La Femme Serena
by Aglaia

"Between stimulus and response, there is a space.
In that space lies our freedom and our power to
choose our response. In those choices lie our
growth and our happiness." Anonymous


Chapter 7: The Bodyguard

"Am I interrupting something?" Serena asked
softly with a gamine smile.

An expression full of some unsettling emotion
flickered momentarily on Cheng's face as his eyes
narrowed upon the occupant of his chair.

Dean, a few seconds too slow on the uptake,
now pulled out his gun and moved into a protective
position in front of Cheng, completely hiding him
from view. "Who are you? What do you want?" he
barked at Serena.

Before she could reply, Cheng cut in with an
obvious dismissal. "Thank you. That will do,
Dean." Cheng stepped calmly around his bodyguard
to gaze intently at Serena, taking in every detail
of her appearance, from sleek ponytail to form-
fitting black jumpsuit.

She felt the examination of his measuring eyes
and returned stare for stare. He was taller than
she expected, placing him at just about her height.
His thick brown hair was cut in a fashionable shag,
but the clothes he wore were just short of ascetic
in their simplicity. The features of his face were
delicate, almost to the point of being effeminate,
making him appear very young. He didn't look much
more than a few years older than she.

"Boss!" Dean protested.

"I no longer require your presence." Cheng's
smooth tenor voice hid the scathing sarcasm well,
although his thin but expressive lips twitched in
what looked suspiciously like a smile.

"But, Boss... She could be an assassin or ...
or something!"

Cheng spoke ironically, his eyes sharing the
humour with Serena, "Yes, well thank you for saving
me from certain death. I'm eternally grateful."

Serena merely observed the scene with a tiny
grin. This was going to be easier than she thought.

"Now if you'll excuse us..." Cheng looked
meaningfully at the door.

"Yes, sir," Dean grumbled. He left the
office reluctantly, but not before shooting a dirty
look at Serena.

Once the door was closed, Cheng turned
politely to Serena. "You'll have to excuse my head
of security. As you can see, he's rather
protective but not the sharpest tool in the shed."

"I guess not." Serena was hard-pressed not
to laugh out loud. Obviously, Cheng found the
whole scene as ridiculous as she did.

He wasn't at all what she expected. Although
there was something slightly eccentric about him
and his obvious appreciation of the ridiculous, he
dressed very much like an ordinary businessman.
His finely boned facial structure reminded Serena
of a mischievous elf with its thin, arrow-like
eyebrows raised in an impish expression. But his
plain, woolen suit was incongruously conservative
in its severe cut.

Serena reminded herself that she should trust
nothing about his appearance. Ever since the night
of her final test, she was conscious of how badly
she had misjudged Seiya's character. No longer so
confident in her opinions, Serena was now more wary
of jumping to the wrong conclusions. Taking what
appeared on the surface about Cheng at face value
could lead her all too easily into a trap, and she
could very well jeopardize her entire mission if she
read him incorrectly. Keen to stay on his good side,
if he had one, Serena planned her next move cautiously.

Out of courtesy, she deliberately stood up
and moved around to the other side of the massive
desk, relinquishing the leather chair to its
rightful owner.

Once he was comfortably ensconced in his
chair, Cheng spoke casually, as if he often found
strange young women breaking into his house late
at night. "So, I take it that you're the one responsible
for the satellite disruption."

"Ah, yes. That. Let's call it an accident. I do
apologize for any... inconvenience it may have
caused." Serena's voice was playful and suggestive.
She was deliberately turning on the charm. She
needed him to not only like her, but to like her enough
to hire her right away without a reference.

"Not at all." Cheng was nothing if not gracious. "Now
what can I do for you? Miss..." he trailed off, quirking
an elegant eyebrow expectantly.

"Serena. Just Serena. I think the real question is what
can I do for you, Mr. Cheng."

"Oh?"

"The word is that you're looking to hire a new
bodyguard." Serena paused to glance at Cheng. At his
nod of confirmation, she continued, "I'd like to apply
for the position."

"You?" His amused glance seemed to encompass her
slim figure and unlikely appearance. Compared to
Cheng's other bodyguards, she looked like a harmless
child.

"It's not about how much force you use, but how you
apply it." Serena threw another coy glance at Cheng.
"I'm new to this business, but I thought that maybe
you'd give me a chance, given my recent demonstration..."
She deliberately left the rest of the sentence hanging
seductively.

Was he buying her story? Would he accept her into
his organization? Serena was working hard to conceal
her nervousness and focus on the role she was playing.
Within that role, she negligently began to glance around
the room, as if she had no stake in whether he decided to
accept her or not. Meanwhile, Serena tried to figure out
what Cheng was thinking, analyzing his reactions out of
the corners of her eyes and from under her lashes.

He appeared to be seriously considering her offer. To
weigh the decision in her favor, Serena couldn't help but
add a little dig at his expense. "I can help you tighten up
the security around your estate. Not all late night visitors
are as ... pleasant as I am."

That pointed reminder seemed to decide him. The
mischievous look in his eyes returned. "Hmm. I see
your point. I'll tell you what, Serena. I've got an
important function coming up in the next week, and
I'll be too busy to deal with finding the additional
security I need. So here's how we'll play it - you can
stay on until the gala is over. We'll call it a trial period.
If you do a good job, you can stay on permanently.
If not..."

Serena smiled in satisfaction.


Dean, however, was less than satisfied when he heard
the news. He couldn't quite believe what his boss had
just told him. A loyal servant to the "family" for ten years,
he had already spent three years in service to Cheng.
He had worked hard to earn his place and current status,
and all of a sudden this girl comes out of nowhere and...

"You're going to let this stranger into the house!"

"No," Cheng replied frostily. "You're the one who
let her in here when your security arrangements failed.
What the HELL do I pay you for?"

Dean flushed with shame and anger, but he knew
better than to speak the sullen retort that hovered on
his lips. Instead, he looked away in frustration. The
boss just didn't understand.

After a moment of thick silence, Cheng resumed
speaking. "I'm not stupid. We have no idea who this
girl is or where she came from. If we can figure out
what she wants, we can use that to our advantage."

"But we can't just let her have free reign inside the
house!" Dean continued to protest.

"The only really important, incriminating information is
safely stored in my office computer. She'd have to be
a first rate hacker to get past the systems I've got in
place, and shedoesn't strike me as the type."

Dean's grudging reply was, "Do you think she's a spy?"

Cheng seemed to consider this. "I'm not sure. There's
something... something that isn't quite right about her.
The way she acted just didn't fit with the vibe I was
getting from her. So assume nothing. That way, we
have nothing to lose."

Finally, Dean could hold back no longer. "But what
if she ..."

Cheng cut him off abruptly. "It will be your job to see
that she doesn't. And while you're at it, do some
checkingup on her background. See what you can find
out. There's definitely a deeper game going on here.
She's hiding something, and I want to know what."


After a brief private conference with his head
bodyguard of which Serena could hear nothing, Cheng
told Dean to show her to a guest room the size of a
closetin the basement. The room was just large enough
for a cot and a dresser. From Dean's obvious expression
of antagonism when he all but locked her in her
windowless room, it was clear that he wasn't going to
make things easy for her.

