as though he were doing the limbo. Two more shots were fired, each catching a man as they struggled to pull their guns in the wake of the flash-bang, the blood, and the gunshots. Planting on his back for a moment, the boy kicked up to vault over onto the floor.

The Walther was level in his hand as he landed, aimed at a disheveled man who'd been opening a second bottle of wine. Val Kaliban had a look of shock on his face. Another mafioso was bursting into the kitchen, a Czech-75 in hand. Adjusting his elevation just slightly, the boy took a shot that whizzed within an inch of Kaliban's head. The back corner of the kitchen with it's stainless steel oven/microwave combination built into the wall, was splattered in red as the bullet entered through the man's throat to exit out the base of his skull.

It was then that the Spook finally snapped back to reality. Blinking, the man was propelled back into the present. "Shit!" the man swore, hands and arms flailing about the counters as he searched desperately for a weapon with which to defend himself. His hand dove into the knife block. Faintly amused, the young assassin merely watched. Movement along the floor alerted him to a mafioso who was still alive.  Shifting the pistol to his left hand, the boy casually brought the muzzle down toward a man struggling to lift his head up from the floor. Squeezing the trigger, the boy put a round through the top of his head. A gurgling sound echoing as the body convulsed before hitting the ground.

The slide had locked back with the shot. As the boy looked up, Val Kaliban had drawn a butcher's cleaver from out of the knife block and was running toward him. [color=crimson]"-tt-"[/color] the youth uttered, clicking his tongue. Ejecting the magazine, the boy casually tossed the pistol up into the air before he shifted his body posture into a Jeet Kune Do stance. A left block-strike at the knife hand to deflect the attack, then he countered with a palm-heel strike to the man's throat.

Kaliban went staggering back, the knife discarded as the man gagged and choked, clawing at his throat as he tried to breathe. Catching the pistol as it dropped back into his hand, the boy reached into his pocket and casually removed a spare magazine. As Kaliban started to recover, the youth tapped the clip up into the butt of the gun, chambering a round when he forced the slide forward again. 

Kaliban made another lunge for the child when a gunshot sounded. The Spook had gone down on his left knee before he'd even known what had happened, looking down in shock to see his right leg covered in blood and his kneecap completely out of alignment. A second gunshot caught the man in the left shoulder, spinning him around as he went down on the carpet. His heartbeat and the sound of his own labored breathing echoing in his ears as he gazed, wide-eyed and terrified over what looked like a war zone. Now, death was not at all as pretty as the television shows would have you believe. The smell of shit burned at his nostrils, mingled with the slight ammonia smell of gunpowder. As the muscles of the body seized and were suddenly relaxed, one or more of the corpses in the room had defecated themselves as their colons were voided.

Holstering the pistol, the child killer reached up to pop the ear buds from out of his ear as he produced a LexPhone. As he thumbed through the touchpad to FaceTime, the sounds of pop music could be heard trickling from the small headphones now dangling down the front of his shirt. [color=goldenrod][i]♪...lets lose our minds and go crazy crazy... oh ya ya ya I keep on hoping we'll eat cake by the ocean...♪[/i][/color] The child spoke what sounded like Arabic for a moment, before tossing the phone down so that it landed face-up near the Spook's head. A voice spoke English, the familiar tone immediately sending a new wave a dread through the man. [i]"Mister Kaliban."[/i]

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The man on the screen was Ra's al Ghul. And that was all that Val Kaliban knew. Who was he? Where had he come from? How was it that he'd avoided the notice of every governmental intelligence agency from the U.S. to the Australians? Kaliban had tried to find just some of those answers, and had quickly realized that the risks of such knowledge far exceeded the potential pay outs. But he'd assumed, based on what he knew, that Ra's al Ghul's League of Assassins was a minor operation with only localized power. That they couldn't conduct an operation inside of the United States. Not without tipping their hand to the FBI.

It seemed the Spook's intel had been wrong. [i]"I was so disappointed when I learned that you had chosen to pursue new employment opportunities,"[/i] Ra's said, through the screen on the smartphone. [i]"But, the League respects that there are many paths for men to travel. We can tolerate diversity, Mister Kaliban, but not treachery. Nothing personal, of course. Simply good business."[/i]

Through the reflection on the phone's screen, Kaliban caught the child pulling what looked like some kind of short katana from behind his back. Twisting his head around, the man caught a flash of steel before he let loose an instinctive scream.

[i]"I'll be seeing you soon, Mister Kaliban,"[/i] Ra's was commenting, as a spray of blood suddenly covered the phone. A red puddle was spreading through the carpet around the device as the man added, [i]"Well, [b]part[/b] of you anyway."[/i]