Moving Onwards

Broken Inside

By Pat Squared


The shakes were the worst part and perversely the best of her current state of existence.

To conserve the last of her medicine, Violetta Lee had to drop her dose to once a day. For a body that demanded two hits like clockwork, this meant 12 hours of wishing you were dead already.

The small closet-size room she rented was saturated with the odor of her sweat, tears, and blood as the fever was burning her up.

The death of a Red Crystal addict was akin to being the guest of honor at a Spanish Inquisition investigation. In the end burning at the stake was merciful.

A thousand fire ants crawled through her veins and the worst part was that salvation from the pain was only a foot away. One breath of the narcotic and the pain would end. However, when she ran out...she would be alone in this place...dying one millimeter at a time.

Vee wanted to scream, but to scream was to be noticed and to be noticed...Vee hated failure...she hated herself for failing to be good enough to be loved by those who loved her.

However the physical pain was nothing compare to the voices screaming in her head.

The physical pain help distracted her from the demons whispering in her ears.

Stupid girl...he could only love you because you were his little slut...you killed your mother...now you killed Ronnie...you enjoyed it when you killed those men...you are fucked up in the head just like your father.

She needed this penance.

Perhaps if God saw how she suffered, maybe he would let her rejoin her mother in heaven instead of going off to hell. However she knew that the past two days were perhaps the first taste of the hell that would await her at the end of her final mission.

She now knew in a way what is was to be like her mother...wishing for somehow to just be good enough for God to forgive for merely existing.

A wave of burning pain flashed through her small frame. The young teen bit her lip, tasting her blood, in an effor not to scream out in pain. The now familiar coppery taste told her that she was still a part of this world.

However that was not the only pain that haunted her.

Worse than staying awake were the few moments of stolen sleep. Vee had to watch repeatedly as she shot the only real friend that she ever would have.

The jade-eyed girl remembered screaming at herself, but she still pulled the trigger. The worse part was when her dream warpped into a smile that was never on her face. The young teen then watched as she went on a killing rampage. She remembered with shame and excitement about shooting the last of her father's minions in the gut and sending him on a slow, painful ride to hell.

Even now the thought of killing another human being both frightened her and excited her.


Jennifer Possible crouched on the catwalk in the maintenance hanger.

It was 4 o'clock in the morning and the object of her surveilance was busy mainting final adjustments to the turbine of the helicopter.

However, it was not helicopter maintance that perked her interest.

The new mechanic was a hunk by any definition of the term.

Six feet two inches tall...two hundred fifteen pounds of lean 100 American hunk. Teal eyes and a permanent tan.

What's wrong with me? I did everything short of crawling naked into his bed and he turned me down.

Jennifer watched trying to figure out what drove this man to chose a life of isolation.

He displayed no interest in the girls that hung out in town. He show no interest in men either. She snuck into his room and went through his stuff...but there was no sign that he was waiting for some filly.

All there was were maintenance manuals and the FAA test prep booklets he had to study to get his licenses.

There was no identity document. No bank account. It was as if Mr. Xavier just popped onto the face of the earth full grown.

I will find out your secret and when I do...you will be mine!


Vee looked at teh last note she ever would write in this life.

I am not sure who is worse about karaoke...Filipinos or Japanese. In my short time in the land of the rising sun, every karaoke bar seems to have Filipino dancers and singers and after the bars close they race back to their rooms and break out those Magic Sing karaoke microphones. You think one would get tired after a day.

I enjoy the badings (Filipino gay males). They do a better Gloria Gayson than any girl I know. Scary, but they are a one person laugh-riot. One...Roberto Flores was the first person to make me smile after I enter this hell. He does a perfect Celine Dion...high notes and all without missing one. If I had a million dollars in my estate...I would gladly will it to him. Smiles are all too rare for me these days.

It's a messed up way to start this journal, but then I am one messed up girl.

I once had it all.

I was an orphan, but I had a wonderful woman who could teach many mothers about love raise me. Even though the law says that we were not family, she was the only family I ever had. I once hoped that there would be some magic pill or treatment that would stop the demons from dragging me down to the devil...some ritual to make me worthy of her love. But there is no such thing. I wish for a lot of things that would never come true.

The thought of a being the source of all that is wrong and evil was a comfort to me. Then I grew up and learned the truth... I was my own devil.

