This is just the prologue, remember that. The high-end action, suspense and danger comes in later chapters. In a few chapter, Déesse has flashbacks of Aleksandr - how they met, how close they got, his death, and so on . . .

Read Déesse's history mainly, just so you don't get confused at to what is happening in later chapters, please. I hope you enjoy this story - so far I like writing it. For those of you that do review, you get an preview of the next chapter. There, that's the deal.


Codename/s: Desiree la Cavante; Delilah Chandler; Camaren José
Name: Déesse de Bordeaux
Age : 31

History: Her father, Feu de Bordeaux, taught Déesse how to handle many guns and knives – he also taught her how to fight without weapons, or use make-shift weapons, and silent break-ins. Her mother, Lumiére de Bordeaux, taught Déesse the art of silent kills, tracking anyone from a distance of thirty miles, evading a tracker, and killing someone without being in the same room as the victim so that the kill does not relate back to her.
At the age of eleven, men barged into her house – Matanza's men and he – tied up Feu and Lumiére and tortured them for two hours, trying to get information on their boss, Tennyson Johnson – their will never broke. Déesse silently made her way down stairs – like her mother taught her to – and saw the men kill her parents. Déesse packed some clothes, the money her parents had saved up for her, some food, a few bottles of water and thick boots and ran from the house via the basement window.
At the age of fifteen, the CIA, FBI and Quantico went to England and caught up with her and drugged her so that they could take her back to base, wanting to use her for their benefit. However, Déesse refused to do so for them and fought back – many men from the CBI, FBI and Quantico died from her hands. She was adamant that she would not join their forces and that she would kill Matanza and his men for what they done to her parents. After one year, she escaped from the cell that they kept her in.
At the age of seventeen, she had made a secret 'cult' that she held reign over, though she did not enjoy the richer life – after four years of hunger, thirst and living on the road by herself, always running, she didn't like staying in one place for so long as she did; she felt too exposed and thought that she would be caught again. She ran from her 'cult' leaving another in command and she went to Russia's wilderness.
At the age of twenty four, she was still running but she had a partner with her – Aleksandr Korolev. He was twenty five and he was, too, on the run from the FBI. They stayed in abandoned huts out in the Ural Mountains and they kept themselves hidden. One day Déesse went out to hunt and when she came back, Aleksandr was dead; he had been shot three times – once in the head, one in the heart and another in his stomach. Déesse once again packed the small amount of things that she owned and ran away – it seemed that running away was what she was used to. She ran to Northern Greenland, hoping to throw the CBI, FBI and Quantico off her trail. She has not been heard of since, other than she is now an assassin.

Identifiable Marks: Two bullet wound scars on her abdomen.

File Closed


The icy blue-eyed man re-read the file notes, memorising every piece of information, knowing that every typed letter counted to finding her and killing her. Alex Rider was back in school while he was still at work – thirty five years old and he was still going at it, still good at his job, never stopping. Maybe it was time for him to stop. Maybe his time was over – he was getting old, anyway. A tap on his door alerted the man to someone outside his room. Quantico and the CBI had . . . employed him after noticing his 'assassination' skills, and thought him good enough to do this job.

"Come in." The man called out, no emotion in his voice. There never was. It wasn't helpful in his profession to feel for anyone – or himself. If he felt scared for himself after being shot, he had less chance of survival. The door opened and Sir Cavery smartly walked in with his new Armani suit and his new Armani shoes. Everything about Sir Cavery was polished and upper class – it was obvious that he belonged to the richer lifestyle than the lower class. He grew up with money surrounding him, and he liked to keep it that way. Sir Cavery smiled tightly, his chin raised in a arrogant way, his steel grey eyes supercilious and impolite. Sir Cavery smirked.

"I thank you for accepting," the blue-eyed assassin held in a snort – accepting? He was drugged and brought to Sir Cavery's office and was given a choice – take the job or die. "And I hope you have enjoyed," Sir Cavery sneered the word 'enjoyed', "your stay here for the past two days and three nights, but it is time for your job. We have caught sight of Déesse in Bordeaux, France – her home town, but you know that – and we need to strike while she is still there. Knowing her uncanny ability to hide under the FBI, CBI and Quantico's radar, she will simply disappear within the next three days or so. There is a jet waiting for you on the roof, Mr . . ." Sir Cavery held a curious glance before he covered it up with arrogance once again. It wasn't that he didn't know the mans name, he just couldn't pronounce it all that well, and he did not want to offend the assassin that he had hired. The assassin resisted the urge to shoot Sir Cavery, wiping that irritating smirk off of his face once and for all. The assassin smiled as warmly as he could. He said three simple words that sent people's hearts into a frenzy, putting layers and layers of fear in to them. Those three words were:

"Gregorovich – Yassen Gregorovich."


Wow - nearly two pages of words. Awesome. If you didn't read my authors note at the top of the page, go back up - that stuff is important to read. Remember, R & R for me, please!