Authors note:

Hey guys, this story is a heavily re-written and improved version of the first one I posted over a year ago - so anyone who has read the previous one, feel free to start at the beginning if you like. If you like the story please leave comments!

Livia's POV

Dark grey storm clouds hung low over the London skyline and an unyielding, relentless wind ripped at the clothing of those who dared to go outside. She stood on the Millennium Bridge, gripping the balustrade and closing her eyes in admiration of the cold. Livia took a deep breath and willed herself to open her eyes. It was dangerous to linger for too long. With a casual glance over the other passerby's, she quickly assessed that no one was shadowing her.

Counter surveillance had become her second nature over the years and it had saved her life countless of times. She had made too many enemies to be able to relax, even now that everyone thought her dead. Her fingers rubbed absentmindedly over her side where the bigger scars still left a tingling feeling whenever a thunderstorm announced itself. Her jade green eyes searched the sky and she could smell the oncoming rain. It was a nice change for the heat that had her in its vice grip for the past six months.

The heat, the screams, the searing pain, … stop thinking about it Liv!

She shook her head as if to shake the sinking feeling of dread and took off towards the city, always watching her surroundings, keeping track of the people that walked in her peripheral vision. If a face was following her for too long she would board the tube or get on a taxi, telling the driver to go left because some pedestrian was holding his umbrella in his left hand and she would tell him to stop and get out after seven street lights because she had seen an ad for Seven Up. If she wanted to stay ahead of potential shadows she needed to be unpredictable, her life depended on it. Using this random way of decision making, always changing her route, was the safest way of uncovering anyone who tried to follow her.

Half an hour later she stopped at a small café and sat at the back, watching the front door and the customers coming in and out. During that time she accessed a secure data cloud from a smartphone she had stolen from someone on the tube, as carrying one of her own was too dangerous. A colleague of hers showed her once how he could easily hack even the most sophisticated security software and Livia decided then that it was not worth to be a blinking signal fire only to have a convenient data access with her. Besides, the pick pocketing was fun, so she grabbed a phone when she needed one and discarded it afterwards, erasing every trace of her actions beforehand.

There was no need for her to write down access codes or numbers, her mind was able to keep and retrieve any information she had once processed. As a child her parents had her tested and she was diagnosed with a rare kind of eidetic memory, allowing her to remember everything she saw. The information input was tiring, though. Over the years she had learned to filter through unnecessary information and shut her brain off if it was becoming too much. Daily meditation and lots of sleep helped to process everything, but with her kind of work that was not always a given. Quality alcohol was one of her favorite ways to numb her mind and make it shut up, although she hadn't been able to get properly wasted for a long time. There was just no place where she was able to let her guard down.

After joining the black ops forces of the CIA there hadn't been a lot of moments where she could let herself relax. The thought of leaving had occurred to her before, but there would not have been a way to get out of the reach of the Agency. They had their eyes everywhere. But when they left her in the hands of their enemies, not even trying to rescue her from the torture she had to endure, she felt free for the first time in her life. The same night she was able to escape from the terrorists that had kept her for almost six months, Livia found out that she had been declared Missing In Action and just a few days later a star with her name was put up on the fallen hero board in the Langley headquarters.

Big mistake.

Her gaze focused back on the screen in her hands, reading the file and smiling a wicked smile.

There you are, asshole.

The photograph of a pale, balding man with a fake smile stared back at her.

So this had been the contractor who let me run straight into that trap. Mr. Gilles, I'll visit you soon enough, but first I need to check something here in London...

Livia's features soften at the old memory of the boy that used to be her best friend and then the love of her life. His memory had kept her sane through the hours of torture, escaping into them to keep the pain at bay.

She had been told that he was killed in action, the last push to make her agree to work for the American government, to take revenge on those that killed him. For years she believed it to be true, but when she stole all these files from the CIA, originally only to find out what they had on her and who was responsible for her suffering, she came across an impossible photograph.

Sebastian ...

