A/N: Hey there everyone! See? I told you I'd be back :) I've had a hellish week at school, and thought I'd reward myself by getting to write this little number. For anyone reading this who has not read 'Syndicate', I highly encourage you to go read that before reading this. Otherwise, this story won't make any sense. 'Syndicate' can be found at: s/7828586/1/Syndicate

Here's a more detailed summation of the story:

With Global Justice gone and the major governments of the world oblivious to the impending terror to be carried out by Lucas Cutting and his Black Rabbits, Kim, Ron, Drakken, Shego and the Syndicate must find a way to stop them. As if that weren't a daunting task enough, the constant moral struggle between Kim and the Syndicate is making the process even more difficult.

However, perhaps seeking out aide from a certain Rebel group from the ravaged country of Leiriakkesh will help them hit Cutting where it hurts.

In addition to trying to save the world - again - Drakken must try and manage his newly found parental role. He'll find, though, that trying to get close to his punky, prodigal daughter is not an easy task.

Again, this story is rated M; mainly for language, mature thematic elements, and violence. But there will be some good ol' fashioned sexy time as well.

This first installment is just a short prologue concerning the origins of everyone's favorite little murderous shit: Anya Brotz

Please R&R! Comments are loved and questions are encouraged!

January 14th, 1990

Ishim, Russia

On a quiet street, in the dead of night, there was a terrible ruckus going on in the shabby apartment of the Brotzs. Three aesthetically generic men were tearing up the interior of the living space, and the Brotzs – a young married couple – sat on the torn sofa, terrified.

One of the men were plowing through the kitchenette cabinets, shoving the china plates to the floor. Mrs. Brotz flinched each time one of her mother's plates shattered against the moldy linoleum. The other two were rifling through the flimsy bookcase in the living room, taking the books off the shelves, shaking them open and then throwing them on the ground.

"You don't have anything in this fucking apartment!" one of the men ravaging the bookshelf yelled. "Fucking incredible! How do you not have at least one thing of value?"

Mr. Brotz blinked helplessly up at the man. He didn't understand him; his English was very limited. Mr. Brotz's lips quivered as he tried to make his mouth form words.

"I – I . . . do no," he trembled.

"What?" the man yelled. "What did you fucking say, you fucking kike?"

Mr. Brotz looked up at the man in front of him, recognizing the slur. His hands, which had been resting on his lap, curled into fists. After a moment's contemplation, Mr. Brotz started to get to his feet. His verbal attacker immediately struck him to the ground. Mrs. Brotz shrieked and moved to help her husband.

"Don't fucking move! Don't fucking move!" the man screamed, turning to face her and jabbing a finger in her face.

"Hey," said the second man at the bookshelf. He was eying Mrs. Brotz's wedding ring. It was small and simple, but the Marquis diamond perched on the center of the band was thus far the most valuable thing in the apartment. He crossed the room and made a grab at her left wrist.

Mrs. Brotz yelled again, trying to tear away from his grasp. Seeing his wife struggle, Mr. Brotz unsteadily got to his feet and lurched forward to defend her. At once, the same man who had struck him the first time hit him again. Once Brotz was on the floor again, the attacker placed his heavy boot on his head, keeping him down.

"You don't the Black Rabbits' help for free, Shylock," the attacker rumbled. He turned to the partner grasping Mrs. Brotz's wrist. "Take it."

The other Rabbit wrestled the ring off of Mrs. Brotz's finger and shoved her into the couch. She cried as he wrenched away the beautiful gift her husband had given to her, and she lay against the cushions sobbing.

"Found something!" the third Rabbit called from the kitchenette. He rounded the counter, holding up a small plastic bag filled with Russian currency and smaller baggies filled with a fine white powder. "It was under the broiler pan."

The first Rabbit stared, disbelieving. He looked down at the man under his foot. "You slimy motherfucker," he hissed, "trying to hide what you owe us."

As he began to reach into his jacket pocket, another voice entered the scene: "That's enough."

All five people looked toward the apartment's front landing to see Lucas Cutting standing there. He was eying the man standing on Mr. Brotz warningly. After a moment, he gestured for the bag, which was brought to him. Cutting opened it and sifted through the contents. After counting the money, he opened one of the smaller bags, dipped the tip of his finger into the powder and then ran it across his teeth.

"Give Mrs. Brotz her ring back," he ordered. The Rabbit who had ripped it off her finger, flung the jewelry back at the women.

