Bar Mucha

A/N. Thanks once again for the reviews and for just generally reading this.

Anonymous viewer Z: Thanks for the pointers. I'm glad you picked up on the Nikita references, Raftela makes a fine Amanda. The possiblity of the Yomas appearing in this fic hasn't been discounted yet. Hope you enjoy.

Just thought I'd mention that the characters are pretty OOC and never mess with an angry Miria.

Disclaimer: Don't own characters nor the series.

For an exclusive and highly private mansion the so called security arrangements were turning out to be the second biggest disappointment of a morning full of them. Phantom Miria dropped from the rafters landing neatly on all fours between the laser beam tripwires that littered the corridor. It was always the same pattern, the same one that she had committed to memory since first stumbling over them as an overzealous six year old. Two to the left and pivot to avoid the next beam, handspring to avoid the third ignoring the pain from your newly sprained wrist, moonwalk six paces lest the fourth be activated, hop seven paces to leave the fifth behind and first stage cleared.

It was absurdly easy but Miria was always the cautious type as an arrogant sense of your own invincibility in her business tipped the scales heavily towards an unpleasant death. However it did seem as if the agency, in hiring certain individuals was not too fussy about these considerations. She faulted mid step as the person who easily defined this arrogant conceit with just the hint of an insufferable smirk drifted once more into her mind. Scowl deepening at the reminder, Miria stomped down the corridor all traces of her previous caution gone.

She was vaguely aware of the slight click announcing the activation of a hidden trap and her knife was in her hand in the mere seconds it took for the arrows to come whistling toward her. Dodging the first volley, Miria's knife deflected the next four arrows her wrist screaming in protest at the strenuous activity. Throwing herself into a forward roll to avoid the last arrows of the second volley, Miria righted herself before sprinting back in the direction she had come from. The ceiling above her had opened to reveal half a dozen deadly crossbows automatically primed in sequence to rain their deadly arrows down the full length of the corridor. Weaving in and out of the way of their flight, Miria reached within the pocket of her vest and quickly removed four sets of stars knives. Embedding them into the wall as she ran past, Miria reached the laser beams, again back flipping to avoid setting them off. Continuing her back flips Miria ascending the wall using the small set of stairs she had made from the star knives to reach the first of the crossbows. Switching the knife to her left hand, she severed the bowstring and testing its strength before gripping it tightly she flung herself into the air towards the next bow. She felt the bowstring give way and snap but she was well on her way to the last bow swinging her body upwards to perform a handstand as the next arrow narrowly missed piercing her abdomen. Faltering as her wrist threatened to give way, Miria placed the hilt of the knife between her teeth edging closer to the bowstring. Gritting her teeth to strengthen her hold on the handle, she swiftly cut the bowstring letting the knife fall from her mouth as she did. The arrow fell uselessly to the ground below as Mira followed free falling through the air legs tucked close to her chest. Finishing her landing with another forward roll, the Phantom Assassin rose to her feet casually catching her knife and with a twirl of the hilt replaced it in her belt. Second stage cleared.

Reaching the end of the corridor and thoroughly disenchanted by the security set up, the spiky haired woman ran a hand down the brick wall. She thumped heavily on the fifth brick from the bottom and waited hands within the pockets of her vest for the response to the now blaring intruder alarm. At least their response was top notch as seven men clad in black suits appeared from the shadows of the staircase.

Calmly taking in each man's offensive stance, Miria slipped her hands from her pockets and pushing off the wall she had been leaning against she fixed each of the security guards with a scowl. The bulkiest looking one leered back at her as he cracked his knuckles. The two shorter ones besides him wore similar expressions. Her eyes flickered over to the four who were beginning to encircle her. They took their places stepping forward as one unit to tighten the circle around her. She turned her attention back to the trio but made no movement to engage them. The bulky guy's face broke into a grin. She guessed he was the leader and made a mental note to fire him first thing the next morning. Breaking from her thoughts she caught the slight tilt of his head and brought her left arm up to block the blow from the man behind who on his signal had launched his attack. Was that all they could come up with? Grabbing his wrist, Miria hurtled him over her shoulder slamming him into the ground in front of her and dislocating his arm with a simple twist. The man screeched in pain writhing upon the floor. What a stark contrast to Miria's previous opponent.

