Updated! You can read the story brilliantly translated in Chinese here: tieba baidu dot com slash p slash 3061852420 much thanks to yomaxcis (user no: 5743001).

Enjoy and thanks for the support ;]

The sun had just set on this fine summer day. The sky turned dark, the wind blew in intensity a tad more vigorous than before. Tokyo's lights began to shine; its soaring Bell Tree Tower, its buzzing street with honking automobiles, its high-rises in the heart of the city... every each of them agleam.

Elsewhere beneath the dim shadow of Tokyo, Chris Vineyard, sitting on the backseat of her rented limo, checked her watch. It was time.

"Please stop here,"

The driver abode. He wondered why the famed persona wanted to be left in the middle of this quiet street, but kept it to himself when he found himself busy admiring the smile on his consumer's face. If it wasn't for the bundle of cash he was receiving from her, he would have felt terrible to part with the object of his fascination during these last 5 hours.

Chris got out of the car, putting her shades on and slowly walked forwards. Taking a left turn during her stroll, she could see clearly her destination for that noon. The warehouse just by the end of the street was looking old and untended, looking like a typical meeting point where illicit plans were constructed. On her mind, the deadly woman disapproved her fellow felons' choice of assembly point.

She took time to check out the surroundings; only to find that as risque as it was for a meeting to take place in such spot, the cops weren't even close into having any clues of the organization's illicit activity. Staying en-garde, she sneaked to the rusty door by the foul-smelling junkyard. She opened it quietly.

"You're late, Vermouth."

Gin was the first comrade to greet her that evening. She could see that he was right; probably everyone else involved in the plan were there. Gin was sitting on what looks like a shambled wooden chair in the front-most of the room, crossing his legs and putting his left arm on an equally conked out desk on his front; his air frowning in an irate demeanor. Vodka standing next to him holding what she supposed was the blueprint of today's plan.

"By six minutes? I'm sorry, unlike you all, I have big numbers of executions I need to deal with everyday, most of which goals are to ensure your safety in doing the rest of the dirty job," She grinned. She knew Gin wasn't to win this kind of argument. "So, why don't we just get on the plan?"

Gin rolled his eyes to the loyal confidant by his side, signaling him to initiate the briefing. Vodka, alarmed, opened the blueprint; showing a map of what looked like a specific corner of Tokyo.

"Our target today is Kamabuchi Yamato, 54, member of the Diet. He's been creating tunnels for our business to stay unsniffed within the government. Unluckily, for him, he was forced to spill out an upbringing of last month's Fukuoka accident, in which the bits of our Fukuoka business are in danger of exposure. However, we did manage to eliminate all risk of exposure from Fukuoka side..."

Vermouth raised her left eyebrow. "There's something off. We did this mission last week. And it was your mission, Gin. During the consolidation party?"

"To make it clear, this is our second operation on him. Last week in the consolidation party we did try to intoxicate him..."

"Do we really have to go rogue for what seemed to be a small hindrance like this? The rat's probably dead anyway," Vermouth cut in, hinting on her involvement—how it had always been related to the real deal of the organization's mission. Not, in her opinion, in such a tiny objective like this one.

"...with that poison," Vodka continued.

Vermouth was getting a small strike of shock. It was a tingling feeling she felt; part of which she was pissed on how insignificant this mission is, and other how she was happy hearing the cause of the entire ruckus.

"It's true. The oxymetry tracker put on him detected that he was alive. I have been monitoring it closely and it seems like he was possibly unaware of his planned murder. This mission objective is to retrieve his DNA for further research relating to the drug effects,"

A soft, monotonous, guttural voice—almost brittle—was coming out from behind the stacks of clutter just on Gin's right.

Vermouth snarked, a winning smirk formed in her face. She knew exactly whose voice it was, and she was elated to have the chance to send a bull eye retort to the voice's owner.

"My, my. Another venomous mission went wrong. Another rat went astray. Maybe it is time for you to just give up on playing with those juices, Sherry." She proceeded to glimpse on Gin trying to catch his reaction.

