This fiction will contain heavy scenes of violence and some sexual content.

Desperate Measures

Chapter 1: The Target and I

"His name is Grey Erebus." A male voice erupted from a figure that gently moved back and forth in a rocking chair; it was old and scratchy but still held an authoritative quality to it. There was a tiny moment of silence. The sound of the old wooden chair creaked throughout the small cabin-like room and the features of the sitting figure would become more emphasized for the youthful woman standing before him.

His eyes were narrowed and a hybrid of wrinkles and bags were cluttered about. Gray hair pulled back into a thin ponytail and a matching beard presented itself around the entire bottom half of his face. "You have thirty days to eliminate him," he spoke once more while retrieving something from his cloak. A set of papers made itself present among his fingertips and he gently sent them down on the desk in front of him.

Without a word the woman leaned down picking up the clutter of sheets. Her shoulder length mahogany hair drooped down at the sides of her face while elegantly framing her pale features. She straightened herself once more and let her eyes scan through the pages quickly. The luminance provided by the fireplace behind the old man shone reflectively off of her green orbs. The papers held everything on the target; age, weight, height, you name it. She flipped through the pages within seconds in a calculative manner. After a few minutes she nodded and placed a hand on her hip with a small smile. "Really Master Nariel?" Her voice almost sang. "With all this information I won't need anything close to thirty days."

The old figure chuckled with a coughing-like tone at his student's confident nature. She had always been that way, ready and willing to take a commission without any objections or second thoughts. From when she was a thief up until her graduation as an assassin cross, she had excelled and stuck out among others. Whenever the guild commission-board presented new tasks, she had always made sure that she had chosen the highest grade ones and making sure no assistance or aid was granted to her. It had gotten to the point where the old guild master would just summon her to his chambers and present the most difficult commissions up front, rather than post them on the board and hope for someone to accept it. "Well then Tabatha, relinquish your task as nimble as possible and make our client happy." Nariel laced his fingers together and placed them on the desk diligently. "They are paying a fine amount of zeny for this one man."

There was another nod of understanding. That meant more earnings for her if things were done efficiently and quickly. She placed a hand over mouth and yawned. Instantly her cheeks flushed a rosy pink at the rather rude gesture. "My apologies," she said timidly.

The old man shook his head dismissively with the raise of his palm. He knew she had taken a lot of late night commissions from the board recently and thus her lack of sleep was something to be expected. "As usual I've requested that you take this job alone." Tabatha bowed her head in appreciation before turning her back, ready to exit her guild master's quarters. "And young lady…" Nariel coughed and the assassin cross spun around quickly. "Get some sleep…that's an order. I don't want you taking any more commissions from the board until you get this one accomplished. The target is currently residing within Prontera and that is quite a way from Morroc." The old leader waited for a reply and got none. With a stroke of his beard he continued. "You can leave first thing tomorrow."

Tabatha pouted with a small frown. She was somewhat grateful of the forced order on taking a small breather but she still had somewhat of a reputation to uphold. Many of Envy's members looked up to her for her quick success and unmatched prowess. Even some of the guild's veterans had sought her out for guidance. At the present tender age of twenty she had reached her transcendent job; an assassin cross. Levels of such achievements were usually only obtained by the elderly and more experienced members of the guild. It was something that was greatly looked upon so the last thing she needed was for people to think she was slacking. With a faint "Yes sir" the girl pushed through the giant double doors and closed them gently upon entering a hallway dimmed with chandeliers.

She followed the crimson rug that lined the entire hallway passing several doors and paintings of dark scenes and landscapes. An occasional guild member would be walking in the opposite direction and would acknowledge her with a brief head nod or wave in which she would reply with a meek smile or small wave of her own.

Upon reaching the end of the hallway she was presented with a new one. One direction led to the commission room where several boards held jobs to be taken and the other led to the exit of the guild manor. With a sigh she turned her back towards the commission room, dragging her feet towards the grand doors.

