The news first reached him on a Monday, after a slow weekend. Doctor Arthur Molian was confronted by a bouquet of flowers reverently awaiting for him, resting daintily on top of his desk. Being the leader of an organization of murderous florists and general plant enthusiasts, it was not an unusual occurrence for him to receive a bouquet of flowers from time to time. Though it was never for the innocent reasons proper members of society might be gifted such an organism. Still, this one was much different than the usual request for him to review a particularly harrowing looking case and that was obvious from the moment he caught sight of the flowers.

These indigo colored bells were known by many names. Aconitum being the first. Wolf's bane, monkshood, devil's helmet, the Queen of all poisons. There it rested upon his desk, not only as a callout directly to him through his patron flower, but also a warning, a promise of future danger.

Held up by the heads of two blooms, a white envelope stood starkly against the flowers, with the leader's name written in golden calligraphy. There were no indications of where it was from, though the situation alone left many assumptions to be made. Upon opening the envelope and reading the letter contained with in, the enigmatic origin of this gift was quite rapidly cleared up. It had come from one of Arthur's "friends" within City Hall, a man who oversaw many of the Parks projects that had sent the first sector of Match City into the blooming beauty it was known for today. His name was Percy and under most requirements he was a pleasant enough man, except perhaps his fondness for chewing tobacco which left an unpleasant residue on his teeth and a frequent inclination to spit on the ground. A single father, he also had a weakness to his daughter's wishes and her desire to reach for higher education sent him right into the Doctor's hands. He kept Belladonna informed and his daughter would get her diploma without a debt to cripple her future.

The note was quite messy and there was a thumb-shaped stain on one corner that smelled of his addiction. It seemed to have been written in a rush and took much longer to read as some words were practically illegible. Still, the most upsetting thing about it was definitely the contents of the letter, spelling out a crisis that had risen within the Parks and Recreation department. It appeared that a very rich organization of men from district three was working to purchase the land surrounding one of the city's public parks in the hopes to privatize it and profit. This land included a relatively small rose garden that was gifted to the assassin group from an elderly man who commissioned a hit from Belladonna, asking for revenge for his granddaughter's boss. A man who had molested and fired her. Of course, the money was the important part of the deal, but the man still felt indebted even after the full price was met and offered up the garden.

Now, it seemed that the land was being contested and City Hall was wavering towards the money held beneath their nose.



Kestrel was seething with rage. Any member of Avia within the Nest could tell, had seen him stalk by them on his way into his office, had heard the slam of his door. They could still feel it reverberating in their bones. It had taken a minute or two, but Merlin had fluttered by the quickly forming crowd around the office and slipped inside after him. She had sent a quick glare around the group before entering, telling them to beat it but no one bothered to listen. Hayden may have been second in command, but she didn’t have the kind of authority Kestrel demanded. It was obvious whenever she had the energy to follow through with her threatening hisses or would simply pass by without drama, leaving the assassins to cluster even closer to the firmly closed door.

The yelling was muffled, but held the venom that Kestrel so rarely bared, one that could still poison veins even through walls and doors. The moment the first words sounded, astonished whispers were soon to follow as professional killers descended into schoolyard gossip. "Why was I not informed of this yesterday, Hayden?! Does it not strike you as the least bit of importance?! That maybe, just maybe I should have been told that two members of our organization had… disappeared?!"

Avia had seen the way Hayden responded to her brother's anger in the past, so different from anyone else's. Usually, she would rise up to the challenge, puffed out and ready to strike back with violence instead of words, not tolerating any form of insubordination against herself. However, when he brother turned to fire and brimstone, she was a meek soul, cringing against the flame. Her fingers would clench, but remain at her side while her eyes closed and she listened. Relented. Her long hair would shade her face.

She was quiet, their audience barely able to catch it when she spoke. "I know, Ian. I'm sorry, but we weren't sure until this morning-"

She was not permitted to finish. "So you gave them a head start instead and left me utterly in the dark." He laughed and it was cruel, tormenting her. "I hope you're embarrassed, Hayden! You've behaved like a fool." His voice dropped too low to be heard then and it was to be assumed that she was dismissed as she was quick to exit the office.

This time, she had the angry to lash out, flashed it towards the whole crowd with reddened eyes. While a few reared back and others held in snarls of response, she shoved her way through them. She stalked her way up the stairs of the building, where her own personal room was and left the leader of Avia glaring through the open doorway. He caught sight of the spectators and the temperature of the room took a very sudden dive.

He stepped out, pointing at the first three assassins he saw, jabbing his finger back into his office to motion for them to head that way. "Fledgling, Owl, Pidgeon. Get in here."

---

The young bellhop named Owen was sunshine and sugar as he peeked his head through the Black King's door. He had knocked dutifully before entering and his big grin fell to a more respectful smile in the face of his leader. His shoulder was momentarily obscured and he held back a small bit as he introduced the next appointment. "The congresswoman is here to see you, sir. Mrs. Roberta Gilliam." He looked behind him after saying this, a quick whispered command and then a gasp as a professionally dressed woman stalked her way into the room past him. The Rook followed her fretfully, having failed to stop her though he could have quite easily. He wasn't sure if his King wanted him to hurt her yet.

She centered herself within Liam's office, shoulders firmly squared and her hands on her small hips. She was a fairly slight woman, seeming smaller than the boy who had escorted her inside, so she used boy language and volume to make herself big. Such a trick awarded her the title Bitch Queen of Prewland by some of her fellow congressmen. Her general obtuse and haughty behavior making her not particularly well-liked amongst most populations. Yet, she was honest and was truly making great leaps into many social issues that further divided opinions on her.

She did not wait for Liam to speak as she crossed her arms behind her back and quickly described the situation. "Listen, I won't waste any time at all. I'm sure you are aware of my position on this rotten city of yours as it is not a positive one. However, sometimes in the pursuit of good, one must dig straight into the mud and hunt out the lesser of two evils. I have come for you and your… people for help in a very sensitive issue. I assume you would like to know the details before you agree, but let me say that I would be moronic not to. A relationship between the two of us is a treasure trove you should not pass up."

She paused for a moment in her speech, as if realizing how aggressive her position was coming across. She adjusted the pin in her raven black hair and cleared her throat. For a moment, there was fear there. She was in a snakes den, caught between a rock and a hard places as they say. Out of options. In the next moment, she was hiding her desperation with a smooth, steadying breath.