I have tasted the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge and there is no going back to the way things were. I wished that there was some way to make things all right as if this was all a bad dream that I would wake up from.

Lame…but what do you expect from a fourteen-year-old junkie waiting for the fates to cut her thread. That's what's messed up about growing up Catholic. I guess I got enough that I now need the penance of losing everything…everyone I love.

I am okay for now. Ronnie can probably tell you how I supplemented my income in this place. For a bunch of criminals, the Yakuza are idiots when it comes to protecting their wallets from pickpockets.

I found a small hostel and faked up some docs saying that my papers were stolen so I got two more weeks before I have to move on.

However, I have chosen to make my last stand in three nights. My father is visiting a love hotel that one of his associates own via some front companies. I heard that he has two new pets. I cannot wait while he hurts another child like he did my mother.

This is probably my last words. I wish that I could say more, but now is moment.

I guess that all I have to say is that I am sorry for not being worthy of your love and affections. Sometimes I wonder if some imp swapped me, its little imp, and the real Violetta Lee when I was in the cradle. If so, I owe that little girl more than an apology for having her stolen from perhaps the best family in the world.

Goodbye,

Tell Ronnie...

Vee looked at the letter on the back of a flyer for some high school girl during the escort thing in the evenings to buy those extra Gucci bags that all the girls now seem to sport.

I love you is too...

She wanted to cross out that line, but somehow she knew that he will one day read the letter. It was best that she perhaps go out in the classic Vee sytle.

Tell Ronnie to stop picking his nose in public otherwise the only action he will ever get is from Madam Palm and her five little fillies. I don't want him to get that carpal-tunnel crap that all those chronic whankers seem to get.

Sardonic...she remembered hearing that word when some salty old Roman catholic father described himself. She was salty in her own way.

The final paragraph was perhaps the most important message that he will ever read. All he had to do was read between the lines. She doubted that he ever would, but maybe there would be hope that one day he would know that she died inside the moment she pulled that trigger.

Vee looked down the top of the black slide of the police issued Sig Saur P226 pistol she borrowed from the police officers Ronnie and she ambushed back in Nara.

For hours in the middle of the night, the young girl stared down the slide at the front sight burning into her mind the sight picture until the sights perfectly line up on target without a thought. One white dot over a white vertical bar...dot centered on the white vertical niche. It was a connection with a part of her heritage. Some of her ancestors were samurai who meditated for hours on the perfect draw to cut down their foes.

The problem was that their foes did not use swords to bring them down.

Her female ancestors used sex and poisoned hairpins to do the job. No one told her outright about Yamanouchi kunouchi, but she did enough research on her own. The Medici had poisoners. The Yamanouchi had perfected the method of training and inserting bed partners that were more deadly than any VD carried by some third world prostitute.

She finished typing her note and left it in the futon. At the end of the week, the police would find this place and perhaps Yori would pull some strings to get a peek at the letter.

Vee slid into a kimono she stole for this evening. She looked at the photograph she ripped off a Japanese magazine. She looked at the make-up kit. She knew that this would be the final image the world would have of her. All dolled up like a geisha...no a courtesan.

Tonight she would have to get a job to get close for her final act.

She had a plan worked out so she hopefully would not have to let some drunken bastard enjoy what she had only shared with Ronnie, but she knew that if things did not work out...

It did not matter since she was not a real girl like the victims of her father were.


Timothy James Possible watched on as the villagers buried their dead. Using equipment from the mine would make digging into the hard soil of the Siberian tundra easier, but for this only muscle and primitive hand tools would be fitting.

The old, somber, grey clad Russian orthodox priest chanted his lines and then the bodies were buried. Two villagers then tossed in handfuls of lime to speed the decomposition of the bodies before covering the body in rocks. Then the animals would not come and desecrate the remains of the loved.

He wondered how the family handled his brother's funeral.

Did they mourn him too or did they hold out hope that he was still alive?

Either way, he did not want to find out the answer to that question.

Jim was dead.

It would only be fitting that Timothy James Possible be dead too.

Secrets would get out. Secrets always did. His parents would find out about all the things that he did on his futile quest to avenge Ron Stoppable. Having buried the past is a lot easier than living in the present.

Marie squeezed his hand in a vain attempt to comfort him.

However, even having her love was painful. His wife and kid were reminders of the lives he tore apart.