Tabatha paused for a brief moment and her ear twitched. With immense speed she spun around grabbing her Damascus from her hip and pointed it at the throat of a blonde male who stood a few inches taller than her. He laughed sheepishly with his hands raised up in the air. "Alright alright, Tabby you got me!"

The assassin cross exhaled in relief, returning her weapon from whence it came.

For every turn of success there was a turn of jealousy. On more than one occasion assassins and rogues from outside and inside the guild had tried to take her life out of pure jealousy for her excessive progress. Some were reported directly to their guild master and punished thoroughly; some had their lives ended then and there. It was another reason she didn't want to appear to be "slacking" as it was the perfect opportunity to assume an attack.

"I told you not to sneak up on me like that Theodore," she muttered sternly, almost ready to yell. The blonde clad in brown assassin clothing scratched the back of his head with another chuckle. Her face softened at his boyish looks and nature, it ensured that she could never stay upset at him for too long. She placed her hands on her hips and waited for the male to speak up with the tap of her boot. "Well?"

"You're not even going tell me how much better my cloaking has gotten?" He half joked, but got nothing but an impatient stare from the slightly shorter woman. Theodore sighed inwardly at his friend's overly serious stature. He had known her for about a year and always taunted her about things like getting a boyfriend while mentioning how such affairs would ease her mind once in a while. However she was always passive of those manners, calling him ridiculous and going on about not having time for such things. The blonde's cheeks reddened and he scratched the back of his neck with his head lowered. "Well I uh…I was wondering…" He paused, taking a deep breath. "If you could give me pointers on using sonic blow? My wrist work is pretty bad." It was a lie, but he knew it was as close as he was going to get.

Tabatha raised a brow at the assassin's clearly flustered state. She may not have had any experience with the opposite sex but she did know a crush when it made itself present. Throughout the months her regular conversations with Theodore had shortened and he would stutter or lose his words part way through. On other occasions he would find difficulty in looking her in the eye directly. Indeed the young assassin had developed some sort of feeling for her and she surely did notice, she only choose not to act on it for two reasons. One; she didn't know how and two; she wasn't quite interested on a blunter note. Not to say that she didn't find the blonde somewhat attractive. His handsome boyish-looks, chocolate eyes and golden blonde hair that was combed into a neat fashion was quite an eyeful…but she simply wasn't interested in him or anything that had to do with relationships.

She reached up and flicked his nose, snapping him out of his flustered state and providing him with the slight curl of her lips. The action had the male nearly melt where he stood. "I've got to head home and rest Theo; I'm heading for Prontera bright and early tomorrow." The decline had the assassin instantly frowning with disappointment. Apart of him had expected such an answer from the hard working prodigy, but a sliver of hope still burnt within him. Tabatha reached up, flicking him on the nose again. "However I don't mind giving you pointers as soon as I return," she continued softly. "I should only be away for about a week or so."

Grinning from ear to ear once more Theodore turned on his heel with a light dash towards the commission room. "It's a date then!" He yelled with a wave in the air. Tabatha gasped in surprise, putting her hand up to object, but gave up when she realized he was already nowhere in sight.

She shook her head wondering what could've possibly perked his interest in her. Tabatha had seen female members of their guild approach Theodore before but he was always kind and passive towards them, making sure to make it clear that he was not interested. Still gazing in the direction where the blonde assassin had vanished, she chuckled. 'Maybe someday.'

Tabatha kicked her room door open with a stretch and a lazy yawn. Sleepy tears collected at the corner of her eyes which was wiped away quickly with her index finger. Her place was decent, much better than what a majority of Morroc had to offer, which was mind you a mess or a wreck. Her hard work definitely had its "ups" and it allowed her to live a more than stable life. In the past she had used to live in her guild manor, but was quick into moving out to obtain a sort of independence.