"Before I divulge further and reveal sensitive information, I’d like to at least ensure your interest. So tell me, are you willing to consider me as one of your… clients?"

Owen watched from the doorway, his hands still resting upon the door knobs to Liam's study. He had yet to be dismissed and curiosity kept him standing there, hovering. He watched his leader with bright eyes, wondering if he would meet this once proud woman's request with mockery, insult or perhaps even mirth. He hoped anger, his gaze sparked with the excitement of a fight.

---

Casey was silent when he greeted the Empress with a tray of refreshments, a teapot and many other associated objects balanced atop it. His eyes were down and his breathing was fast, shamelessly showing his fear for the aged woman. Still, he kept himself steady and his hands did not shake, he was learning, adapting to her and attempting to be stronger for her and her cause.

He straightened his back after his set the tray down beside her. Lifting up the teapot, he extracted the file from beneath it and handed it out to his leader with a quiet. "An officer requested this be delivered to you, ma'am." He swallowed and went to busy himself with preparing a proper drink to allow her to read it.

Inside first and foremost were pictures. Three young woman at first, but then more could be seen when the papers were shifted, tucked into various places throughout. There were ones of their faces, then their bodies to show the damage done. Living, but destroyed as the bruises attested to the internal blight that had been injected into them. One stark similarity was obvious, the awful brand that was burned into their skin on the highest point of their upper arms. It was a skull.

The details of the case followed with words. That young woman were being targeted and it was uncertain how many had actually been attacked. But they were raped, branded and then abandoned in a district one park, left to wander their way home or to the nearest hospital. The leads were zero, which was why it had fallen to your hands, an earnest note from one of the officers begging Familia to protect the girls of this city. There was no doubt that they needed it.

---

A middle aged detective stared down the damp alleyway, grinding a spearmint stick against his molars. He had quit smoking a year ago, when he had decided he'd let the city kill him before his habit did. Still, in stressful times like these, he kind of missed the fire in his lungs. On days like these where he thought maybe the cancer would be better than Match's malice. This sector left no mercy, practically the disease itself.

And he knew it was about to get worse. The young girl, ME she says but so infantile she must be on a damn field trip from one of the high schools, she was the one to deliver the bad news. She didn't even know why he grieved as she held up the dark feather to the flashing camera lights all around, picked it up from the gunshot wound itself where it dripped crimson. He shook his head, grumbled out a "hurry up and bag it before anyone else notices. This is out of our jurisdiction." and turned his back to her.

He mourned the days he could fold into his cigarette, body hunching over it to protect from the wind. Now he just filed down his own teeth and stared down the street. They were close, damn close to the edge of the downtown area. District two was within sight. Someone was trying to cause problems in a way he just wasn't paid enough for.

-

The news hit the streets in a matter of hours, the feather on full display. The story was shown on the large television towards the back of the Black Cat Lounge. Cross wasn't quite fond of it, but it kept many of the members happy and she preferred them happy-- they didn't break her shit. Still, she could watch it sometimes in the mirror, see the stories that caught her interest and this one… this one definitely did.

She straightened, heart beating a little faster with worry of what might happen next. "Uh… Boss…?"

Ah, and here she thought today was going to be oh so boring. Ever since she had to join this little merry band of so called assassins her days had gotten considerably much more boring. She wasn't able to have any fun like she was able to before Kestrel 'Recruited' her. Such a pity, really. Boredom was the mind killer, and she had been experiencing that in droves. She'd just have to make the best of it though. Wasn't like she had much of a choice in the matter. She'd just have to get her satisfaction and...pleasure from little incidents like this.

Needless to say, that made the events unfolding before her sweet as honey.

She listened with rapt attention, wearing a small obviously amused smile as one bird of prey was hunted by the other. It wasn't often she got this form of entertainment, and she was going to savor it. Of course, she also needed to make sure she kept a mental note of things that were being said. Kestrel's name, for example. Ian. Ah, information, how sweet were you to her ears. Ah, and something about two of their agents going missing. Couldn't forget that, no no. Likely dead then. Or they flew the coup, so to speak. Tsk tsk, naughty little birds in that case. Perhaps it'd be quite amusing to go on a hunt herself. She could use a change of pace from the usual work...

When the confrontation was over, Merlin came storming out, obviously both upset and quite angry. She flashed the entire group of gathered assassins a hostile glare, causing quite a number of them to either flinch or snarl in response. Owl simply made a point of adjusting the surgical gloves she was wearing, and a fairly comically bad attempt to act like she had not been listening to the tirade. As she left, Owl simply whistled under her breath.

"And here I thought today was going to be boring." She chuckled in a lighthearted voice as Kestrel pointed to her, Fledgling, and Pigeon. It was a good thing she was wearing a coat or she might have gotten a bit of a chill. That aside, it was a bit of an interesting set up, if she had to say so. She didn't know much about the other two assassins, though she liked to think that she was one of the more experienced ones in the group. Not that it really mattered. Ones position and an organization and skill often had little to do with the other. She walked into Kestrels office, taking a seat in the first chair she could get her butt into.

"First class entertainment! You certainly still know how to treat a girl to surprises, Kestrel. All you need now is a fancy dinner and this'll be a date." She chuckled, giving the man a friendly smile. "Here I thought I was getting a little old for your tastes. Glad to see you're still willing to treat this old Owl to a bit of fun every now and then, heh~" She laughed, obviously amused by this entire situation. But, of course, they were here for a reason. As amusing as it'd be to mess with him a little, that would likely not be welcome in his current mood. Or perhaps it would be? Well, either way she wanted to know what was happening.

"So," She folded her arms against her chest as she gave Kestrel a small smirk. "Where we going and what are we having? I'm bored and could use a good bit of fun."

Liam had been having a simple day.

He had woken up, showered, as usual. Put on his makeup slowly, precisely brushing away imperfections as he whistled that tune he had heard the day before. It was some disco thing, he didn't know, it had been caught in his head and no manner of bashing against the wall could dislodge it.

The next few hours were spent at sabre, his one love, though epee still had a grasp on him that was indefinable. A good day at sabre left you breathless at the end of it. A bad day left you clutching at your chest as you coughed up liquids that probably came from somewhere around your ankle. This was a bad day for Liam. Thankfully his face remained unmolested, reapplying his makeup would have been a hassle and a half. He really needed to get on a treadmill sometime soon, his stamina had taken quite a hit from his "off week".