He looked on at his men. They had buried a comrade and wanted to return the favor. He wanted to tell them...to show them that urge for revenge was the first signpost on the superhighway to hell.

But asking to turn the other cheek was a none-option in this harsh land of birch trees and alcoholic authors who write stories of despair and angst. Besides Tim was more Old Testament rather than a follower of a carpenter turned storyteller from Galilee

Timofey Posibeev had to be the Cossack. He had to live the legend of a bastard so mean that the Devil refused him entry to Hell because the Devil was afraid that the Cossack would overthrow the damned for pampering the damned.

Tim tried to take a deep breath, but that only brought on a lung spasm.

Tonight, he would return back to the machine shop. Tonight he would tap into the dark side of his imagination and create something that only the evil Possible twins could engineer.

The Brothers Possible Evil Elves' Siberian Workshop would work on something that would be a lot more dangerous that anything they ever had Rufus test pilot.

An all too familiar part of Tim's mind was actually getting giddy and that more than anything else scared him.


Will Du had carefully listened to Edward Hertzberg's debrief on the recovery of Iosef Ilyavich's remains. Normally the head of Global Justice would be upset that a simple snatch and grab was messed up by the workings of fate. The resident coroner confirmed the time of death and there was no way that Edward Hertzberg could have prevented the former KGB officer's death.

However, he was carefully plotting the possibilities. The rest of the project believed that Tim Possible was dead. Killing him would tie up some loose ends, but his DNA was worth a lot to the project. According to the major, Tim supposedly had a wife and child, but did not get a visual confirmation.

Tim Possible was expendable. Ultimately everyone was expendable in the pursuit of the Project's goal to bred what he termed homo sapiens parabellum. However, expending one's resources carelessly was counterproductive. Sacrifices are only made to bring in something more.

A child was good enough to transmit Tim's Possible DNA, but Will believed in redundancy. He would wait for a second before taking care of the problem that an uncontrollable Tim Possible could pose.

He then thought of another Possible.

Kim...

As a youth he deliberately acted incompetent so she would underestimate him as villains had underestimated Ron Stoppable. She thought him some staff puke. However, he was no ordinary staff puke with a swivel chair butt and thickening mid-section. He had personally killed three armed men with his bare hands back in Istanbul and put four more in the cripple wing of a Turkish prison. He had done his share of field work.

The easy part was getting the job done. The hard part was doing while pretending to be the worst possible field agent without getting fired or taken off the career track.

By rights Kim Possible should be excluded from the project. She failed the final examination. She lacked the ruthlessness to pull the trigger. Only Ron Stoppable's heroic performance guaranteed the continuation of her DNA in the project. To correct any unnecessary tendencies for mercy, Will would have to breed Kim's offspring to someone with the genetic gift for violence. He had two candidates lined up for the job.

However, there was something about Kim Possible that fueled his wet dreams.

Justine Payne, his assistant and one time lover, had the perfect DNA by contemporary project standards. Sired by the Light Bringer himself, Justine Payne was beautiful, ruthless, and deadly. However, Justine did not have the same persona that Kim Possible had. Kim Possible was taught and believed that she was unstoppable. Kim would do things that Justine would prudently walk away form.

Killing Ron Stoppable snuffed some of that 'Can-Do' spirits, but did not entirely extinguish it. Will had meet Kim on several occasions and a part of him still desired to make her his. Kim in the courtroom still radiated that aura of ... No thesuarus had the words, but Kim Possible was still Kim Possible.

Will had his goals and mastered the art of manipulating others to get his ends. He wanted to be the next Light Bringer. He wanted to bring down high and mighty Kim Possible and show the world that she was just as much of a slut as Will's mother was.

Will knew that everyone had a weakness.

Justine would do anything to protect their daughter.

Kim, he knew, would do anything to protect her only remaining link with Ron Stoppable...her son. Mothers were always that way.

Will planned to call Hirotaka. Hirotaka would take back his child and ensure that Shego's genetic legacy would live up to the billing. Ronnie Possible would then follow and Will would use his knight and a pair of jokers to take down a queen.

Maybe he would have Kim Possible attend to his baser needs as he ordered the hit on her troublesome brother. The image of the high and mighty Kim Possible giving him head as he ordered Hirotaka to have Ronnie Possible and his girlfriend whack the last Possible in his way brought a rare sincere smile to the Global Justice director.

