WARNING: The following will have spoilers to people who have NOT read the comic. I suggest a read before this.)

Yet again, the news broadcast was the same. More and more "updates" on the "Killer Orphan duo". Them and the daughters of some rich politician. They had been on the hunt for these people for a few days now. Every news channel and nobody could even look at their own scroll without being spammed by the same regurgitated trash that the reporters spewed. Most people ran freely looking for the suspects. All ages too. Children, teens, men and women. Some even teamed up, and looked in idiotic places.

"IF they were still around...they would hide in a trash can. Well...not if they're smart that is." Choken thought. He rolled his eyes and continued to watch the television.

He sat in a chair against the wall of his small apartment. Many would say it wasn't much, and agreeably, it wasn't. But he liked it since it was small and quiet, nobody could bug him and he could be alone in his thoughts. Until he was to walk out and be among others. Which didn't bother him until some would try to see if he was interested in joining their search party. Each would receive an eye roll and an insult. His preferred work was sometimes good and other times bad. Depending on his job.

His occupation was an assassin, but to keep safe, he only would act if paid. Handsomely. He wanted to go after the little orphan boys and get the girls back to their father. Which seems nice, but it was so the father and the chick he was with would shut up. "Can't watch a thing with out seeing her bawl and blubber..." he thought as the couple appeared once again. "Is ever political face so annoying? We get it woman... you 'miss' your boyfriends kids. Pfft...yea. Faker. All you are. Can see right through your act." he mumbled to himself, then looked out the window at the crowd searching everywhere for the kids. He shook his head and continued to think. "I'm only 18. I shouldn't really view the suspects as kids really. Eh. oh well...And that chick isn't political, she some singing sensation. Tinsel..."

Choken wore his usual attire. Black jeans, a white and black long sleeve stripped shirt and a matching scarf. His head buried in the mask as usual, from his nose and up could be seen. His mouth was covered to conceal his power. A power that came in use for his occupation. He'd known others had powers today and in the past, ability that seemed to help the user and sometimes fit their personalities. His power seemed to be just as unique as others.

Though he kept it hidden, his ability was why he wore his mask. He had the ability to breath a toxic gas that could either kill or stun his enemies. The power was easy to control and he could speak with out the fumes escaping, unless he wanted it to. This came in hand to interrogate and scare anyone in his way.

Deciding that enough was enough of media blabbering, he stood up and turned the T.V off, then headed for the door. With a turn of the handle, he pulled it open to find something tapped to the opposite side. Raising a brow, he retrieved the note and examined it. It looked to have been crumbled up a one point, but the hand writing was decent.

"Dear Mr. Willard

I'm interested in your services after hearing about your work in the political business. Don't think you're that elusive, word got passed around in hushed tones, and your name came up multiple times. So here's our proposition. You must know of the wanted teens by now. We want the viscounts daughters brought home safely, with out any trouble. You'll get five thousand lucre' if both are brought home. Again, alive and well.

As for the two orphans? Authorities would be more than happy to have them in custody. But, if you do feel the urge to take them out. A source will pay you. Handsomely. Do not waste our time. Have fun. Signed, An interested customer"

Choken cracked a grin under his face mask. "Perfect. I get to have a bit of fun" he thought, shoving the note into his pocket as he returned to his apartment, giddy with the amount of lucre' he'd be receiving. "Oh, ho! The shit I could buy...If this goes over well...they can share my name in hushed tones again! HA! I can up my prices!" he thought, beginning to rummage through his small space, looking for supplies he'd need.

He sat in his bedroom, kneeling before a crate at the foot of his bed. The crate was light brown with two black metal stripes over the top. He flipped the latches open and lifted the lid, ignoring the elongated creak as it fully opened. Inside was articles of clothes, all varying in type. He placed a finger under a small tab on the edge in the middle and pulled the tray of clothing up, revealing his tools. The tray and interior of the large chest were a leaf pattern that years ago was bright with color, but now it was stained and some of the material lining was sliced or missing, due to years of use.

Inside the lower compartment was a very well organized arsenal. The three sides held one type of vials,all in a form of pouch and all full of a green liquid substance. The vial was a small jar with a black lid and a small opening for needles to enter. The bottom had t item threes. A knife in it's sheath, a small case and a belt, with five small slots for something near the size of bullets.

He took the belt first and began to weave the black woven item through the belt loops of his pants. Before latching it, he slipped the knife sheath on his left side and moved the small holster to the right. "Knife, check...needles?" he said softly, picking the case up, he unzipped the material case and chuckled. "Hello my babies!" he snickered, and then, taking five small jars, he filled the five syringes. The needles were slender but he needed them this way. Easier to conceal up his sleeve for a quick jab at an opponent.

Admiring the last needle he tilted his head and playfully flicked the needle, then placed the cap on it and put it alongside it's clones on his belt. He set the tray back down, and then the lid before standing. Before covering his weapons, he glanced at them one last time.

The sight filled him with a twisted sense of delight. He soon stepped out into the hall and locked the door. He buried his hands into his pockets and began to walk with a sinister hunch, chuckling softly, his voice barley audible. "Hehe...let the games begin"