Speaking of fat and lazy, Liam had to deal with corporate manners. He wouldn't have started a legitimate business if he had known about all the nonsense he had to deal with, though the boutique was such an obvious front that it burned him inside to think of ever leaving it as it had been. So he tossed on a lovely blue number with frilled sleeves and high boots, a pair of white gloves and a feathered hat to complete it. He loved tailors, they didn't ask questions when you asked for a pinstripe gambeson with a v-neck for Christmas. Fashion sense? Who needs that when you're rich and you can kill anyone who gives a damn. He queued up a new shelf for some reason and put down a few dollars on the stock market before retiring to his desk to devour strawberry licorice and have some wine. That was about as casual as his day got.

Then he shot a man five times in the spine, dumped his body in the river and had a lovely chat with his wife. He murdered her too because witnesses were against professional code. He would call himself a disgusting pig if he wasn't so damn beautiful. Oh well, more money for the bank account he supposed. Then he went to Avia's territory and left a nasty doodle of himself going bird hunting because to hell with Avia. He supposed that was a bad idea because Avia are really good at the whole "Break all your bones and stuff you in a storm drain" thing, but he had a pawn or two with him so it was okay.

He gave Owen a flower and a few honeyed words as he walked in the hotel, you're supposed to keep relationships purely business in the whole assassin industry, but Owen was just too adorable. Not in the sense that he'd be willing to do anything unseemly with him... no matter how much he wanted to deep down. He'd have to give Angela a call, work out some of his tension... or maybe Phil, he knew how to make you much less tense. His mind shot him an idea about Colette as he continued tensing on his way up the stairs and he immediately shook his head and gave it a few pounds with his hand. Not allowed, not now, not ever, Colette was like his daughter, never mind the small age gap. Never ever never, he felt gross just thinking about it.

When he sat down, he sighed and gave himself a few spins to calm down. He read a few pages of Moby Dick before tossing it away because he didn't like it. Another "classic" that bored him. He had never much liked most of the books he was supposed to like, he loved the Fifty Shades series though, and Twilight. Once white trash always white trash he supposed, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

When the congresswoman walked through the door, he immediately slouched to irritate her, he knew just from looking at her composure and posture that she was fairly stuck up, he loved these kinds of people, especially now that he had a reputation. As he listened to her spiel he rolled his eyes. She was really full of herself wasn't she?

A relationship that shouldn't be passed up? Lady I don't even know who you are!

Politics weren't Liam's thing, so he only had a vague understanding that she was a hawk, he had heard a radio show or two about her. He noticed Owen standing awkwardly at the door, giving him a goofy grin before turning back to the lady. He needed Owen to stay there in case things went badly. He fingered the knife at his hip, prepared to use it if the time came.

It seemed that she only wished for a contract, some dirty politics or something he assumed, finally assuming proper posture, he rubbed under his nose and rested on his elbows.

"Owen, close the door for me, darling," he said before turning again to the congresswoman."The bellhop will stay, before you say anything," he continued, a growing seriousness in his voice.

"I'd be more than happy to consider one as talented and attractive as yourself a client of mine," he said, the seriousness gone just as quickly as it had arrived. His flirting would certainly leave her flustered, that was always fun.

"Before we begin, let me inform you, The Royals do not take payment up front, unlike some other groups in this city. We place a trust in you to hold up your end of the bargain, as we will hold up ours. Ensuring an environment of trust in client and patron is very important to us," he said, a smile creeping across his lips. "So, madame..."

"Do you trust me?"

It is sometime in the morning in the fifth district of Match City. A young computer technician watches apathetically from a bus-stop as an overweight, middle-aged man, is pulled out of a nightclub, The Jumping Spider, and put on a stretcher. The nine to fivers that surround him do the same and what they have been waiting for finally arrives, the bus, they lumber onto it, slow and machine like, just as they did the day before, and the day before, etc. After thirty minutes of sitting limply on that bus seat, he reached his stop, a run-down apartment building, close to the second district. He walked, now with haste, up a few flights of stairs, until he reached the fifth floor, now facing a plain wooden door labelled 5c, he quickly yet quietly entered the apartment. He toiled there for a few hours, doing his job, checking up on his equipment, and retrieving his findings.

The sun shone bright, midday in the fourth district, an athlete was on the run. His strides were long yet ferociously quick. His body was featherlike in its movements, effortless. He ran all around the serpentine roads of suburbia until he was sweating profusely and his vision began to go dark. He could have been running like this for a plethora of reasons. College athlete wanting to bring his A game, a professional athlete seeking to join the next Olympics, a soldier getting in peak condition before going on a tour, or just a guy who is obsessed with staying healthy. Nonetheless, after an hour of basically sprinting, he was spent, exhausted. At one part of the fourth district there were a few restaurants, friendly family run places. Whenever he went to this place to run, he would visit a different restaurant, this time a seafood restaurant where he jubilantly, to nobody’s surprise, emptied its supply of crab.

The afternoon in the third district, a sight to see. Each mansion was as glorious as the next, but as anyplace, these extravagant homes soon became familiar, and boring. A young businessman, slightly disheveled dirty blonde hair blowing in the wind, donning aviators and a suit, rang a doorbell at the front gate of one of the larger mansions. He held a white check, in his left hand, and stared at the unwavering, unblinking camera which appraised him as he stood there with slight impatience. Then, like magic, the gate opened. After a long walk down the driveway to the brilliantly crafted home, he went inside, to speak to an acquaintance. After about fifteen minutes, he left the mansion made of stone and exotic woods with a grin on his face. He walked a few blocks down where he entered another, smaller mansion, his own, in there he got ready for his next task.

It was later in the afternoon, around six o’clock when the doors of a warehouse shut and a young scientist walked out of it. Located in a relatively abandoned part of the second district, the low hum of working machinery was audible from the outside for the short moments the door was open for. He was tired from a long day’s work and sought a place to relax. The college aged kid wandered around, attracting attention from thugs, who knew better, due to the presence of Avia, they didn’t bother him. He walked around the second district, marveling at what this group known as Avia has done to it. When he first arrived in the city, this area was in shambles, and now, its leagues better. “Their methods are less than subtle though” he smirked as he thought this. His walk took a few hours until he finally reached his peaceful destination.

