CHAPTER 1

AN: Hey there folks, Burkion! For more about what this story is going to be, check after the first chapter. Now, onto the show.

Being ambidextrous was one of the most useful skills that an assassin could have, Cinder Fall mused. Few were born with this rare talent, she certainly hadn't been, but it was a very useful skill to learn. She had just started opening fire on her current target when an unfortunate variable had made himself known. A variable taken into account, as Cinder was born no fool.

The bullets from her primary gun in her right hand tore into the young Neon Katt, a pro athlete that had decided to snub the wrong person. Her left hand had already closed around her secondary gun, a different make and model with a different set of ammunition, as the door began to open. Neon Katt's musically inclined partner, Flynt Coal, was apparently coming into the room to ask his significant other some question or other.

Whatever it had been didn't matter any longer as one bullet tore into his shoulder and one carved a groove across his skull. Cinder clicked her tongue in disappointment, knowing that her left hand wasn't quite as strong as her right. Neon Katt she had taken by surprise, slipping into the room from a side window and had died instantly. Flynt, on the other hand, was still suffering on the ground with only two of the five shots finding their mark.

Only she misjudged just how serious a head injury he had received, Flynt surging up. He swung at her wildly, remaining arm flailing. Cinder sidestepped the blow, a lamp exploding into a thousand pieces. A smile crossed her features, Flynt's eyes wide with fear and confusion. He thought he could fight his way out of this, how cute.

With a quick, aimed, shot to the head he was put out of his misery. No witnesses, no fuss, no worries. She doubted that he had any idea of what hit him, not that it would have mattered anyway. Cinder was pleased that she had the foresight to equip both of her pistols with silencers, which while it did not completely mute the sound of a gun, did help mask it. Checking the weight of her pistols she knew she would have to reload them as soon as she could safely eject their magazines. She stalled for a moment to empty two more rounds into Flynt's back, his body spasming in turn. Always make sure.

Cinder took stock of herself, ensuring that no blood splatter had gotten onto her black leather jacket or pants, and quickly got to work collecting the shells from her guns. Leave as little evidence as possible. She exited the way she had entered, emerging into a fire escape outside. A change of clothes would be waiting for her below, a few blocks back. She had an appointment to keep after all.

All in all, as she quickly made her way across the alley, she was quite pleased with how the encounter turned out. Whoever had ordered the hit on Miss Neon had specifically asked for her to be shot in her 'big fat mouth', which Cinder had gladly complied with. Flynt was an unfortunate bystander, as she had expected him to be at one of his performances, but it was of little consequence. One more body didn't change anything.

She arrived at her alcove, quickly grabbing up her duffle bag. She changed out her boots, pants, shirt and jacket for a much more appropriate wear. After all, though Miss Neon may not have any more appointments, Cinder Fall most certainly did. One she wouldn't miss for the world. Slipping into something a bit more flattering, though much chillier, Cinder flared her hair out just a tad. With a smile, she hid her duffle bag back in the alcove and made her way to her destination.

Cinder Fall had walked these streets many times before. This city was familiar to her, and with that came some small comfort. Every alley, every alcove, any and all of the nooks and crannies, all were burned to her memory. Turn your head one direction, three ways to escape present themselves. Turn the other, five more await. Brushing her perfectly maintained black hair back over her shoulder, she took a moment to praise herself for having such a clear mental roadmap. Such a thing was quite important in her line of work.

The air was humid, the atmosphere heavy. It would be raining soon, an annoyance but not something that couldn't be overcome. Her strapless black satin dress would survive just fine. The cracked stonework of the path she walked gave way to much nicer paved flooring, as she crossed out of the underbelly of the city. Emerging into the more outwardly reputable portion, she allowed a smile to grace her features. The building ahead was not much different than those that surrounded, cleaner certainly.

It was a nightclub, though of a considerably less rowdy persuasion than the mess of a brothel that Junior ran. Above the door was a neon sign, spelling out in bright green and shocking pink 'The Mockingbird'. The two men at the entrance were not officially bouncers, because of course such a place would require nothing of the sort. Her golden eyes passed over the two men, nondescript yet with a heavy presence.