"Shut up, Vermouth. Or perhaps you want to take a sip of it, again? Maybe it'll work this time," Gin snapped back, in a tone so sinister Vermouth started to get upset. Well, anything with a tie to the whole poison business the organization was developing was enough to terrify her. She knew she wasn't winning this time.

"I see. We can't let the little lady does the job on her own, can we? We don't want another falling Armagnac," She tried to cover up her vexed air by making another retort to the scientist. This time, it successfully pierced a critical wound into the girl's core.

As sensitive as Vermouth was with the poisons, Sherry was more than frustrated when prompted about the falling of her late mentor, code name: Armagnac. The senior member of the organization was an associate, as well as friends, of the Miyanos. After their death, Armagnac took Sherry into custody, taking her with him to the States while preparing her to take over the labs afterwards.

Sherry did not quite understand how all her parental figures could not once escape what she claimed a curse—meeting their end before seeing Sherry strive.

She silenced in despair.

"This is wasting time,"

Plunking his back against the tarnished wall of the warehouse was a man of Gin's height; wearing all black like the rest of the meeting's attendees excluding Sherry and Vermouth, with a long hair in the same dark fashion, on top of it flocking a complementary black knit cap. His gaze was set fixed into the ground; his eyes then shut from irk.

"Give the details already," He ordered, quite brazenly. He clanked the trigger of his lighter, aiming the end of his cigarette after he set it aflame.

His voice was firm, as if the fear that was customarily—and naturally—lingering the men in black did not exist.

Vermouth recognized Rye, the newly acclaimed member of the organization. This was not their first meeting, but she was still remarking his joining the executors—Gin, Vodka, Sherry, and herself, among few others—in her mind.

"The rat will be at Yakuza Bar tonight. Vermouth, you will act as his company and drag him into this room in private" Vodka pointed a point in another blueprint. Vermouth started to hate where it was going. "You will then proceed to go out and tackle the rest of hindrances including bodyguards, press, and all their junks, while monitoring the room from the bar side. In Vermouth's signal, Rye, you go into the room and eliminate him. Through this aisle, you will proceed to bring the corpse out. Vermouth wouldn't be able to monitor this side, so I will take care of this time. Aniki will be ready to receive the corpse, and Sherry to run her tests, in our assembly point right here." Vodka explained in detail, moving his pointer finger around the map.

Rye spent a moment in silence before he uttered his view of the plan. "The risk of getting caught is high. Let Sherry come with me. We'll get into the room and she'll get to run the test on site, instead of having me wandering around with dead corpse. There's also a risk of further exposure if they decided to go all out on finding the corpse, since you can't make it disappear this time around. All in all, it's a bet too large for its gain. To boot, I'm sure Vermouth is more than capable in creating the necessary circumstance,"

"That makes quite more sense..." Vermouth concurred. She did not trust this guy, but anything that would hurt Gin's pride—even more so, splitting his being with Sherry, in any littlest moment? Heck, she knew she was all up for that.

And she was right. Gin grew in anguish hearing Rye's plan. He knew it made more sense, and it wasn't like he didn't come up with such plan in the first place. He didn't want anyone shadowing his role in the organization. And furthermore, he didn't want to let Sherry breathe the same air that lowlife breathes. He knew that small fry had been talking to her behind his back, while he and the whole organization apprehended fully Gin was the only one permitted to interact with that head of research department. Gin was aware, as well, that Rye was dating Sherry's sister, but that doesn't hinder Gin's admonition of what level of closeness Rye and Sherry could bond into. He hates—no, he loathes—the idea of having the object of his obsession find a more favorable embrace to run into. He loathes the thought of sharing Sherry.

Sherry was fully aware of this. Rye, was fully aware of this.

"It's actually, er, doable, Aniki. The decision is yours..."

Vodka was not.

Gin relented his paranoia over his proficiency as the team leader and efficient agent. He stood up, readying himself to have Sherry loaded in the Chevrolet, as opposed to the Porsche.

"Everyone on position."