As she prepared herself for bed, Serena was very
conscious of the precarious position she was in. Now
that she had accomplished the first part of her task, she
was coming to realize just how much further she still had
to go. She had succeeded in infiltrating Cheng's house,
and he had agreed to let her stay, at least temporarily.
But the more difficult part of her mission was yet to
come: getting Cheng to confide in her. Given the
lukewarm reception of her poor attempt at seduction,
she didn't know what she would try next. It was clear
that he didn't trust her, and she wasn't quite sure how to
change that.

Then there was Dean's reaction. She couldn't afford
to make more enemies than she had to. There was no
telling how much interference the disgruntled head of
security could cause, possibly even jeopardizing her
cover.

Regardless of whose side Dean was on, there would
be no safety for her as long as she was within Cheng's
compound, knowing that at any time someone could
figure out what she was doing. She would need to be
on her guard at all times. The tiniest slip of the tongue
could expose her.

It was a frightening prospect. No matter what the
Project thought, she wasn't cut out for this. But what
choice did she have? She had to find some way of
getting the information the Project wanted.The rest of
the night passed slowly. Time crawled past while she
tried to deal with the situation. Sleep was impossible,
as the danger she still felt became more and more
pressing in her mind. Her ears were attuned to the
slightest sound in the unfamiliar environment, straining
to hear anything that might indicate an attack on her
small, indefensible room, and her eyes kept darting to
the one exit as the walls closed in on the tiny space.
She forced herself to practice her breathing exercises,
but it continued to be a struggle just to breathe steadily.
It was that familiar feeling of being trapped again, but
this time it was more intense than it had ever been
before. Not even during her graduation test had she
been this frantic.

Although she was on the verge of a breakdown,
Serena forced herself to wait out the night. There was
nothing she could do to change the situation now, and
any movement on her part might actually make Cheng
and the others more suspicious of her. Even though she
knew all these things with a certainty, she couldn't help
but think the worst.

Her mind dwelled on every possibility, each more
frightening than the next. What if Cheng had changed
his mind about her? What if they had found her out
already? What if they were merely stringing her along
until they could kill her? It was a long battle with her
insecurities that ended only with the dawn.

By the time the sun had mercifully risen, Serena's
nerves were shot to pieces. Her watch told her that
it was now six in the morning. Unable to stay in the
miniscule room a moment longer, she dressed
quickly and tiptoed to the door. Her hand trembled
on the doorknob, and she tried to tell herself how
foolish she was being. If Cheng really suspected her,
he could easily have had his guards burst into the
room and drag her out whether she was willing or
not. There was no reason at all for him to wait until
morning and ambush her coming out of her room.
Logic told her this, but it was the prospect of
remaining inside the room indefinitely that finally
forced Serena to act, ambush or no ambush.
Bracing herself for an attack, she pulled open the
door.

Nothing.

The house was quiet. There was no one in sight.

She breathed a long sigh of relief. Already, she
felt much better for having left that prison of a
room.

Now that she was out in the open, Serena
instinctively decided against beginning her
investigations right away. If Cheng's people
caught her doing anything even remotely
suspicious, her whole mission would be a bust.
She was on probation with Cheng, so it was
probably best not to push her luck, no matter
how much she wanted to get this mission over
with quickly.

Instead, she moved quietly down the still-dark
basement corridor towards an open door she had
passed on her way in, the night before. Much of her
remaining anxiety left her as she beheld Cheng's
personal gym. Elaborate for a private home, there
were free weights, variable resistance machines, a
treadmill, and even an elliptical machine. All the
equipment was well used, but in good condition.

For the first time since entering Cheng's compound,
Serena relaxed. This was something she knew how to
handle. There was no need for pretense or lies here,
just work and sweat. It would be a good outlet for the
stress and tension of the long night and would prepare
her for the challenges of the day. She immediately threw
herself into her exercise routine, blocking out everything
else.

She was so focused, in fact, that it wasn't until a
derogatory voice abruptly broke into her
concentration an hour later that she finally became
aware of her surroundings.

"Well, well. If it isn't G. I. Jane..."

Serena sat up from the bench where she had been
working out. Dean was standing in front of her with
his arms crossed in an aggressive stance. Six off-
duty guards now followed him into the room,
tension written in every line of their bodies. Dean
had obviously spread the news about her, and they
didn't look pleased about it.

As they descended upon her like disgruntled bears
prematurely awoken from hibernation, Serena found
that the nervous energy she had worked off was
rushing back. Her fear of being trapped was also
kicking in, making her first reaction panic, but she
forced herself to look at the situation tactically.
Cheng's bodyguards, though strong, did not seem
very smart, especially if their security arrangements
were any indication.

As she tried to mentally steady herself, she
glanced around her, taking in the situation and
the familiar gym environment. Spotting a
cleared area laid down with exercise mats, the
memory of Amara's lessons suddenly came to
mind. Serena could almost hear her instructor's
calm and gravelly voice speaking in her head...
"Okay, Serena. You've mastered the one-on-
one techniques, but someday you may find
yourself up against a group of attackers all at
once. Now this can work to your advantage
because your opponents will be getting in each
other's way. Your main strategy will be to
compound that make things difficult for them.
Your best ally in a fight of this kind will be
getting enough space to work with, but
remember that this also gives your opponents
more room to maneuver ..."

All the long hours she had put into her lessons
returned to her, bringing with them a measure of
calm. She could handle this. Amara had taught
her well.

Serena carefully set down the barbells and stood
up. Maintaining a cautiously relaxed posture, she
moved to stand in the center of a large open space
around the exercise mats. The lumbering bears
moved to surround her in a loose circle around
the empty sparring area, their manner threatening.

"Why don'tcha stop playing around and head on
back to the kitchen where you belong. Let the real
men do the job of guarding the boss," Dean
smirked. The other guards chuckled nastily at this
comment and gave her some ugly leers.

"Yeah, sweet-cheeks," said Tom, cracking his
knuckles ominously. Serena recalled with a mental
smirk the compromising position in which she had
left him the previous night. His face was now
flushed with rage, making him look almost
apoplectic. She guessed that he had suffered more
than a bit of jeering from hisfriends since being
discovered tied up and out cold onthe bathroom
floor with his pants around his ankles. So now he
was probably trying to regain the respect of his
comrades.

Clearly, he was still upset about the incident and
was looking for a bit of revenge. "You tryin' to
make us look bad in front of the boss? You think
you can just waltz your pretty little behind in here
and start runnin' things?"

"Me?" Serena replied sweetly, baring her teeth in a
taunting grin. She easily dismissed his bravado. "Try
to make you look bad? Please. You don't need me
for that. You guys were doing pretty well at looking
ridiculous all on your own."

"Oh? Is that so?" bristled Marcus, one of the
guards who had had his fight night interrupted.
"Why don't we show little miss cat-burglar here
the way we really do things around here."

Dean smirked maliciously and gestured to his
friends. "Whaddya think, boys?"

Tom, impatient with all the talking, needed no
further encouragement. He lunged at her,
swinging with his large fists. But Serena was
ready for him. She merely ducked under his
bludgeoning strikes and grabbed his
outstretched arm. Using his own forward
momentum and placing another hand in the
small of his back, she delivered in a well-
placed shove. He stumbled out of control into
one of his buddies, knocking them both to the
floor. They struggled to get up.