A college aged kid was hanging out in the first district just night began to fall. He was propped up on a limb in some tree, earbuds in, attempting to watch the sunset obscured by tall buildings. He was disappointed to find out that this was not possible. He sighed and leaned his head back, looking like a loafer with his casual attire and slouched posture. He closed his eyes “what a day, what a day... data collection and analysis, technology, my training, sciences and…….” Suddenly “mmhmmmhmhmmm mmhmhmhmmmm” he hummed as a new song began to play. He swung his dangling legs back and forth, opening his eyes and staring at the orange sky. “There’s still much to do” he thought to himself. He grasped his smartphone, unlocking it and opened its search engine, there he searched for articles for a short time until he found one titled, “Owner of Fifth District Night Club Dies at Young Age of Heart Attack” it was barely noticeable, but he smirked, knowing that like many times before, he outsmarted the system, and served it.

Colette picked some garbage out of her fingernail as the blood trickled down Mr. Pennysworth's forehead. A simple kill, quick and clean. She almost felt sorry for the man. Almost. However, a contract was a contract. She snapped a picture of the dead man and sent an image to Liam with the message "It's done." She knew he would be having his own meeting very soon with the congresswoman. She would hate to miss that though it seemed she would be very late. She sighed. A heavy sigh that signified boredom. Her fun was over and now she had to sit there while others talked.

As she exited the premises, making sure to follow her footsteps exactly, hiding all evidence of her being there, her thoughts raced to Liam. She thought highly of the man. It almost made her blush when she pictured him in front of her. No, Colette. He's her boss. Almost like a father to her. He took her in and opened up this lavish world to her. She shouldn't ruin it with fleeting thoughts. She checked her phone at the time. The meeting would be soon.

She neared the hotel and made her way inside. She paid little mind to anyone who bid her a greeting. She had little time for trivial nonsense like pleasantries. She didn't much like them anyway. However, she neared Liam's study and saw Owen. Owen she did like. He could take some getting used to, but he was a pleasant person. Very work oriented. He treated her well and that was all she needed. If he was a Royal, he was family. She smiled warmly as she approached, "Sorry I am late Owen. I take it the King is in his meeting? Should I wait outside or creep in quietly?" The figment of a smirk appeared on her lips. A joke as they were known as being very silent killers.

Wanda is found milling about at the edge of the crowd of eavesdroppers, leaning lazily against a wall, with a small handheld device in her hands. It's small screen shined brightly, drenching her face in a soft white light that flickers every one in awhile as the game does, though the blonde doesn't seem as invested in the game as much as whats going on around her. She in listening closely, just like all the other flock members milling about in the hallway, to the argument currently unfolding inside of their commanders office. The angry voices rose through the walls a bit muffled, but clearly decipherable to anyone who could listen properly.

Wanda wonders what they'll do if members who went missing wind up dead; this thought makes her frown a bit. She wants to believe that some sort of justice would be sought for them, or a sufficient rescue mission if they were in fact alive still. They were a part of the flock, after all; murderers and scum alike, they all fit together under one name, and for Wanda, that had to mean something. Whatever Kestrel is building here, she wants to believe its for the betterment of others, and that that includes its members.

When Merlin came stomping out, glare already placed on her face, making some members flinch when she turned to them, Wanda matched it with a sneer; the amount of loathe and distrust in her honey-brown eyes was heavy. This woman, in the Wanda's mind, did not care for anyone else here. She was dangerous, and unpredictable, and all around made Wanda more nervous than she liked to be around a person, but she felt far too stubborn to simply let that woman intimidate her like some sheep.

"Fledgling, Owl, Pidgeon. Get in here."

The sudden command made the girl jump a bit, a short shiver running up her spine as she promptly turned off the device in her hand and shoved it in her purse, immediately scrambling towards the door to catch up with the other two, Owl and Fledgling? She wasn't the best with names, because she was still quite new as a member of the group herself, but she tried her best. After-all, she'd likely be spending some time with them all, and it would be bothersome if conflict came about.

She listened to Owl while the three of them shuffled into the office room, trying her best to not laugh outright to some of the elder woman's comments, but then, the final one was said and Wanda suddenly found herself agreeing wholeheartedly.

"I'm ready to go wherever, whenever. Just say the word, sir." she said confidently, hoping now she might get the chance to actually do something useful, and not just minimal grunt work. Honestly, she couldn't stand feeling like she might be being coddled. It felt too foreign, and made her feel genuinely weirded out and irritated. She wasn't a child, after all.

Arthur let out a long sigh a he traced his eye across the page, his nose wrinkling as the smell from Percy's rather "unfortunate" habit. Folding the page the doctor tucked it into a pocket on his work jacket, patting it as he calmly reached out and took the purple flowers from the bouquet. Retrieving an empty pot from a dusty corner, Arthur filled it with some water before placing the flowers into it, and moving them to a spot beneath the window for sun. Humming an old song to himself he brushed his fingers along the bulbs till he found four of the largest of the bunch, taking them he made his way out of his office, quietly shutting the door behind him, turning the lock with a soft click.

Outside the garden was as populated as it normally was for a Monday, that is to say not much at all. Unless there was a school trip or collage project due soon, few would walk the poison gardens on the first of the workdays, leaving much of the gardeners to enjoy the day for themselves, taking their time with projects and even leaving early if it was slow enough. This might be why Arthur got so little attention as he casually sauntered to the gates of the garden. Nodding at at one of the others, Arthur pushed his way out, the Wrought iron gates creaking on the hinges as it opened and closed.

Still humming to himself Arthur made his way the few blocks towards the two story building that had become a staple of the first sectors community and life. A nice flower shop named Bellflowers.

Entering into the store Arthur took a small time to look over the display as he made his way up to the counter on the first floor. He approached the associate with a smile, giving a polite nod before speaking up. After a bit of idle chat the doctor placed a simple order of two bouquets, one of nightshade and one of sunflowers, both were simple but built around the center flowers, which were the selection of Monks Hood that Arthur had brought. With the names of the recipients and the destinations given for the order, Arthur thanked the clerk with a smile and move away, leaving her to her work.

