Hello there! I'm darksideboy1253 and a little new to . This is my first story and inspired from a roleplay between a friend and I on Live Journal. So please read and review, I'm looking for some advice on how to improve. Thanks!

'The Sinclair Mansion is approximately six stories high and thirty-five feet long.' A female voice echoed in the helmet of one Agent California.

'Your old friend Sinclair, apparently having suspected he'd be targeted, has stocked up on motion sensors, automated turrets armed with AP rounds, and heavily armored guards given motion trackers.' She continued.

California was laying back-first in a river located in the German countryside, a river which just happened to be near his target's home.

'Omicron, can you disable the motion sensors and trackers?' he asked, floating over to the bank of the river.

'I'm going to pretend you didn't just ask me that.' She replied, making California smirk.

As he pulled himself to his feet, he looked up and examined the cliff face in front of him.

'Er, Omicron?' he began, 'Where did it say in the briefing that at this point there would be a cliff wall?' he asked.

'Nowhere, why do you as-'she stopped herself when it dawned on her, 'Oh…'

California grunted as he slid his Silenced MA5C onto his back next to the equally silenced BR-55 SR, gripped part of the wall, and began to climb.

'And over we go!' Freelancer Massachusetts thought as she vaulted over the mansion wall. Of course, the security system ignored her, exactly as she intended. Her hacking could still come in handy for more violent missions, it seemed.

'Pay attention,' Upsilon, Massachusetts AI, scolded, but her chastisement ended there as her next words flared with pleasure. 'Ooh, look at the garden! I bet they have lilies in there somewhere. That would be a suiting gift to leave on the body, wouldn't it? It's too bad this one is a long distance mission.'

'Focus on the job, Sil, remember?' Massachusetts thought back in amusement. 'This is another personal one and we can't afford to be quaint this time.'

Lizzy carefully began scaling a tree on the edge of the property, thankful that heights weren't an issue for her as they had been for a few other freelancers. Her SRS99D-S2 sniper was slung across her back, out of the way of all but the most irritating branches. Her training instructor had taught them what they needed to know, after all. It was a little heavy duty for this mission, but overkill was better than under in her book. Nothing like a job well done, etc., etc.

'You've been talking to me in my sleep again, haven't you?' She asked her AI with a hint of exasperation. Her thought process usually didn't run towards too many euphemisms in a row.

'My regeneration cycle doesn't take nearly as long as yours does, and there's only so many times I can re categorize data. Ooh, watch that step!'

Massachusetts avoided breaking the camera she had almost stepped on and moved up another level before she secured herself in a safe place. From here she had a clear view of Sinclair's training room, which data showed was the room he haunted most often in the evenings. Massachusetts took a moment for an affectionate smile before it became a frown. Money didn't make allowances for picking her targets. If someone decided he needed to be offed, then it was up to her to fill the contract if she expected to eat that month.

'The payback at the Freelancer Program isn't a bad addition either,' Sil pointed out.

'No, not bad at all,' Massachusetts secured herself to the trunk, removed her rifle from her back, and stretched out along a branch for some added stability. She checked the time in her HUD and then directed her sniper at the window and set the scope to her eye. 'Just about time...'

California's hand appeared at the top of the cliff, followed by his other, and in the end his whole person appearing on the edge.

'My god…I've never felt so tired in my life.' He thought as he stretched.

'No kidding. They never had any classes involving climbing sheer rock walls, even IF you are one of the tougher freelancers.' Omicron chipped in.

'Hey, you know I wouldn't be if it weren't for you.' California said, taking his Battle Rifle in his hands. All he got in return was a pleased laugh.

Sprinting over to one of the Mansion's walls, he brought a 3-D version of the Mansion up on his Tac-Pad.

'Okay, looks like a good way into the building is through a vent located in the main lobby. Problem is, getting in there.' He thought to himself.

'California, I'm picking up a dead zone in the mansions grounds, near the Garden.' Omicron suddenly stated, breaking California out of his train of thought.

'What? Dead zone...Dammit! We were double contracted! There's another Freelancer here!' California thought furiously with anger. 'Fuck stealth, this has just become a full on assault!'

California took the silencer off his Assault Rifle and felt his Armor Ability, "Rage", begin to kick in. Leaping over the wall, he slammed a guard who just happened to be passing by into the ground and rushed at the main wall.

Sinclair entered the room, as expected, but before he had gotten further than closing the door, the alarms within the house began to blast, shattering the calm.

'Shit! What the hell was that?' Massachusetts cursed, quickly adjusting her rifle as Sinclair whirled back to face the door.

