Title: The Perfect Façade

Author: art.ificial

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Card Captor Sakura, but I do own this plot and any characters I make up.

Full Summary: Caught in a world where businessmen made all the important decisions is Sakura Kinomoto. Along comes Syaoran Li, a hired ladies man and mastermind criminal, who is employed to abduct Sakura, the employers in high hopes of getting her prosperous fortune. What he doesn't know? She's a top-notch assassin. SxS

Sorry it took so long to update everybody. Anyway, chapter two I really didn't like at all, so I re-did it. The story plot changes a bit and I think it makes it more interesting as I really don't want them to meet yet. Anyway hope you review and tell me what you think. –art.

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Sakura POV - -

After leaving the club, I followed a crowded street until I reached a secluded turnoff. You almost had to know where it was to be able to depict its presence among the bustling city nightlife. The blinking neon signs reflected off into a rainbow sunburst affect among the stale puddles of alcohol, massed among broken bottles and shards of gleaming glass.

The pavement was cracked, and I heard the small shrieks of mice, in a pained affect, followed shortly after by the menacing yowl of an alley cat. It had been almost an hour, he would be dead soon – I picked up my pace; I could hear the hollow clicking of the black heeled boots I wore, an eerie echo followed.

Yes, the body guards were never that entirely brilliant, but still I had been learned to never let your guard down, never become too cocky – that is always the downfall. Coming towards a split in the already crowded alleyway, I bore a left, hearing the faint hiccupping melody of a drunken beggar.

Walking a little less than a quarter of a mile, I came to a small shanty of a house. Built of plywood and a skewed roof, small holes dotting the crudely designed fortress, and a musty stench of gin encircling the area. Walking further up, I pulled back the sheet of a door, rips dotting the cotton surface. There was a thick coughing before a slurred voice met my ears,

"Who's' there? If iz one uf yeh kidsss, you' be in fer troubell yeh huur?"

I looked past a decrepit chair and noticed my master, drunk again – a bottle of liquor in his hand, slumped against a damp and slightly moldy piece of plywood. I sighed, and almost felt tears well at my eyes at what he was doing to himself, remembered back to when he was younger and full of his own spirit, not having to borrow from the bottle.

"It's me master, I just finished a job, come to get my things, also the thank you for the poison, the mission went smoothly."

I replied to his call, not fully knowing if he had actually heard what I said, but his head nodded in recognition to my voice, and his eyes closed as he drifted into a drunken slumber. I doubted even the police sirens could wake him now. The glass bottle was twisted from his grasp, and it rolled alarmingly from his dirty fingertips, the contents spilling to form a glassy puddle along the pavement of a floor.

Grabbing a ragged blanket from his homemade table of boxes, I draped it over his shoulders before searching through a small filing cabinet and coming up with a spare change of clothes and various other necessities.

I looked around, when I was younger the place seemed to hold a glamour, a forbidden sense that I shouldn't be here, years of training and setting camp – watching stray dogs and feeding them bits of scraps seemed so much of an adventure – but that seemed to have disappeared. Now I can see what it truly is, a dirty man living among rubble and what he can find for himself to stay alive. Making a living off selling illegal drugs and buying liquor to woo him into an unnatural slumber.

I changed, stripping off the skirt that seemed to be a second skin, and the lacey top that was practically see-through, changing into what I had stored here, a loose fitting pair of jeans and a cotton down shirt, a long black coat followed – designed to look slightly in the manner of a trench coat. I didn't want to be seen, I wanted to blend in – become part of the drabness of night, feed off of others happiness and appear to be another person, one not so easily seen.

Grabbing his dirtied mirror, a thick coat of dirt brushed haphazardly along the surface, I proceeded to feed in my contacts, and then molded my hair into a low bun. Contented with my appearance, I leaned forward and kissed my master on the cheek before slowly making my way to the door, a slim messenger bag thrown over my bony shoulder, containing my outfit and the syringe.

I walked a few paces, following the crackling of a fire, and a band of drunken slurs until I found myself at a small grouping of people, some who I recognized, being friendly with my master. I smiled grimly at them, nodded my head at those whose eyes lit up in recognition before making my way to a barrel containing leaping flames and infinite warmth. Tossing the black bag in the small ring I watched the angry flames encircle it, ripping through the fabric and creating mottles holes, until at last I saw the blunt plastic of the syringe being melted.

