A/N: To finish off my week long marathon of posts (honestly I'm shocked I was able to accomplish this feat) I have decided to upload the first chapter in what I plan on being an eventual Zosan/Sanzo fic. Yes, yes I know: But you said you don't have a romantic bone in your body. Yeah, well...I'm trying to branch out okay. And this idea of Zoro and Sanji being high school teachers has been bugging me for months...and I love fics that have two characters that dislike each other have to live/coexist together. Sue me, alright?

So, without further ado, let's get rolling.

Monsters. Demons. Hell spawn. There were many words that were used to describe the two deadliest assassins in Aconitum, but no singular word could perfectly encapsulate what exactly these two assassins were. And it was even harder to find a label that could be used ambiguously, because while both assassins were as dangerous as they were skilled, they couldn't be more different.

One was the true master of silent killing. The kind who could strike, kill, and remove evidence before a witness could blink. In fact, the process was so swift, the rare spectator would genuinely question his memory as to whether the –now gone- person had even been there. Perpetually cool, calm and collected. Like the deceptively still lake, what was really underneath his outward exterior was never shown but always feared. Precision was this man's M.O. The target and only the target was dealt with…unless that target happened to be of the fairer sex…

Another was an inarguable genius at slaughter. The kind who was a monsoon of destruction, uncaring as to who was in his path. Just point him in the right direction (perhaps more than once) and he'd tear off at a frightening speed with an even more terrifying grin as he killed all before him. The target, the witnesses, the rats in the alley. With a disposition not unlike a tsunami perched on the edge of an unsuspecting shoreline, he was as equally frightening napping in the lounge as he was returning from a mission decorated in scarlet.

It was these two men who made Aconitum what it was now….but there was one woman who always seemed to overlook that fact…

...

"Twelve dead, Three. Twelve? TWELVE?!"

"I heard you the first time."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I'm fairly positive, no, absolutely certain that I told you to only kill one man!" The woman behind the desk yelled, seconds away from leaping over the desk to throttle the man across from her.

"Well, there was more than one man in the room." The man explained uninterestedly, even going so far as to scratch his scarred over left eye in boredom.

"That's why you wait to kill him! How many times have I told you this?"

"Look, you said it was important that this guy disappear, and I did just that. Besides, it's not like I left some mass murder behind. I fiddled with the electrics, set a fire, and now the police'll just think it was an unfortunate accident." The man concluded, crossing his arms over his chest after a casual shrug.

The woman sighed deeply. While Three was certainly infuriating, he wasn't an idiot. At least, not when it came to matters such as his job.

"Very well…other than that all I can say is good work. On your way out, can you send Two in?"

"Sure," the man said, rising to his feet with a stretch and a groan. He headed for the door and the moment he stepped out, she could hear an argument start up. While waiting for them to eventually putter out, the woman prepared herself for the next meeting. While Three was a headache, Two made her a tad nauseous with his unabashed staring and content smirks. She made certain every button on her shirt was done up and her jacket was on before relaxing to wait. Not 20 seconds later, Two entered the room, his angry snarl quickly dissipating into a bright smile upon seeing her.

"One, looking as lovely as always!" He greeted, easing himself into the very seat Three had just vacated.

"Hello Two, I wanted to know if you've finished your report on the Freiger Case."

"Freiger?" Two asked, and paused. "Ah, that guy with the gorgeous blonde wife far out of his league, right?"

"The one with the blackmail against us, yes." One nodded, completely ignoring Two with long practiced ease.

"Yeah, right here." Two said, removing a slim packet from within his suit jacket. He leaned forward, purposefully brushing his fingers over One's as the manila envelope exchanged hands.

"Excellent," One said, flipping the envelope open and scanning the contents. Despite Two being a few days late on completing the assignment –always taking extra time to make sure everything happened without a hitch on the first try- everything seemed to be in order.

"Is there anything else you wished of me, my one love?" Two asked with a twinkle in his left eye, followed by a shameless wink.

