A/N: This will tell the story of how Evita died. There are three chapters, and three points of view. The first chapter is from the woman who told Angel to kill Evita's point of view [who is remaining nameless and shall be referred to as 'the woman'].

A long, black limousine cruised around the streets of Alphabet City. It took a corner too fast, the tires screeching, kicking up debris from the street. Everyone looked around to see what the source of the noise was, but averted their eyes when they saw it was someone of importance.

In the backseat, a very irritated aristocrat was rubbing her temples. She was plotting revenge, or rather, she was attempting to. But so far, she wasn't getting much of anywhere. She took a sip out of a cardboard to-go coffee cup and stifled a yawn.

Fuck that stupid dog, she thought.

And while that was fairly rude of her, it was true. That stupid dog's infernal barking kept her up all night, every night, and she was at the breaking point. Not sleeping through the night for almost a year could do that to you.

It was a shame really. The neighbours were such lovely people. But that dog…keeping it was out of the question.

That dog had to go.

Now.

One way or another, that dog was gonna be gone by Christmas. She couldn't wait any longer. And if it wasn't gone by the next day, she'd get rid of it herself instead of making someone else do the dirty work for her. Now if only she had a plan…

She had taken the matter up with Alison and Benny, but that woman refused to do anything about that damn dog! She was attached to the stupid thing. She cuddled it, made it outfits, talked to it! It was insane. The dog wasn't even that cute.

And that name…Evita? It sounded old-fashioned. And trying to make the dog seem Hispanic, when it obviously wasn't? The woman shook her head. In her opinion, Alison didn't have a brain in her head.

The woman's head was throbbing by this point. From lack of sleep, from lack of food, thinking too much, what did it matter? And it only got worse when the sound of drumming penetrated the plate glass window.

Thump, bada-da, boom! Thump, bada-da, boom!

Whoever was drumming had talent, even if it was annoying.

Thump, bada-da, boom!

The woman laughed lightly thinking that if it was giving her this much of a headache, what would happen if the yappy dog had to sit through this?

Thump, bada-da, boom!

No, not if. When.

Thump, bada-da, boom!

An idea was slowly forming in her head.

"Stop the car!" she commanded to the stuffy man who was being forced to drive her around. He hit the brake with as much force as he could muster, slamming the woman's head into the seat back in front of her. "Shit," she muttered under her breath.

The chauffer smirked at the woman's pain as he pulled jerkily over to the curb. The woman rolled down her window and looked out onto the busy New York scene.

Thump, bada-da, boom!

The drumming was still going on, but where was it coming from? She glanced around the street until she spotted the source of the noise.

A young Latino man sat on a concrete stoop banging on a white plastic pickle tub. A young girl who couldn't have been more than five or six years old walked by and dropped a quarter on top of the tub.

The Latino looked up smiling and said something to the little girl. The child beamed at the man and hugged him before she was dragged away by a woman who must have been her mother.

The woman waited until the man had waved after the little girl before sticking her head partway out the window of the limousine. She caught the man's eye and beckoned to him. The Latino looked over his shoulder and then jabbed a finger at his chest and raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Me?"

The woman nodded and motioned for him to come to the car. The drumming stopped and the woman settled back in her seat to await the arrival of the boy. She couldn't wait to see her brilliant plan get off the ground.

A/N: Thoughts? The next chapter will be from Angel's point of view.