~Hungry Like Duran Duran~

[Jay Furor]

Stepping outside of the offices at Central, Jay directed Ayden to her Ferrari. She did so with a bit of a grin, and internal cackling. Whatever Ayden thought of what would look cool to ride in, Jay did have some level of superiority. That bit? She knew where they were going, and neglected to tell him. So he either boarded the pink vessel, or did nothing. Bwahaha! "Okay then, Derocha, this here's my car. Missile launcher and machine guns, and I even got a place to prop my minigun, Uno. Sweet, eh?" Grinning, she jumped the door into the driver's seat, gesturing Ayden to enter shotgun. Glancing at the windshield of the car, she noticed a bit of splattered blood and what LOOKED like a furry little paw. Nodding a bit thoughtfully, she glanced over at Ayden. "Wonderful alchemy, Major. But my question is, does it work on people? I might be interested in watching some of the targets go boom, y'know~" Grinning, she kicked the car into ignition, before starting off towards the target destination. "Next stop: fun and games in a pool of crimson!~"

[Guest]

Swiftly, the pair descended to the front of the HQ, where Jay had parked their... steed for the morning's events, and, hopefully, performance. Pulling on his black leather gloves, Ayden stretched his fingers beneath the material and smirked. It was a beast, a machine of fine craftsmanship; presumably expensive, too... the only downside was that it was... pink. The assassin mused silently for a moment on how she could afford such luxuries on a militant - even a general - salary.

"Okay then, Derocha, this here's my car. Missile launcher and machine guns, and I even got a place to prop my minigun, Uno. Sweet, eh?" The machine was... hm... well... well-designed. Streamlined. Ayden had seen sports cars and the like in action before; flicking a look back to his black R8, on the other side of the Central HQ Parking Lot, he grinned. His was certainly more discreet, and more befitting a man of his... occupation, but... sometimes style surpassed the stealthier needs. He would indulge the girl for now. It would suffice... if it was extremely ill-befitting in design for the colour and tint of the windows.

"It's... it works." He muttered, sounding less than satisfied. It was astounding, how easily someone of supposedly 'great' taste had ruined such a once-manageable - and even then, flashy - sports car. But... he didn't want to present himself as an easy course to this little thing, did he? Above the true feel of distaste for the horrifically-coloured vessel, he smirked, and quietly opened the door, taking a seat in the car, smiling wickedly as the pair of them both noticed some of the... aftermath... of his little 'experiment' having found its way splattered across the Ferrari's windshield. Would probably do wonders for the paintjob. "I do apologise, General Furor..." Beneath the fringe of his silvery, silky hair, he smiled, and a spark of adventure and daring twinkled across his lustrous blue irises.

The car spluttered off to a start, and the engine thrummed satisfyingly beneath the pair of them, causing both front seats to begin a rather warm series of quick, gentle vibrations. Ayden had seen the cars in action before; but never sat in one whilst it was being driven. It was an experience unlike any other; the assassin militant truly felt as if he were at one with the engine of the car. But... it was still pink. "Oh, this particular branch of my alchemy has many uses. I'm still fully fleshing out and developing some of them," He explained, before continuing on to answer the question in full. "But... yes... it does indeed work on humans. It was designed to, after all! Byahahahaha!"

The volley of insane laughter was short-lived, before he calmed himself into a silence, smirking as the girl spoke. Indeed, onwards to battle... onwards to rhapsody... onwards to the red-curtained stage soon splattered with fragments of these pour souls' living, mortal forms... "The Blackskull Alchemist eagerly awaits the arrival of a... fresh canvas..." Whispering to no-one in particular, giddy as a child, Ayden giggled as the horizon rose on the sunset, his fork-like tongue lashing out to lick his own lips, whetting them and readying himself.

[Jay Furor]

As Jay pulled out, she grinned, halfway because, while he was rather discreet with hiding it, she sensed that Ayden was not a bit impressed by her car. Not quite a conventional vehicle, it had speed and style, just like its driver. "Oh, so don't you like my Ferrari? Your eyes tell me you don't~ But, I totally envisioned pink as being your color!~ Imagine how many girls would be CRAWLING after you, BEGGING just to meet you when they see you rolling in my Sexymobile! Besides, I didn't get the car with macho men in mind~" Not only that, but he apoligized for the rodent chunks on the windshield. "My, you really are charming, Derocha. Don't worry about the guinea pig guts, I didn't mind. Bit interesting actually. Bet you make pet stores happy, if you buy a new one every time you blow one up~" Giving a light laugh, she carried on driving. Jay was rather pleased with his answer to her question as well, as to whether it works on people. At first, she didn't honestly like Ayden. But nowadays, SHE WAS CONFUSED OF HER FEELINGS ABOUT HIM. Half the time, he was a total butthole, and the other half, he was a homicidal GENIUS.

In fact, he was SUCH a genius, Jay felt a grin arise on her face. "Hey Derocha, we're almost there. Whaddaya say we make this a bit more fun, eh? A hundred cenz for the one that wastes the most targets. We got thirty guys to whack, so the winner has to get sixteen or more. If there is a tie, someone has to kill a random civilian!~" Grinning, she saw the telltale insignia of the group they were about to massacre on a building. Two suited men were standing next to a car labelled with the same logo, and Jay pressed a shiny red button on the dash. The hood ornament, the name Jay set in silver, was the site where a small missile was fired from the letter "a". They never saw it coming! "Two down, twenty-eight to go!~ As Jay spoke, she exited the car, already drawing her infamous Winchester rifle...

(~(2/30 for Jay, 28 left!)~)

[Guest]

Smirking at the pet store comment, for the remainder of the journey, Ayden sat in pensive silence as the good General began to ramble on. Until... until things got a little more interesting. "Hey Derocha, we're almost there. Whaddaya say we make this a bit more fun, eh? A hundred cenz for the one that wastes the most targets. We got thirty guys to whack, so the winner has to get sixteen or more. If there is a tie, someone has to kill a random civilian!~" Oh? So the girl had a penchant for more... mortal vices, despite her cybernetic limbs and supposed 'sub-humanity' she attempted to impress against others?

Ayden had seen it. She was young; foolish. She had too much to prove. She was trying to say something with everything she did; every action, and, far more importantly... her ignorance of his. So, for this reason, a triumphant, sarcastic chuckle spurted out from between his lips as she finished her proposition, and, neck buckled, Ayden settled back down nodding; the assassin thought that he should probably indulge the girl; and his more... macabre desires, also.

You can try, girl, but it would be foolish even just as that... all too many know that the Blackskull Alchemist triumphs whenever it comes to murder... He muttered the last fragment of the idle thought out loud, quickly turning from whisper to shout. "KILLING IS MY DOMAIN!" He howled, the sun now bright in the sky above them.

The car drew to a halt. Some clichéd missile system kicked in as the 'Ferrari' embossed on the name shot some puny little explosive towards the crowd, only managing to dispatch two. Ayden pretended to not be paying attention, instead absolutely enthralled with how beautifully dark his gloves looked today.

Not bothering to use the door, instead flaunting his acrobatic skill, Ayden triumphantly vaulted over the door, coat-tail billowing majestically as he did so. He heard Jay mutter a quick confirmation of her kills, and let out a brief snort of laughter. Doing so, his hands dropped quickly to his waist as both feet made impact with the ground for a split-second, and the hunter marked out his targets; the four standing closest. Two had revolvers; one a pair of semi-auto pistols, badly-maintained and shabby-looking, and the last what appeared to be some form of sub-machine gun with a broken stock. Jesus, Jay had really scraped the bottom of the barrel with this gig. The final four guards of the building's exterior; Ayden had to deal with them quickly. Jay couldn't get ahead and inside before him.

No time to play. He had to cut through. "Daddy's home," He whispered, the most evil and malicious of grins set across his face as his tongue ran across his lips once more; it was time to paint. To dance. To perform. To write. To play.

Ayden's art was death. And this was simply a warm-up.