Taking the stairs up to the second floor the doctor taced his way around the displays to a maintenance room, or at least what appeared to be one. Inside was the standard affair of janitor closets, brooms, mops, and a nondescript wooden box that was carefully stashed beneath a couple boxes of cleaning supplies, hidden in plain sight. It was this box that Arthur took and opened, revealing the meticulously folded outfit within, his bone white mask standing out against the darker colors as it sat on the top. With a wide grin Arthur quickly changed, donning the mask slowly, securing it to his head before patting his hat on. While it was probably not strictly necessary to wear the attire for the upcoming meeting, the Doctor didn't much care as he once more began to hum to himself as he left his work clothing behind in the box and moved to look at the flowers and wait for the two assassins to come to him.

At the same time the two bouquets were hurried out with an abnormal sense of urgency, to most they were harmless, if a bit odd at the choice of flowers, but to their intended recipients (one Annabelle and Douglas respectively) they meant only one thing. Aconitum wanted to speak with them.

The bellhop had been about ready to follow his King's orders, puffing up just a bit under the positive attention he had received. A smile just for him and permission to stay present during a seemingly important meeting. He practically glowed from it, which showed as the White Queen appeared behind him. He paused in his attempt to close the door and showed her a sweet smile instead, coupled with a small amount of delighted surprise. He hadn't been expecting her to make it in time. Reaching out, he caught her hand and pulled her inside the office as he let the doors fall shut afterwards. If a little Rook like him was allowed as a witness, it just made sense that the Queen could. He pulled her a few steps in and then released her in favor of finding his own seat.

He flopped down in a big armchair that practically enveloped him in the cushions. He wiggled around, sunk even deeper and pulled his feet up and under him. Jade eyes glittered, tacking in every sight.

Bobby --the Congresswoman hated her name, Roberta sounding ugly to her ears-- glanced over her shoulder at the interactions behind her. She grew a bit nervous as the amount of people in the room increased, adjusting her pin. She rested her hands on her stomach now and tried to hide thee emotions that this whole scenario brought up. The shame at being found in such a place, asking for this favor. The irritation at the man's informality and the fear because she knew what these people were. Her almond skin grew a little heated at his flattery, mostly from further anger at his inappropriate behavior.

She cleared her throat and refused to lie. "It would be foolish to trust a person of your profession. Yet, in this case it seems that I have to trust you with my life." She placed a hand to her forehead and forced a slow breath out before divulging into her story. "For about a month now, I have been receiving threatening letters from an unknown origin. They always say the same thing: that they'll kill me and everything I stand for it I don't 'offer myself' to them." She looked a bit ill then, but brushed it off and started pacing instead. "At first, I thought it was just another lunatic, I've receive similar letters in buckets, so I ignored it."

Once again, she was fiddling with her hair as she struggled to keep herself steady. Her eyes darted away and she looked devastated. Stopping in her movements, she looked to the Black King before moving forward with sharp heeled steps, placing an envelope on Liam's desk. "Then, I received the most recent letter." Her finger tapped against it, hand shaky. "I run a shelter for victims who have suffered violence against them, mostly woman and children of abuse. The men don't like to reach out. But it's a safe place for them. Or it used to be." She closed her eyes and continued, a photograph in her head displaying mutilated remains. "One of the girls there was murdered a day ago, the picture's in the envelope. I tried to go to the police, but they wouldn't believe me. They insisted they had evidence it had been her abuser."

She slammed her hands onto the table then, a loud noise sounding throughout the room, her fingers gripping at the edge firmly as she leaned towards Liam. "Those girls are my life, now they have nowhere to go."

Owen tensed at the noise and frowned, sitting up properly for a moment. He tilted his head as he watched for danger to his leader, or any need to interfere. But it simply appeared that she felt very passionately so he fell back into the plush of the chair with a quiet huff. He started scraping at some left over polish on his nails, thinking about how she would be an easy mark to bleed dry.

"I can't let this person harm my girls and I can't just give myself to them. That would leave the shelter just as ruined!" She drew back with that, standing tall once again. "So, I would like to employ your services to track down and stop whoever is doing this."

---

Fledgling was seated atop one of the generic desks that furnished this area of the Nest, for those that needed to do a bit of research in the course of their hit. They didn't get much use, however; Kestrel was always striving so hard to keep them from having to do the boring parts. Fledgling appreciated that, couldn't sit still long enough to pull up google, let alone get knee deep into research and paperwork. He did regret the way Kestrel --no, Ian-- killed himself for all of them, for his quest. He had been there since the beginning, seen the effect all of it had on their leader and part of it was the anger.

The blonde man rested his cheek on his fist, seeing Ian ad his sister file into the main office. He jumped just a bit when the yelling started, closing one eye against it and sighing. Straightening to a better position, his hands braced against the edge of the table, his tongue darted out to trace at his scar. It was a nervous habit of his. He listened to their words with only reserved interest, just curious enough to beat out his polite indifference. The moment he heard of the missing birds, he started to scan the crowd around him, taking inventory. It was useless. Not everyone was here.

Hayden exited and Fledgling flinched, not from the fury she showed so readily, but from the reddening of her eyes and a promise of possible tears. It was true that nothing could hurt Merlin like her brother could.

Ian called for three of them as was expected, his voice steel and gravel. It was time for damage control. Fledgling bit at his scar once more before pushing off of the desk and walking into the familiar process of a debriefing. He was met with two vaguely familiar face, the newest member --little Pigeon-- and the slightly more experience Owl. Still, he was the supposed senior assassin here, but definitely didn't feel it as he walked over to perch on Kestrel's messy desk, displacing a few files to do so.

Kestrel watched Owl without emotion until she was done, barely holding in his grimace when she called his fight 'entertainment'. The anger was fading though, melting from his blue eyes and he went to sit at his desk. He pinched his nose as he debated even responding to Owl's words. Headache. Again. When Pigeon spoke next, he looked her way and his gaze softened just a small bit further. He rested his hands on the arms of his chair and focused on her entirely, though he began to address the whole room.