It seemed to be a recent picture, not older than a year at most. The angle was weird and she knew instantly that it had been taken from a sitting position, probably an outdoor table of a cafe with a quick mobile phone snapshot. He was looking away, a stern, unfamiliar expression on his face. The Sebastian she remembered was not as grim, although he had any reason to be. At one point in their young lives their friendship was the only thing keeping them both together. His father was a cruel man and it was a common thing that she would find the older boy bleeding and suffering, hiding in his closet. She would then cuddle up next to him, hold him until the worst pain wore off. Her parents were seldom at home, leaving her all by herself so she would take every opportunity to visit Seb and they would hold each other in the night to keep the nightmares at bay. They would talk about running away together, especially that one night.

Just the week prior she got her period for the first time, not quite thirteen. She remembered that night and the following in every detail, how her father was suddenly standing in the doorway, telling her what a beautiful woman she grew up to be. And then he closed the door behind him, locking it and moving towards her with a sickening sweet smile.

Sebastian held her shaking small body through the whole night after her father was gone, promising her to kill him so that he could never touch her again.

"I will keep you safe, always."

But before they could get away, she was dragged away from him as her family moved to the States as her father became one of the heads of one of New York's biggest law firms.

After quite a few desperately failed attempts to run away from home she decided to act up where ever she could. She learned karate and ninjutsu, got into trouble countless times with the police for fighting and stealing. Her father used his connections every time to get her out without a fuss and Livia only tried even harder to embarrass him. After a particular bold stunt she pulled, he had no choice but to send her away to a military residential school. As often as she could she tried to stay in contact with Sebastian, who had joined the army after graduating.

The schools military training came to her easily, her unparalleled thinking and combat skills quickly being known to the recruitment teams of the army and intelligence services. But Livia had absolutely no interest in joining the US forces, her goal being to go back to England as quick as possible.

But she couldn't go, not until she was eighteen and her own person. So after graduating with best marks she joined medical school, to help people and again to spite her father, working in a charity hospital during her studies.

When she turned eighteen, there was only two weeks of school left before she would leave the states and continue her studies abroad. Liv remembered that fateful day, just three days after her birthday, with burning clarity. Walking down the steps of the library with some of her fellow students, heart light with a cheerful mood after her party and talking with Sebastian, she stopped dead in her tracks as she caught sight of the two men in suits, waiting for her down the steps. A gust of wind picked up the stack of papers she was holding, her suddenly heavy arms dropping them into the air.

They brought her the news of his death. An ambush with a car bomb, no survivors of the small team that was out for drinks in a secured area. They again offered her a position in the agency - they didn't need to say it out loud that they were the only ones who could train her and get her the resources to get revenge. A week later, after the last tears ran dry, she was confronted with the harsh reality that he was dead. She had checked everything in her power, but wherever she turned to, she was confirmed with what she had yet to accept.

But they lied. He is not dead.

Tearing her gaze from the screen she thought about what to do next. Again she searched the picture for any clues. He was wearing a tailored three piece suit that accentuated his athletic, muscular frame, his storm blue eyes hidden behind his aviators. There was an odd bulge under his armpit and her trained eye recognized it as the outlines of a hidden shoulder holster. She wondered briefly what kind of weapon he fancied before her gaze was drawn back to his handsome features. He had always been pretty, but with the dark coppery three days stubble on his masculine jaw and high cheekbones he had become a really handsome man. But his face was not the only one in the picture that captured her interest. Just slightly in front of him was another designer suit dressed man with dark brown, slicked back hair, holding himself as if the world belonged to him. He wore a bored expression while talking on a phone and she knew that Sebastian seemed to be a kind of bodyguard for him. The seemingly black eyes of that man were giving her a cold and hot shiver. That man was dangerous, his whole demeanor radiating darkness. And although she didn't want to see it at first, Sebastian was the same. A sudden cold feeling of fear was running down her spine at the thought of what her Sebastian had become. With determination she pushed that thought aside. Even if he changed, he was still Sebastian and she needed to at least try and find him. Reading what little info was provided with the picture, she wondered what happened all these years ago.