Slowly, Cutting made his way through the ransacked apartment, kicking away objects in his path. As he meandered through all five people watched him; the three Rabbits lazily and Mr. and Mrs. Brotz apprehensively.

Cutting came to a stop as he faced the apartment's closet door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mrs. Brotz stiffen and she let out a quiet whimper. He opened the door and threw back the two coats hanging inside. Standing at the back of the closet was a small toddler: a little girl with curly brown hair and large hazel eyes. She looked up at Cutting placidly. Despite all of the commotion and her parents' yells and cried, she was not afraid.

Kneeling, Cutting came to the toddler's eye level, "Что такое имя?" he asked.

"Anya," chirped the child.

Cutting smiled and exchanged a few more words with the Brotz's daughter. Anya replied as best as a three year old could, and Cutting was pleased with that.

After a moment, he excused himself and went over to Mrs. Brotz.

"I know you understand English better than your husband," he said. Mrs. Brotz looked at up Cutting with red, puffy eyes and a blotchy face, afraid of what he was going to tell her. "I want you tell Anya that she is going to come with me. Tell her that she shouldn't be afraid. She'll be taken care of."

Mrs. Brotz stared, horrified at the man in front of her. She made to speak, but the only sound that came was a choked, gurgling in the back of her throat. She finally conceded, getting up from her seat and going over to Anya. She took her daughter into her arms and explained that she was to go with Mr. Cutting. That he would take care of her for a little while and that Mama and Papa would pick her up soon.

Mrs. Brotz released her child, and Anya shuffled towards Cutting. He scooped her up and she rested her head on his shoulder. Smiling warmly at Mrs. Brotz, he turned and headed for the apartment door.

As he past the Rabbit that had been raiding the kitchen, he whispered: "Kill them."

Then he and Anya left.

Name: Anya Vera Brotz

DOB: 7/4/1986

Height: 5'4 ½"

Weight: 130 lbs.

Eye Color: Green

Hair Color: Brown

Race: White

Nationality: Russian

Admitted into Global Justice Agent Academy in the Fall of 2000, under duress of threats and bribery of Lucas Cutting. She entered classes under the pseudonym: Minka Vera Carlisle.

She excelled in all her classes, spent inordinate amounts of time in the Global Justice robotic and chemical labs and volunteered in GJAA library and hall of records. She received outstanding marks and comments from all of her instructors.

She graduated early in the spring of 2005, and immediately went to work at Global Justice headquarters. Once again, she administered her job with all the finesse and professionalism as she did her schooling. In 2006, Dr. Betty Director promoted her to work with the Agency's top Agent, William James Du.

I, Dr. Anthony Wabash, admitted her into GJAA knowing full-well of her actual identity and affiliation with the terrorist group: The Black Rabbits. I did so because Lucas Cutting threatened my family's lives. Since I was 'reasonable' he has left my family and I alone, and has wired us massive amounts of currency. I am sorry that I have done this. I should've realized that his promise was a farce. I only have a short period of time left; Cutting's men are in the next room. They have wound bags around the heads of my wife and children and have lined them against the wall. They allowed me – ordered me – this last bit of courtesy to write a letter explaining myself. I cannot. I have failed my family, my work, and myself. I am sorry.

**** Rooke – This letter and the files attached were sent to me the day after Henry's death. It was accompanied with a police report surmising the murders of GJ's Dean of Admissions, Dr. Wabash and his family.

The files on our Ms. Brotz are pretty run-of-the-mill, but I thought you might find them useful. Good luck.

B. Director

"It's good to have you back, Anya," Cutting said as he and his partner strolled into the Sardinian mansion.

"It is good to be back. You know I will do anything for you, Lucas, but being Minka Carlisle was a bit much."

"Ah, but you played the role to a tee!" Cutting complimented.

Anya smirked. "I'm back under your command, sir. We've surely rattled the Syndicate. Global Justice is ashes; now what do we do?"

"We through a party, my dear."

A/N: I probably won't get around to writing Chapter 1 until this Thursday, so I hope this little taste suffices for now.

Just incase it is not clear: I, by no means, support the use of derogatory slurs like 'Kike' or 'Shylock'. Personally, I cannot stand bigotry or the language that is used to portray it. However, in order to make the characters their own and more realistic, I used it. The language/personal views of characters do not necessarily reflect the views of the author. Just sayin'.

Please leave a review (or a question if you have any)! Have a great weekend everyone!