"Is that all you've got?" said Serena with a
grim sort of composure.

As if her words were a signal, the rest of the
guards began to attack. Serena dodged a flurry
of punches and kicks, stomping hard on one
man's instep and kneeing another in the groin.

The guards were angry and violent, but they
were barely landing any punches. They all had
martial arts training, and together they should
have been able to take down one person. But
they were singularly incapable of working
together. Mostly they succeeded only in
getting in each other's way. With the way fists
and feet were flying, they hit one another as
often as they managed to hit Serena.

Tom was on the receiving end of the worst of
the injuries as he came back at her again and
again, determined to make her pay for his
indignity. Even after she launched a painful
haymaker at him, his ego just wouldn't let him
quit.

He surprised her by recovering quickly and
striking out at her midsection. Caught
unprepared for the blow, Serena's breath
whooshed out from her lungs and she
staggered backwards into another guard
who grabbed her in a bear hug from behind.
She struggled like a wild animal in a trap,
while the remaining guards began to close
in upon her.

Despite his serious injuries, Tom had a nasty
smile on his bruised and bloodied face. The
almost maniacal glint in his swollen eyes was
enough to make Serena's blood chill. She
kicked out at him, but Tom merely grabbed
hold of one of her feet, trapping her further.

Just as they were about to make things really
painful for her, she managed to free her leg
and was able to get some leverage on the
guard holding her. Using his weight against
him, she flipped him over her shoulder and
forward into Tom. Both went down hard.
Serena, getting her second wind, turned to
face the remaining guards with a determination
spurred on by that moment of fear.

Unfortunately for Tom's injured pride, he
was out cold again, this time suffering from a
cracked rib, blackened eyes, and another
concussive hit to the head. He wasn't alone
there for long. One by one, his friends soon
joined him, each succumbing to Serena's
intensity. In minutes, all of the guards lay
groaning around her on the mat, each doubled
over in various states of pain and
unconsciousness.

Serena glanced at the circle of destruction
around her and felt a sense of satisfaction. It
was gratifying to know that she hadn't lost her
edge as a result of her reduced level of training
since leaving the Project complex.

"Ah," she sighed, stretching her muscles. "That
felt good." But even as she strode easily out of
the gym without a backward glance, she worried
about the potential fallout from the incident.


Lita pulled the key from under the mat and
opened the door to Serena's loft apartment. She
hoped her friend's business trip was going well.
Wandering unhurriedly into the kitchen, she
found an empty pitcher from the cupboards.
She filled it with water and made her way
around the loft to water the plants.

Serena's apartment was decorated with simple
but inspired designs. The cozy and sometimes
outrageous combinations never failed to impress
her. On the surface, none of the furniture
matched, but somehow, Serena's innovative
decorating managed to work, creating a homey
feel.

'Serena is so together.' Lita sighed. 'I'm just a
mess.'

Charles had dumped her last night.

Just thinking about it made her chest ache. Her
head was still pounding from the after-effects of
a night spent in tears. Recalling his hurtful words,
Lita resisted the urge to cry again. Crying would
only make her feel worse. She felt like crawling
back into bed and devouring a pint of ice cream.
Only her promise to Serena that she would
check on the apartment had dragged her out of
her own.

She just couldn't figure out her own life. Her
relationship track record was less than stellar.
Things would start out great; the excitement
and anticipation of the early stages of dating
were always so intoxicating. Why did it
continually go wrong?

Lita had thought that Charles would be the
one to break her bad record. She had begun
to believe that he truly loved her, but he had
turned out to be just another dashed hope in
a long line of broken promises. Broken
promises and broken hearts.

So now she was alone again, and she felt so
very empty.

What was wrong with her? Was she so
undesirable that no one wanted her?

Lita couldn't answer these questions.

If only Serena were here. Serena had talked
her through her last breakup and could help
her to understand this one. Serena would
know what to do. She always did. If only
she were here now.

Lita wished that Serena's business in Vancouver
would be completed quickly so that her friend
would come home soon.


Serena stood impassively behind Cheng in his
home office, a silent statue as she watched a
warehouse employee beg and grovel. He was
a portly man whose head somehow looked
too small for his body. There was something
almost childlike in his appearance, and that
made his pleas seem even more pathetic.

"Please, Mr. Cheng! I'm really sorry. It was
a mistake. It'll never happen again, I swear!"

Serena struggled to hide her pity and
compassion for the man who fell prostrate
and trembling before Cheng.

"I-I've got a family, sir. I'm begging you, please..."

"You should have thought of that before you
decided to steal from me, Jones," Cheng replied
icily. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? You've
betrayed my trust. Now tell me, what I should
do with traitors?"

Jones flinched as if Cheng's voice literally cut
him. "I'm so sorry! My daughter needed a musical
instrument for her school band class, and I couldn't
afford one. Please! Have mercy!"

"Alright, Jones." Cheng's voice seemed to soften
for a moment. "Take him away." He gestured to
Marcus, who hauled the poor man to his feet and
dragged him out the door.

"Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you! You won't
regret it, I swear!" cried Jones, weeping even
harder now at the prospect of his release.

As soon as Jones was out of the room, Cheng
turned calmly to Dean and said, "Make sure his
body's never found."

Dean came to attention and followed the others out.

Serena was hard put to go on standing there without
reacting or saying anything in the face of Cheng's
cruelty. Something of her thoughts must have
appeared on her face because Cheng paused and
studied her for a few seconds before saying, "If I
don't make an example of him, my bosses will find
out and take care of it themselves. Jones' whole
family would have been slaughtered outright. The
Triad doesn't tolerate traitors."

He looked away towards the bright windows.
"Sometimes we all have to do things we don't
want to. And sometimes, death can be a mercy."

With that, Cheng turned back to his work.


Serena was looking forward to a good soak in a
warm bath. She was exhausted both mentally and
physically. She still wasn't sure that Cheng had done
the right thing in Jones' case, but after a long day's
work inspecting the house and grounds inch by inch
working on no sleep whatsoever, not to mention the
jetlag and her not-so-little workout that morning, she
was ashamed to admit that she didn't have the
energy to care all that much. She was just about
ready to drop.

Throughout the rest of the day, Dean had
grudgingly shown her around the house, allowing
her to familiarize herself with Cheng's home, which
seemed larger that it had on the blueprints she had
studied with Amara.

During the tour, Serena had hardly seen hide or hair
of the other guards. It was almost humorous they
way the rest of the guards had made themselves
scarce after dispatching with Jones. Perhaps they
were still nursing their wounds. Or perhaps, as
Serena liked to think, they were afraid of her. If so,
it would make her job a lot easier.

Her first task would be to firm up the security
measures around the house. Needless to say, she
was going to use the opportunity to give herself an
escape route should such a measure ever become
necessary. It had also given her the perfect excuse
to do a little snooping as well. She had made note
of a few likely places to search later. The sooner
she had the information the Project wanted, the
sooner she could get out of this uncomfortable
situation and go home.

Other than putting alarms around the skylights
and windows, Serena planned to have cameras
installed around the outside of the building. This
would save manpower and was much more
efficient. Incidentally, it would also be much
easier to tap into, evade, or shut down should
someone want to do so. Once she held the
electronic "keys" to the video surveillance feeds
and alarms, she would all but own the compound.