Moments after landing, the tanto were drawn forth, and Ayden had already shot forwards as the blades unleashed in a scything pattern. The glinting, deadly sharp steel sheared through the first of the revolver-wielder's torso, cutting through flesh, sinew, and bone, indiscriminately; and quite possibly cutting through what the Amestrian assassin presumed to be the sternum. Ducking, and kicking his leg out to skid along the floor, to avoid a quick barrage of fire from Mr. Machine Gun, before turning to send one of the tanto flying - straight, like a javelin - towards the head of the man wielding the two pistols akimbo, with a simple flick of a supple wrist. Ayden's body was well-maintained, it seemed.

The blade cut straight through, making a sickly crunch as it not only entered the man's head, thanks to the sheer force behind the throw, but exited, too, protruding from out the other side with only a drop of blood falling from the tip of the blade... before a fount of crimson sprayed out madly and erratically, seemingly never finding a stop. The first two of Ayden's victims slumped to the ground, the last of the couple falling straight onto the hilt of the blade and soliciting a short-lived chuckle from his assailant as it simply knocked the tanto farther in.

Once more creating an acrobatic display to avoid another fresh burst of fire, Ayden waited for a split-second until the ammunition counts on both weapons were exhausted to reveal himself once more, one tanto in hand, leaving the other to crackle electrically due to the present alchemical charge. Had these men been professionals, they would have been either carrying side-arms, or resorted to some close-range weapon - perhaps even picked up the armaments of their fallen comrades - but, no, they simply trembled at the sight of their oncoming executioner, who sighed and twirled his blade. It really was sad. Seems he wouldn't get much of a hunt, today, after all.

In moments, he attacked, seemingly moving like a blur against the men who made no resistance. The first, the revolver-wielder, met his end as Ayden twirled, a whirling dervish of agony and blood, pressing the tanto ever-so-gently against the guard's throat as he did so, letting the simple movements of his body follow through and slit the throat, before the blade was whipped back and retracted; and before he was even finished, Ayden jumped forwards, far too bluntly, waving and moving as if he were working in time to some majestic, beautiful, old classic hit, slamming his hand down on the final man's head - his left hand. Jay had inquired about the Bloodbomb Alchemy previously, and now he would display it as she had asked.

The transmutation circle crackled as the final revolver-clasping scumbag fell to the floor, gargling as the last of the blood readily available from his jugular spurted forth, and Ayden placed his foot on the collapsed man's stomach to retrieve the counterpart in the two pair of Aerugese tanto; after wiping his weapon on a fallen victim's shirt, the nearby blubbering fool dropping down to clutch his head as he felt his very veins bubble and churn beneath his skin, Ayden's hand now released, the assassin sheathed both blades and flicked his coat-tail back with a majestic display of grandeur, moving briskly to walk up the steps; the show of athleticism was over. Now it was time... for strategy and alchemy to come into play. Ayden smirked. Perhaps he would have a canvas after all.

"The Blackskull Alchemist has arrived," He said distastefully, a sigh ever-present beneath his voice. He was... displeased. This audience, this garbage... they were resources. Sponsored, funded, provided for free-of-charge - and he was getting paid upon completion of his newest masterpiece - but... alas, they were to be what was expected. Pitiful. They offered little resistance, and their ways of movement were predictable, which resulted in a rinsed-and-re-used strategy. An artisan such as the Major could work with them, sure, perhaps mould them into something different... but they would never be as fresh as the gun-toting guards at Ballzini's manor, or many of the other contracts he'd taken up in his days since.

Throwing the doors open with both hands, before flinging them behind him, the assassin greeted with another five men - this time, all clutching an array of different sub-machine gun models, Uzis, Skorpions, the lowest of the very low... Ayden smirked, and turned back to Jay, beckoning her to come closer. The battle had begun... he had been proven wrong.

Trembling, barely able to hold their guns straight, waiting for an opportunity, a movement, Ayden took a few moments to admire his surroundings; an abandoned office lobby. These scumbags were... dirty. Gangsters. Faded denim jackets; torn, grimy slacks. A chuckle met his face, and one or two of them arched eyebrows and cocked heads. Raising his hands - to be met with the five of them shouldering their weapons and readying themselves - Ayden snapped both fingers as the man whose head he'd 'blessed' with his 'art' erupted into a beautiful, gory fountain of blood, grey matter, and specks of bone as the headless, kneeling figure toppled, the spray coming forwards enough to even splatter across the steps he had just walked above.

With a hint... no, an overwhelming sense of grandeur and happiness in his voice, the chuckle faded, and Ayden repeated that same line again, announcing his entry into the main building; the complex. The fortress. "The Blackskull Alchemist... has arrived! BYAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

(Jay - 2, Ayden - 4, 24 remaining)

[Jay Furor]

At the sound of the battle cry of “Killing is my domain”, Jay didn’t refuse herself the act of a grin and a light laugh. Well, he may be among the worst partners she’d EVER had, but he was by no means Jackwad. Or rather, at least he didn’t threaten to attack her, shoot her homunculus friend in the back and go all emo-loner-boy mode. That crap really didn’t cut it too well for Jay. Anywho, Ayden left the vehicle in a dramatic fashion as Jay did likewise. Having drawn her rifle, she looked up to see if any guards were positioned on the rooftops or any balconies. Fortunately, the security sucked; given the bang of missiles and such, there were still three snipers that were in the dark as to the happenings below them. One… Two… The third one noticed the other two dead goons and turned his gun to retaliate. With a grin, Jay swung her rifle around to her back, using her automail arm with a grin. Aiming a fist above her sniper’s head, she launched a little used tool; a grappling hook was fastened into the bricks in seconds, and Jay was in the midst of a flying kick to the sniper’s face. As beautiful Xerxian Jade collided with flesh, Jay basked in the sickening crunch of shattered skull, the ooze of the blood and cerebral fluids, the very THRILL of such death. “Three…” was the whisper emitted from the former mercenary, as she gave a grin, a wide-eyed tribute to her former passion. The hunt.

Scanning Ayden’s own progress, Jay looked just in time to see him demolish some poor guy. Her already widened eyes glittered from the beautiful craftsmanship, the sheer power of his kill. Until that moment, she had believed herself, rather arrogantly, to be his superior. As blood erupted in a beautiful, misty spray from the desecrated corpse, Ayden was, by her standards, equal to her own prowess. Not better. She was Jay freakin Furor, for crying out loud; the Kanama Queen, also known as Ms. Teenage Killer Drama Queen. Both names applied rather well, though the former was more suitable. She’d killed more than Ayden, plain and simple. She had no idea how many Ayden had killed, but she DID know that she was behind a large number of cold cases, with no evidence to link any back to herself. Had she been less discreet, or had she been a calling card killer, her name would have been more well-known. But alas, discretion and professionalism often come with disadvantages.

Snapping thoughts from her brain, she located a window, rapping ever so lightly on it. Or not. In fact, her “knocking”, so to speak, smashed through it, as she grasped a new victim’s throat, hurling him through the window, and off the building. With beautiful aim and automail augmented strength, Jay slung the confused dope into a streetlamp; his chest was now wrapped around the fixture bearing the actual light. Grinning, General Furor stepped into the building through her window. “Lovely day for a massacre~ Lovely. Indeed…”

[Jay 6, Ay 4, 20 left~]

[Guest]

So his unlikely cohort had taken a different route for her entrance of the building? That was fair enough. Ayden's neck snapped forwards once more, fastening and scanning the faces of all of the five he was met with. He'd not yet drawn his weaponry, but his tanto had been bloodied; most looked scared of the man's ability. Some rules of engagement perhaps forbid them from firing; had Ayden been greeted with a new rain of fire upon his entry, perhaps his path would have unfolded and been revealed a little differently, but for now...

"Y-you better get outta here before we call the boss, buddy!" Shakily grasping his badly-maintained automatic, the 'leader' of this rag-tag band, presumably a lieutenant, or something similar, mumbled towards Ayden. The man had fear in his eyes; he was shivering. This was Ayden's first target.

