Chapter 2

Last time I had a good review for this one so I thought I would give it another go here's chapter 2.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Sailor Moon cast. Though I may add one or two of my own characters to move the plot along. If you wish you can poke at them with a stick but do not steal them they are not a piece of cheap candy. Just cheap plot twists.

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Makoto pulled her car into the parking lot of a nameless office building. Like most of them in the surrounding area it held with in its dark steel and reflective windows a law firm with a random last name that to this day Makoto couldn't remember. That really didn't matter though as it wasn't the law firm that was paying her but the agency on the third floor from the top. The words on the door only said maintenance, but it was a different kind of business than the rest of the firm.

Makoto showed her ID as she entered the elevator. About forty years ago she would have been going to the office of Robert, the man that first gave her the job as bounty hunter. However, he died of lung cancer at the age of sixty-three and his son Robert Jr. took control.

Robert Jr., Bud to most, was a nice boy, but a stupid businessman. He had lost control shortly after his rule. Makoto wasn't really so sure of how her latest boss Carmela took control, but she didn't care.

Makoto exited the elevator and entered Carmela's office. The office was like any other high priced attorney's, a large wooden desk, random paintings on the wall and those large backed leather seats for the clients. Makoto never sat in them; she found them a little imposing. Makoto shook her head and looked at the woman behind the desk.

Carmela was a beautiful woman in her early thirties. Due to the winter season, her usually tanned skin had paled to a whiter tone, but that did not hinder her beauty; rather, it enhanced her long black curls that fell around her shoulders. Makoto loved nothing more than the feel of those silken curls in her hands. Carmela looked up from the paperwork she was completing, took off her glasses, and looked at Makoto with honey brown eyes.

"It's about time you got here," She said with her South American accent.

"Hey, don't give me any lip, the only information I got was I have to go to Tokyo for this new job. It better be worth it Carmela because if it's not worth some serious cash I'm not going," Makoto said as she crossed her arms over her chest. In the fifty years that she had been doing this job, all the overseas jobs to Japan she had refused. There was no way she was going back to that country. Not with all those oh-so- fond memories to have to deal with.

"What does a hundred billion dollars sound?" Carmela said with a smirk. That same smirk had convinced Makoto to take Carmela on a date not too long ago, which led to one of the most memorable times between the sheets-- one of the few times that Makoto had enjoyed being topped. However, this time Makoto wanted to slap the smirk off her face.

"Hundred billion and how much of that is mine?" Makoto knew that whatever she was to get would be mere chump change compared.

"That is your share," Carmela said as she pushed the folder across the desk to Makoto. "Its all yours, and all you have to do is kill one man, then you will be home in time to watch the football game." Makoto raised an eyebrow. "I know you don't believe me but its true. I've had it checked out. It appears that the man you are to kill is supposed to be some progressive politician. He has made quite a few enemies with quite a lot of money."

"There are people that will kill for less. Why so much for one man?" Makoto said as she thumbed through the pages of schedules and photos of the man. He was tall and young. Hair clean and nicely shaven. Most of the pictures were of him in a business suit going from a car to a building, or getting coffee.

"They have already tried. Every assassin so far has either been killed or gone missing ," Makoto smirked.

"You think I'll take it because no one else can?"

"No, I think you'll take it because it's a lot of money," Makoto laughed.

"You know me so well and we've only slept together once. How can this be?" Makoto said as she put the folder back on the desk and leaned forward exposing quite a bit of cleavage for Carmela. Though Makoto was in her seventies, thanks to her senshi abilities she still looked in her mid twenties. Carmela's eyes sank down into the valley between Makoto's breasts and lingered there for a few moments before she drew her gaze again to Makoto's face. It was Makoto's turn to smirk as she saw the blush slowly form on Carmela's face. She loved it when girls blushed. Makoto just wished that she had left the glasses on. Makoto was always found glasses to be sexy.

"Makoto you can be a bit of a distraction," Carmela said trying to go back to completely the paperwork. Makoto placed one hand on the folder and with the other raised her chin.