Galatea had hardly made a noise when Miria dislocated her shoulder responding instead with a well aimed head butt that sent Miria reeling. Then that conceited woman had effortlessly snapped her shoulder back into place, intercepted Miria's fist, side stepped her charge and due to Miria's momentum had sent her stumbling which had allowed the infuriating woman to slip behind her to whisper into her ear! Further thoughts of Galatea were cut off as the man's screaming reached new heights. Seething with the anger she felt upon remembering anything at all to do with that woman she had unthinkingly snapped his arm back into place. Miria took the next black suit's legs out from under him with a kick. Rising to meet the other five she took the next one out with a roundhouse kick as he charged at her and before his body hit the floor she parried sunglasses' punch twisting his arm behind his back. Reversing their position she effectively made him into a human shield that his comrade barrelled into. Both of them fell to the floor in a heap as Miria moved towards her next opponent. Before he could blink he was looking up at the ceiling dazed as Miria had ruthlessly landed an uppercut to his jaw which crumpled him instantly.

Amongst the six littered bodies the Phantom took a moment to reflect that these opponents were nothing compared to Galatea. They had not aimed for her injured wrist which she was dead certain the blonde would have done and her speed left them in the dust which was definitely not the case for that God Eye. While Galatea couldn't keep up with Miria's speed she had the annoying ability to predict her every movement and that more than compensated. Also, reflecting upon their recent encounter, the Phantom wasn't even sure whether it could be called a fight. Galatea hadn't treated it as such and rather than trying to land a blow on Miria she had been more content with inappropriate touching. It had been a slash from Miria's knife that convinced her that the time for touching was over.

Determined to think no further about Galatea, Miria levelled a gaze at her final opponent. The look of shock upon the leader's features was quickly hidden as he reached into his back pocket drawing out nunchucks which he threateningly twirled in front of him. Miria stared back undaunted resisting the urge to let out another sigh. Zero points for creativity. Finishing his flexing routine his grin widened as she stood unmoving in front of him. The grin unfortunately had turned into a smug smirk. As he opened his mouth to taut her he suddenly let out a groan as Miria appeared in front of him kicking the nunchucks from his hands and into the air where she caught them before delivering a blow to his stomach that knocked the air from his body. He collapsed to his knees as Miria tossed the nunchucks over her shoulder where they smashed into her first opponent who was struggling to regain his footing. Blinking as she came out of her trance, Miria regarded the body of her last opponent on the floor with surprise. She had meant to take it easy on him. But all thoughts of that had been abandoned when his smirk had appeared. While it hadn't reached the smugness of her smirk, it had been enough to make the usually calm assassin snap. And that smirk had just looked so damn wrong upon his face. It hadn't even reached his eyes the way Galatea's did.

Her surprising train of thought was cut off by the sound of slow clapping. The assassin reached for her knife and threw it in the direction of the intruder. The thud of the knife into the ornate wooden staircase echoed around the stillness of the house.

"Miria." The assassin flinched at the reprimanding tone. "What have I told you about throwing knives in the house?"

The lights flicked on to bathe the scene at the foot of the stairs and captured perfectly Miria's meek expression. At the top of the staircase the owner's niece, dressed in a silk silver nightgown stared down at Miria disapprovingly. Her expression soon melted into a smile as she gently chided.

"Miria," Hilda spoke with affection shaking her head, clearly amused as she took in the fallen forms of her uncle's security. "You could have used the front door."

Around Hilda she always felt like a child, a younger sibling who followed the elder while trying and failing to emulate the confidence emanating from the person whom they respected the most. Hilda gently rolled up Miria's sleeve to reveal the ugly swelling of her wrist.

"A courier should not have an injury like this." Hilda gazed into her eyes. Her concern increasing as her younger companion averted her gaze.