Behind the double doors, a man slammed into the road, screaming before he finally made contact, his entire body rippling with sheer force before a series of sickening cracks resounded even through the glass and wood of the entranceway, the doors still swinging in and out from the alchemist's entrance. With a perverse grin upon his face, Ayden grasped for weaponry, whilst the fallen - literally - man's comrades gasped in horror at the fate of their friend, now bleeding and lifeless upon the road, nothing more than a crushed lump of bone, sinew, and flesh.

He managed to catch a head-start; in either hand, engraved throwing knives, streamlined and black, had been drawn. The man stood with his feet an equal width apart, grinning darkly as his face snapped up to face them, and he performed his signature action; his tongue darted out, licked his lips, sharing that bountiful moisture, before he whispered one word upon the five men, one word that they would come to look upon in dread and retrospect for the rest of their brief lives.

"Showtime."

[INITIATE BATTLE THEME]

Within an instant, the knives were charged and expelled; the Talons of Despair found their targets immediately. The first caught the luckiest of the five individuals straight in the head, lodging itself dead between his eyes, the transmutation not even having time to execute before the man collapsed upon the floor, dead in seconds. A short spray of blood hissed out, the man's death throes coinciding with the alchemical discharge of the circle; a shame, really.

The second knife found its target's gut, causing a reddening upon a grimy once-white tee-shirt; with a grin as the man collapsed to his knees, grasping the wound, an agonised death cry resounded through the halls of the building; the Uzi struck the floor with a series of metal clunks, before writhing began, oh... the writhing. It was easily the best part of the Pain Alchemy.

Unable to control himself, it began for a few seconds as a painful itching, a scratching sensation that would never leave his body. Beyond that, it felt as if every itch, every scratch, slowly opened into a gash; a deep cut inflicted upon every inch of skin. Moments later, the target scratched deep red lines into his wrists and hands with his own nails, as he felt as if his very skin was being torn away from him, leaving him a grotesque, pained wreck. Despite his eyes being shut tight, he was granted no solace; every nerve was hit with the electrical discharge, and that meant EVERY nerve. The knives' transmutation circles were pre-tailored to perform the same tweaked circle, meaning that it escalated at the same rate.

The agony coursed through his body; his blood seared as if it were fire and froze as if it were a river of ice. The uncontrollable sensations wracked both his mortal form and his conscience as all-too-quickly, the man was reduced to a rabid wreck, frothing at the mouth and scratching against the floor, pushing his nails further into his fingers, drawing thin lines of blood on his hands. Ayden unleashed a fit of giggles as the final three still-standing drew their weapons and unleashed a barrage of terrified fire, a wave of crack-crack-cracks as the assassin jumped behind a metal table, toppling it and using it as cover with but a touch.

Oh, the tactics of mooks such as this. He missed when days were this simple. It was a fun little exercise Jay had brought him along on...

The clips were all similarly sized, and within thirty seconds or so, a series of clicks echoed through the room, alongside the light ping noises of cartridge casings slamming against each other and twinkling lightly on the floor; the men fumbled for their reserve clips, and that was when the assassin presented himself once more.

With a leap, he cleared the table, springing from behind it like a deadly, gun-toting, leather-clad jack-in-the-box; before he even landed, he had drawn from shin-holsters his bread and butter; the Children. Asmodeus and Astaroth; giddily sleek tools of destruction and pain. The simplest yet most effective and feared of Ayden's arsenal. Twin M1911A1 pistols, with smiling yellow faces inlayed onto the hilts.

With nine-round magazines pressed into each, Ayden had more than enough to serve out liberal helpings of hot-lead pain against this futile resistance; the music of a grand rhapsody still blanking out all the horrific grinding noises of battle, the man humming as he landed, feet slamming against the ground in unison, pistols trained on the two men to the side of the 'lieutenant', each grasping rusted Drachman sub-machine guns; the leader himself cradling an AR-10 of Cretan make.

Two shots all-too-quickly dealt with the fluff of the operation; the air was left whistling through holes in their respective heads, beautifully-aligned and well-placed, courtesy of Ayden, blood sprays to accompany each copper-jacketed nine-millimetre round as the crazed, pained man finally collapsed, his flame extinguished as the cardiac arrest finally took hold and pushed him into death's cold embrace.

The last man... the last man dropped to his knees. Sobbing like a child, Ayden grinned wickedly, blowing smoke from the twin semi-automatics as his fingers itched to pull the triggers, his brain running on overdrive of all the positions he could execute this man from, quickly settling on today's choice; after all, variety was the spice of life... especially so in his business.

With a signature wicked grin set upon his face, as always, the man desperately clutched his temples, crying out the same desperate phrases that they all did; Ayden pitied the man's mental strength. They all broke eventually, but he'd never quite seen one as fast as this. Huh. Perhaps his skill was improving, after all... and here he'd thought himself the best, the prima donna, the idol to end all idols...

Carefully, the assassin edged around the fallen, bloodied, bruised corpses; four surrounded their leader, their lieutenant. Once Ayden was aligned directly behind the crouched man, still sobbing intensely, praying and asking for mercy, he too knelt down, and whispered into the man's ear; a whisper so quiet that it was near-subsonic, but carried with it gravity all the same.

"I don't do mercy."

With that, the warm barrels pressed against the back of the man's head, each one directly behind a corresponding eye, Ayden sighed, before the noise picked up; and the last sound that the lieutenant of the scumbag they were hired to kill heard was a childlike, giddy laugh; and then he pulled the triggers.

Blood spilled forth majestically from the wounds, quickly seared and cauterised through the bullets; the front of the man's face was turned into two huge exit wounds thanks to the mushrooming rounds, but all of the tissue from his eyes was shredded and destroyed, sent flying forth, a spray of black aqueous liquid to accompany the brilliant jets of blood. Ayden had, simply enough, shot the man's eyes out.

Rising to his feet, holstering the pistols as he rose, Ayden patted down his jacket, and turned the collar up, before grumbling as the sounds of battle resounded above. Jay was obviously making progress. With that, he turned, and left the slaughtered bodies behind, picking up the pace, sprinting towards the steps and unleashing his two near-identical revolvers. The man had a few tricks of his own...

(Jay - 6, Ayden - 9. 15 remaining)

[Jay Furor]

Into the building she went, hearing sounds of combat below, and not caring. While Derocha was indeed quite the entertainer when he made things go dead, Jay was having much too much fun with her own slaughtering to even acknowledge his presence in the same building as herself. Having made a man-kabob from the poor guy slung onto a lighting fixture outside, Jay moved deeper into the hen’s coop, like the determined hungry fox. She had, by then, holstered her beloved rifle, choosing now to draw her katana. Before she moved into the next room, she held the blade gingerly in both hands, looking it over.

Beautiful, green, and exotic; the blade was cut about 4 molecules thin from Xerxian Jade, crafted by Jay’s uncle, a master blacksmith, and the material itself formed ages past, by some alchemist of unknown name and intent. Whatever his motive for creating such a beautiful stone, Jay had to admit, the person responsible for this blade, Jay’s very trademark, was a genius. Glancing at the hilt, Jay’s eyes glittered like smooth, gray granite; the noble iron piece to the sword was engraved with divine images of wolves and roses, and in the midst of all the designs, a single word; Furor.

What a name, Furor was to bear! Furor, defined as unstoppable rage, or anarchical chaos! And the bearer of this name, sole heiress to the Furor name, not counting her uncle and child, Jay was the last of the main branch of the Furors. When Uncle Johan moved on from this lifetime, that would be the sad day in which the last Furor man died; as Jay and Janis-Ilona were obviously not male, it was possible that the Furor name would die out, gone forever. That all depended on whether Jay took Lexi’s name or not, should they get married, however, so until then, there were no worries about keeping the dying name alive.