"But, I'm also the best you ever had," Then Makoto smirked, "and you said I was good in the sack." Carmela blushed even more and tried to look down, but Makoto's hand made it impossible. Makoto laughed, "It was you who started this game Carmela. I warned you at the beginning. You knew what power I could create, but you're hooked now aren't you. I see the way you look at me now. The only thing that is probably keeping you away from me is this desk." With that Makoto removed her hand and turned around. Before she left the room she looked over her shoulder at Carmela. "I'll take the job, but I suggest that while I'm gone you find a new toy." With that she left.

Tokyo

Makoto had been in Tokyo for three weeks and still hadn't killed anyone. Makoto sighed. This was not going well. She hated this country. Hated it with every fiber of her being, but here she was back in Tokyo surround by everything of her old life and still trying to ignore it. Makoto sighed and muttered her mantra, "One hundred billion dollars." Her sense of greed and self-preservation had gotten her through much worse than some old ghosts of Christmas past.

She had done some searching about the man she was to kill. His name was Masanori Fujiwara. His family had been in power in Japan by marrying with the royal family throughout history. Makoto had to respect the family cunning. When she had first arrived, she had staked out some of the local coffee bars and restaurants he was said to go to.

His schedule was pretty standard. After leaving the house he would arrive at his office where he would conduct business until lunch. For lunch, he would go one of two places: either the café down the street, or he would have his driver take him to a small Indian food restaurant in a poorer side of town.

The café was pretty standard. It had been Americanized and mostly filled with tourists. The shop's only saving factor was the cream cakes it would sell. Or that's all that Makoto had liked. The Indian restaurant on the other hand was quite exclusive. Makoto had tried several times to enter but without success. It appeared that she needed a male escort into this prime establishment. Makoto sighed again. She knew that the restaurant was where he would finalize business, most likely through the dirty part of politics, seeing as he never went alone.

After lunch he would go back to his office where he would remain long into the night. He did not appear to have any female relationship or male for that matter. He appeared to be all business. So why was he still alive? Makoto couldn't understand that this man who mustn't have been more than 5'8'' with a slim build, had survived seven assassination attempts.

Her first assumption was that he had bodyguards, but he was always alone. Then she wondered if he had protected himself. That too did not seem to be the case as he never made any attempts to work out or practice any form of defensive training. Makoto was at her wits ends-- if she didn't find something out soon she was going to scream.

"Of course," Makoto thought, "I could just kill him from a distance." But somehow it didn't seem right. A man that had survived seven attempts disserved to see the person who was going to kill him. She had to show some sort of respect. Of course, underneath that flimsy excuse was the real reason that Makoto never killed at long distance or by a bomb. She loved that moment when her target would know they're fate. That second just before they die when they know they won't survive. It always sent a thrill through her, a release of some great tension. The best way she could describe it was that moment after really good sex.

Makoto sighed again as she flipped through the file on her desk. Three weeks of watching, and the only thing she had was the fact that he had survived. She didn't know how, but he had.

The one place that kept coming up on Makoto's papers was the Hikawa Shrine. Apparently Fujiwara-sama had found god and was spending most Saturday afternoons at the shrine. Makoto didn't want to go to the shrine. She could have pretended that she wasn't in this blasted country for maybe another week, but going to the shrine would make the whole thing just too real. Makoto had been working for so long to keep things as distant as possible. The more self-destructive the better, but this was going too far.

Suddenly Makoto's ears started to ring. The chip behind her ear wanted attention. Makoto tapped the chip.

"I'm still here," She said with a sigh.

"I know you're still there, what's the problem?" Carmela said angrily. "You're starting to cost me money. It was supposed to be an easy job. Why aren't you back yet?"

"It's not as easy as I thought," Makoto sighed and then chuckled, "What's wrong haven't found a new toy?" She heard Carmela groan on the other end.

"Hurry up. If you can't do this job I'll find someone else who can." With that she left Makoto's head.

"I swear! Sleep with someone once and they think they own you." Makoto looked down at the address of the shrine. Still the same numbers of the past. "Well Scrooge time to go meet the ghosts."

I hoped you liked this chapter. I know what I want to do next chapter please review.