It had taken all day, but now she was ready to
draw up the plans for the new security features.

She was eagerly heading through the house to
her room when she heard the faint sound of music
being played. She traced the soft sounds, following
the lilting tune to a cozy outdoor alcove built into
the back of the house. Serena stopped next to the
open French doors that led out to the patio and
the alcove.

More clearly now, she could hear the beautiful
tune that was being played on what sounded
like a set of pipes or a flute from the other side
of the doorway. It just didn't feel right to
interrupt the unknown musician, so she
continued to stand hidden next to the open
doors, just listening.

Who could it be? She knew that all of the
guards were off-duty tonight, but none of
them had seemed the type to enjoy
instrumental music. And she hadn't pictured a
man like Cheng being interested in
something as sensitive and emotional as
the tune that drifted through the patio door.

The melody was simple but intense, both haunting
and memorable. The subtle counterpoint hinted at
some inner sadness that still affected the musician,
and yet it was hopeful too.

When the piece ended, Serena sighed in
appreciation. The sound must have carried
because a voice from outside called an invitation.

"Please, join me."

Serena stepped cautiously through the doorway.
Out of the darkness of the night, she saw Cheng
sitting alone on a rough stone bench in front of a
crackling fire. The moonlight and the outdoor
fireplace provided the only illumination. She was
drawn magnetically closer to his fireside seat by
the power of the poetic picture he made. It was
almost too beautiful.

He was dressed in midnight blue from head to
toe. A flute rested reverently in his hands. The
firelight reflected off the shiny silver and gave the
flute an orange glow.

"Serena," he breathed softly, seeming to come
out of a trance-like state of pensive absorption.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cheng. I didn't mean to
eavesdrop."

Instinctively, they spoke in low tones, their
voices muted. The moment demanded it.

"Not at all. I enjoy having an audience."

Serena smiled tentatively. "I didn't know that
you played the flute." It was strange to realize
that this was the same person who the Project
knew was laundering money for the Triad.
How did such a bad person make such
beautiful music? She wondered.

"Yes, I learned it as a child. At the time, I
hated the lessons my parents forced upon
me, but now... I find a curious relief in my music."

"I know what you mean. Music can be such
a release."

But what could have caused the melancholy she
had heard in his music? Serena couldn't help
wondering what event in his past had marked
him with tragedy. She wanted to ask him, but
couldn't. This was personal. Too personal. She
had to remember that she was on a mission.
She wasn't here to make friends. And besides,
this was Cheng - the person whose illegal
activities the Project wanted to stop. Only this
morning she had witnessed an instance of his
brutality. How could she possibly be friends
with someone like that? It was too ridiculous to
even imagine. But still, she was curious.

As if uncomfortable with the dangerous direction
their conversation was headed, Cheng shifted
gears. "And how are you settling in here? Are
you having any problems?"

Serena thought back to the incident that morning
in the gym. Reflecting on her otherwise chilly
reception, she said wryly, "As much as can be
expected."

"You'll let me know, of course, if there's anything
I can do?"

"Thank you. I will."

Cheng nodded absently in response. He seemed
distracted by his own thoughts.

The conversation came to a standstill. Neither
spoke for several minutes, but the moment
didn't feel the least bit awkward. The silence
was intuitive and heavy with unspoken meaning.
It seemed completely natural when, instead of
speaking again, Cheng lifted the flute to his
sensual mouth and began a new refrain, this one
as poignant as the last. The quiet of the night
and the notes of music formed its own dialogue.

Serena closed her eyes dreamily.

She was so spellbound by the music that she
almost didn't hear the snapping of a twig from
the nearby woods. Immediately, she became
alert and opened her eyes. She peered into the
darkness beyond the patio, but the firelight had
destroyed her night vision.

Something of her change in mood must have
conveyed itself to Cheng because he stopped
playing abruptly and stared at her, a question
in his eyes. She shook her head wordlessly
and motioned him back toward the open doors.
Serena stood up and stepped in front of him,
hopefully blocking any lines of fire.

Over the crackling of the fireplace, Serena could
hear the noise of someone approaching. From
the sound of it, there was just one person, and
he or she wasn't making any effort to hide their
advance.

Could it be one of the off-duty guards? She
couldn't be sure. Now drawing the weapon she
always carried, she retreated backwards, step
by step, still staying between Cheng and whoever
or whatever was out there.

They were standing in the open doorway when a
shadowed figure emerged from the tree-line. It
strode confidently towards them, quickly closing
the distance between them. Serena still couldn't
make out who it was and wasn't about to shoot
until she knew for sure.

As the dark figure came closer and closer, she
could tell that it was a man. It wasn't one of the
guards, but he seemed to know where he was
going.

Serena asked Cheng over her shoulder, "Do you
know this guy?"

"No." Cheng's voice was guarded, but Serena
thought his reply sounded slightly puzzled.

With that in mind, Serena called to the
approaching stranger. "Stop where you are,"
she commanded.

The man didn't seem to hear or heed her
words, so she pointed her gun at him and
injected some steel into her voice. "That's
far enough."

He finally stopped. He was only a few short
feet away. With Cheng still standing behind
her, Serena began to feel more nervous.

The man spoke for the first time. "I have a
message for Mr. Cheng."

Before she could stop him, Cheng came to
stand next to her. "What is it?"

"With love, from Ann," the man said.

Serena was puzzled. Who was Ann? What
the heck did that message mean?

She didn't have to wonder long.

The man drew a gun from behind him and
aimed at Cheng.

With one arm, Serena pushed Cheng down
and into the house behind her, causing the
assassin's first shot to miss. With her other
hand, she cocked the hammer on her own gun
and aimed for the assailant's x-ring in one fluid
motion, even as the assassin was moving
around her to get a clear shot at Cheng. But
for a fraction of a second before depressing
the trigger, Serena hesitated.

She had the assassin clearly in her sights, and
she knew that she would have no problems
hitting her target at this distance. But still she
hesitated. She suddenly recalled the image of
the dead Lita from her dream.

Could she do this? Could she end another
life? What about her vow? Could she stay true
to her promise not to kill unless it was
absolutely necessary? Who was she really
protecting anyway? Didn't Cheng deserve to
be punished for the bad things he did? Shouldn't
he be stopped? Why wasn't the assassin aiming
at her? If she were out of the way, he could kill
Cheng much more easily. The irrelevant
thoughts flashed on and off in her mind like
strobe lights.

But before she could come up with the answer
to any of her questions, she was forced to act.
In the brief second during which the mental
analysis had occurred, the man had positioned
himself with a clear shot at Cheng, and now
Serena saw him raise his arm to aim his own
weapon.

Later, she would never remember making a
conscious decision. Acting purely on instinct,
she lowered her aim to target the assailant's
thigh. Her body moved mechanically, and her
finger closed upon the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot rang through the night,
echoing off the nearby mountains.

She continued tracking her target in her gun
sights even as she watched the impact of her
first round jerk his body abruptly before he
stumbled and fell to the ground.

By now, Cheng was safe inside the house, and
the other guards would soon be on the scene.
Serena got up slowly and took a step towards
the fallen assassin, still keeping her gun aimed
at the man now lying crumpled on the ground.
She knew he was still alive. She had seen his leg
go out from underneath him before he fell and
had known that her aim was true. As she took
another step toward him, not sure if he was still
a threat, her mind wondered at what she had
done.