Why hadn't he tried to find her? What happened to him to not be in the military and in the employment of this James Moriarty? The head of a crime syndicate stationed in London but operating on international ground. A lot of blacked out information about him, the final statement being "Never to be engaged". And order from way up top. Livia paused. If the CIA was afraid of that man, she needed to be really careful. There was another info about his suicide but it was abundantly clear that no one thought him dead. But if he was in hiding, it would be even harder to find them.

Liv decided to call in a precious favour. With quick fingers she typed out a message and pressed send. She didn't need to wait for long. Two minutes later there was a reply illuminating the screen and she smiled in victory.

Are you fucking kidding me? I already got you the file, you shouldn't know that man! -C

So he's alive? How can I make contact? -B

You don't, he finds you. -C

I sincerely doubt that, you know me. Consider us truly even if you get me a location. -B

She could feel him hesitate but then another message illuminated the screen.

This will cost me my life if they find out I helped you. Wait a moment. -C

Impatiently she drummed with her fingers on the table, finishing her tea and eying the entrance warily. She needed to go soon, it made her uncomfortable to stay in one place too long.

There is a meeting in a restaurant between him and Anton Saizew, a big name in the illegal trade departement, especially human trafficking and arms. But again, do not go there, you'll get yourself killed. -C

One cannot kill what is already dead. You better remember that fact if someone asks for me. We're even, thank you for your help. -B

Stay safe. I'll send you the coords. -C

Checking the address Carlos send her, she quickly got up as she realized that she needed to hurry if she was to get there on time. She deleted her actions and data from the phone, slipping it into another customers coat pocket as she left the café.

Not good. Not enough time for a proper recon or to get my guns. I'll have to watch and assess the situation before I'll do anything.

There was no time to get to her weapons stash here in London and she preferred to walk unarmed if it was not necessary. The risk of an encounter with law enforcement was always present, especially after the recent terrorist attacks. She could charm her way out of almost every situation but being caught with a concealed, unregistered weapon was something she tried to avoid.

With not much time to spare on counter surveillance she exited the cafe and took a taxi to the third tube station she saw, there she would board the train to get into the wealthier quarters. Fairly sure that no one followed her she got up to the street level, hiding her long, dark waves under the hood of her coat that hung low over her face, shadowing her features in darkness. The cold autumn night air made her shiver but she willed her body to stay calm and focused as she made her way towards the restaurant.

The atmosphere shifted suddenly and her gaze focused on two black vans parked on the corner of the next street. Instantly recognizing what these vans meant, she deviated from her path, pressing her lithe body into the shadows, staying out of the light circles that were cast by the overhead street lamps. There was no movement or light inside the transports, the teams had already left the cars. As she got closer she could see four shadows circling towards the back door of the restaurant, five men standing in a group out front, dressed in light russian military standard combat gear with bulletproof vests.

Following an instinct she looked up to the roofs, but saw no one. Her gaze lingered until she decided that the houses stood in a way that made a sniper useless. She heard the faint murmur of a microphone voice to her left, though. Edging closer into the dark alley that ran parallel to the one the hit team was standing in she caught a glimpse of a male figure, leaning against the stonework of the building in front of her, next to him a dead body.

"Got the lookout, he just made contact so you'll have at least 5 minutes before they check in again."

He bend down, browsing the contents of the man's pockets.

"Roger, going in, but stay close in case we need backup."

Livia's silent steps carried her right behind the man as he muted his radio.

"Hi there, big guy."

"Wha ..."

As he turned around she pulled her knife from her boot and severed his carotid artery in one swift movement, stepping out of reach of the gushing wound. Quickly patting down his corpse she found the gun she was looking for, checking the magazine and the chamber. Desert Eagle with suppressor, a bit heavy for her taste but it would do. She quickly retrieved the loaded Glock of the other dead man, presumably one of Moriartys guys, his frontal lobe blown out from behind . Time was at the essence so she sprinted down the block and just rounded the corner as the first men entered the restaurant with cocked guns.