Anyways, Jay moved into the next room and found four guys. Three charged her, trying to attack her with KNIVES. KNIVES FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! With a giggle of sheer joy, she swung her blade in a horizontal arc, before cutting into a lower-right diagonal. One poor son of his mother fell to his knees, surprised; He was fortunate enough to see his own intestines, and unfortunate enough to be both prematurely slain, AND to die feeling nothing but the agony of having one’s balls split in two. Literally, of course~ Turning to her next victim, Jay grasped his arm with her automail right hand and shattered his forearm. As he writhed in anguish, Jay swept her leg out to stop the third guy from running. Sweeping his leg out from under him, she brought down XJK unto his stomach; this one got to feel his own stomach acids gush from his stomach’s protective walls into his blood vessels, all exposed by the clever stab. How fun! Turning back to the one-armed bandit, Jay stomped his other arm into dust, before mercifully grabbing him by the chin and cracking his skull open. Well… It was as merciful as Jay got, anyways.

A gunshot sang clean in the air, as Jay remembered the last one. So he’d worked up the cajones to try and fill Jay with lead, then? A sick grin crossed her face as she stepped closer. The terrified man raised his Glock again, shaking the poor pistol to death as he did so. Jay merely smacked the gun from his hands. “Nuh-uh-uhhh~ Nooo guuuns allooowed!~” came the sing-songy voice of Jay. This one would be fun, she thought…Now it was torture time with Ms. Furor!

First, she grabbed him by his arm. A swift side kick broke his legs, knocking him to the ground. Next came rope. Jay tied him to some stakes she’d placed in the floor and soon he was spread out, looking up at her in fear. Of course, Jay also saw what he was half-thinking; Most dudes would love to be tied to the floor, alone with some girl. Unfortunately for him, the only person who would enjoy the events to follow was to be Jay. Stepping over to him, the sequence of agony began. First, Jay broke all of his fingers and toes. If that pain wasn’t bad enough, she salted his wounds and coated them with vinegar and grapefruit juice, all of which she had brought just for the possibility of some fun. Next, Jay hammered nails into his left arm, with the rusty metal objects running in a line along the poor appendage. So as not to make his other arm lonely, Jay decided to slit it straight across. She then stomped on his legs until they were useless as putty. “Please, PLEASE STOP!! I-I’ll do anyth-thing, I’ll pay you, y-yeah, as much as you w-want! I’ll rat my boss if you want, please just have m-mercy!” Contemplating his pleas in mock conflict, Jay whispered to him, “Really sorry, but we just went out of stock. Mercy comes, and then it goes~ Supply and demand economy, my friend.” Of course, as she had just falsely contemplated HIS pleas, she now began contemplating something of her own. Pacing, she spoke to herself. “Should I? Hmm… No, no, the stupid State would eventually find out…. But they didn’t find out about the OTHER ones… Yes… Yes, I think I want this one. A nice trophy of all the fun I’ve had today!~” Stepping over to her new victim, she placed XJK to his throat. “It really was fun, but I must be going. Sorry about this, but… Bye-bye~” As she made her final goodbye to the poor man, XJK had been sheathed and her hook-knife had been drawn. Exactly as it said on the metaphorical label, it was indeed a knife in the shape of a hook. Originally intended for easy slicing of foods and trimming foliage, Jay had eh… other uses for it. Within moments, the razor-sharp blade was spattered with blood, and in Jay’s left hand was a gruesome disembodied head, forever frozen in a face of utter horror. As she had decapitated the man, blood had gotten all over herself, the floor, the body and the knife. Grinning, with a psychotic lust for blood in her eyes, Jay licked the blood that had splashed onto her lips. Headhunter Jay was back in business…

[Jay 10, Ay 9, 11 left~]

[Guest]

Ayden's ears pricked as a gunshot resonated through the halls of the building; maybe a floor upwards, and a few rooms across. Hm. She's not far off... A giddy grin set across his face once more, the man looked down to his hands; clutched in them were bloodied throwing knives, the assassin having retrieved them from other bodies moments after leaving the final corpse to collapse.

I guess I should be catching up. The thoughts were accompanied by an idle humming, and the grin quickly faded to a simple smirk as the Blackskull Alchemist's pace picked up once more, and he sprinted towards the next flight of stairs - hopefully the last, though. This had so far been a fun little cardio workout, but Ayden really needed his rest sometimes...

Taking Soulshredder into one hand as the knives were quickly sheathed along the strap Ayden bore over his chest, he reached for a sling over his left shoulder, and smirked as in the other hand, a disproportionate, odd, silver, extended pistol-like weapon was drawn. Along one side was a pair of pegs, steel-reinforced cable reeled over the two of them, headed by a small, loaded, metal spear, with a pronged head at the end, wickedly sharp. This was a gas-operated spear pistol; which had been reformatted for use as a grappling hook or weapon. Along the chrome sheen of the side was engraved 'The Hunter'; the newest addition to Ayden's arsenal.

Appearing at the top of the last flight of stairs, before he could even think about alerting the six men standing in the abandoned labyrinth of office cubicles and ancient computers, both the Hunter and Soulshredder were cocked and readied; with a foot outstretched, Ayden released the prepared tension in his ankles, and launched himself through the glass of a long, thin window-pane, shattering it on contact, and pushing himself through, sustaining minimal damage to his attire and body; as well as making one hell of an entrance.

"Morning, boys! Gyahaha!"

Much like their late cohorts downstairs, the six men each clutched in their hands some form of automatic weapons; however, it appeared that the hardware scaling was beginning to improve, with Ayden isolating at least three assault rifles as the stunned men turned round; and much to his disappointment, opened fire immediately.

Grumbling, the man threw himself beneath the cover of the nearest cubicle, weapons readied, as bursts of fire were quickly extinguished, and he noted his surroundings. Whilst the flimsy PVC cubicle walls would provide little to no real cover, he count on the complex criss-cross of panes, and, the precious stealth abilities he'd been taught from his mentor, in order to ensure that he left the building more or less unscathed.

On the right was another wall; this time, brick, but on the left was an entire row of surprisingly thin, and mainly cracked, ivy-laced windows. Drumming his leather-clad fingers along the handle of the Hunter, Ayden mused for a while, before breaking out into a short burst of cackling; stopping himself before it went too far.

Skirting around various corners and thin walls, the predator quickly stalked the confused prey, who lost sight of the man, still presuming his last known whereabouts to be near the entrance, still concentrating their sporadic bursts of gunfire on the door and thereabouts.

One man seemed to have slightly more intuition than that; AK-47 clutched, trembling, the man, garbed in grimy rags, turned the corner into the row Ayden had situated himself, and was consequently met with a single trigger pull; a single crashing explosion, a single .44 round. It struck the man in his gut, and he dropped to the floor as all fire ceased. The other mooks, confused as to the source of the noise, clutched their rifles, and raised them to the groaning man's position as he clutched his stomach, desperately trying to well up the seemingly endless fount of spurting blood. The bullet was lodged deep in his gut; around one of the most painful places a man could be shot. And even then... it wasn't over. This man was to be an attraction; whilst it was best to draw bees with honey, men usually honed in on fear and pain, above all else; exactly what this man experienced now.

As his blood heated and bubbled beneath his fingers, it quickly became evident that something in play was rather unusual; Ayden smirked, having scuttled away for now, as the man's two comrades neared around him, and lowered themselves to help pressure the wound. He tried to push them back, but all his strength had left his body; perhaps the afflicted man now truly knew of his fate now, but alas, it was too late.

The revolver and its cylinder chambers were each engraved with the chemical transmutation circle, of Ayden's own inspirational design, of Bloodbomb Alchemy. This meant that as each bullet was fired, the gunpowder, and, indeed, Ayden's own energy, activated the transmutation circles which transferred the alchemical charge to the rounds. Upon contact, the pre-tweaked bullets would mushroom and embed themselves for a few moment before the alchemy came full circle. The hydrogen atoms were isolated and connected, detonated on an increasing scale before finally... ka-boom.