Without making so much as a creak on the floor with her natural stalking skills, she pulled the curtains of her room window blocking out Morroc's evening sun and replacing it with the light of her lamp on a side table. Tabatha tossed her target's documents onto her crimson sheeted bed, soundlessly moving around it and positioning herself in front of a full length mirror. It lay tilted against her closet which was on the opposite side of her only room window. She took her Damascus and Main Gauche and set them on another side table. Slowly she began to peel of her job garments, tossing them carelessly on the floor. In moments a naked woman stared back at her with rosy cheeks.

"I don't get what's to like," she murmured to no one. She analyzed her figure with jade eyes. Her arms were thin, but betray the raw power she put into swinging her weapons during a commission. Her bust size was a little more than a handful but not all that impressive compared to other females she had seen. Tabatha traced a finger down her small waist until she reached the fair curve of her hip. 'Probably my best feature.' She moved downward scrutinizing the bottom half of her figure. Her legs were long and somewhat full because of their regular work out, but that was as far as it went. Apart from that, fatal scars accumulated her body tarnishing her already plain figure. Her entire face remained unblemished, apart from the small horizontal slash mark that remained under her left eye. This was kept well hidden with a simple band-aid.

Tabatha turned to her side, glancing at her rear with the biting of her lips. Her cheeks darkened at its impressive roundness. 'Maybe this is it,' she pondered while turning away from the mirror. If anyone ever caught her doing such a lewd act, it would be end of her social status.

Tabatha was known as someone who was usually quiet, rational and reserved. She was also known to be fierce and rather vocal when the time came for it because of her short temper. It wasn't only Theodore's interests that were aroused by her. Quite a few, if not many men from her guild and the sandy streets of Morroc have attempted to "pick her up." It was a term that she had overheard the female members of her guild giggling about on several occasions. Tabatha had declined every single contender however, confused about what they found so alluring. The assassin cross had yet to show any remote interest in the male species.

Approaching her side table once more, she reached into a smaller drawer and obtained a small black band. In a swift movement she wrapped a bundle of her reddish-brown locks into a high ponytail, letting her bangs curtain the sides of her face.

Grabbing a pair of small shorts and a tank-top she slipped into her mattress. Tabatha reached forward from under her covers to grab her target's documents. She shuffled through them again quickly to make sure she at least had the basics down by memory. "Age twenty two, five-foot eleven…" she again mumbled to no one, reciting every last detail she had out loud.

Shuffling through one last page, the assassin cross gasped in surprise when she came across a photo of what was likely to be her target. Tanned skin held a stoic, calm expression and azure eyes narrowed aggressively. Two silver earrings made itself present on his earlobe and one on the outer-side of his ear. Tabatha raised the photo in the air with her middle and index finger. His strangest feature was probably the collection of short silvery-white hair, which was a mess no doubt. "He looks like a grump." Her eyes traveled south of the worn out photo and caught a black cross that hung loosely around his neck.

The picture ended there.

Tabatha pondered for a moment if this character was even a champion. She had killed a fair collection people of the acolyte branch and all of them seemed to hold a happy, radiant-like air to them. This guy's features were hard and spoke ill to her, if such a thing was possible to pull from a photo alone. The young woman tossed the picture to the side putting a dainty hand on her flat stomach. It was churning and she didn't like it. She had felt this way before, many years ago when she was young and just learning the true aspects of becoming an assassin. She had faced many life and death situations and obtained this same feeling… 'Intimidation?'

The assassin cross scoffed at the thought while peering over her bed at the photo she had just thrown over. She sunk back into her mattress and slapped both hands on her cheeks. It was just a picture, was she really beginning to feel uneasy because of judgment made on mere appearance? It wasn't like her, but then again, maybe she wasn't wrong. Her master had told her the client was offering a vast amount of zeny for this single male's death. What made him so significant? Was he that powerful? Did he hold some sort of blackmail against the client? Many possibilities sifted through the females mind but halted once she realized the irrationality of them. Her client's motives were not supposed to matter. As long as they paid after the job was accomplished, everything else should've been irrelevant.

"Grey Erebus," Tabatha mumbled while closing her eyes. "I hope you're not as troublesome as your silly photo…"

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