"It seems there has been a situation. Two of our members have gone missing after they failed to check in upon completing their last hit: Mockingbird and Sparrow. Merlin has already checked out the scenes and each mission was carried out, but there is not a trace of the two. Which is how it's supposed to be of course, but troublesome." He slowly rose to a stand, going to Fledgling's side and pulling a file out from under him, causing the other man to snicker. He traversed the room and handed the folder to Pigeon. "I believe Mockingbird has a lover in the fourth district. I want you to research her, find out all you can and then very, very very politely ask Familia if you may question her. If they say no, we'll back off and hunt down another lead, understood?"

He turned to Owl next, offering her the slightest bit of a smile now that he didn't want to yell in her face and boot her out. "Owl, I've got a few witnesses that were last in contact with Sparrow. Some are of the unsavory sort, so if any give you trouble, utilize any means to get the information we need. Within the boundaries of not killing or crippling." He paused and then realized he should add. "And no vegetative states."

After handing her the envelope of names and addresses, he pivoted. His attention now on Arrion, the young man was more than relieved that Ian had cooled off and was making proper plans. "Fledgling, you've been to Sparrow's apartment in the past, correct?"

The blonde squirmed at that, one hand reaching for the nape off his neck and rubbing. Honey eyes traced the floor and his response was a nervous mumble. "I mean, yeah… sorta. It was kinda weird though, y'know…"

"I know." Kestrel handed him an address. "Just check it out, get a feel for any drastic changes."

Fledgling accepted the small note hesitantly, tucking it into his pocket and standing from the desk. "Right…" The boy glanced Owl's way and made an offer. "We're probably going in the same direction, want a ride?"

---

He smiled against her lips as he guided her deeper into the apartment, their breaths mingling together. Evelynn giggled, arms wrapped around his neck to keep from topping over thanks to his pushing, his hand on her waist aiding in keeping her steady. His free hand closed the door behind them, blindly finding the dead bolt and latching it. Her fingers slid up, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck as se was kissing him again, stars in her eyes. She laughed once more as both hands went to her side, rubbing along the curved outline as if he didn't already have it memorized.

"Thirteen minutes." She reminded him, not bothering to pull back so he could feel her words. She was playful but insistent. She didn't want to be late again, couldn’t get too caught up.

His smile grew as he moved to nuzzle at her jaw, stopping them before they collided with the couch. "Mhm." He hummed and dipped down to her neck, trailing his lips there as she sighed. Debated the necessity of being on time.

And then there was a knock at the door that had them both stiffening and then groaning in unison. Her fingers knotted in his hair, immaturely wanting to keep him, make him stay for the next twelve minutes. Knowing better, she released him and sat on the back of the couch, adjusting her makeup in an attempt not to pout like a brat. However, catching sight of his sour expression, she had to laugh again.

"If looks could kill…"

He glanced her way and growled without malice, pinching her cheek before making his way to the exit. "Don't be cute, little monster."

She bared her teeth at him and he felt good enough to smile for a moment. Opening the door now, their suspicions were proven to be correct as a bouquet rested at his doorstep. He swept over the sunflowers to the wolf's bane at the center. He sighed, leaning on the doorframe.

And ten minutes later, he was stepping through the doors of Bellflowers and offering a neutral nod to the cashier. He passed by and went to where he knew he'd find his leader. Knocking once at the door, he slid his hands into his pockets and looked to the ceiling to clear away any remaining resentment from his face. He was on the job now and so, he waited.

Liam smiled at Colette as he noticed her standing behind the opened door. Lovely, someone else as assurance should this go badly, he stared at the woman as she spoke, imagining how glorious it would be to deposit four rounds right in her head. He fantasized silently, a larger and larger smile creeping over his lips, he imagined the open gasping face she would make as her death came in an instant, the blood that would pour down her face and cloak her in a lovely splatter of deep crimson. Of course, he didn't act on this, no man of class would, instead he slid his dagger from his belt and spun it skillfully under the table as he feigned paying attention to her speech.

He managed to catch the sob story, realizing that his smile was perhaps mistimed. Oh well, he supposed, she was practically shaking as the ratio of assassin to congresswoman got ever more in favor of the former. He could do whatever he wanted and she could do nothing. He reveled in that power, his smile twisting as it attempted to consume the rest of his face. The sob story was a good one, she truly seemed like she cared, not that Liam cared, maybe if he was one of those Familia pansies he would have given it a second thought, but all Liam saw right now was a desperate woman needing a contract.

In other words, a good meal for the bank account.

Standing up, he slowly walked around his desk, slinking slowly, coiled as if ready to strike, tracing the now revealed knife across the wood. He pulled it up to the light and examined it a moment.

"Please, do not pound desks, the other clientele may be annoyed," he said, slightly annoyed by her outburst. "You see, if it was me, I'd do what this person wanted, of course, I'm also a brilliant assassin who very much enjoys the soft, foul smelling underbelly of our fine city," he pushed his hair back with a hand.

"I honestly don't care about a few stray children, it seems callous, I know, but if they all died tomorrow I wouldn't lose any sleep. If you want compassion go elsewhere, but if you want this person dead, well, what're you willing to pay? The more money you give, the longer he takes to die, that's what you want, right?" He said quickly, leaving almost no time to breathe as he toyed with her, attempting to appeal to her anger to drive up the price of the hit.

"Perhaps I'm smitten, you know, a woman after mine own heart. Knowing that you're so kind, so loving, even to the point where you would murder to protect your loved ones, it would be impossible not to fall in love. If I had a ring I'd ask you to marry me, we'd get rid of those pesky children and retire to my bedroom where we'd waste away the hours... reading," he teased coldly. The words came from a place of truth, though Liam's libido wasn't restricted to just her, much to his chagrin in some areas, and less in others.

^@KiwiBaer

Wanda took the file obediently, not waiting for the man to explain before opening it and scanning its contents carefully; she still listened as Kestrel gave his orders, noting to herself the emphasis on avoiding any conflicts with Familia, understanding easily the importance in not starting any unneeded conflict in an already conflicting situation.

"Understood." she chirped back when Kestrel ended his sentence, her attention already on her new assignment. There was already a heavy stream of planning being folded together in the girls head as she ran the new orders around in her head; researching a civilian would be a breeze, she thought, but dealing with Familia was an entirely different story. Wanda wondered if she should reach out to someone high in the food-chain, or somehow find a way to contact their leader directly. Kestrel did say that she should be very, very polite, and in all her own lessons on what polite was, it meant going to someone directly to ask a favor. That could be dangerous though, given the circumstances, so the blonde was left to chew that dilemma while she mindlessly reached into her purse and pulled out her handheld device, powering it on quickly.