"Fell off my bike," Miria muttered unable to tell the truth.

Officially, Miria was employed by the Staff Family as the head courier delivering messages from the head branch to the far reaches of the family tree. She preferred Hilda to think of her as such rather than her true identity which would completely shatter the trust between them. Out of all the primary members of the family Hilda appeared the most out of place. Far kinder than her siblings and cousins Hilda lived to support others taking a very young Miria under her wing when the both of them had been small children. But the poison of the family had spread tainting Miria and she had sworn to herself that Hilda would not suffer a similar fate. The world was in need of what her friend could offer.

"Be more careful." Hilda's soft tone brought Miria's attention back to her as she carefully wrapped a bandage around the wrist. "I would hate for something to happen to you."

"I'll be fine, Hilda," she reassured her with a smile as she placed her hand upon hers taking strength from the touch.

"I know but sometimes you're just reckless." Hilda finished wrapping and tied the bandage off.

"I'll be more careful," she promised her, glad that Hilda seemed satisfied upon hearing this.

Hilda placed the spare bandages on the bedside table before returning to sit on the bed with Miria. Avoiding her eyes once again, Miria played with the edges of her shirt unsure of what to say. Deciding to break the silence she glanced up only to be cut off as Hilda placed a gentle kiss to the small cut on her cheek.

"I better let you sleep. You look exhausted. I'll have a word with my uncle about cutting down on your work. Goodnight, Miria."

With an affectionate smile, Hilda left. A silence overtook the room broken only by a soft whisper of goodnight from the assassin. Unbuttoning her vest Miria removed it flinging the garment over the bed head. Her hands reached to undo her shirt buttons but stopped as she felt the presence of someone else within the room. She slipped her hand into her pants' pocket, removed the small electronic pad and silently tossed it towards the man in black sitting on her window sill. Deftly catching the device, Ermita scanned its contents, his yellow eyes the only part of his face visible shining in the light from the screen.

"I have to say I'm impressed you managed to secure this," he waved the pad to illustrate his point.

"There were several rumours that the Ghosts were after it," he continued, his keen gaze noticing her bandage. "Trouble?"

"Eliminated," Miria replied.

"Then I pray the Ghost won't come for vengeance, although it would lighten things up around here." He brushed past her stopping as he reached the door. "As you aptly proved, our security is in need of an overhaul. And you have a new mission."

His words caused Miria to face him arms crossed over her chest as she waited for him to elaborate. Ermita removed an envelope with an attached photo from the folds of his cloak.

"Her father has connections which would be a great asset to us so befriend the girl and gain the father's trust." He finished by flicking the envelope towards Miria.

"Befriend?"

"Kiss not kill. Lower her defences until she places all trust in you. I think you're charming enough to pull it off." Ermita's hand rested upon the door knob. "We don't want any dead bodies yet. Remember that, Phantom."

With that warning he vanished. The door closed behind him with barely a sound. Flicking open the envelope Miria scanned the printed invitation inside before turning it over to see the picture of her newest mission. Even in photos she wore her ever present smirk and Miria couldn't help the smile that formed. This would be easy only requiring a knife and a century worth of patience. Her smile faulted as she begrudgingly acknowledged that she was missing a vital part of her plan. Heading to the closet Miria opened the doors discarding each article with the shake of her head. In the dark recesses of the wardrobe she found the outfit she was looking for. She distastefully removed it from its hanger. It was the perfect distraction. Now she just had to figure out how in the world she'd hide the knife.

The screen in front of her scrolled the words she hated the most. Decryption failed. It stared back at her in bold red letters forcing Dietrich to take another sip of her blueberry smoothie surely the only thing still keeping her awake at six o' clock in the morning. Well that and Irene. The woman was a slave driver but Dietrich didn't mind as her boss allowed her access to all her fancy toys and for someone who loved technology it was paradise. A temporary paradise she silently corrected as the door to her lair opened and in strode Irene.