She had been taught to kill. All her training
dictated that if someone was going to fire at you,
it had to be you or that person. Kill or be killed.
There was no time for debate. There was no
room for reason or compassion and certainly no
room for mistakes. She thought she had been
acting on instinct, falling back on her training.
But if that were true, why had she aimed for the
thigh, a much more difficult shot?

Serena was just a step away when she saw the
attacker reach for his gun. Her own weapon
was still trained on him, but something prevented
her from firing. She felt her first flash of fear as
he rose unsteadily and brought his gun up again,
but he wasn't aiming it at her. Instead, he aimed
it at his own head.

Before she could do more than shout, "NO!"
he had fired.

For the third time that night, the sound of a
gunshot echoed loudly in the air. He fell
backward slowly. His gun arm now dropped
limply to his side, the gun clattering noisily to
the ground.

He was dead.

Serena was still standing over his body,
wondering what had gone wrong, when Dean
and two others reached her. Cheng had taken
one look at the body and gone immediately to
his room, locking himself in.

"He's dead," she told the guards unnecessarily.
Her voice sounded peculiar to herself. It had a
strange flatness that was devoid of emotion.

Dean bent to examine the body while another
guard went to retrieve the attacker's gun from
where she had kicked it as a safety precaution.
There was nothing recognizable left of the face.
Serena forced herself not to turn away from the
sight of it, imprinting the gory image on her
memory. Dean and the third guard frisked the
body callously. Dean gave a shout of recognition
when he lifted the black sleeve to reveal a
distinctive tattoo.

"The Dragons!" he exclaimed.

Clearly detailed above the assassin's wrist was
an unusual tattoo of a dragon, its green scales
gleaming as it coiled up the dead man's arm.
Serena didn't know what it meant, but obviously
Cheng's guards did because they looked at each
other with fear in their eyes.

Choking past the knot in her own throat, Serena
said, "I take it that's not good news."


Later that night, Serena sat alone in the dark,
thinking about her actions. She had called Amara
and reported more or less what had happened,
but Amara seemed to take it all in stride. The
instructor had merely logged the report and
promised to do some research on both Ann and
the Dragons. She seemed to think that everything
was as it should be, that Serena had done nothing
wrong.

But Serena couldn't bring herself to feel the same
way. She hadn't told Amara about her hesitation,
knowing that it would get back to the Project, but
that didn't help her resolve her feelings.

She still couldn't understand what had stopped
her from shooting him. Why had she acted
contrary to her training? Could it be that her vow
was affecting her judgment?

It had certainly caused her to hesitate at a moment
when that hesitation could have killed her. If that
assassin hadn't been so intent on killing Cheng to
the exclusion of all others, she would most definitely
be dead right now. Not only could her hesitation
have killed her, but it could also have killed Cheng,
and it would have burned her mission.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she do
what seemed to come so easily to others?

A part of her still felt that allowing the assassin to
kill his target would have been a simple solution to
her problems. If Cheng was dead, she wouldn't
have had to shoot the assassin. She wouldn't even
have to continue her mission. And didn't Cheng
deserve to die? But while her mind answered
resolutely, "yes," she couldn't help but recall the
way he had looked half-hidden in the shadows from
the firelight, the flute to his lips, and that beautiful,
beautiful music. She just didn't understand it.

Even more, she couldn't understand why the
assassin had turned the gun on himself. What was
so bad that death was the only alternative? Serena
would never forget the way he had taken his own
life the violent jerk of the body, the explosion that
shot out from the back of his head, the eyes rolling
back, and the blood. Oh, my god, the blood.

She shuddered at the memory. In that moment of
death, even as she watched the life pour from his
demolished body, she had felt glad. Glad and
relieved that she was still alive. Did that make her
a bad person?

Serena stared into the darkness without finding any
answers, and sleep was more elusive than ever.


Seiya no longer had problems sleeping.

In the weeks following Serena's completion of
training, sleep had continued to be elusive as he
grappled with the events on the night of Serena's
last test. He had gone over what had happened
many times in his head, and had finally concluded
that there was little he could have done differently
under the circumstances.

His years spent in service to the Project had
changed him. It was hard to say what was right
and what was wrong anymore. He, like everyone
else in the Project, was restricted by his devotion
to duty. Expediency became the name of the game,
and only by keeping his eyes fixed on the goals of
the Project and his heart locked in the deepest,
darkest chamber of his body was he able to wade
through the moral quagmire and ethical morass that
surrounded him. There was simply no room in his
life for second guessing or questioning orders.

Serena had come into that world like a tornado,
bringing chaos to what had been ordered in his
mind and shaking him around until he didn't know
which way was up or down. She had touched a
part of him so rusty with disuse that it was rather
more pain than pleasure he felt with its revival she
had resuscitated his heart. And now that it was
alive, beating, and capable of feeling again, Serena
had left to go on her first mission.

It was a difficult mission, one fraught with dangers
and pitfalls of which Serena wasn't even aware yet.
Seeing her at her mission briefing for the first time
in two months had been a pang.

Even thinking about it now made his heart ache to
remember that he had helped send her out on this
mission without telling her the truth about Cheng,
but again he had had no choice. Luna's instructions
had been specific.

It was a strange paradox that one as powerful as he
should feel so powerless.

The Project was his life, and nothing he could do
would change that. He wasn't even sure he wanted
it to change. Serena would simply have to succeed
or fail on her own, as all agents did eventually.

With that realization had come acceptance, and with
acceptance came a curious sense of peace. Gradually,
Seiya was able to return to his routine and turn his
attention back to the matters which had occupied him
before he had ever met a girl named Serena.


The next day was a bad one for everyone. It was
obvious from the tense demeanors and grumpy
backtalk that no one had gotten much sleep the night
before, and consequently everyone was in a bad
mood. There were a lot of short tempers and hostile
glares, and two arguments that had almost resulted in
the guards coming to blows.

When Cheng finally emerged from within his locked
room, it was evident that his night had been even
worse. From the dark circles under his eyes, Serena
wondered if he had slept at all. She certainly hadn't.

And the sleep deprivation of the past few days was
finally catching up with her, preventing her from being
able to think properly. Her inability to concentrate was
keeping her from fully understanding what was going
on around her. To all appearances, it was business as
usual. Someone had cleaned up the mess in the
backyard during the night. Serena didn't even want to
know what they had done with the body. Later that
day, she was to accompany Dean and the others to
inspect a hotel ballroom, the location of the charity gala
Cheng was throwing in a month.

Even though everyone avoided making direct references
to the assassin, there was something going on that Serena
couldn't quite grasp. She was sure it all had something to
do with the fearful "Dragons" and the mystery woman,
Ann. Serena observed covert glances between the other
guards and half-spoken implications, but she couldn't
make sense of any of it.

When Dean had informed Cheng of the dragon tattoo
on the assassin, he had only muttered darkly to himself,
"That little fool. What is she playing at?" refusing to
say any more on the subject.

If only Serena had been able to sleep last night, instead
of tormenting herself over what she ought to have
done, she might now be able to understand what all
this was leading to. Serena was sure that it was
something important, something related to what the
Project wanted to know. It was frustrating to the
extreme.