A presence that all but melted in her wake, Cinder stepping past them without slowing even a touch. Step after step, Cinder made sure her heels were heard. The two men, guardians you could call them, could recognize the type of clientele that frequented the Mockingbird from half a mile away. They had to, or else much more than their jobs would be on the line.

The Mockingbird had a heady atmosphere to it, a haze of cigar smoke filling the air. Cinder was not one to be put off by a little smoke, and had frequented the club diligently for the past five years. Long ago had she gotten used to the atmosphere of the place. The quiet noise of its patrons as they nursed whatever poison they had ordered, the smell of ashes in the air. This too was of some comfort for Cinder.

An unneeded comfort, but some none the less. Her spot was empty, as it always had been. Cinder could scarcely remember when she had first stepped foot into this place, if someone had been sitting at her table. If they had, they learned their lesson. Without having to say a word, her drink was waiting for her, little more than two minutes old. Cinder smiled to herself. She did like to stay punctual.

Easing into her booth, she looked at the waiting staff. The newer members flitted about, here and there, but none dared to approach her table. Instead, at the ready, was the young woman Velvet. More of a rodent than a woman, she at least knew Cinder's temperaments and peculiarities. Which was just fine by Cinder. Having to speak with the staff was always such a chore.

Every week for the last five years she had come to this establishment, to this table, to this booth. She drank the same order, a glass of fireball, and would typically end up having no more than three. Too much whiskey, even masked as it was, didn't settle well. Never was she worried about being drunk as Cinder could not recall a time her judgement had been impaired. The atmosphere of the place, the reliable wait staff, even the frankly delicious alcohol were not what drew her here.

The lights dimmed as, on schedule, he came onto the stage. Carrying a steel guitar today, Jaune Arc made his appearance. Cinder always timed her arrival around his schedule, ensuring that she would be just finishing her first sip of fireball as he made his way on stage. Outside of his name, which she truthfully only knew due to the odd announcement, she knew nothing about her blue eyed, blonde haired musician.

He was a fair sight for the eye, slim but not scrawny. His usual outfit was some variant of whatever suit was in vogue at the time. Cinder suspected that was more to do with the bartender Coco than any choice of his own. The current owner of the bar was one Tukson Sundown and he had wisely kept it identical to his predecessor, Amber Bailey. Such a shame about what had happened to her.

Of course Cinder tried to make it as painless as possible, using an odorless toxin to knock the woman out before executing her. Never felt a thing, the least Cinder could do for all Amber had given her with this wonderful place. When your name came up on her list, however, it didn't matter who you were or what you did. Cinder felt a swell of pride in her work as she took another sip.

If your name came to Cinder Fall's list, you were not long for this world. That was what a professional was for, after all. Jaune began his set, some newer songs mixed with his old standbys. Jaune was why she frequented this club. At least, it was why she had kept coming. She had originally come to scope out the late Mrs. Bailey, get a handle on her patterns and behaviors. Then young Mr. Arc came on stage and Cinder found herself quite enthralled. Not enough to lose track of her job, but certainly enough to return.

And return she had. She kept her appearances to just once a week, same time, every time. She had killed Amber within the first year and had worried that would disrupt her little getaway. Cinder was quite pleased to find the new ownership kept the lights low and the atmosphere intimate. She couldn't explain, if any had been brave enough to ask, what it was about Jaune Arc that kept her coming back.

She truthfully wasn't stressed in her daily life. Not really. Though her fellow assassin, Tyrian, could be an annoyance, Cinder loved her work. She loved Salem's syndicate, loved the order they brought to the city and those beyond it. Being such an integral part of that machine, that was more than she could have ever asked for in life. Yet, her eyes closing as the music and singing washed over her, she found yet one more thing to ask for.

Cinder Fall was not a woman of pointless gestures or fruitless endeavors. She preferred to keep things pragmatic, simple. Yet here, with his singing, she could allow herself to dream. Dream of some place in the country, free of gunfire and bloodshed. Dream of a modest home, where this music would always play when she needed it most. In the yard would be her two protege, the closest things to children she ever planned to have.

