The headline scrawled across the bottom of the screen even as the anchors covered the story. Explosions in Boston, the cause of which was currently unknown but Altair could hear the speculations already. By the end of the night it'd be a Devil, whether it had been or not. Even if it wasn't, they'd be blamed. All the world's problems belonged to the Devils. Not that it was unearned of course, when you held the power of gods in your hand it was almost… easy to let it get away from you show the norms how puny they were.

Altair flicked his cigarette away from him onto the sidewalk and turned away from the array of TVs broadcasting the news. They were all streaming the same thing; terrorists, bombing, the explosions in Copley, live news feeds and soon it'd be devolving into the finger pointing. There would be raids in Boston within the week, worming out the Devils, or trying to at least. The city was going to be a mess and these bombs might just be the start of it if the Army and National Guard were involved. It wasn't Altair's concern, he wasn't even in America right now.

It was spring in Moscow, finally, the warmer weather keeping the snow away and Altair couldn't even see his breath. People were walking around in short sleeves and light jackets. The Russians were more than glad that spring was here. Altair still thought it was too damn cold but he was sucking it up.

The building he wanted had a security guard and you had to sign in. When he opened the door the guard looked up and Altair saw unashamed interest. Of course he did. Altair was wearing the skin of a pretty girl from a convenience store in San Francisco he'd run into a few years ago. She had a long neck and thin wrists and a figure like a vase. Her hair had been black, shiny, and full of curls. He felt bad for her since he'd had to style it a few times, he liked using her face, and it was a hassle to clean and a hassle to make it behave.

The guard looked at Altair's face but as he came to sign into the book and leaned over the counter saw his eyes drop to cleavage. Stupid. He signed in and left. The guard wouldn't remember what he looked like and there were no cameras in the lobby. He smiled at the guard, he knew exactly how to make convenience store clerk smile and flirt and the guard smiled back.

Altair got into the elevator and his face settled to normal, almost a scowl really.

Altair put on his game face as he got out of the elevator and onto the floor he needed and walked down the hall to find the condo he needed. It was down the hall and he knocked, before waiting. He adjusted himself a bit, he needed to put on more weight, this skin didn't fit as well as it used to and he didn't have the body mass to pull off the girl's full hips and breasts like he used to.

The door opened and Altair smiled, "Are you Юлиан Комзин?" he asked his voice sweet and feminine, Russia flawless.

"Yes. Who are you?" he said, eyeing Altair, but not as a threat, more like a hunk of meat.

"Андрей sent me," he said, and Юлиан eyes lit up a bit. "I assume you know why I'm here," he said, smiling sweetly.

"Yes," he said, now leering at him and very clearly staring down Altair's shirt. Maybe because Altair didn't get it but Altair didn't understand the reason for staring down a girl's shirt. Of course he had just positioned himself to be a call girl so maybe he had no one but himself to blame. "Come in Miss…"

"Ева," he said and slid into the condo, his heels clicked on the hardwood.

"I didn't know Андрей was sending you," Юлиан said as he closed the door.

Altair giggled, oh the things he did for this job. When was it over his feet hurt. "It was supposed to be a surprise," he said and shrugged off his spring jacket. He was regretting wearing a dress now. He didn't enjoy the leering. One day he was going to learn to not look like pretty girls. Only homely girls from now on so he didn't get stared at by letches like Юлиан. Bless girls with the patience to put up with this every day. Altair didn't have that.

"Well, you certainly are a surprise," leech. "I'm sure we can make you comfortable," Юлиан said, coming up behind him and put a hand on Altair's shoulders. Yeah that needed to stop. He guided Altair towards one of the rooms and predictably it was a bedroom.

"I'm sure I'll be very comfortable," he said and sat on the bed, putting his bag on his lap. "You should go get cleaned up," he added, looking Юлиан up and down. Not that he was dirty but any self respecting whore should at least make sure those who were paying weren't gross. That's how he felt anyway.

"Heh," Юлиан seemed amused, "You must be new," he said, grinning like a wolf, "You come to my house, you do as I say. Take off your dress," Юлиан said.

Altair sighed, "I suggest you make this easy on yourself," he said and reached into his handbag and pulled out a gun with a suppressor already on it, "Get on your knees," through the voice of a convenience store clerk he sounded almost nice. Юлиан looked at him in surprise. "Go on, I know how to shoot this thing," he said getting up and his empty hand joined the first on the stock of the handgun.

"Who are you?" he asked but did get down on his knees.

"No one you know," he said, "It's nothing personal Юлиан, I'm just here on a job."

"A job? A job for who?" he asked, staring at him, confused. "And why did he send a little girl to kill me?"