There was one upside to the assassin's attack,
however. By saving Cheng's life, she had gained the
trust of his guards. She was favored with frequent
looks of grudging respect and deference from
everyone except Dean. Even Cheng, himself, seemed
to trust her more. He had assigned her to be his
permanent shadow, which would give her a closer
view of the way he conducted business - just what
she needed to accomplish her mission that much
sooner.


She accompanied Cheng to his main office the next
day. He was still acting rather coldly towards
everyone. Serena thought that it was probably just
his reserved nature, that he was, in his own way,
trying to come to grips with his feelings. Perhaps the
incident with the assassin had unnerved him. It
certainly had for Serena.

Cheng's office was on the twelfth floor of a tall glass
building in the center of town. It was elegant in an
understated way. Clearly, Cheng's banking business
was operating well into the black, but that probably
wasn't all that difficult when one had the backing of
the Triad.

As they made their way through the office, Serena
discovered that Cheng didn't work alone. Along
with a friendly receptionist and a handful of well-
dressed secretaries, Cheng managed four tax and
real-estate lawyers, six investment bankers, and
three stock researchers. Serena was introduced
around, and as she shook hands with them, she
wondered how many of them knew about Cheng's
shady dealings.

She unobtrusively joined Cheng in his office and
tried her best to make herself invisible even as she
made an effort to mentally record everything she
saw and heard.

He spent the morning making phone calls and
reading reports. Serena saw nothing of special
interest, and as she couldn't follow much of what
she heard, it was sometimes a trial just to stay
awake.

After lunch, he had a meeting with one of the
investment bankers. They were discussing a loan
they had made to a small start-up company that
had recently gone public, when Serena began to
find herself more interested.

"They recently filed their 10-K, but our research
indicates that FluiTech's main product may be
beaten to market by IBM, and so their stock is set
to plunge. We have the option of calling back our
loan now, netting us a significant profit, but we'll be
seriously undermining the company's equity. Their
debt-equity ratio might jump radically and plummet
their quick ratio. It could set off a downward spiral
for them."

"Well, that's not our problem, now is it?" Cheng
replied frostily. "Sell all our shares, but do it
discreetly. If they can't field a viable product, it's
hardly our fault if the marketplace forces them out."

Serena didn't know a whole lot about economics
and business, but she wasn't surprised that someone
like Cheng would take such a hard line. Working for
the Triad must have given him a slightly twisted
interpretation of Smith's macro-economic theories.
It seemed to fit the profile of someone the Project
would keep an eye on.

Over the next week, Serena confirmed that this
was merely the normal practice for Cheng. She
witnessed the almost vicious brutality with which he
dealt with competitors. He gave no quarter when it
came to out-maneuvering and out-bidding others.
He bartered, he cajoled, he threatened, but the
bottom line was, he got what he wanted.

His complete callousness towards those who were
in his way was an eye-opener. It was as if they were
no longer people but mere objects obstructions that
had to be removed. He reminded Serena a lot of
Seiya in his sometimes-casual disregard for others.

What was so shocking about this was not the
pitilessness in itself she had had plenty of experience
with that in the Project but it was the contrast between
this behavior and the incredibly insightful sensitivity of
his music. Cheng was a study in contradictions. Serena
had yet to make heads or tails of him, but he was
certainly magnetic. She wanted to know what he really
thought, what made him tick. She was determined to
find out.


One night a few days later, Serena found Cheng sitting
once more in the outdoor alcove with his flute. This
time, he wasn't playing, but merely holding the flute in
his hands and absently pressing the keys. There was no
fire in the fireplace, as it was getting too warm for it.
She hesitated for a moment before joining him.

"Mr. Cheng?"

"Please, Serena. Call me Alan."

"Alan," she said shyly. Somehow, it felt uncomfortable.
With everything that had happened in the last few days,
Serena no longer knew how to act around Alan. She
had seen such different sides of him that she didn't
know what to think anymore.

As Serena learned more about Alan, she was
surprised to find that she grew to like him more and
more. The problem was, she didn't want to like him.
She was here on a mission, and getting emotionally
attached to her target could only be trouble. But in
spite of herself, she did like him. A lot.

She followed him to work every day and watched
as he organized and managed and generally made
a success of his company. She admired his
business instincts and the way he dealt aggressively
with the problems, even if she sometimes questioned
his methods.

Serena knew that Alan was involved in some illegal
activities, and had even seen part of his smuggling
operation and witnessed a few shady deals. But
how could someone who played such beautiful
music be involved in anything truly sinister? Maybe
the Project was wrong about Alan. Maybe they
had made a mistake.

Thus far, Serena had failed to discover anything
really incriminating on Alan that the Project didn't
already know. Nothing more was said about Ann
or the "Dragons," and try as she might, she couldn't
find out any more about them either.

Alan had been splitting his time between his office
and his home, where he worked mostly on the new
charity foundation he was chairing. From what she
had been able to discover, the charity foundation
was the only new project of Alan's, but it didn't
seem to be the kind of thing the Project was
looking for.

In fact, when she thought of the new charity that
was taking up so much of Alan's time now, it was
all but impossible to believe that he was capable of
anything truly evil. Serena had watched, fascinated,
for the last week as Alan had personally addressed
the details of its operation. It only made her admire
him more.

This was especially true since the charity touched
on a cause very dear to her own heart. The Cheng
Foundation was going to help homeless children get
off the streets and into a stable environment. Set up
in the Chinatown building Serena had scouted with
Amara, the charity would be a kind of walk-in centre
where young runaways could stay for a few nights.
They would be provided with food, clothing, and
shelter, after which they could enter the program that
matched them up with a new home when they were
ready.

Serena couldn't help but wonder how her own life
would have been different if someone had been there
to help her off the streets. She might never have
joined Project Eleven, might never have experienced
the horrors of her graduation night. It was a very
encouraging thought.

Even more encouraging was the devotion with which
Alan had thrown himself into his charity work. The
past two days had been especially hectic as Alan had
worked tirelessly to complete the setups before the
clinic's grand opening, scheduled for the following
week. She couldn't help but respect his dedication to
this endeavor. Surely the Project was mistaken about
someone who gave so selflessly to others?

He worked so hard, but Serena could tell that
something was bothering him. Already, he was much
thinner than when she had first met him. He looked
even more ephemeral than before. Something serious
was weighing him down, and it was taking its toll. She
wondered what it could be.

She studied him from the corners of her eyes,
watching as he continued to restlessly finger the
keys of his flute. In spite of the blatant agitation in his
fingering, there was that ever-present gracefulness
about his motions. His hands moved with a fluidity
that Serena had come to see as part of Alan's
inherently ephemeral character.

"Alan, is something the matter?"

There was a long pause before he reluctantly
admitted, "I guess I'm still upset about that assassin..."

Relieved, Serena replied, "That's normal. It's not
something you can easily brush off."

"It should be, given who I work for."

Serena could find nothing to say in response. They
sat in silence for a while, both staring at ashes in the
cold fireplace, both seemingly struggling with their
own thoughts.

"Have you ever had to do that before?" Alan asked
suddenly.

"Do what?"

"Kill someone."

A picture of the arms dealer slumping onto the table
flashed through Serena's mind. Her voice was almost
inaudible when she whispered the word, "Yes."