Raising my hand in farewell, I took my leave, following the alleyways back out to the open road – the job was done I would return to the mansion I was forced to call 'home.'

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Syaoran POV - -

We had left shortly after the ambulance left, bringing him away, most likely to perform more tests. It was troubling, my mind had seemed to move in an almost ethereal whirl as thoughts ran through my mind, processing – calculating. She was a girl, I had seen many that night. She was around eighteen apparently, though that was probably an estimate, though almost all the girls in the club could fit that description.

We needed more information, a new lead. If only I could be re-assigned to this case instead of holding hostage that Kinomoto kid. How old was she? Sixteen? No, that was the last time I had heard of her in the news, her father was assembling some arranged marriage. But that fell through – it was a year later now, so apparently she was seventeen. Well, she wasn't exactly a kid I guess.

Sighing, I kicked at a lone beer can that littered the street, seeing Eriol flinch slightly beside me. They would have to re-asses the Kinomoto case though, after Hidetoshi was killed, for what reason though? Well, I guess all rich businessmen have enemies - they always screw people over.

"How the hell did she do it?"

I said, betraying my thoughts with words. Eriol looked up at me with the reflective plates of his glasses, his mouth opened, as if to form a thought, but then closed again and appeared to be pondering a thought. He finally shook his head,

"Well, I really don't know. There might have been poison in his drink; maybe she was posing as a bartender? But she would have to be immensely well connected to get poison that wouldn't portray he was dying…"

He too sighed, rubbing his fingers tiredly against his temples, pavement scuffing his newly bought shoes. I heard a deep clacking of his rifle hitting the clip of his belt and he walked along at a steady pace. Reaching the vehicle, I unlocked it before sliding in. It was a simple car; dark in color and a similar model to the countless others on the streets.

Eriol climbed in after me, leaning his head back against the seat of the car, closing his eyes in thought. I looked at him with an almost annoyance, and sighed. What would he do without me?

"Call the boss idiot, report what happened, how can you forget something so important?"

I mumbled various other thoughts and threats under my breath and he grinned sheepishly in my direction before taking out the small plastic phone, punching in the number. I heard the faint ring, my mouth forming a grim line – still puzzled, I felt an almost haunting of the lack of facts and figures, berating myself for not paying more attention.

"Oh yes hello, I need the boss…no, I will not hold! What do you mean you can't, I'm one of his freaking top agents for Christ sake!"

I heard him huff angrily; we must have a new secretary. I chuckled in amusement at his trouble before he signaled to me that he got through to him. He told him the basics of what happened, which wasn't much of anything. I zoned out of the factual conversation, lost in my own hypotheses and analytic predictions.

I came to when I heard his phone snap shut; he rubbed at his eyes tiredly before sighing. He spoke out, his voice held an almost mocking amusement,

"The boss says that we did what we could and that's what he expected."

I nodded, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel,

"And…?"

I asked him, knowing he wouldn't have left it at that.

"He says to concentrate on the Kinomoto case, he says we'll have to strike earlier than expected because her father might try to keep her secluded after the one she was promised to died."

My eyes formed slits as my grip tightened on the wheel, I could feel myself grinding my teeth together in annoyance, and pointedly looked over at Eriol a moment to see him smiling to himself.

"When am I supposed to get her then?"

You could easily pick out the annoyance marking my voice, and match it to the grimace painted on my features to depict that I wasn't exactly in the best of moods.

"They need to do a bit of research, find out when she'll be alone and other key information – but should be sometime this week, He says be ready – you should probably call some departments, find out how they're security runs."

I nodded; anger seemed to be my only emotion at the moment. How could the boss give me a taste of such a great case and then be paired off with a spoiled brat? It wasn't fair, and I had to ask,

"Who is he giving the assassin case to?"

I looked at him through the corner of my eye, saw him downcast his eyes, he looked out the window pretending he hadn't heard me. I barked out,

"Who?"

Agitation growing with his feigned ignorance, I heard him sigh out then mumble something unintelligible, casting my sharp gazed over him he repeated the answer more loudly,

"Meiling."

I saw his apartment up ahead, screeching to a dangerous stop, most likely leaving tread marks along the pavement.

"Out."