Altair smiled his own smile, bending the face of the pretty clerk into his personal sneer. "You know who sent me," he said and Юлиан scowled at him, of course he did. "And you know why they sent me and Юлиан," he gave a short, dry, laugh, "You've been a very bad boy."

"Fuck you slut," Юлиан spat.

"That's nice," he said, "Do you have any last words?" Юлиан was silent, Altair frowned, "I said," he poked the barrel of the gun against Юлиан's head, "any last words?"

"Not for you," he glared at him.

"Very well. Goodbye Юлиан, tell my father I said hello," and the horror that blossomed in his eyes made Altair smile and he pulled the trigger. There was a small pop as the gun fired and went right through Юлиан's head. Altair pushed Юлиан over and picked his bullet and the shell that had popped out of the gun and put them in his bag. Poor Юлиан, like so many others he had nothing good to think about people like Altair. Too many stupid, bad, legends about them saying were the offspring of humans and demons or even satan himself. Except his parents were just human and Altair was a bit more than that.

"Oh thank goodness," Altair groaned and finally took his heels off. He didn't know how women wore these things so often. His were only three inches and they hurt like nothing else. He tossed them into his handbag and walked to the closet. Юлиан was still bleeding out on the floor but it didn't matter much. Altair ruffled his hair and started going through the closet, he messed it up and that felt great. So he was looking for… that, a seam in the wall. He pushed on the wall and it clicked and popped out. Inside were a few bound stacks of rubles, a gun, some bullets, and a thin manila folder. Altair took that and then reclosed the little safe.

Altair didn't even look at Юлиан as he walked back across the room and grabbed his bag and pulled out another pair of shoes, these without heels. He slipped on the small feet of the convenience store clerk and went into the bathroom to check himself. He made a few faces at himself before leaving the condo and going back downstairs.

"Have fun with Юлиан?" the guard asked as he signed out, clearly they knew why pretty girls showed up at Юлиан's condo.

"I was unimpressed," he said and then left, with a flourish of his hair, a trick he'd learned when he was young and decided that taking the skins of girls was in his best interest.

—

After giving the folder at his employer in Seattle Altair dropped himself off at his own condo on the couch. A high rise in New York because when you were an assassin like Altair you could afford to live well. He was exhausted but he knew he wasn't done yet. He was still running on his blood price and he needed to finish it.

Altair pulled out his personal cell phone, he had three of them, his personal, the work phone, and the one he used to call his parents. He honestly hated this part, it was so boring, but he was tired and he couldn't sleep until he'd sealed the pact. All part of the blood price. Damn him for his birth sometimes. He opened his contacts and selected ten of them and sent out a mass text 'Tired. Need some assistance,' and then he tipped his head back onto the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

He didn't sleep though, he couldn't. Not that he didn't want to but his pact that allowed him to mimic someone else's body didn't allow him to sleep. Paying the blood price broke the pact and he could sleep and get back into his own skin. He was what people were still blaming for the Boston Marathon bombing; a devil. Stupid religious assholes giving people like him such a terrible label. Before Christianity 'devils' were demi gods of great power. They were revered, even worshiped. Now people like him were shunned, arrested, usually shot, and of course blamed for everything from car chases, cheating spouses, and of course all forms of internal terrorism.

His phone rang with his text sounder. With a sigh Altair opened the eyes of the convenience store clerk he'd been wearing for four days now and looked at the screen. He got several texts all at once and all of them were some version of 'sorry, can't' and he groaned. God damnit. He put his head back but then sat up straight and texted one more person, focused. 'Could I randomly show up and have sex with you or would that be a problem?' normally he didn't contact them because they were taken. But this was a serious situation. His phone jingled a moment later.

'You realize it's 2 in the afternoon right?'

'Does that mean it's a problem? I've been awake four days'

'My girlfriend is home'

'Ask if she wants a threesome'

'At two in the afternoon?'

'It was a yes or no question'

Who are you wearing?'

'My San Francisco girl'

'Fine. You can come over'

'I owe you one'

'You owe me several at this point!'

'Are we having a threesome?'

—

"He all right?" Lucy asked Desmond, Altair was already about to go to sleep again and sleep, right there in Desmond's bed. Lucy hadn't been happy to see him at first cause he was still wearing his pretty clerk face. He'd let it melt off when he'd gotten inside though. She'd been a lot more understanding about a hot guy wanting a threesome than a hot girl wanting a threesome.

"He'll be fine," Desmond said, Altair just yawned. "He just needs some sleep." Desmond knew what Altair was, he was one too, but different. Different pact, different blood price. Lucky bastard. Sleepless pact and to commit one of the 'first sins' as a blood price was horrible. But he didn't ask what Desmond had to do.

"You sure?"

"Yes, now c'mon. He's harmless, promise," and they left. Harmless. Right. People like Altair were a lot of things. He wouldn't ever call them 'harmless'.