'Someone has tripped the internal sensors and set off the alarms. It would appear that there has been a break-in. Security report being sent out shows a break in in...'

'Sil!' Massachusetts shouted, suddenly intent on Sinclair's movements as he moved away from the door and towards a far wall rather than running from the room. She tracked him through another window and her lips thinned. This was making things difficult.

'The break is in one of the walls of the house. They did not use any of the normal entrances.' Massachusetts only had a moment to ponder that, as a serious Sil added, 'He has a weapon now.'

'Let me worry about that,' Massachusetts suggested, waiting for a clear shot. With him moving all around it would be almost impossible to guarantee a kill this way. The gun he had just tucked into his waistband, and the other one he was removing from the safe in the wall wouldn't be a problem for her so much as whoever had broken in and ruined her perfect op. Maybe she'd put a bullet in them, too, if she saw them.

Sinclair moved back towards the door to the room and Massachusetts tensed as he limbered up, obviously expecting some kind of battle. Maybe he had been expecting this.

'I hate it when I get double-contracted,' Massachusetts groused. The only other time that had happened, she had actually lost her target to the other mercenary. That wouldn't be an issue here.

California knew the floor Sinclair was in and didn't waste anytime getting there. Bursting through the third floor and landing in a crouch, he noticed two dozen security guards armed with M90 Shotguns.

He took a step back in surprise before a sadistic grin appeared on his face. He slowly pulled out his twelve inch kukri blade and let the arm holding it fall to his side. He took a step forward.

The slaughter was rather quick, the fire of the enemy weapons barely grazing him as he sliced through their ranks.

Catching a guard as he loaded a shell into his gun, California forced it into an upright position so the barrel was facing the guard's skull. "Nighty night," California said in a mock motherly voice before pulling the trigger and destroying the guard's skull.

A shotgun blast to his back made him stumble forward and step on a corpse. Turning around, he grinned as he saw another guard shakily attempt to reload. He readied his blade.

California lifted the dead man up by his collar and stepped over to Sinclair's Training Room. Bring his arm back; he chucked the body with enough force to make a hole in the door.

He quickly entered the room and found himself a few feet away from his old instructor. "Good day, Mr. Sinclair, long time no see," California said rather cheerfully.

California noticed Sinclair take a step back and laughed. "Oh don't worry Sinclair, your death with be quick and possibly painless!" He tried (?) to assure as he pulled out his Battle rifle and took aim.

"Apologies, sir," she murmured as Sinclair looked at the door and froze. Fast movement in the corner of her scope distracted her and she briefly redirected the scope to the door. An entrance into the room so soon after the break-in was unexpected.

The guard's body didn't faze her; all it meant was that she was running out of time. It was the armored brawler who stepped into the room next that made Massachusetts face pale.

"California!" She exclaimed, recognizing too well the colors and model of his armor.

'Lizzy, he is irrelevant right now, but he is going to steal your mark if you don't focus!' Upsilon advised.

The freelancer quickly redirected her sniper scope to Sinclair from where she had followed part of California's slow, almost ominous walk towards their old training instructor. Her mind settled into a state of calm as she resettled the scope on Sinclair and waited for California to stop moving. Thankfully, Sinclair had very few places left to go, and a headshot was still in her view.

The sound her sniper always made echoed in her head in the moment before she pulled the trigger and sent the round spinning down the barrel, allowing the familiar noise to echo so that everyone could hear it. Not even a second later it shattered the glass pane of the window and in even less time hit Sinclair's head, splattering blood on not only the floor and wall, but likely California as well. Armor-piercing rounds on unarmored targets always resulted in a blood bath. There probably wasn't much left of his head at all.

'We are done. We need to go,' Sil said. nervousness in her voice. It was only when ops went horribly wrong or Massachusetts was clearly in dire spirits, that she lost her usual good humor.

Massachusetts' movements as she sat up, and resettled the rifle on her back were hurried. She only took the barest time to make sure it was secured before she began scrambling down the tree trunk. She wasn't about to take the time to see how California handled his target blowing up in his face.

California stood stock still. The man who made his life a living hell, the man he wanted to kill himself, laid dead at his feet, nothing left of his head, blood all over the place.

California wiped some of Sinclair's blood off his armor before turning to the window. He caught the view of an armored figure was scrambling down it.

A pulse of anger spread through his veins like a wildfire for that freelancer, and he rushed at the window, intent on killing the person.

He was stopped short however, when a hornet flew up in the windows view, spotlight bearing down on him.

California could only think of one thing to say at the moment, "Ah, shit."