There are three things you can learn from crime films that deal with the mafia: To go far, you must have money, power and respect. Nina Ramirez learned this well from the grimness of life. But through it, she gained resplendency.

Possess a considerable large sum of money, allowing her to afford this Presidential suite. Power over the biggest assassination organization in history and respect from all the big players like the CIA MI6 and others. Nina, (or Majesty as her fellow members of the ICA call her) was lying on her master bed watching tv.

The news was blaring out to her, informing of a shooting at a funeral home, killing former FBI director Alexander Leland Cayne, his personal guards, a journalist named Rick Henderson and a priest. She smiled at this news.

Everything went according to plan as Diana said. It was time to call and congratulate her for fine work. She turned over and grabbed a phone from the table, typed in a few numbers and awaited an answer from the other end.

"Majesty?"

"Congratulations Diana on your superb work."

"Thanks. Most of our resources are back online and the ICA should be back to full power by this December."

"This is superb news. What of 47?"

"I'm not sure. It seems we've lost track of him."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It's plausible he's taken a break for a while."

"Or distrustful of the ICA . . . of me. That would be quite a blow in clients for a time majesty."

"Indeed. Oh, you don't need to call me majesty any more."

"Why's that?"

"I've moved you up to a member on the Board of Directors."

"That's . . . great and all. But I prefer my job as a contractor."

"Sadly, I don't give a damn. I need you up high with me. The others are barbaric, trying to take my place."

"Can we talk about this later? I'm late for my date."

"Fine. Don't think you can swindle your way out. Your closeness to 47 needs to be broken.

Nina hanged up the phone and got to her feet. A tan bath robe swept the floors as the tanned brunette moved over to her balcony, laying her head on the cool bar and humming an old Latin tune. She loved coming out here.

Made her feel godlike looking down at people who walked passed. To her, they were all peasants and she was the female monarch. Didn't care that employees and board members thought of her as a narcissistic bitch. They could go decompose in hell. Except Diana. She was different.

A woman for starters that knew the business well and could be trusted. There was a knock at her front door. She turned around happily, her room service had finally arrived. She walked over to the door, snapped the lock off and then the door pushed into her. She fell down hard onto the , knocking the wind out of the anorexic.

A lone figure stood infront of her, edging slowly forward and pointing a Silverballer at her. Nina couldn't believe who it was. A trusted member with an A-one track record, ready to gun her down. A painful lesson went into her mind: Money, power, and respect bring only death in the end.

The figure fired a shot off and she went limp.