Alan turned to look at her more closely, while she
continued to stare at the fireplace. After studying her
for a few minutes, he said, "You don't seem like the
kind of person who... enjoys that sort of thing."

"No."

"So how did you get involved with all this stuff?" His
voice sounded puzzled and gently curious.

Serena knew she couldn't tell him the whole truth.
"I never knew my parents. Never even knew who
they were. I grew up on the streets, and when I
became old enough, I joined a gang." But even as
she gave him the background that the Project had
concocted for this mission, she was tempted by the
kindness and compassion in his eyes to reveal at
least part of her true story.

"The first time I killed someone... It was... horrible."
This at least, wasn't a lie. Just thinking about it
brought back all the fearful emotions of that
nightmarish night. Her throat started to close, and
she couldn't get out another word. She shuddered
convulsively.

Alan seemed to understand.

He nodded slowly, closing his eyes. Silence
descended upon them again.

Finally, when Serena had recovered partially, she
glanced at Alan. Her heart began to throb.

He really did understand. Somehow, he had
known that she needed time and space. He
hadn't prodded her with new questions, prying
callously into her feelings. She was surprised
by how well he seemed to know her. Even
before, he had sensed that the incident with the
assassin had bothered her as much as it had him.
After the comfortable silence had lengthened,
Serena found the courage to ask the questions
that had been preying upon her since meeting
and getting to know Alan, forgetting that she
wasn't supposed to get personal. "What about
you? How did you get started?"

"It's funny. I was just thinking about that before
you came out here. How did I get myself into this?

"My parents were just factory workers in China.
We didn't have a lot of money, and most of what
we did have was routinely taken by the government
in taxes. I remember that my parents scrimped and
saved every penny to be able to give me music
lessons. We couldn't really afford them, but they
always said that they wanted me to be more, to do
more than they did. They were trying to make my
life better. They dreamed of my success.

"But right from the start, I hated it. I thought it was
stupid to be spending money on music when we
were practically going hungry. What good was
music? It wouldn't put food in our mouths or pay
the bills. I didn't understand.

"Then, one day, my dad said the wrong thing to the
wrong person and he and my mother were hauled
off to the state prison as political insurgents. Even in
those days, it was dangerous to criticize anything the
communist government did. They died in a labor
camp a year later. I was fourteen." Alan stopped to
take a deep breath before continuing.

"So there I was, virtually still a child, with nowhere
to go and no way to support myself. With my
parents branded as traitors to the state, no one
wanted to get too close to me and be tarred with
the same brush. Things looked pretty bleak for a
while.

"But I was lucky. The owner of the factory where
my parents worked took me in. His wife had died
young, leaving him without children, so he was glad
to have me. He didn't care about politics. He just
wanted to pass on his business to someone. I don't
think he ever loved me, but it didn't really matter. I
wasn't his son.

"As it turned out, he was a small-time operator for
one of the big crime families in Hong Kong. And by
that time, I was sick of being poor and hungry. He
saw that I had a gift for business and taught me
everything about his operation. Soon, I was finding
ways to make it more efficient. I doubled the
company's profits in six months, and doubled it again
within the next year. But it wasn't enough for me.

"By the time I was seventeen, I had come to the
attention of one of the big players in the Triad. They
put me through university and gave me control of a
small corporation. And I've been working for the
'family' ever since.

"You'll probably think this is strange, but all I ever
wanted was to be a simple businessman, to have
enough money that I would never have to worry
about going hungry again, and to be more than just
some factory worker. I owe the 'family' my loyalty
for giving me my start, so I help them out with a few
things here and there. But it's not me.

"I wish ... I wish I could call it quits, give all this
nonsense up, but once you're in... there's no way
out."

'Sounds familiar,' Serena thought sympathetically. It
really was an incredible story. Now she knew the
source of the sadness in his music. She felt so much
closer to him as a result. She couldn't help but respect
how far Alan had come from the tragedy that had
marred his early life.

"So," Alan finished wryly, "In a way, that's why I'm
working so hard on this charity. It's my chance to
give back, to make amends for the things I've had to
do to survive. Pretty selfish of me isn't it?"

"Oh no, Alan. I think it's wonderful."

"Thanks, Serena. And thanks for listening."


On her way to Alan's office in response to his
summons one night, Serena paused outside the office
doors when she heard yelling from within. Pressing
her ear to the door, she listened to the end of the
conversation.

"... had enough of your stupid excuses! I don't give a
damn what you have to do to get that ship to the
dock on time. I want it ready to receive the cargo on
the 21st, do you hear me?"

Dismissing it as yet another business matter, Serena
opened the door and walked in.

"Well, FIX IT!"

She waited until he had slammed down the phone
before speaking. "What was that all about? Anything
I can help with?" "Oh, that. That was just the limo
service for the gala. Those idiots accidentally
overbooked for that night, so we'll have to drive
ourselves," said Alan, causing Serena to blink in
surprise. "But there is something you can help me
with."

A small flag went up in Serena's mind, even as
she maintained a pleasantly disinterested demeanor.
'Why did he lie? What was that about? Was this
important? Something about a shipment? Did this
have anything to do with her mission?' She felt a little
hurt at the knowledge that he was hiding something
from her. And there was definitely a reason why he
didn't want her to know the truth. He had lied so
easily, but maybe that wasn't significant. Making a
note to investigate it later, she calmly replied, "Sure.
What is it?"

"My date for the Gala cancelled on me at the last
minute, and I was hoping you would fill in for me. I
know it's short notice, but since you'll be there
anyway, what better security could I have than my
bodyguard as my date?"

Serena was both surprised and flattered, momentarily
forgetting her suspicions. "Oh! Well, I don't know if
I should..."

"Please, Serena. You would be doing me a huge
favor. You wouldn't want the guest of honor to go
stag, now would you?"

Serena made one more token protest. "But I don't
have a dress."

"No problem. Why don't you take tomorrow off and
go shopping. It's on me.

"Well, if you insist..."

"I do. And thank you, Serena. You've saved me again."

At those words, Serena couldn't help but feel a curious
pain in her chest. She had saved him once, but he had
no idea that she was really a spy. He trusted her, and
here she was, betraying that trust in the most terrible
way. Her conscience was screaming at her to come
clean with him, but there was something that held her
back. She still hadn't found out what the Project was
looking for, nor had she figured out who Ann was.
And Alan, himself, had just lied to her.

She tried to justify all this to herself.

But the pain in her chest wouldn't go away.


The next day, Serena wandered down crowded
Robson Street, looking for the perfect dress to wear
to the Gala the next day. She wanted to look beautiful
for Alan. Normally, she wore comfortable clothes
around the house like jogging suits or conservative
pantsuits when she accompanied him to the office -
clothes that would allow her to move freely in the
event of an attack. He had never seen her in a dress
before, and she wanted to impress him.

Serena couldn't help but feel excited that he had asked
her to attend the Gala, and not just as a bodyguard.
She had never been to such a formal party before,
and from what he had spent on this one, it was bound
to be a beautiful event. The Mayor and many of the
city's foremost dignitaries would be attending.

As she stopped to look at a window display, Serena
suddenly noticed a head of dusty blonde hair in the
reflection. It looked awfully familiar, but she couldn't
immediately place it.