With a glorious explosion, a bloody spray, and the sound of flopping flesh as at least one of the affected members of the jolly little congregation were sent flying into the windows, smashing through and plummeting to their death, the alchemy was proven successful once more; a small, silenced fist-pump and a hissed 'yes!' of approval, followed by some less-masterfully-hidden cackles gave way to the fact that Ayden was very proud of his alchemical prowess; hammer still cocked, Ayden double-backed to take a quick look at his handiwork. The bodies were shredded; the assassin could pick out at least five charred, dismembered limbs. The smell of burning flesh hung in the air. Fun, fun, fun~!

Sounding out their footsteps, Ayden skirted around as the last three reluctantly drew towards the shelf where he was taking cover all-too-quickly; even then, the man on the right was cautious enough whilst flanking him, thanks to the fate of his former comrade. One stood dead centre, barely metres from the sadist; and the last flanked him on an opposite side.

Ayden took cover initially beneath two stone pillars, finding an alcove of around a suitable size for his slender body to remain unseen. His breath was slowed and quietened; and as he readied himself, isolating the footprints of the nearest of the trio, his hand's grip tightening on the hilt of the Hunter as he did so.

Footsteps drew ever closer. Timing was capital; this entire thing had been schemed on a whim, and if the assassin wasn't working both efficiently and swiftly, he'd be cut down before he could manage a final soliloquy. These mooks were perhaps no longer messing around; it was time to bring out to big guns... so to speak.

Finally, the shuffling drew to a halt. Aligned perfectly, Ayden could hear the man's chest rising, pushing outwards, before drawing back in. He felt the heat of his body; the wetness of fear upon his breath. He could smell it. A wicked grin stretched across his face; saliva drew across it made the most intimidating yet grotesque of sounds, an unseemly squelch akin to tearing entrails from a fallen corpse.

And then the vulture struck.

Rising up to his fullest, he grasped the man's shoulder with one hand, and twisted him with a swift, abrupt movement. Facing him properly, Ayden did his best to line up the Hunter properly, aimed dead on at the man's sternum, before firing; the claw struck the bone, and cleaved through it, shattering on impact, caving the man's chest in and tearing through flesh and sinew indiscriminately, before it hissed out of the other end, the bloody string spattering droplets of crimson all along the abandoned office, before it clutched desperately onto the centrepiece of the room, maybe fifty metres away; a thicker, identical cuboid pillar.

Flicking a small lever on the side of the device, and leaping into the air, as his position was made known, Ayden's newest victim dropped his weapon and began to gargle like a madman. With a mechanical whir, the string was pulled taut, and moments later, as the assassin leant backwards, clutching desperately onto the pillar as he swung upwards towards it, his newest corpse stretched along all the while.

Moments before impact, Ayden flicked the lever off once more. The near-lifeless mass of dead weight hanging from the cable wasn't so lucky; he slammed into the pillar, and the force rippled through him, both breaking his neck, and pulling the cable upwards as his assailant fumbled to keep hold of the harpoon pistol. With a whip-like sound followed by a squelch and a fast shearing, the man dropped to the floor in moments, before the top quarter of his body began to leak blood, bone fragments, and brain matter in a grotesque pile along the floor; the two halves of his neck and head were split apart by the further bloodied cable, each falling aside as it landed with a horrific flop.

Ayden cackled with a morbid glee evident in his voice; obviously a fan of the macabre, the assassin knew he was much faster than these stunned idiots who had finally managed to get a bearing on his thanks to the sound. The cackle quickly erupted into a fount of laughter as the assassin fired another two shots; all met their target, slamming directly into the torsos of the last two men standing. Soulshredder had fed once more; and as Ayden disconnected the cable from the Hunter, dropped to the floor, landing soundly on both feet, he holstered his revolver and his hand went fumbling inside his coat to reload the newest - and obviously functional - addition to his little cast of 'tools'. A good workman he was after all, it seemed.

After clicking another spear into the Hunter, brushing aside his jacket, and slinging it over his head and shoulder once more, Ayden brushed himself down, and headed for the door as the cacophony forged of indistinguishable groaning, squelching, and liquid bubbling behind him rose to a grand crescendo, kicking it open, staring with glee at his katana-clutching compadre, before turning into the corridor and staring at the set of double doors at the end of it. Inevitably, that was the end of the road. Where their target lay. "Why, hello, Ms. Furor," He muttered, smiling that dashing, charming, wicked grin of his.

"If you clear the room, I'll take care of the target?" He queried with a macabre grin, cocking his head and licking his lips as a hand was raised to wipe the gore from his brow. Waiting for an answer as he was, the Blackskull Alchemist was anxious to continue on his carving a bloody swath through the gang hideout; and so, with the faint resounding of sequential gargling explosions still echoing through his ears, the man shaking off an almost orgasmic shiver, he sighed, staring down at his right gloved palm, eyes almost burning through the leather; his alchemy was most definitely working, after all.

It was time to bring an end to the day's antics; but hopefully one worthy of limitless rhapsodic and poetic retelling.

[Jay - 10, Ayden - 15, 5 remaining (target included)]

[Jay Furor]

Jay walked closer to the center of the building, feeling a rush of sheer adrenaline. That rush, the thrill… War didn’t cut it for Jay. She’d returned to the military because she thought she would be allowed to kill people without risking arrest or loss of a public life. Instead, things got dull. She would be easy to find if anyone died with the slightest evidence she’d done it. And while she was not at all one to leave evidence, the risk itself was just… too risky. And while Jay absolutely adored taking risks, she was NOT by ANY means stupid. To be a killer, a hunter, a predator, Jay wasn’t allowed to be stupid. Indeed, she was rather clever. Although she wasn’t one to brag of her intellect, she had a bit of knowledge of human psychology, and a wide array of street smarts. While in Special Forces, she had been trained to think like a general, and fight like a guerrilla. Before she ever fled that dreadful scene, ten years prior, she had been an avid hunter with her father. Ah, she missed him… and her mother, and her twin, Jason… She missed them all… She shook her head. They were gone, she’d accepted that much. But… the white haired man… He was Aerugese, she remembered that. An alchemist… He killed her family. At eight, she’d fled him in terror. At eighteen, she was prepared to ensure that there was no fleeing for him; she would kill him, or die trying. Shook her head once more, she did; no time for thinking about the past. Now was the present, and that was what she focused on. Not the future, as many claimed to cling to; Jay had no wish to have every goal laid out in some grand master scheme for her to account every action into. Live for the moment; not a moment before, and not a moment after. Just the moment. And in the moment, Jay was akin to the shark in a fish tank, to the panther which was so hauntingly close to its unwitting prey…

Walking, XJK in her right hand, gory head in the other, Jay arrived outside the central room, meeting Ayden at the middle. Taken a bit aback by his friendly greeting, Jay nonetheless grinned back at him. “Why hello Mr. Derocha. I hope you’re having as much fun as I am.” At his next statement, which was less of a statement as a question, Jay grinned. Flashing a thumbs up, she agreed. “Sounds good. So I get to play with the target’s little friends, while you go on ahead” With the last word spoken, she held up the poor man’s head, and gave a somewhat psychotic laugh, as she stepped towards the door. Kicking the door in, she beamed at the four men inside, with the leader in his ‘office’, through the next door from the room Jay had broken into. “Hello boys~ Knock. Knock. Knock.” As she spoke, she slowly, casually entered the room, not even bothering to dive for cover, even in the midst of four assault rifles blazing after her. Wanting for some hand to hand combat, Jay switched from a slow, straight stroll, to a fast charge to the guy diagonally right from her, while sheathing XJK. With no warning, she roundhouse kicked him in the side, smashing half of his ribs instantly, and puncturing his heart and lungs. To chase her first attack, she launched a straight jab to his temple, smashing into his skull with a glorious spattering of blood and cerebral juices. As this precious cocktail of innards splashed over Jay and the surrounding area of the room, she gave off a gleeful cackle, before cheerfully skipping to the next goon. As he fired at her, she held up her automail hand, ricocheting his bullets back into his face, before she kicked the gun through his chest. The other two guys in the room were backing away from this considerably cruel little demon girl. Running up to one of them, she fired off a dragon kick, her leg cutting straight into his abdomen like a hot knife goes into a wheel of cheese. Shaking the corpse from her automail, she looked at the last guy, who’d stopped moving, confusing her a bit. What was he doing?