"Have you decrypted the file?" She asked her bluntly. Double debriefs with agent God Eye and agent Apple always put a strain on Irene's sanity.

"I'm having trouble," Dietrich admitted keying in another decryption program praying that the saying third time lucky would hold true.

Irene nodded taking her spot in the visitor's swivel chair where she ran a hand across her brow clearly still frustrated with the attitude of some of her agents.

"Are you sure you made a direct copy of all files upon the pad?" she asked.

Dietrich nodded, busily playing with the original electronic pad.

"The fake pad that the Phantom took to her organisation is exactly the same except that the important files such as Operation Claymore are corrupted."

"And you removed all references to agent God Eye?"

Another nod as Dietrich scrolled down the encrypted file Operation Claymore.

"It's hard to erase someone completely and she was assigned as his girlfriend."

Irene nodded solemnly. The mission to capture the pad was one of the longest in the Ghost's history. She had assigned Galatea to seduce the closest lead, a scientist with connections to the Staff family. The result was the acquisition of the pad at the cost of his life. Irene's eyes narrowed as she remembered, in the light of everything that had happened, how she had forgotten to question Galatea about what exactly had gone wrong. Number three rarely botched a mission and she would only kill if no other option presented itself. Still, agent Apple was dealing with the media and the cleaner was working overtime to cover number three's tracks. All that needed to be solved before the case could be closed was the puzzling contents of Operation Claymore. Then all the agency's might could be focused on the takedown of Staff.

Dietrich continued keying in various combinations absentmindedly glancing at her computer as she did so. The usual comfortable silence in which she did her work was now uncomfortably strained as Irene had brought with her an icy tension. Shifting uneasily, Dietrich picked up the packet of salt and vinegar chips she chomped on as she worked. She took several and offered the pack to Irene. Her boss waved them away and with a shrug Dietrich replaced them upon the work bench making sure to wipe her hands before picking up the pad again under the stern gaze of her boss. Keying in yet another number combination, Dietrich's eyes widened as the pad emitted a beep and the encryption was revealed. Pixels began forming the image of a woman sitting upon a lone chair within a white room.

"It's a picture." She held it up for Irene to see, keying in the same combination for the copy upon her computer.

"Put it through the database," Irene commanded drawing her chair closer to the screen.

"No match," Dietrich announced as her screen blinked the same message.

Irene clasped her hands together placing her chin upon them, deep in thought.

"Read the combination back to me."

"Three, twelve, one, eighteen, five."

"Assign the corresponding letters of the alphabet to each number."

Dietrich scribbled the words down on her writing pad alongside the numbers.

"C-L-A-R-E, Clare. It's the name Clare," she announced running the name through the databank only to come up blank once again.

She turned to Irene for further orders. Her boss gazed from the name to the picture before speaking.

"Give me the location of agent three's phone. I wish to make contact with her."

Downsizing the picture Dietrich opened the location trackers of each agent's phone. They both marvelled that the location of agent God Eye's phone was surprisingly showing that she was at home. Dietrich hit the call button praying that the agent was home alone.

The shrill sound of her ringtone stirred Galatea from her sleep, her hand slipping from the blanket to grope blindly for her phone. Finding the irritating object she flipped it open growling out a low

"What?"

"I see I've woken you up," Dietrich's dry tone greeted her.

"And you still possess that fine ability of stating the obvious." Galatea rolled onto her back mindful of her still sleeping companion.

"Enough. Are you acquainted with anyone by the name of Clare?" Irene's voice cut in.

Galatea gave a thoughtful hum.

"Can I get back to you on that? One can hardly be expected to recall the names of all previous flames at six in the morning. The list is quite extensive.

"Did mission forty-two ever mention someone by the name of Clare?"

"No, it's not familiar." Galatea paused as her companion stirred shifting closer, her warm feet brushing against Galatea's leg. "Is this in connection to the file?"

"It's a picture with a combination that spelt Clare. I don't believe it's a coincidence."

"Agreed…" She paused once again this time in response to the light brush of lips against her neck, sure signs that the woman who shared her bed was now wide awake.