Tim Possible was a priest of the gods of the old school like the Old Testament Jehovah. The very god who commanded the Children of Israel to "Now go, attack the Amalekites and totally destroy everything that belongs to them. Do not spare them; put to death men and women, children and infants, cattle and sheep, camels and donkeys."

Tim Possible had eliminated many of the megalomaniacs that had once made up the mainstay of super villains that Global Justice had fought. Today, the super villain was dead. Even dead...the rumors of what the Possible twins had done keep the replacements from coming unto the field.

Soon Will was going to someone rid him of that troublesome priest just after he gets rid of the others in his way.


Ronald Possible's return to the land of the living was anything but pleasant.

Having a tube shoved down his throat, a colostomy bag needing emptying, and tied down to a hospital bed are bad enough.

However, what was worse than waking up in pain and disgrace was not knowing what happened.

The staff had removed his respirator tube, but no one said a word to him.

Days went by punctuated by some nurse in nurse hanging new IV bags and giving him shots to go to sleep.

The door opened and the Japanese version of Nurse Ratchet came by to change his shit bag and shoot him with the next installment of drugs.

Trying to speak was an exercise in futility. They would not even acknowledge his presence. Just work on him like a pathologist works on a corpse. Correction...a pathologist had a more stimulating conversation with a corpse than he did with the hospital staff.

Ronnie closed his eyes and waiting for the cool chemicals to enter his veins. The painkillers were cool in their way. He now grew to love the liquid love. Sex was sex...The ultimate upper. The cool liquid love was like the afterglow...like when he cuddled with his girl just before he fell asleep.

However, he did not want them to know that Vee was part of the trouble that he was in. If she somehow got away with it...he did not want to rat her out to the cops. He never ratted her out before and now he was not going to start.

The door slammed open and a voice ripped apart the quiet that was part of this room.

"Ronald Stoppable Possible...young man you are in for a world of hurt."

There were only two ladies in the world that would say that line. Grandma Stoppable did not have black hair so that mean Auntie Han. Having a ninja in the family...even if adopted...was not all roses.

"Auntie Hannah!" he coughed up.

"Don't Auntie Han me. Why couldn't you just knock your girlfriend up? That way I would not have to fly all the way to Japan to drag your sorry butt home. Your mom could get use to seeing a lttle rug rag. Don't you know what your father's death...she never got over it. The only reason she is still functioning is because she had you. If you die...Christ almighty...I was only five and I still remember your mom's meltdown. At least with a baby...in a couple months everyone will be gaga waiting for your rug-rats to shit, eat, and cry at all god forsaken hours of the night."

It was hard to concentrate when you had liquid love flowing in your veins. It could be understandable that Ronnie grasp on reality was what one could vaguely define as loose.

"Rug-rats...you mean Vee is..." Ronnie started hyperventilating as he connected erroneously the concept of girlfriend and rug-rats.

Ronnie Possible got smacked in the face by a female for the first time in his life.

"Knowing your sorry ass, you will probably have twins. You don't go halfway into trouble."

"Twins? You are telling me that you are having twins."

He just got smacked the second time.

"Yori-sensi, don't tell me you got my nephew stuck on cloud nine!"

"Sorry, Han-chan. But otherwise he would be digging in the colostomy bag and screaming in pain."

Ronnie had a shit eating smile on his face.

"Ronnie...Bag or no shit bag...you are in a world of trouble. When you get off cloud nine you will wish that the cops got to you first. Your mother will especially love those earings let alone those eyebrow rings. Your should think pretty hard about what she will do when she sees your new scars."

Ron laughed.

"Not even your father could get in as much trouble as you."


Centuries of selective breeding had already honed her into something that she wished that she was not. Kids think being some kind of ninja was cool.

If they only knew back in Middleton..

Being a ninja meant forever being a lone wolf...never to run with a packNever to belong Always being a sense of déjà vu or a vague memory. Never to be anything more than a weapon...a tool...to take down a foe. Never to love or be worthy of love.

She had inherited the right sequence of genetic markers for tonight's work.

From her father's side she inherited the ability to do things that would only appear in some over the top Hong Kong action flick. From her mother, she inherited the ability to recover rapidly from trauma. However, she did not have anything in her DNA to cure her of the loneliness in being a creature of the shadows loved someone of the light.

There was pain in loving the light for someone such as she and now she knew it.

