Hello. I am here to bring you a warning about this story. This file, here in my hand tells the tale of a woman and a man, long before they would become famous. Their story is not a happy one. This is about a real man, and a real woman. If you are looking for a tale of fluff, flowers, and happy endings, this is not the story for you. But if you don't mind leaving Lala land behind, and journeying to the world of reality, where everything is harsh, painful, and depressing, do continue. I will not lie to you. This story does not end with 'And they lived happily ever after'. It will not wrap up in a pretty bow. True, this story is not ALL sad and melancholy. You will laugh, as the characters are somewhat of a comical lot. But the horrible events in which they have been plunged bring a more depressing tone to the story. Remember, the truth is not always pleasant, painless, or morally right.

Now that you have been warned, proceed at your own risk.

This story opens on a dismal street, somewhere on Mars. A well-dressed man walks solemnly along the sidewalk, his freshly shined shoes, kicking up tiny puffs of dust. He reaches the single streetlight in view, and stops. Smiling grimly, he leans against the post, casually scanning the street.

As if in response, a shadowy figure steps up behind him. This one is also well dressed, his Armani trench coat with silver buttons, clings to the darkness, and melds with the shadows.

The two men shake hands quickly, and greet the other with terse words. They exchange small talk, and other such innocent words, while subtly checking the shadows for attackers.

Once he is sure the area is clear, the first man makes a quiet inquiry, which causes the second man to laugh. He laughs for several seconds, great guffaws that shake his whole body. Then, like someone pulling a shade over a window, he stops laughing. The other man is lying on the sidewalk, blood pooling around his limp form.

Smiling slightly, the second man replaces his gun in the pocket of his trench coat, and regards the fallen man with grim eyes. "My answer is no."

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Faye groaned and rolled over, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the sound of her annoying new communicator.

BEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!! The beeping began to get louder, chiming sharply somewhere behind her ears. With a strangled curse, she pulled her head out from under her pillow and sat up, fumbling on her bed stand for the annoying piece of plastic.

She contemplated it for a minute, debating whether or not to throw it as hard as she could at the wall, and then go back to sleep. Remembering her punishment the last time she had done something like this, she winced. But the real deciding factor was the niggling idea that it would bounce off the wall unharmed, and then she would have to get up out of bed and walk all the way across the bedroom to pick it up.

With a sigh, she clicked it on. "Blayce, this better not be a test to see if I will honestly use this, because right about now, I think I would probably march all the way over to HQ and shove this down your throat!"

The blond man on the other end didn't even crack a smile. "Faye, this is serious."

"Damn it! Blayce, I'm gonna kill you!" she glared at him. "You promised! No more wake up test calls! At least not until AFTER noon!"

Blayce continued to stare stonily at her. "This isn't a test call. High Lord Neshi was murdered last night."

Faye immediately froze. "God. What happened?"

The man shook his head sadly. "He went to meet some high official from the Red Dragon. The stinking bastard shot Lord Neshi!"

Faye dropped the communicator onto the bed, and began rifling around in her closet. "I suppose the Council wants me?"

Blayce nodded, but then realized she couldn't see him. "Yup. High Lord Rusha was particularly explicit about your punishment if you're late again…"

Faye stuck out her tongue, and straightened. "Alright. I'm on my way…" she turned the communicator off, and pulled off her rumpled pajamas.

She took a one-minute shower, dried herself in record time, and grabbed her uniform from the bed. That outfit was all black, and consisted of a pair of tight slacks, a tank top, a pair of high-heeled boots, and a short jacket.

Checking the clock, Faye ran a brush through her dark purple hair, and pulled it back with a black headband.

Quickly, she turned off all the lights, grabbed her keys, and left the apartment.

When she reached the garage, she was still several minutes ahead of schedule. "I might actually make it there on time today…" she muttered, jamming her hands into black leather gloves, and pulling her helmet down over her head.

She stuck the key in the ignition of her Ducati Monstro motorcycle, and peeled out of the garage with a squeal of tires, and the smell of burning rubber.

A few minutes later, Faye was cursing fluently in several languages, describing several acts that should be physically impossible. "-Goddamnit!" she ended, panting. Looking around her, at the traffic that stretched for blocks in each direction, she slammed her fist onto the handlebars. "Shit! Shitshitshitshitshit!"

Almost half an hour later, Faye arrived in the Council room of the Black Dragon Syndicate Headquarters. She was panting, her hair was disheveled, and she still carried her helmet under one arm.

The Council stood, watching her with narrowed eyes, and tight-lipped frowns. "Ms. Valentine. How kind of you to grace us with your presence. Would you mind explaining why you are 27 minutes and 15 seconds late?"

She bowed low. "I'm sorry, Lord Rusha. There was horrible traffic." She kept her eyes on the ground, but her back was straight, and she stood firm.

"I am sure…" Lord Rusha drawled, raising one carefully arched eyebrow.

"Lord Rusha," interjected a voice from the door. "There was actually a very bad wreck early this morning, and had not been cleared when F-Ms. Valentine left her lodging."

"I see." Replied Lord Rusha. "But even if there was traffic, Ms. Valentine, why didn't you call ahead to warn us of your late arrival?"

Faye blushed. She had completely forgotten her communicator, where it rested in her coat pocket.

"As I thought." Lord Rusha nodded, satisfied.

Another member of the Council leaned forward. "Ms. Valentine. It may not appear this way, but we did NOT summon you here to be publicly bearded." He said, shooting a conspicuous glare at Lord Rusha.

Farther down the table, another Lord nodded. "It is as Lord Osamu says. We brought you here to receive your next mission."

Lord Osamu turned his dark gaze on Faye. "Since Lord Takako has put it so bluntly, I can only concur. You are one of our best operatives, and we are taking a risk placing you on such a dangerous mission."

Lord Takako took up where Lord Osamu left off. "You will infiltrate the Red Dragon Syndicate and instrument our revenge!"

Well. Now you have met our heroine, Faye Valentine. This is the beginning of her unique tale. A tale that will not end quickly…