As "Harmony" parked her Mercedes in an underground garage and entered a well-appointed elevator, the Foot Clan agent had a feeling she didn't experience often.

She was frightened.

And with good reason. After being posted to the Pacific Northwest, she had been ordered to rid the Big Kahuna's organization of an undercover FBI agent, and protect the crime boss from an assassin. And she'd been successful up until the moment when she decided to out the assassin. That's when things went horribly wrong, and people began to die, including the man she'd been sent to protect. It wasn't that she really cared. In fact, those who had died no doubt deserved their fate. But not on her watch.

Now, she was on the way up to meet with her supervisor, which was why it felt like an ounce of liquid lead was sloshing around the pit of Marla's stomach as she left the elevator, crossed a beautifully decorated lobby, and entered the private club.

The restaurant was called The Pacific Rim, and it boasted a sweeping view of Seattle's Elliott Bay and the snowcapped Olympic Mountains beyond. A prissy maître d' was there to greet her and lead her to what was unarguably the best table in the restaurant. That's where He sat, gazing out over the sparkling bay, as he spoke on a cell phone. A cruise ship was pulling away from a nearby dock as it departed for Alaska and a green and white ferryboat was about to dock as "Harmony" stopped just short of the table.

Her supervisor's face was hidden by a large black mask. An impeccably tailored grey suit covered his features, and a pitch black tie adorned his neck. "Harmony", who was dressed in a two-piece gray business suit and wearing a pair of colorful Pikilino shoes felt dowdy by comparison.

Finally, having ignored her for at least two minutes, the older man closed the flip-phone and eyed his guest with a cold gaze.

"Sit down."

It had been awkward, standing there like a child waiting for permission to sit, and it was a relief to take the other chair.

"I was speaking on the phone with our benefactors," the man said, in a voice pitched so deep that "Harmony" could feel a vibration in her bones. "In spite of ample evidence to the contrary, they insist that you are normally quite competent, and should be given a second chance. I, however, am not so sure… Perhaps you will find the means to convince me, daughter."

"Harmony" would have answered, but a formally attired waiter chose that moment to intervene, and her supervisor ordered for both of them. Something "Harmony" would have taken exception to, had her hostess been anyone else. But in this case she was willing to tolerate just about any indignity in order to escape what could be a death sentence. Because while the Foot could be generous to its more reliable employees, it had a very, very, very low tolerance for failure.

"So," her supervisor began. His English was quite good, in spite of a slight accent. "I have read the report you filed, and I was surprisingly impressed by how objective it was. You made no attempt to conceal your incompetence or evade responsibility for what can only be categorized as a disaster. You had been told who was coming, when he would arrive, and what he planned to do. Yet you managed to take what should have been a routine hit and turn it into a major debacle. Now, having had time to reflect on what took place, tell me where you went wrong."

"Harmony" felt an obstruction block the back of her throat, and struggled to swallow it.

"In retrospect I realize that I should have warned the Big Kahuna, and enlisted his aid before The Agency's assassin arrived."

Her supervisor's word were cold and hard.

"You were grandstanding. Trying to impress everyone with how omnipotent you were. And it cost you… Worse yet, it cost us. Fortunately the witnesses are dead. With one notable exception. And someone took the surveillance tape. Was that you?"

"Yes," "Harmony lied smoothly. "I destroyed it."

"Good," He replied grudgingly. "That, at least, was the competent thing to do. Although it should have been included in the report. In any case, based on the number of bodies that were found, it's clear that this… Agent 49 escaped. And eliminating him was the true purpose of sending you there."

There might have been more, except that the waiter arrived with what turned out to be excellent chicken salad, hard rolls, and iced tea. And rather than continue the conversation, the man simply lowered a flap on his mask, and ate.

The awkwardness came to an end when the dishes were taken away, and the man removed a small, carefully wrapped gold box from his pocket.

"Here," the man said, as he offered the object to "Harmony". "A gift for you."

The gesture was entirely unexpected, and "Harmony" didn't know what to say, as she accepted the gift.

"Open it."

So she removed the red ribbon, broke the seals that held both halves of the box together, and lifted the lid. There, lying within a perfectly formed velvet-lined recess, was a single, hand-loaded, 230-grain,.45 caliber bullet. The round had been polished, and seemed to glow as if lit from within.

The man was waiting when "Harmony" looked up.

"It is part of a matching set," the older man explained. "And, if you fail me again Karai, you willl get the second bullet right between your eyes."

Trembling slightly, she replied with a tinge of fear, "Yes, Master Shredder."