She might be a smart mouth. She might be at times sarcastic. However, she was shy around boys. The thought of flirting...being next to naked around drunken men made her want to vomit and run away. However to do so was to run away from the last thing that she could ever do to make things right.

Yes...as if I cannot fuck this up like I fucked everything else up.

With a vow to do only what is required to get the position she needed, she reluctantly slid off out of her kimono and let his eyes rape her. She bit her lip wondering what they would think of her…not that it mattered. She knew they already hated her.

Stupid…ingrate…slut. Only a slut would work in this place. She closed her eyes. If the police did not find her mother, she knew that she would have already lost count of how many perverts rented her hollow shell out.

"Pretty. On the skinny side, but there are men who like their girls to act younger. What can you do?"

Vee thought for a minute knowing her answer would set the limits on her slow slide into hell. She needed the illusion that she was in control even if in the end he knew and she knew that if she lived long enough...she would slide all the way. She seductively bent over, carefully allowing the pig to examine her ass, and grabbed the riding crop that some hooker left on the floor by the messy desk.

"Tell those worms that they must prove themselves before even kissing my whip."

"But…"

Vee lashed out with the whip stricking her potential employer accross the cheek drawing a thin line of blood.

"Be quiet you little rodent. Did I tell you that I want you to speak. No. Then what made you think that I wanted your breath to pollute the air I am breathing."

"So you are a kinky bitch even though you look like a little school girl. I like kinky. How about…"

"Don't even think about it. When I train a new lover, I wear red for a reason."

"What…"

Vee shook her head and made her tone empty-headed as any Valley Girl of legend and lore could ever dream of being, "Blood is so hard to wash off my whites. When you see me in my red leathers, expect to pay the cleaning lady extra."

Vee added the high pitch geisha giggle that Japanese expect from their sex objects.

The young girl slid back into her kimono.

"Tell your clients that I have three rules. One, they better not forget the safe word. Two, cash up front with zero refunds. And three, my life outside the club is my life outside the club. No private appointments outside my shift. No way in hell am I submissive. No maggot yet rates high enough to earn the right to my box. No videos."

The look in her eye told him that trying to use her for his sideline would not be a good thing for now. Besides, he wanted to keep those special clients returning. She was every bit as ruthless than any Yakuza pimp he ever ran across and it showed.

Greed and cowardice played out. Cowardice would win for now.

Five minutes later, Violetta walked out of the back office violated in a way that not even her mother was violated.

The monster that was her father broke her mother's spirit would be here in three days time. She had sought out this place...this local corner of damnation. She had tapped into the same darkness her father did fifteen years ago when he force his seed into a broken ten year old girl and forever immortalized the event by siring her.

Free admission…slippery when wet. Why not have a whore-off!

The demons were whispering in her soul. They always would ensure that she would never be alone. Slowly she staggered to the three-mat room that would be her final home wondering what would happen when those she loved found out what she became. She was truly her father's daughter and knew it. She knew why Ms. Possible drank so much. Tonight, she would attempt to match Ms. Possible record for intoxication. She had a bag full of Ichi-ban and sake and would not rest until they were as empty as her soul.

Two hours later, Violetta was beyond drunk.

"Sorry mom…I wasted everything you gave to me. Please forgive me."

However the dead could not forgive. The dead could not remember. The dead were simply dead.

Vee examined the box cutter she snagged from the local hardware store. The knife required something that very few had. The total commitment to the kill. The willingness to do whatever it took to get up close to the target and make close intimate contact. That was the only way, because she knew her father's bodyguards would not allow her to smuggle a pistol into the room. It was one thing to kill in the heat of a moment. It was another to deliberately plan a murder that she was sure that she was going to commit. A part of her became excited. She closed her eyes and remembered the tasting of the blood. It was in its way as necessary as her drugs...her drives were not that of a normal fourteen year old.

She knew that if she was a male...she had the makings of a serial killer. All she needed to do to match the FBI profile was wet her bed, have a bout of pyromania, and torture little animals. But then she always did march to the own tune.

It was a beautiful day when she left the land of the normal. Next stop was someplace that was far to overrated. Hell could not be as bad as her time on this mudball.


It was 0300 when Timofey Posibeev launched the next salvo in the Mafia wars.