Jay examined the situation. The rather terrified man was holding not his gun, but his arm, facing her. Carefully studying his appendage, Jay spotted what she sought; a transmutation circle was tattooed to the man’s left forearm, while his right was performing whatever alchemy he was going to do. Thinking back on everything Ilona had taught her, so long ago, Jay scanned the circle. From where she was, she could make out some of the symbols; iron, nickel, a positive charge. Phosphorus, magnesium, and a negative charge. With a smirk, Jay just waited. At the sight of the alchemical discharge, she closed her eyes. Normally, this would be suicide for the majority of people. For Jay, alchemy was best countered without the use of your eyes. For one thing, Ilona had first taught her to fight blind anyways. Secondly, she could sense the changes in the air and ground that she’d been taught to find. The third reason was simply that Jay loved the cocky arrogance of fighting without even seeing who she was fighting. Within a moment or two, she felt a tell-tale increase in air temperature, and a shift in air pressure, as well as hearing the sound of an energy discharge. Rolling to the side, Jay let the blast of electricity strike her automail left leg, as she performed a kick. Under normal circumstances, automail conducted electricity and it would have electrocuted Jay instantly. But again, Jay was exceptional; her automail was totally insulated. So whereas normally kicking a blast of electricity was bad juju, in this case, Jay not only dodged it, but nulled it out. Still with her eyes closed, she ran at him in an arc, going for his right. As she moved, she kept her senses tuned in on the air and sounds. Dodging electrical blasts as she moved, she eventually reached the guy. Eyes still closed, she grasped his arm, so that her hand covered his circle. Opening her eyes at that moment, she allowed her steel-like eyes to connect with his terrified blue ones. “Hello~ Someone’s been a naughty little alchemist. I think you should learn some manners, really do think so.” As he screamed a loud yell of fear, she crushed his arm’s bones with her automail hand, laughing as she did so. His screams carried on, accenting her maniac laughter in a sick, twisted harmony. Getting a little bored of his screams, Jay finally decided to end it. Delivering unto him multiple blows to his torso, she left him on the ground, and watched. It was a slightly delayed reaction, but seconds after the punches, he jerked forward, eyes wide and mouth gushing blood all of a sudden. “Wonderful little move, that one. Ruptures every major organ in the abdomen and chest cavity. Painful, non? Not for long…” As the poor man faded from existence, collapsing to the ground and finally dying, Jay walked to the doorway of the target’s room, to wait for Ayden to finish…

[Guest]

Click.

Peaceful, quaint little tunes thrummed melodiously throughout the mind of the Blackskull Alchemist. Rhapsodies, beautiful, sorrowful... some of the best he'd ever heard, idly captured in lands oh so familiar yet distant to him; Creta, Amestris, Aerugo, Gelemorté... it didn't matter where the tune originated, and which instrument - or, indeed, instruments - it was played upon; if the assassin took a shine to it, within a moment, the entire thing would be sealed away within the prisons of his mind, his to toy with whenever he so desired. Even, sometimes, if parts of a particular tune escaped him, he would extrapolate; twist and bend what he knew of the ditty to his will, further creating fragments of a beautiful masterpiece to recreate it once more.

The cylinder of his revolver rolled out; oh so quickly, along the engraved indents and markings, Ayden counted six rounds, idly listening to the beautiful accompaniment to his mind's latest melody, Jay shearing through bone and flesh with that shimmering, thin, green blade of hers. He'd fired three; yet the cartridge casings still remained. There was only one way to differentiate between the half-fired...

Gently flicking the revolver down, humming, as Jay's katana met its latest victim, he raised the open cylinder to his nostrils, and took a sharp draw through his nose; the smell of cordite hung over three sequenced cylinders, those on the bottom; the weight on the cylinder was also skewed ever so slightly. The top was far heavier than the bottom.

Hovering his hand over the face of the barrel, moving it ever closer to his bare, overturned palm, the warmth from the discharged rounds was still present. Faded, but nevertheless, it hung and remained, and would do so for moments later. With a giddy smile, the silver-haired assassin still swaying from side-to-side eerily and humming to himself, he placed his now-bare hand over the top three miniature cylinder-chambers, and flicked his wrist, twisting the revolver upwards, and allowing himself a minor success as the three spent cartridge casings spilled out onto the floor, bringing the smell of the burnt cordite into the air proper, taking a fresh, long draw; ah, so familiar.

In his left, leather-clad hand, which the assassin suddenly allowed to burst open and lay as flat as was possible without letting the contents too spill out to join their spent brethren on the floor, Ayden had three shiny copper-jacketed .44 Magnum rounds. One at a time, the assassin lowered his weapon, and slid the rounds into the chambers, where, not seconds ago, the newly-released cartridge casings had lay.

Click.

With another flick of his bare, pale wrist, the cylinder slammed back into the main frame of the revolver; the heavy-set handgun was laid down on the mantle that the assassin had perched himself on, and he drew the flattened, deflated glove that he had shed in order to gain the highest level of precision in accuracy, hand-loading this weapon, before pulling the glove on with a single movement, straining his hand and fingers beneath, allowing the leather to stretch and properly hug the form and curves of his hand.

Coat-tail billowing behind him, as Jay delivered the final punches to the alchemist in question, his latest works laying scrawled along his arm in a horrifically-designed fashion; the circle was probably engraved of his own remark, considering most artists considered it now a taboo to tattoo transmutation circles without charging a horrific fee. It had been drawn hap-hazardly, and thanks to its nature, was neither precise nor well-designed; the room dimmed and focused around the single centre of light as the General took the electricity, seemingly, blind, straight into her leg. Ayden smirked, and watched as the man collapsed, finally dead.

"Wonderful little move, that one. Ruptures every major organ in the abdomen and chest cavity. Painful, non? Not for long…"

He walked straight through the centre of the small room, treading over hewn bone, sinew, and flesh, stepping through puddles of blood great in depth and area; the man's eyes were fastened on one thing and one thing alone. The door. The door through which the target lay. The last of these thirty simpletons.

Jacket billowing behind him, creating an ominous illusion for all to see yet none but corpses and his cohort to behold, Ayden began to open his mouth. Barely tremblings passed his lips as he whispered unintelligible phrases onto the world he'd known so well; his eyes possessed a vacant stare, the lustrous blue orbs possessed by some spirit. Not a smile nor a frown passed his face; but simply an expression of neutrality. In these final moments of a job, Ayden took it upon himself to never play with a target; but simply prepare for the last confrontation in his own way. What happened from here on out differed with every single contract; the fortress had been toppled by the pair of them with ease. Sometimes, there were last resorts. Some grandiose weapon, or perhaps a protector yet unheard of; a suit of armour bound in blood.

But... other times...

Black and silver twined together perfectly in the alchemist's figure, he stepped through and placed his free, fabric-grasped hand upon the frame of the door, its brother still clutching the revolver at his side. In an instant, however, Ayden snapped back to reality, his head lowered and the top of his skull pressed against the door, before a sickly grin cut across his face, his eyes narrowed, and something within his slit-like exaggerations of pupils clicked. The monster had returned.

The free hand lowered. The Blackskull Alchemist didn't bother to bolster his frame or put up defenses; through the door, he could hear it. Frightening pantings; fearful. This man had never held a gun to defend himself before; or even then, he hadn't for years. He believed himself a master of words; with the right amount of coin and other promises of incentives, he controlled a force twenty-nine strong; twenty-nine strong and now felled, soon for him to become their company, be it in heaven or hell.

Ayden pressed down on the handle, and threw the door open, stepping inwards, turning to close it behind him, winking at Jay as he did so. This was something that not even his most trusted were allowed entrance to; the final moments of an assassination. A binding process between hunter and target. Predator and prey. It was ritualistic for the silver-haired charismatic alchemist.

