A young woman with long, wavy black hair, jumped from the fire escape and onto the ground, not given much notice as she walked into the night. Perhaps not even seen.
Her pale, cold blue eyes flashed azure as she stalked her prey, A young man by the name of Adrian Thomas, a drug dealer, who had had some recent troubles with the Los Angeles mafia.
And unfortunately for him was about to get iced by one of the most professional, and mysterious assassins ever to be in the business.
There where many names for her, Rogue. The Angel of Death. The Black Dahlia, Silence. She was also often called Phoenix, for her astounding ability to get out of deadly situations. But none ever came close to describing the presence this young woman had. Only one assassin , the mafia legend told, was ever like her. Only one. A man who struck hard in the night, leaving no evidence that he was ever there. His only vices where cigarettes and a odd fascination with women's hair, especially , a certain red lock that he carried around with him everywhere. He never spoke, and no knew his name. He had disappeared years ago, however. Many said he was a dark angel, sent to judge the wicked for their transgressions.
She got closer and a wicked grin came over her face. She stalked up behind him, and pulled out old Luger, and shoot him in the back. Adrian didn't even know what hit him. Neither did the police. The assassin was quick and efficient, never leaving any clues, and never, ever letting anyone see her.