"No, you may go. But please remain on standby, as usual." One reciprocated, as though any implications behind the offer –intended or imagined- had completely gone over her head.

Two nodded, understanding that "standby" meant "don't leave the city", and left the spacious office. Once alone, One removed the jacket and unfastened the top three buttons of her blouse. She fanned herself with the recently acquired manila envelope until her body temperature fell back to an agreeable level, and relaxed in her cushioned chair. One ran a manicured hand through her copper hair and focused her attention to the computer screen to her left. She began to compile the information Two had given her and cross referenced any attention the murder might've caused in the media. According to three new stations and 4 online journals, the unfortunate "car accident" sent the far too young entrepreneur to the golden gate far too soon. One couldn't contain the smirk. The car accident was indeed a well appreciated "cherry on top" of the Two's masterpiece. It had been worth the extended delay.

As she was deleting history and making sure all traces of her presence on the online journals was gone, her quiet thoughts were interrupted by the shrill beep of her cell phone. She glanced at the I.D. and noticed Seventeen's number. She answered and held the device up to her ear, not wasting a breath in greeting. Seventeen, well familiar with normal protocol, began without wasting time on pleasantries.

"I'm having a problem with Mr. Gull."

One ran the code name through her memory and recognized it as the unknown pseudonym of Mr. Morgan, unknown to Mr. Morgan that is. "Of what kind," she airily replied.

"He's rather obstinate." The voice on the other end of the phone exhaled, as if she were dealing with a frustrating co-worker instead of a once client that was well within the territory of potential target.

"Mhm, you know how men his age can be." One replied with a well-humored chuckle, effortlessly embracing the charade on the off chance their conversation was being tapped.

"I know, but it doesn't get any less…cumbersome."

"Mhm," One replied again, to show she had heard and agreed.

"So, any advice?"

"I wouldn't approach him about it. As you may suspect, men his age can be rather defensive about their thick heads."

"So should I have another coworker talk to him, in my stead?"

One hummed in thought, which wasn't as much for show as it was a genuine habit of hers. What to do indeed, she thought. It's important that Morgan doesn't back out now, especially considering how much he knows….and it doesn't seem like bribing him is working anymore… One stood and headed for her safe behind the painting. She scanned her thumb and opened the steel door. After rummaging through the files within, she extracted one folder nearly an inch thick.

"I do think it'd be better for someone else to talk to him, to preserve any friendly relations in the office." One replied as she scanned through the information, not wanting too long –and suspicious- of a pause to echo between them. And then she saw a tidbit of information that made her lopsided smirk grow to a wide –but thin- smile. Perfect.

"In fact, maybe this is something some senior employees should handle." One added, a plan already forming in her Machiavellian mind.

"Oh, you think I should take it that seriously?" Seventeen replied, the surprise clear in her tone.

"Yes. This problem should be resolved sooner rather than later. Need to keep the office free of drama and all that."

"Well, if you say so. Alright, thanks for the help!" Seventeen said with such a cheery tone that One struggled to withhold a chuckle. Especially considering the normally quiet and reserved disposition Seventeen had.

One hung up, confident that her newest scheme was flawless. After all, what sort of patriarchal businessman would let his only son die because he was too stubborn to cooperate? One grinned with self-assurance as she placed Mr. Morgan's file back into the safe. Now, if only she could get her "senior employees" to agree…

A/N: So, good set up? I hope so.

Now I plan on trying to update this story once a month, as my main focus is still be "War on the HOA". When I finally get my procrastinating ass around to finishing it, I should be able to increase the frequency of this story.

Additionally, let me know if you ever think the rating for this thing should ever go up. I'm pretty sure that most of it will be T level stuff (but who knows maybe I'll finally get the stomach to write some more steamy scenes) and I'm never quite sure if what I think is totally fine is actually inappropriate.

Additionally additionally, this title is based off a comedy movie. Feel free to chime in if you know it. If you guess write...um... you get...I don't know, bragging rights? (I don't want to promise a prize I can't deliver)

Anyways, later gators!