Short bangs framed her face as she propped herself upon her elbows leaning in to give Galatea another kiss.

"Business?" she mouthed quietly.

"Irene," Galatea mouthed back before returning the kiss all intentions of holding up her end of the phone conversation forgotten.

Dropping the phone as two hands were better than one, Galatea traced the skin of her companion's stomach distracting her partner from returning the compliment with her kisses. Hands slipped around Galatea's neck, fingers entangled in her hair only for one hand to wander along the sheets to grasp the fallen phone and press it back into Galatea's hand.

"Business first," she affectionately murmured into Galatea's ear before leaving the comfort of the bed.

Distractedly, Galatea placed the phone back to her ear just in time to catch Irene's latest question.

"Did you make contact with and debrief Number Five?"

The question brought a mischievous smile to Galatea's face as her eyes roamed over towards the figure of said number five who had paused to collect her shirt that lay crumpled upon the floor.

"Thoroughly," she responded as number five, Elizabeth, sensed her gaze and turned to face her giving Galatea a fine view. "I would say that we have a detailed understanding of each other."

An affectionate confirming shake of the head followed. It was quite obvious what Galatea was staring at. Elizabeth turned showing off another of her fine angles as she headed into the bathroom closing the door behind her much to Galatea's disappointment.

"Put Elizabeth on the phone, Galatea," Irene growled having had Dietrich confirm her suspicions and use the phone tracking system which placed number five's location alongside number three's.

"She isn't here," Galatea lied.

"Just put her on the phone." Irene enunciated the words slowly trying not to allow her anger to show.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The tracker system does not lie!"

"Irene." Galatea had the gall to sound shocked. "Are you resorting to monitoring my phone in order to keep tabs on me? You're sounding more like a jealous wife than my boss."

"I have far better things to do with my life than spy on you," Irene retorted all traces of calm gone.

"Would that better thing's name start with the letter T and end with an A? But judging from your irritated tone I'm guessing there's no progress on that front," Galatea continued on undaunted. "But Irene darling, it's not you I'm worried about. Hacker Dietrich has far more time on her hands."

"Are you implying that I spend my time spying on you, Galatea?" Dietrich's voice sounded offended at the very thought. "I assure you I am not."

"Oh, Dietrich I'm merely implying that your self-imposed vow against lying is in itself a lie."

"I would not stalk you!" Dietrich's voice rose an octave.

"But you would like to."

"I…" Dietrich inwardly cursed her vow to never tell a lie. "I.. I… would like to…"

Galatea's smug response was cut off as Elizabeth's phone letting out a shrill buzz received an incoming text message. Elizabeth chose that moment to re-enter catching the phone Galatea tossed at her. Opening the attachment both agents looked at the photo of the lone woman upon the chair. Switching her phone to speaker both agents informed their boss that the identity of the woman remained a mystery. Irene ended the call with curt instructions to concentrate on their mission and only on their mission. As the disconnected sound of the phone hummed throughout the flat both agents knew that it would be best to stay away from headquarters for the time being.

A glance at the clock showed that it was seven and Galatea was about to inform Elizabeth that she had put her shirt on far too early in the day when the door bell rang out. Both agents shared a look, Galatea giving a confident smile in response to Elizabeth's look of concern. Slipping from the bed, the number three agent threw on her dressing gown sliding her knife into its pocket before making her way to the door. The doorbell rang again and Galatea sighing at the display of impatience flung open the door only to stop, surprised at the glorious sight that greeted her. Miria stood at the door tapping her foot impatiently as she waited. Galatea's eyes stared at the amount of leg the dress was showing off. Slowly her gaze travelled upwards to take in the sight of Miria's very low cut red dress which left little to the imagination. Her hair was swept back in a loose ponytail and her silver eyes danced with excitement. Miria glanced down at Galatea's apparel frowning as she did so.

"I'll give you five to slip into something more comfortable."

Galatea swallowed the growing lump in her throat. This was turning out to be one of her better days.