The man sat upon a chair. Plump, garbed in a suit, with a handkerchief tucked in his collar. A plate sat before him with a gargantuan, half-eaten steak; fork and knife set still-on the crockery. The man had been interrupted mid-meal. He was probably mid-thirties, but a lifestyle of luxury had not been kind to him. Smoking, eating, drinking, drugs; his face was harrowed with lines and wrinkles. His fat cheeks now reddened and sweaty, Ayden stepped towards him and rose the revolver, blanking all noise out. The man was simply frozen to his chair. What would he do?

What could he do?

He tried to speak, but words wouldn't come out. And then it came. The assassin's creed; the only prayer or religion that Ayden stayed true to. "Per alas angelorum in caelo, per alas daemones in inferno." He walked ever closer, now inches from the desk. Standing with a hand outstretched, revolver aimed forwards almost like a blade, arm rigid. The blubbering cries and unintelligible demands for mercy and help began. "Libera me anima tua. Invenis redemptio, et pax. Ego, digito iustitiae. Ego, digito iram. Ego mitto vos qui in alteram vitam."

It was closing up now. Ayden closed his eyes, silver hair obscuring his vision even then. He took one final step forwards; the cold steel of the cannon pressed maybe inches from the man's forehead. Ayden could smell the sweat. The fear. Intermingled together in a sickening aroma, a stench that naught could differentiate save for him. This was his art. His specialty. None could compare to his skill, his method, his execution. "Nunc amicus annis vel momenta, praedico tibi vale."

With that, the single round crashed forth with a deafening explosion, and the last that this anonymous target would ever know. The man was dead before he hit the floor; the alchemically-charged bullet sheared straight through skin, flesh, skull, brain, splattering a shredded mix of brain matter, crumbled bone, and blood onto the chair behind him, swiftly following the bullet which too carved through the wood antique's frame. In an instant, the round had slammed into the curved brickwork behind the now-falling corpse, spasming with the last of the bioelectrics in his body, despite his brain being dead; the indent in the wall was bloodied and accompanied by a spatter not moments later. The cacophony faded to an echo; and just like that, as soon as it had been there, it was over.

The Blackskull Alchemist turned on his heel, the expression of glee on his face once more. Not only was this a total, flawless victory and success, he'd won the bet. Sixteen of the thirty was a majority. He went home with an extra hundred Cenz. Can't blame a man for being materialistic, eh? Either way, the smoking revolver was sheathed, and the jacket was pulled further around Ayden as he opened his eyes once more, muttering a last, simple phrase of Latin; a language so foreign yet so familiar, and, above all else, dead, like the bloodying corpse laying now just metres away. "Requiem in pace." Ayden laid his hand on the bronze handle to the mahogany door, mid-way through pulling it down, before turning to look at the fallen, torn body; the back of his head would now be naught but a bloody, shredded exit wound.

Laying there, blood pooling beneath him, his entire body dirtied by his own essence, the assassin couldn't help but pity the man...

...after all, such a full resource of canvas deserved something much better than a simple execution like this, aye?

The wicked trademark grin upon his face, Ayden switched back to Amestrian, and pulled the door open, eyes still locked on the fading warmth of the petty gangster's body: "Death is fleeting."

With that, he left the inner sanctum, and pulled the door shut behind him, continuing on swiftly back into the corridor, not ceasing until he had passed the first set of double doors, turning a silver-hair-lined head back to lock eyes with his companion once more. "We'd best be off, Ms. Furor."

[Jay Furor]

As Jay finished her little massacre, she watched as Ayden entered the leader’s room, flashing a wink at her before closing the door. She fully understood the signals; many assassins are rather peculiar about killing a main target. Jay, of course, enjoyed taking a trophy, and while she had few other traditions, she also enjoyed a bit of torture, or some nice cat and mouse games before she finished her target. So it didn’t strike Jay too oddly that perhaps Ayden just preferred private ritual or something similar when he killed his target. So, until he finished, she would wait patiently for him to be done. As she waited, her mind wandered and she hoped that Ayden wouldn’t blow the guy’s head up. Cool and beautiful as that was to see, her own traditions kind of required a head that actually resembled a head. So she thusly hoped that it would be salvageable…

As she began to get bored, she heard a gunshot and saw Ayden exit the room. He seemed pleased with himself, so obviously the target was gone. Jay, however, caught the door with her foot as he closed it, and entered the room. There, on the floor was a bloody corpse. Checking his head, Jay grinned. “Ouch, you did a real number on this dude. Poor guy…~ Ah well, he was screwing with my guys. Can’t have two organized crime bosses in one region, you know. I think I’m enough for Central and Kanama.” After speaking, she went about her business with her normal disturbing grace and skill. She remembered the first time she’d taken a trophy head… She did it to one of the gangsters that killed her family. Slashed his head off with a rusted bayonet. Took about twenty minutes then. Now it barely took a minute or two. Having hacked his head off, she took refuge momentarily in the blood that lightly sprayed from the somewhat bled-out neck. Walking over to Ay, head in each hand, she proudly held up his kill, grinning. “Boy, Derocha, you must’ve messed this guy up. He’s losing his head over here!” Laughing, she walked cheerily back to her beautiful, sexy car. Mission Status: Accomplished. Now for the victory ride back home!~

[Guest]

“Boy, Derocha, you must’ve messed this guy up. He’s losing his head over here!” Ayden began with a smirk, and a light chuckle in response, before the cackles came. Spurting, sporadic, jolting and almost forcibly irregular, the assassin waved his finger in the girl's direction, the laughter just beginning flow together nicely, now sounding more like a stream than a jagged hail of gunfire. "That's... that's..." Panting in between words, Ayden began to slap his knees. "Really... really funny!"

In all reality, the pun hadn't been that great. Something that maybe a groan, or a slight chuckle would suffice for. But who indeed knew the inner workings of the man's mind? What should he do other than laugh senselessly at such a childish joke? He was a ticking timebomb, ready to go off at any second; and the aftermath of such an explosion had only been sampled with the corpses strewn behind him here. Quickly, however, as his comrade began to depart, the laughing subsided, and he began to trail after her, jogging to catch up. "Forward the extra hundred, along with the actual payout, to me, whenever you can. Be quick about it, though; ammo isn't cheap~!" He smiled giddily at the most amateur of jokes. The man had obviously been set into his equivalent of a 'good' mood from the flawless victory over a collective of shabbily-equipped men who were now each part of a field of hewn, broken, torn corpses.

As the pair reached the car, Ayden groaned once more, muttering to himself. It was well into the morning hours now; and he couldn't be seen in this. It wouldn't do anything good to his reputation, especially in the underworld... although the lingering scent of blood might counter it out. "Why do we have to travel in such an... ugly vessel? We really should've taken my Audi... much more stylish, befitting two pioneers of fresh death and torn flesh such as us, aye?"

With that, he reluctantly opened the door, and slid in, muttering up to the General. "You know, as hasty as I am to say it..." He paused, thinking very carefully over his words. "You're... you're not too bad. Pretty fun." From Ayden, that was a world of colourful compliments. She was close to him; her abilities perhaps exceeded his. And his acknowledging that opened up a whole new can of worms. "But you're still a kid. And you still got a long way to go, especially before you catch me up, byahahaha!" Just to make sure that she knew her place, though... he followed up with an addendum. Couldn't have her getting the wrong idea, could he?

"Anyway, time for work! Drive us home in this horrific monster of a vehicle... sir!" The last word came with a wink and a stupid smile, as the man sheathed his weapons and readied himself for another day of toiling with alchemy and his superior's orders, a grin sitting dead on his face.