Wanda meant only to glance at it's screen quickly before making her own way out of their leader's office, but paused when her own personal news feed loaded onscreen, the first story to pop up displaying only a single image of a dark, bloody feather in the hands of a young girl, seeming confused as to the importance of such an odd thing. It was enough to send the blonde's stomach sinking though, as she recognized immediately the meaning behind such a thing. Wanda's face remained stoic, despite her inner panic, and wordlessly, she approached Kestrels desk and casually handed him the device, the article still opened and the image on full display. The look in the girl's eyes was grim, despite how off-played the gesture seemed. She didn't know what to do with this information, after all, so it seemed best in her mind not to cause a panic and simply hand it over to the boss.

Colette sidled in and sat politely while the congresswoman droned on and on. Really, she was quite annoying. Such useless drivel spouting out of her mouth. Though she could feel herself sympathizing with the worry of losing these girls to some maniac, if these women could not protect themselves, it only showed them as weak. She would be damned if she let any man get the better of her. Same with the children. She didn't have a pleasant childhood growing up, but she made the best with what she was given. Hell, to this day she dreams of finding her real parents or those people the foster care system placed her with and draining them dry. However, it was not the time for that. Not yet. But soon. However, a job was a job. She hoped Liam was willing to let her play along. She could really do with something more. This sounded like a job that could be interesting.

The way Liam talked to people always made her giddy. He seemed so suave and full of life, but his words would always mince and mess with people. It was deliciously fun. She looked over at Rook and smiled warmly at him. He, too, was someone she respected. He could get the job done too. Perhaps it could be a group effort. No...a family effort.

So she sat there, a perfect little princess, and let the grown-ups talk. Inside her head though, fireworks were shooting off. Life was about to get a lot more interesting.

Bobby watched with nervous eyes, all of Liam's actions cause for great concern as she continuously had to re-assess her situation and the possible danger. Instantly, however, she was discomforted by the word murder, showing a very obvious reaction. Her hands clenched at her side, her chest expanded with a panicked breath and her gaze fled from the sight of the assassin. Just the thought had a clearly aversive effect. A curious reaction for someone who had come personally to speak with the leader of the Royals. The congresswoman had no wish for anyone to die, she couldn't stand what the Royals --and all the other groups in Match as well-- were doing. She just wanted the letters, the death, she needed it to stop before it got any worse. And the words that Liam used against her, where others might have found rousing, they only made her feel sicker. She really was a bleeding heart, dripping all over the rug.

In the face of Liam's collective words, she had remained frozen, unable to even breathe as the Black King moved. He was showing the barely restrained venom of a cobra and every intake had Bobby's lungs filling with miasma. What a shitstorm. "I am offering a quarter of a million dollars for you to stop whoever is doing this." She didn't dare say kill, couldn't trust herself not to gag on the word. This was so far beyond her, she had no idea what she was doing.

Owen, from deep within his chair, let out a scoff he couldn't possibly contain. A quarter mil for a job not even within Match City that would require investigation and planning? What a joke. Only Kestrel and his birdbrains did that for free.

She heard the sound and turned the boy's way, flustered. She wasn't sure what price to pay. At this point, she'd pay just about anything to be allowed to get out of the damn room. It was too much, she was beginning to panic. What was she doing?!

---

The elder assassin was as laconic as ever, his hands buried deep into the pockets of his jeans as he just barely tilted his shoulders her way. He offered the new arrival a small shrug, originating only from one shoulder as he avoided eye contact (more from disinterest than a timid nature). "She's fine." He didn't quite appreciate that this woman felt it appropriate to talk about his girlfriend, when he was hardly a fan of Solanaceae knowing about her at all.

Douglas was fiercely protective of his lover, something he's proven many times before. He didn't trust a soul in Belladonna, not with her life. Yet, Evelynn had this unfortunate trait called curiosity that sent her to come visit him sometimes, to meet the other scary assassins of the first district. He had been tense, unhappy when Evelynn made a point to introduce her to everyone in sight, including Annabelle. He continued to be on edge even as all that happened was Evelynn getting starry-eyed over Annabelle's hair, asking what kind of products she used.

He turned away from the other assassin, back towards the door. He hoped that it would open then, or she would at least get the hint to quiet down. He had nothing against Annabelle, she seemed sweet and Evelynn appeared to have a bit of a crush on her, but he couldn't handle the useless dialogue she searched for. How did it benefit the mission they were called in for? It didn't. Silence was miles more productive, as he saw it.

Liam sighed and shook his head. He almost felt bad, like he was taking advantage of someone. This woman had no idea what she had gotten herself into. It was just a talk, he understood, but she was probably afraid she would never leave the room, a not entirely unfounded fear, but he had no reason to murder someone just for being new to his world.

He noticed her face take one of dread, and sweat beginning to mat her hair to her forehead. Wow, he had never quite gotten a reaction like this from a client, a target maybe, but just a client? This could be bad, he'd driven her to near-hysterics, she could be afraid enough to call off the contract. Liam grinded his teeth behind his lips as he tried to think of a way to salvage the situation, but he seemed to have difficulty coming up with one. He was used to clients simply agreeing with his inflammatory rhetoric and paying far higher than they had expected. He couldn't intimidate her into increasing the payment. He'd have to... ask kindly, god, just thinking about it made Liam anxious, he was used to making people uncomfortable, not playing nice. He desperately thought of something else, but the only thing he could come up with was flirting, and he'd already burned that bridge.

Rubbing his forehead and grimacing under his hand, he took a deep breath in through his nose and opened his mouth.

"I'm afraid that's not good enough, I'd be more than willing to reach a deal, but I need a higher bid," he said as kindly as possible. God that sounded terrible, what was he thinking?

"Just kill her and go home, go to bed and forget all about it in the morning," a little voice in the back of his head told him, his arm pulled up the dagger to waist-level, his eyes scanned her for veins he could slash and his knees bent in preparation...

but his ass was feeling rather smart today, and it decided that perhaps talking was still the best option. So it seized control of his mind and forced him to say the dumbest words he had ever said in his life.

"Of course, for you, my lady, I can make a significant discount, perhaps, say... six hundred and fifty thousand?"

