disclaimer: lecter, starling, and mischa are not mine. angelus is, however. hope you like her. :)



A woman stands smoking a Marlboro outside the steps of the Ospedale Della Misericordia. In Florence, the climate is forever warm and sunny, save for the occasional rainshower, with the sun shining, even in the midst of the downpour. Her choice of attire is unusual for this type of weather. She wears a long black trenchcoat over a three-piece suit that is similar in colour. Her tie is loosened and the top two buttons of her shirt is opened for comfort. Her vest, too, with the gold pocket watch safely tucked into the pocket is unbuttoned. She feels the watch weighing her down, as well as the gold plated .50 calibre Desert Eagle series magnums held close to her back by a customized body holster. She does not fear their discovery. Her clothes are so well tailored-for they are the best money can buy-that they hide the guns with ease.



She crushes the stub of her cigarette beneath the heel of exquisitely made black boots. She takes another stick out from her inside breast pocket and lights it. Time seems to stand still when one stares at her, for she possesses a stunning beauty, one that can stop man or woman in their tracks. A warm wind whispers in from the east, catching strands of soft silken blonde hair, but it does not blow into her eyes, which are hidden behind dark wraparound sunglasses, the only thing apropos to the moment.



Her mind is filled with complex mathematical figures and stock market lingo, as she mentally calculates the profits and losses from her numerous financial investments. Angelus Antoine is a very wealthy woman. She also has a prodigious talent in playing various musical instruments, her favorites of which are the harpsichord and the guitar.



She graduated valedictorian from a Swiss boarding school at the age of fourteen, having skipped 7th and 8th grade, and breezing through high school in 2 years. Pre medical training was B.S. Psychology, completing the 4-year course in three semesters. At 15, Angelus Antoine entered medical school. Now, twelve years later, she has become one of the most respected and renowned in her field of neuro-cardiovascular surgery, having spent eight of those twelve years at the prestigious Johns Hopkins Medical School in Baltimore, Maryland, and graduating Summa Cum Laude with an unheard of GPA. Dr. Angelus Antoine. Surgeon, genius, billionaire. Unknown assassin of many.



Did she do it with her medical knowledge, you might ask. No, our Angelus is an expert markswoman in her own right. She is one of the best, if not THE best in the world. The gold guns of Angelus Antoine have left a river of blood in their wake. The perfect killing machine, she is cold, quick, callous, accurate, and as remorseless as her father, the psychiatrist, Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal the Cannibal. Call him whatever you wish, for Angelus is as unaware of their relationship as he is of her existence.



If she is so rich, then why does she kill? Another question. Again I have the answer. It's really quite simple. She is bored. A flimsy reason, you say. Quite right, but nonetheless true. At twenty-seven years of age she is fabulously wealthy, impossibly beautiful, extremely successful, and very very bored. The enormous sums of money that roll into her coffers on a daily basis do not impress her. The fancy platitudes and declarations of love from the mouths of numerous gentlemen no longer amuse her. Even the books she has loved since childhood fail to interest her.



Angelus is the classic example of the corruption that comes when one has both too much wealth and education. The lack of parental guidance has much to do as to how she has turned out. Her mother, a Comtesse from one of the very finest and oldest French families, did not lift a finger in the upbringing of our your Viscomtesse. Instead, the job of rearing her was left up to the small army of servants under the employ of the Comtesse Marie' Jaqueline Antoine, who once upon a time loved the brilliant Hannibal Lecter.



Angelus has not seen her mother for almost three years. She has no wish to remain in contact with her. But every month, an astronomical sum of money is withdrawn from Angelus bank account and is deposited into the Comtesse's. Her thoughts have now wandered far away, to her nona Mischa. Although not related by blood, she nonetheless feels attached to her, sonseiders her as sort of a grandmother, as Mischa was the one who offered her comfort whenever she needed it, and taught her to develop her love of reading and music. She puts out her cigarette now, and stares blankly into the horizon. And that is how she looked when Clarice first saw her.



Clarice Starling. Formerly known as Special Agent Clarice Starling of the F.B.I.; Starling, Clarice M. to a certain Jack Crawford; is now called Hannah Ruiz, wife to one Dr. Augustin Ruiz, more infamously known as Hannibal Lecter. Dr. Lecter works at the hospital, where he has a small yet prosperous psychiatric practice. Hannah Ruiz, alighting from a taxi cab to go to her husband sees Angelus for the first time as the other woman reaches into her jet black 1956 Jaguar Roadster. Plate number: ANGELUS. She takes out a white medical coat and hurries into the hospital. A twenty-one year old girl lies unconscious in the operating room, waiting for Dr. Antoine to operate on the tumor that is rapidly eating away at her brain. Clarice follows her.



The next time Hannah sees Doctor Antoine, it is almost a week later. She is walking down the corridor from Augustin's office where she has spent a most pleasurable afternoon. Angelus is slumped down in a chair, seemingly asleep. The dark circles under her eyes show that she has not gotten much rest lately. In fact, Angelus has just come from another twenty-one hour-long operation. The lack of sleep is taking its toll on her. Clarice approaches her cautiously, wanting to see if everything is alright. Her first sighting of doctor Antoine had roused her curiosity, not because of how good she looked, but because of her regal bearing and an extraordinary stillness the uncannily resembles someone she knows and loves.



As is sensing she is being observed, Dr. Antoine jerks awake, looking perfectly coiffed save for the traces of sleepiness that lurk around the corner of her eyes. This is the first time she has seen them, and is surprised to find herself drowning in their deep pools. Hannibal's eyes. The thought is so brief that she almost takes no notice of it. Angelus stands, doing so as lithely and elegantly as a dancer.



"Good Afternoon, how may I help you?" That voice. So cultured and resonant. Such a well-educated voice. The image of Hannibal comes unbidden in Clarice's mind. Angelus speaks perfect Italian as well as a myriad of other languages. There is an aura of barely leashed power that surrounds her. It waits, silently, ruthlessly held under control by the indomitable will of this woman. Clarice finds herself intimidated by it.



"No, I just wanted to see if you were alright. My name is Hannah Ruiz."



"Dr. Angelus Antoine. I am pleased to meet you, Hannah." She extends her hand. Angelus' hands are pale. Her fingers long and perfectly formed. Unlike most women, her nails are cut very short, without a hint of nail polish. There is an overall sense of cleanliness and fastidiousness about her. Clarice reaches to shake her hand. It is soft and surprisingly cool to the touch.



"The pleasure was mine, doctor."



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that's all i can think of for the moment, please be so kind as to r/r. and if you feel the urge to flame me, please do it via e-mail, okey-dokey?