[Jay Furor]

As Ayden cracked up at the corniest joke Jay had EVER told, she was rather perplexed. Since WHEN did he laugh at ANYTHING he didn't say or do!? That was the FIRST time she'd heard him laugh at ANYTHING she said, ever! No matter, no matter... Putting that from her mind, she caught his next remark, asking for his paycheck. So, instead of going home and writing up a check or gathering the money there, Jay had the cash on hand. Reaching into a small pocketbook she kept with her, and setting a head aside momentarily, she withdrew a wallet, and from it, all of the money due to Ayden, plus an extra fifty Cenz. " There yah go; paycheck, bet prize, and a tip for a wonderful art show~"

And of course, the moment Jay though he'd gotten nicer, he groaned and whined about her car again. With a grin, Jay took to her seat. "Oh, get over it, Derocha. Your car looked nice, but girls like flashy cars much better than cars that look like they belong to the Cerisian mafia!~ And what can I say, pink attracts more girls than black does. In my case, anyways. Now, for DUDES, I guess there is a different rule in effect, though…” Grinning as she teased Ayden, so pitifully fretting over the color of her car, a thought occurred to her; “Speaking of girls, you wouldn’t happen to have a girlfriend, would you? I’m a bit curious; really, you don’t seem very much like a ladies’ man.” With a light chuckle as he entered the vehicle, she drove onward, back to Central’s headquarters. As he entered the car, he complimented Jay, and she smiled. “Hey, you’re okay too. Sometimes, anyways~ And of course, as all good things must end, he just HAD to follow up with bringing up her age. Giving a laugh, she clutched her chest in mock heartbreak. “Ouch, that one really cut like a knife, Derocha. Especially coming from someone who couldn’t be more than four or five years older than me!~ If I’m a kid, you must be a teenager. WHICH explains why you despise my car’s lovely coloration; If you’re a teenager, you probably just hit puberty or something~ And of course, a hormone-crazed teen like you isn’t secure enough to ride in something pink!~” With a cheerful laugh at her deduction, she carried on with driving, laughing slightly at his calling her sir. “I’d appreciate “miss”, or “ma’am”, or “Supreme Overlord” better, but thanks anyways~”

Noticing both human heads between driver and shotgun, one staring in etched-in-flesh terror at Jay, the other giving Ayden a horrific look. Glancing at the heads, a new thought came into Jay’s mind, bringing a smile to her mouth as she thought of a GOOD use for her many trophy heads. “Hey Ayden, seeing as you ARE an alchemist specializing in gory goodness, how would you like some donations to experiment on? Saves you some money at pet stores, anyways. But anyhow, I don’t really need all the heads I have, so if you want, you can have one of these to toy around with. I wrapped the neck hole in one of them, so he should still have a good amount of blood in him. If you want it, you can have it; free of charge, even!~” Smiling at this truly generous, un-Jayish offer, she sideways glanced at Ayden as she drove, awaiting his answer…

[Guest]

Ayden smirked, taking the money and nodding gratefully. "Much appreciated, General!" He stuffed it into his pocket, and his heart immediately soared. Nothing like a paycheck at the end of a good long day, eh?

Ayden blinked in response to her 'Cerisian mafia' comment. Really? She was going to stoop that low? About the beautiful steed he had back at the Central stables, if they could be called that? Dammit, that car GRACED the others around with its presence. But... Ayden thought it best to mind his manners, despite how close he was from retracting his former almost heartfelt comments. “Speaking of girls, you wouldn’t happen to have a girlfriend, would you? I’m a bit curious; really, you don’t seem very much like a ladies’ man.”

Ayden's eyes widened, and he arched his eyebrows. Shit shit shit. That wasn't good at all. She couldn't know about Jeu-Hee. Did she already? No... it wasn't possible. It wasn't, right? Another corpse to the pile if she knew... but then... oh, that would cause a chain of events that not even he could salvage! No... she didn't know.

Ayden calmed himself. It was just idle talk, right? After the awkwardly long lapse in conversation, he made a subsonic gulp and smiled that odd smile of his back at Jay. "Ah, well... a gentleman never tells his tricks, eh?" He said with a wink, before trying his best to flip the subject off of him. It was horrible. Like trudging through mud. "What of you? Any partners, Ms. Furor?"

He ignored the rest of her spiel, quietly nodding, trying to recover. His heart was racing. She couldn't know his weakness. It would leave him... vulnerable. That wasn't a word or a state he liked. Finally, he noted her questioning tone, and snapped back into reality from idly whittling his nails. “Hey Ayden, seeing as you ARE an alchemist specializing in gory goodness, how would you like some donations to experiment on? Saves you some money at pet stores, anyways. But anyhow, I don’t really need all the heads I have, so if you want, you can have one of these to toy around with. I wrapped the neck hole in one of them, so he should still have a good amount of blood in him. If you want it, you can have it; free of charge, even!~”

Hm? An offer? He arched his eyebrows again, this time feeling much more pleasant about himself. He mulled it over for a moment; before: "No. I appreciate the offer, but a man's always got to have his reliable stocks... my experiments are all but finished, for now, anyway. I'm really focusing on my... bookwork, for now!" He giggled, before bursting once more into maniacal cackling for no reason.

[Jay Furor]

Jay had to laugh. "Now I remember, Ayden; getting a straight answer out of you is like hiring a two year old to build your car~ Ah well, I'll just take that as a no, then." What Ayden asked somewhat caught Jay by surprise, though to be honest, it really shouldn't have. The normal response, indeed, was to repeat the question after answering. At any rate, Jay's mind was taken to a simpler time, before she was a general, before she was even a lieutenant. Back in New Optain, those wonderful times. In answer to his question, she gave a smile and held up her flesh-hand, revealing the back of the hand tattooed with a heart, within it written "Lexi". "I do, actually. While I may seem like quite the womanizer, that’s all just my style~ I really have just one girl that really matters to me~ Hadn't seen her in ages, though, ever since I had to go to Gelemort for some stuff. Should probably look for her, it really has been too long..." Placing her hand back on the wheel, she pondered thoughts about Lexi. To be fairly honest, jay did indeed miss her, she missed her a LOT. Why she was boring Ayden with such sappy love stuff, she didn’t really know, but no matter.

After Ayden replied to her offer, she smiled and gave a reply of her own. “Ah well, if you don’t need any right now, that’s fine. Just remember, if you ever need a human head to play with, thanks to what you revived in me today, I should keep up a constant flow of them~ ”

[Guest]

Ayden smirked at Jay's wild conversing as the car pulled up into the Central parking lot. He took a quick look into the sky through the windshield, and grinned; it was time for work, or research. Whichever his higher-ups assigned to him today. He looked to Jay, and hoped that maybe they'd be sent on assignment sometime. For a child, she was somewhat entertaining.

Opening the door slowly, Ayden stepped out, and flashed a quick look towards his R8, before gesturing towards it and tapping Jay on the shoulder. "That, my dear Ms. Furor, is a real car." He then let his hands trail along the pink body of the Ferrari, tapping it gently with his knuckles and sighing. "Unlike this horrific... mutation of what was once beauty," He feigned a sigh, shaking his head in mockery. "Such a shame..." He trailed off once more, and took a step back from the car, winking at Jay.

"To work, I guess," He smiled, cocked his head, and picked up on the speed walking backwards, turning on his heel and moving into a far brisker walk towards the double doors of Central HQ, smiling to himself. It seemed the fledglings of today weren't all unappreciative of true art, after all.

[EXIT THREAD]

[Jay Furor]

As Ayden exited the vehicle, and demonstrated what a REAL car looked like, Jay cracked up laughing. “ Indeed, that does appear to be a real thing. Not only that, but it kind of looks like a car. So you may be right. But you’re just jealous of my car~ You know, I could give your Audi a custom paintjob if you wanted!~ Giving Ayden a teasing grin, she half-saluted him, as was customary of Jay. “See yah ‘round, Derocha. Have a good one.” And with that, she drove off, headed for Kanama, back to her daily stuff that she did, whatever THAT was. As she drove, she reflected on the events and occurrences of the latest non-military mission pulled off by the military team of Jay and Ayden. Which, by the way, is a complete contradiction. But at any rate, she reflected on those events, and decided on one thing; She would absolutely have to do something else with Ayden, sometime. Quite fun, quite fun indeed…

[Consider thread EXITED owo]

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