Three hitchhikers rode underneath a military truck making its way to Perm. At the proper coordinates, they released the electromagnets that held them to the bottom of the truck and fell to the muddy red clay. No one saw the three unwanted guest dropped off and the next three trucks that ran them over did not even flinch. The drivers believed that they only hit one of the numerous pot hots that marked the rough roads of Russia.

0303...The trio opened their multispectrum eyes and ran a calibration check. One had a malfunction thermal sensor, however each unit could communicate with the next. One missing eye did not matter.

0304...The trio finished their start up and activated their silent electrical motors.

0305...The trio took off and reached an altitude of 100 meters. The trio turn on their lights. In the darkness, one can see the variation in light. However, by lighting up to the same brightness as the surrounding sky, no one could see them. At 50 meters, the motors were so silent that no one could hear the whining of the motors.

0312...Upon reaching a predetermined point the trio separated. Flying in a V formation similar to ducks the trio turned off their motor and glided to their final destination. 500 miles away, the controllers carefully selected the target and released the final failsafe. At 0313...the trio pass the point of no return. The controllers turned off their radio and the ability to call the trio off their mission.

0314...Two Russian mafia captains were smoking some Turkish cigarettes in front of a mob controlled bar. The two out-riding gliders made their final adjustment and each squeezed off three rounds of police issue 5.45mm PSM. The rounds were supersonic, hence producing a crack, but the sound suppressor eliminate the muzzle blast. The two targets were dead before the two gliders flew off to the disposal point...a junk yard.

0315...Finding no target, the glider with the malfunctioning thermal camera instead selected its final play. It fired breaking a window and killing a parton. One point three seconds later it flew in and detonated 1.75 meters off the floor. 1,000 grams of Semtex and 500 grams of nails did its job.

The two out riders buried themselves in a rubble pile before detonating turning themselves into scrap metal and melted plastic.

At 0316...Timofey Posibeev had killed fifteen Russian mob underlings and a mid-level captain.

However, there was no time for celebration. Everyone knew that the war would not stop until other was destroyed root and branch.


Why the fuck do we spent millions to save an animal that won't fuck to save its own species?

Normal is boring...it's insipid…it's the lemmings march off the tip of the iceberg into the cold ocean.

Violetta Lee had spent years perfectiong the ability to recall everything she read. If she lived long enough, she would end up as one of those annoying know it alls that would win 52-straight weeks of Jepordy. She knew that the fees required to generate a complete psych profile on her could keep Sigmund Freud stocked up with Cuban cigars for the rest of his afterlife with her issues.

She could rebuild her façade of normalcy. If it were not for the drugs, she could move away and start a new life. Maybe go to some east coast college. Get the right piece of parchment. Make the right contacts. Be on the A-list of Hollywood or high society depending where her interest lay. She could do anything...or at least fake anything.

However she knew deep down that she could never shake her past...shake being label the trash can kid in the second grade...shake losing the only thing that ever made her feel real...or at least let her think she was real for a moment.

The liquid mist was the closest thing she would ever have to love.

The love she felt when the poison slid into her lungs was an illusion, but then she was an illusion...a play of a demon girl trying to be normal girl. She had once seen an old movie about that and the ending was tragic. Not even in Hollywood would the demon girl be given half a chance to experience happily ever after.

Hopefully this would be the last hit of the poison that shaped every moment of her existence. By this time tomorrow, it would all be over. There was no way she could kill her father and all his goons. Eleven rounds and a box cutter to slice her view was everything she would need for her starring role in a Wagnerian opera. The only thing missing was a fat lady to sing...but then all she had to do was emasculate some fat goon working for her old man and that squeal would be close enough for tonight's performance.

All that was missing was the yellow and black stripped jumpsuit and the infamous Hittori Hanzo steel so prized in the Kill Bill movies. However, that was some white chick playing ninja. Vee knew that she would be the last ninja of the Yamanouchi line and intended her name to be up there next to Hittori Hanzo and Fuma Kotaro.

Calling her father a rodent would be insulting the little rats that carried the bubonic plague that wiped out forty percent of Europe. Rats deserved more respect...even if they scared her shitless.

Tonight she would wear the red leathers and the mask of her demonic persona. They would buy her entry into the ninth circle of hell. All she would have to do is remember to say hello to Judas Iscariot and Brutus when she saw them.

Her first client was waiting not knowing that it was his daughter that would introduce him to a world of hurt. Hell of a present from a loving daughter.