He could almost feel the shock permeating from the other assassins in the room. He had never EVER given ANYBODY a discount, ever, in his life. He could feel his last manhood forcing itself out of his bladder and down his leg, in fact he even took a step to check if it had actually happened.

Well, he had monumentally ballsed this up, though the last vestige of common sense kept telling him that he would still make assloads of money, he batted it away and mourned the loss of his personal integrity.

Arthur

Arthur paced alone as he waited, he knew it wouldn't be long before the others arrived, and yet the minutes still felt like sandpaper on his mind. In truth he was not worried about the outcome, it was more the audacity of this little stunt that these interlopers were pulling. Still, he had an operation to run and a response to formulate. However saying it like that simplified the matter to an almost absurd degree, something deep in Arthur’s gut told him that this annexation of the rose garden was merely the beginning of something bigger, a way to test the waters as it were. It was almost like watching someone set up a chessboard when you weren't looking.

But that is precisely why he had called the two assassins, he needed a way to probe back, and the two were more subtle than most. Arthur sighed to himself, a hollow sound from behind his mask as he looked over a map of the first sector, subtlety would be key here. And yet the sound of two voices filtered in from behind the door, causing Arthur to turn and stalk silently over to the door. ”ah idle small talk” he thought to himself, a grin forming. Waiting till there was a break in the conversation, the Doctor turned the handle on the door and let it slowly open as he turned and walked back to where the map sat on a table in the middle of the room.

The room was almost dominated by the map filled table, a couple chairs were dotted here and there and a small table with dark colored alcohol stood in a corner , the lighting was fairly decent and the air smelled of the myriad of flowers that not only populated the shop around the room, but also sat in vases in the room itself (A vase for each member of Belladonna’s namesake). Waiting only a short bit before speaking up, Arthur would fix his eyes on the door and the two assassins. “Come in. Come in.” his voice having an almost pleasant ring to it, as if the grin beneath the mask colored his speech “Make yourselves at home, grab a drink and a chair if you want. Oh but do close the door. We have some business to discuss.”

@Legion02@KiwiBaer

Having expected all of the assassins to simply take his command and leave, Kestrel raised a brow at Wanda's approach. He splayed his hands across his desk, assuming that she might be about to challenge his assignment and preparing to enforce it. (He wasn't quite in the mood to be gentle about it, but he would have made a attempt for the little bird). Sure, the job was much less confrontational than Owl's was, but he was trusting Pigeon with a lot in this one. Relied on the cleverness and ingenuity that had led her into finding Avia to begin with. No one else had sought him out like she had.

It was a relief at first when all she did was hold out her phone to him, which he accepted with more curiosity. Looking first up to her face, he examined it carefully in the hopes of finding a hint to what this was before even reading. Whatever he found there seemed to discourage him and his shoulders tensed just the smallest amount, eyes dropping the glowing screen. The tension nearly tripled and his lip curled subtly. Indigo irises danced back ad forth as he read the text rapidly, going back up at the end to inspect the image more closely.

His teeth gritted behind tight lips and when he handed the device back to Wanda, his grip was nearly enough to crush it. His gaze was back on her, or at least pointed in her direction as it grew unfocused with thought. The silence had been diffusing through the room for the past few minutes and it only grew denser in that moment, more foreboding. Kestrels hands were tight against his desk, crushing the wood.

There were so many things to consider with this, eggshells to plan how to walk across. Something very, very dangerous had happened here and even investigation was a hazard to consider. The Black Cats were more often than not time bombs, their fuse minuscule and Kestrel could already feel the lames on his face. He didn't want this.

"Thank you for showing this to me." The man said, voice quiet, though still enough to break through the fog he'd created in his office. Vision growing focused again, he stood and walked over to the girl. A hand was placed on her shoulder. "In addition to hunting down Mockingbird's lover, I need you to track down Derek Mann, the person they refer to as The Angel on the streets. I need to speak with him."

---

She nodded and the action was weak. And though in that moment, she took a small step to distance herself further from Liam, she also extended out her and. It was pricey, much more than she really liked to even hear as an offer, let alone what she would agree to. If circumstances had been different, more stable, she might have fought for it with more venom, but she was harmless in this environment, she didn't have venom. Besides, she needed this done and she needed to leave and all of that added up to her with her hand extended out to the Black King that so terrified, intrigued and disgusted her, palm sideways waiting to shake with this devil. She breathed out her fear and summoned confidence. "I will send the money to your account as soon as I can gather it. Just please.. Stop whoever is doing this."

Rook cheerfully pushed himself up from the chair as the deal was wrapping up (struggling a bit against the suffocating comfort), approaching enough to be notice, but not enough to be in the way. He smiled all the way to his eyes, which shut from the cheer of it, his hands folded in front of him as he rocked childishly on his feet. "I can take Mrs. Gilliam downstairs if that's all, sir~" The sweet boy opened his eyes, flashing those innocent jade pools that could draw people in so well. He tilted his head, grinning as he waited for his next official orders.

One could not deny that the Black Rook was impressive in his ability to lie with every inch off his being. He stood there with those naïve eyes, that bright smile, looking forever younger than he was. But he could have easily plunged a knife through this woman's throbbing carotid artery and hummed as the blood ran down the blade and over his fingers. All off of the King's command. There was a reason he was here.

---

Douglas was relieved when the door swung open, allowing him to step inside before he had to -god forbid- ask about Annabelle's personal life. He did offer her a gentle nod though, to signal the end of their 'conversation'. The closest to traditional politeness as he got.

He made his way into the room, passing by the offered alcohol. His fingertips traced over the caps, feeling ridges on the sides of the containers that labeled them unique, but he continued on past them without stopping. A deal had bee struck upon entering his relationship with Evelynn that barred him from the offer; he had promised to give up alcohol except on special occasions, which this did not count as. Her mother had committed suicide through a muddied liver, something she was insistent on never having to bear witness to again. So he forced himself to forget about the poison and continued deeper into thee room. He walked silently to the vases, resting beside a proudly standing sunflower. He went to feeling again, fingers tracing yellow petals and gaining all his focus for a moment.

Then, brown eyes canted towards the other two and took in the unusual population of thee room. "Just us?" Usually, it was either one assassin accepting their missions or a whole group. The fact that there was only the three of them then seemed to denote an unusual occurrence within the first district.