No doubt they would be bickering with one another but that only added to the atmosphere. The atmosphere of a home. Of somewhere peaceful and quiet. She lit a cigar, taking a long drag, letting the smoke fill her lungs. It was only a dream but it was her dream. Her dream, that he gave her. This life could be harsh, unforgiving. She had lost count of the people she had killed, and truthfully who they were as well.

People were transitory, unimportant. But her dream, that was something she could latch onto. An ideal for when she was done with her duty, done with her work. Somewhere she could be content, happy. A warmth filled her as she imagined her musician serenading her, her body sprawled on the couch. No children, at least not in her fantasy. She loved the look of his hair catching the light just so, the sweat that began to build as he put his all into his music. Cinder pondered what he must smell like after a performance.

She finished her glass of fireball but hadn't even needed to motion. The mousy girl, Velvet, was already there replacing the glass with one just as full. Watching the waitress moving quickly, Cinder smirked. With the spring in her step, maybe she was more of a rabbit.

Jaune was some number of songs in when she had finished the second glass. She held a hand up, stopping Velvet dead in her tracks. Velvet quickly nodded, retreating. Jaune's set would be closing soon, meaning Cinder would be leaving just a moment after. She wondered if Jaune had a woman in his life, or perhaps a man? Who knew what lay in his heart. Certainly not Cinder.

For her, it didn't matter so much. He could think what he wanted, desire what he could. What mattered was how she saw him. To her, he was single, lonely. Looking for just the right kind of woman to sweep him off of his feet. To show him some adventure. Someone perhaps a few years his senior, though not so much older. Her Jaune was what she wanted him to be, as she needed him to be it.

He packed his guitar up and left for behind the curtain, as she had watched him do for every week since coming. His gaze briefly went across the room, catching her eye. She raised her now empty glass to him and would have sworn she saw the slightest inclination of his head. Perhaps not, perhaps that was just another dream. That he could acknowledge her, that she could get to know him.

Rising from her booth, Cinder made her way across the hall. None dared to rise before her, and those few milling about quickly moved aside. Cinder paid them no mind. She passed the two men at the door, only now noticing the size discrepancy between them. One was normal, if not a bit skinnier than Jaune even was, and the other was a giant of a man. She realized that she was noticing them for the first time, because for the first time they spoke to her.

"Ma'am." The larger one produced a letter for her.

Cinder raised an eyebrow at this gesture. This was more than unusual. The man kept a stern, stoic face, holding the letter out. The envelope was black, with the red wax seal of Salem. Cinder quirked her eyebrow higher, taking the letter with grace.

This was a kill order. That was not uncommon in her life, but typically they were given to her personally by Salem or one of Watts' staff. It was more than unusual for a messenger to leave such an important document with two people that had nothing to do with the syndicate.

The larger man nodded to her again, Cinder's golden eyes looking at him critically.

"That was the first of two letters. We were instructed to give you the second once the first matter was finished."

Cinder looked towards the smaller man, now taking in that his eyes were clouded. Blind perhaps? He produced a second envelope. Cinder Fall was not a woman that cared to frown. Such an expression could leave unsightly marks on ones face. Yet she could not fight the one that crossed her features as the smaller man pocketed his letter. Cinder nodded curtly, moving with less elegance than before, aggression swiftly taking its place.

This had to have been Watts' doing. The old buzzard was Salem's intelligence coordinator and he had always delighted in trying to derail Cinder's carefully maintained schedule. Acting like such a child. Having her followed, or worse knowing where she moved, was a disconcerting thought though she couldn't quite place why. In theory it shouldn't have mattered, yet her and his mutual animosity had led to many an argument in Salem's meetings.

Yet, this was sealed by Salem herself. At least that's how it appeared to her. Troublesome, troublesome, no matter how you worked it. Watts was many things, but most of all, he was loyal. All members of Salem's higher order had vowed their loyalty and Watts had been serving Salem faithfully since Cinder was a child. He would never forge her seal, and he would never sully her name by pulling a stunt like this.