I half hissed, knowing it wasn't his fault – but I was pissed and nobody else was around to take it out on. Once the door was surely shut, I pressed against the gas pedal, feeling the acceleration of the car – saw the streetlights and random passerby streaking in a blaze against the glassy window.

I contemplated calling the boss; ask him the meaning of giving the case I was more than qualified for to my half sane enemy and family member. Well, she wasn't exactly family – my being disowned and all. But still, I was better than her. Much better, he knew I wanted the case, knew I hated her. I breathed out; it was hoarse and ragged to my own ears.

Slowing the car, I neared my own apartment. Flinging open the door angrily, I heard it crash heavily against another car. There was a metallic screeching of metal against metal, not caring either way, I slammed it shut angrily, a dent now showing, and pressed down the button to lock the doors, hitting the alarm in a blind rage. Heads peered out disapprovingly flecked along the stone of building. I fumbled before turning off the blaring siren, marching angrily toward the door, opening it hastily taking the broad steps to my apartment two at a time until I reached his door, shoving the key into the lock to my door before shoving it brusquely open.

Clasping the locks behind me I walked towards the large couch in the main room and collapsed upon it, feeling the rough material rub against my skin, not caring. I felt my eyelids falling, and I slowly drifted to sleep out of mere anguish.

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My finger twitched, and I felt a beam of harsh sunlight seer against the muggy darkness surrounding my senses, chasing it away, and blinding me with rapid warmth. Sitting up slightly I took in my surrounding, thoughts formed blurrily and I recollected the past night. I shook my head; most of the anger had vaporized, though I was still agitated that I got stuck with a babysitting job.

Sighing, I looked at the urgently blinking red light on my answering machine, signaling that I had missed a call in my heavy slumber. I rolled over, pressing the small button and listened to the informative voice on the other end, telling me they have sorted out details and need me to call them and get things planned out.

Grabbing the receiver groggily, I pressed the buttons rapidly, pressing the cool plastic against my ear, the soft ringing signaling my wait. After a bit the other line picked up, transferring me to the correct department before I finally got to the person who had asked me to call.

Sleepily I doled out questions that needed to be answered, and he replied almost nervously, finally I asked,

"When do I need to perform this little mission?"

I heard his breath shakily on the other line, he performed a couple 'ums...' and I heard the shuffling of papers before he breathed out in relief and answered,

"In two days time."

I sighed, to defeated to be angry anymore, though still bit out a sharp,

"Thanks,"

Into the receiver before slamming it down chaotically into the dock – crawling off the couch I padded my way into my room – grabbing my laptop that was currently residing on my bed, before settling comfortably in a chair and switching on the power, hearing the dull hum as it kicked to life.

After logging on, I switched to e-mail, mostly junk, though one from Meiling – probably gloating about the job. I deleted it before reading the message then went to a search engine, typing in,

Sakura Kinomoto

A multitude of websites popped up, I clicked one at random, the banner of the page was a picture of the girl – her hair was bound into a bun, dull brown eyes fixed on the camera in an almost unnatural concentration as a large smile was set upon her face.

Studying it more closely, the smile did not seem to match with the girl, her eyes were to blank, she wasn't portraying a look of emotion, let alone happiness. I shivered subconsciously before reading the small paragraph of information provided about the girl,

Sakura Kinomoto, daughter of the highly praised business genius, is known to be secluded as she doesn't come out of the house much, she isn't exactly a very vain girl as she doesn't seem to concentrate on her appearance much, though she is still undeniably beautiful. Spectators say she rarely comes out of their large house, and has been promised to two other business partners to her father, one dropping out – and one just yesterday dying. A past worker of the house states, "She was always a cold girl. She rarely showed any emotions, and barely spoke to those around the house…"

Third person POV

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He squinted, bewildered at the odd state at which she was described, cold and unfeeling? She should be spoiled; she was the daughter of a multi-billionaire for gods' sake. He sighed, checking more websites but coming up with the same results each time.

He went back to the search engines, switching this time to images before re-entering her name,

Sakura Kinomoto

A multitude of candid images appeared. He clicked the first legible one that showed her features clearly, enlarging it and peering at it with scrutiny. She had brown eyes; they were a dull murky color – showing indeed almost no emotions. A light smile played at her lips in an artificial light, auburn wisps of hair fluttering softly from her bun, stroking against delicately crafted shoulders, a white sundress lapping gracefully at her knees.