Sneaking around in such a manner was unthinkable. Meaning Salem had to have authorized, if nothing else, the method of delivery. Something Cinder would have to ask her superior when they met later. She had a progress report to make. Though she had just killed Neon, Cinder was already on her next mission. Cinder often had one or more assignments lined up for her to take on once her current mission was over. Tukson Sundown's name had come from on high a week prior, meaning the Mockingbird would need yet another owner before all was said and done.
This was something she felt mild disappointment in because Cinder knew how lucky she was the first go around. It felt like Tukson was personally letting her down. Though she did not care about his life, she had a good idea of why his death had been ordered. Keeping her ear to the ground was important, and his personal debt in Roman Torchwick's gambling dens had grown quite extensive.

Torchwick was the man who ran Salem's illegal operations. Brothels, drug trade, arms dealing, gambling, Roman was a man of many talents and many fields. Roman's own associate, a killer for hire known as Neo, could have taken the job if Tukson had crossed him. Only, the person who put the hit out was not related to Roman at all. Cinder wasn't aware of who placed the order, only that they had paid top dollar for it. She had a system with her hits. Scope the target, learn the ins and outs of their daily lives, and then strike when they were at their most vulnerable.

If a particular method of execution was included, usually at an extra fee, she would follow it through to the letter within reason. Tukson was easy, she had already mentally targeted him years ago just on the off chance that he displeased her. So having his name come up, though an annoyance thanks to how it could disrupt her weekday getaway, was truly no problem. No unique kill method was called for him either, so she contemplated how best to handle the situation.

He would be too suspicious of her if she came into his office through any official means, requesting a meeting or otherwise. Not that his suspicion would hinder her at all, but if given a choice she'd rather he not make a fuss. A sniper round to the skull would do the trick, but that had such little enjoyment or flair. Never do a job you don't enjoy.

In no time at all Cinder found herself at one of her apartments. Neither of her proteges resided at this one, as it was one only known to her herself. She liked to come here after Arc serenaded her, to keep her content mood. Cinder removed her heels at the door, hanging them, and moved gracefully into the kitchen. One hand traced a handle of a knife as she contemplated a good old fashioned stabbing.

The problem was, Tukson was a larger man. While she had no doubt she could do it, the fuss it would raise would be untenable for her current mood. No, she needed something of that level of intimacy without the struggle. Opening a particular drawer, she removed her garrote wire. Smiling, she closed the drawer.

Yes. That would do quite nicely.

She opened her refrigerator, removing some food carefully prepared by Emerald, the slightly younger of her two protege. She was a delightful young girl, going on 18 come the fall. With, of course, a healthy cynical edge that was so needed in their line of work. Emerald was better for baiting and stalking than she was for murdering, but given time she could learn. Mercury, the second of them, was every bit the teenage boy he looked.

Yet he did have a knack for violence, even if his temperament could use some counseling. Patience was not something that came easy to the lad, Cinder mused. For this line of work, one must keep their cool, find their balance, and always be professional. He would be, at this moment, collecting her duffle back from that alcove and attending to her gear inside.

She removed the letter from her dress, breaking the seal. She often got another hit while on a current job, so this was of no surprise. What did surprise her was the name on the letter. She checked it twice, turning the letter over, before burning it. Made of a special paper, it flashed out of existence, without even a hint of odor.

The name remained in her mind's eye, her near photographic memory seizing on it immediately. Jaune Arc. The musician. A storm of emotions welled inside of her, conflicting and contradictory. She could not stop her reaction, nor did she particularly want to.

"What the fuck?"

AN: Hey there folks! Again! How ya'll doing?

So, might as well throw my hat into the ring. Those few who already follow me might have been expecting a Venomous Weiss to appear, but don't fret. She will be along soon. This was something I started before, a few months back, and now feel its the time to move forward with it. I hope you enjoy what's to come. Also, big shout outs to Jiu-jitsu Dude's A Monster's Marriage, which is quite the wonderful fic if you want some Knightfall.