Searching the picture he noticed something at the back of her leg. Zooming in further, the blurry picture revealed a large purple and black mottled bruise. He sighed, not finding anything else interesting about the picture. He then backtracked and peered slightly over the other pictures displayed.

Scrolling through, one caught his eyes – she was younger, probably around four. Though it was troubling, her eyes were bright and cheery, and an oddly hued green. Not brown, green. He was bothered, but reasoned with himself, she probably had hazel eyes, and they became darker when she was older.

He nodded, excepting his explanation, before looking over what he could. Finally thinking he had researched her enough he logged on to the supposedly secret board where people were hired for kill, signing onto his alias and then created a chat room,

Killer44: Has anybody heard of a new assassin working the streets?

Sharpshooter: Yeah, I have. Don't know much about them though. But I heard they're young.

Killer44: Yeah, I also heard it was a woman. You work with any assassins who match that?

Sharpshooter: Sorry no, I work alone.

-Sharpshooter has left-

-FatKat has signed on-

FatKat: I've heard of her, I think my partner hired her. Why do you want to know?

Killer44: I heard she was brilliant, wanted to see if anyone knew where to find her to ask for lessons.

FatKat: Sorry, no idea – I think you have to be in an extremely close-knit group of individuals to hire her; they have some kind of organization. My partner wouldn't elaborate, though I hear she only deals through people through internet – doesn't talk in person.

Killer44: Do you know what her screen name is then?

FatKat: Sorry, no. You can try my partner his is YamadaCo

-FatKat has signed off-

-Killer44 has closed this chat room-

Opening a personal instant message he entered the persons screen name, seeing he was online he eagerly messaged him,

Killer44: I hear you hired an assassin, young a girl – would you care to separate yourself from her screen name?

YamadaCo: Who are you?

Killer44: An assassin, though I need a skilled assassins help, heard she was incredibly good.

YamadaCo: I am not privileged to give out that information. You need to be part of a group, and your name is not on that list.

Killer44: What's the name of the group?

YamadaCo: Unfortunately, it's invite only. You'd do well to drop this topic altogether.

-YamadaCo has signed off-

He sighed, and rubbed at his eyes he wasn't making any headway. Scanning the already created chat rooms he saw one that caught his eye and entered it with eagerness.

-Killer44 has entered Hidetoshi's death chat room-

BigMoney: and I heard she left no trace.

Killer44: Hey, does anybody know how she did it?

XdaggerX: no, well, we heard it was poison – but nobody's sure. I mean what else could it be? He was predicted a heart attack.

Anthraxxx: well, that stuff is mad expensive – how the hell did she get it, that shit costs more an ounce than a house.

Killer44: Are there any more possibilities?

BigMoney: Well, I'm not sure what else she could have done. But it is possible she bought it, I hear she charges a wicked amount for her jobs.

XdaggerX: Well, she kicks ass that's for sure. Damn, I'd like to meet her.

-CherryBlossom has entered the chat room-

Anthraxxx: I have met her.

CherryBlossom: Really? What's she look like?

Anthraxxx: Um, well, I don't remember. It was a while ago.

XdaggerX: Yeah right, you haven't met her ever.

Anthraxxx: Have too. She was just wearing a cloak.

CherryBlossom: She doesn't wear cloaks. Too conspicuous.

BigMoney: Do you know her CherryBlossom?

Anthraxxx: Yeah, how the hell do you know that?

CherryBlossom: That's for me to know and you not to.

Killer44: Do you know anything else about her CherryBlossom?

-CherryBlossom has left this chat room-

Killer44: damn…

-Killer44 has left this chat room-

He sighed at the persons leaving, they obviously knew about her, even if only a little. He jotted down her screen name before hearing the sharp sound of his phone ringing. No doubt the details for his mission, logging off his computer he picked up the phone and listened to details about the security and where to bring her once the kidnapping was finished.

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Well, I am finished – hope you all liked it. It is quite long. 10 pages actually. So, hope you'll give me reviews telling me if you liked it, I know there are a lot of assassin type stories filtering around and I hope to make this a bit more original.

I would love if you have any constructive criticisms to tell me in a review – or if I need to improve on anything, or jus to tell me if you like it or not. Please though, don't just send me a review saying, "that was the most horrifying story written in the world." At least give me a reason.

Hoped you like it, and please review

-art.