Experimentally, she moved down the street and
watched as the blond hair followed her. Finally
realizing where she had seen that ultra-short haircut
before, she turned into the next shop and waited for
the blonde to follow.

Serena browsed through a nearby rack while she
waited. She didn't have to wait long. The blonde
came to stand next to her and spoke while they both
pretend to look at the clothes.

"Jesus, Serena! I thought I'd never get in touch with
you!"

"Sorry, Amara. I haven't been checking in with you,
but they've got me so busy that I haven't been able
to get away for even a moment. There are usually at
least two other guards around all the time. This is the
first time I've been alone all week."

"Well, alright," Amara grudgingly allowed. "Just tell me
you've found out something important."

Serena winced. "I've tried, Amara. Honestly, I have.
I've looked everywhere. He must be keeping the
important files on his personal computer at home, but
it's got so much security that we'd need Amy to break
it."

"Hmm. I think we can manage that."

"What?" They weren't thinking about sending Amy
over to help were they?

"I'll just let the Project know what we need, and they'll
send us a virus Amy designed that can hack into any
computer system known to man. Trust me. I've seen it
work before. Amy's the best. All we have to do is
upload the virus directly onto Cheng's computer. Can
you do it?"

Serena thought about it for a moment, but decided
against doing it herself. "Listen, tomorrow night Alan
is hosting a charity gala downtown."

Amara interrupted here with an arch look, "Oh, so it's
Alan now, is it?"

Unaccountably, Serena blushed. "Well, what am I
supposed to call him?" she said, trying to brazen
her way out, but her former instructor saw right
through her.

"Be careful, bunny. These are deep waters. I wouldn't
want you to drown," the shorter-haired woman
cautioned seriously.

"Don't worry. It's nothing," said Serena before rushing
on. "Anyway, everyone will be there at the Gala, so
that means the one guard will be watching the
compound from the gatehouse. And you can get
around him the same way I did. I've got the codes to
all the security systems, so all you need to do is go in
after we leave, upload the virus, get the files, and get
out before the party's over."

"Tomorrow night? That's cutting it a bit close. I hope
I'll be able to get the virus by then."

"If not, fine. I'll find some other way to get the files,
but I'm telling you, tomorrow's our best chance."

"Okay. Sounds like a plan," Amara confirmed. "I'll
get right on it. I'll call you if I don't get the virus in time.
If you don't hear from me, assume that everything's
going ahead. You'd better tell me what the codes are
now and what time you'll be leaving for the party."

"They're sending over a car for us to use at six-thirty.
Here, I'll write down the code sequences for you. I'm
sure you can manage the locks by yourself"

"I'm sure I can," Amara replied with a feral grin.

Once they had exchanged the info, the two prepared
to part ways. Just before Amara left to contact the
Project and Serena to continue her search for the
perfect dress, Amara stopped her former pupil and
said, "Oh, by the way, I wasn't able to find anything
on Ann, but I looked up the 'Dragons' for you like I
promised."

"And?"

"They're an old organization of fanatical hitmen. Some
kind of religious motivation. If they don't carry out the
hit, they suicide themselves rather than get caught."

Serena's face became unreadable.

"What do you think it means?" asked Amara, watching
her partner closely.

"I'm... not sure. I haven't figured out what the
connection is yet between Alan and this Ann person."
Serena thought for a minute and asked, "Do you think
the Dragons will try again?"

"Almost certainly. Once they accept a contract, they
don't stop until it's done. I'd be extra careful if I were
you."

Much sobered by this revelation, Serena nodded in
return. "Good luck."

"Back at ya, bunny."


The night of the Gala found Serena unexpectedly
nervous. There were going to be so many important
people attending, people she couldn't afford to offend
for Alan's sake.

And then there was this business about the Dragons.
The public event might be a good opportunity for
them to strike. Serena would have to be on her guard.

She was also worried about Amara. She hadn't heard
from her partner, so she had to assume that Amara had
gotten the virus in time. She hoped that everything
would go smoothly.

She nervously adjusted the tulle skirt on her dress
before opening the door into the foyer where Alan
was waiting. He was looking over some papers with
his back turned towards her, giving her a chance to
take a good look at him.

Serena had noticed that Alan tended to dress in
monochromes and achromatic shades, favoring
simple grays, blacks, and dark blues. Tonight was
no exception. His suit was midnight blue with an
Asian-style collar, but whereas his clothes were
usually plain and simply cut, the jacket he now
wore was decorated with silver piping and
embroidery in designs that looked like vines
wrapped intricately around him. For Alan, this
was lavish embellishment. In Serena's mind, it only
served to highlight the fey quality that naturally
enveloped him.

She stepped into the room, her heels clicking on
the marble floor. Hearing the sound, Alan turned,
and his lips curved in a smile when he saw her. He
slowly took in her appearance from head to toe,
his eyes lighting in appreciation.

"You look lovely, Serena."

She felt herself blushing. "Thank you."

"Are you ready to go?"

Serena nodded, and he offered her his arm,
leading her outside to the waiting car. It was
Alan's own Audi TT Roadster. He settled her
into the low passenger seat before going around
to the driver's side. Dean and the other guards
had gone ahead to help set up and greet the
early guests.

As the sleek sports car sped downtown to the
hotel, Alan reached across the seat and took
Serena's hand, placing it gently on top of his on
the gearshift. "I'm so glad you're here with me."

"Me too."

The rest of the ride passed in silence, and Alan
continued to hold her hand gently in his.


After welcoming countless guests, Serena's
hand was sore from all the handshakes. Some
people just didn't realize that you weren't
supposed to crush the bones of the hand you
were shaking. There was such a thing as being
too macho.

Alan turned to her after thanking the last of the
guests for coming. "Sorry about all this. I know
this is a pain, but I really appreciate all your help.
You were fantastic," he said softly in her ear.

Smiling ruefully in apology, he continued, "Don't
worry. The rest of the night will be much easier."
He took her aching hand and massaged it gently
in his. "Can I get you a drink? Some champagne
to celebrate the success of my charity foundation?"

Serena shook her head. She would never forget
the taste of champagne going sour in her mouth.
It wasn't an experience she was eager to repeat,
and she didn't think that she would ever come to
enjoy the drink after what had happened the first
time. "No thanks. I shouldn't be drinking while
I'm working. I am supposed to be your
bodyguard, after all. Could you get me some
soda instead?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll be right back, my lady."
Alan raised her hand to his lips and lightly kissed
the back like some gallant knight.

Serena had never been kissed like that before,
and felt her cheeks heating in a blush, something
she seemed to be doing more and more frequently
around Alan. It was kind of nice.

Once he had departed to locate some beverages,
Serena walked to one of the empty tables and sat
down wearily, relaxing. Now that the party was in
fully swing, she figured that the chances of an attack
by the Dragons were slim. She surveyed the
ballroom full of chattering guests in evening dress.

Everything sparkled like magic, from the chandeliers
and long strings of fairy lights wrapped around small
potted trees, to the glittering jewels adorning many
a guest - some were so predictably excessive as to
pass far beyond the bounds of good taste.

The decorators had really done a spectacular job.
Candles and large bouquets of tulips, irises, and
bleeding hearts formed the centerpieces of each
table, agreeably complementing the ivory table
cloths. Matching ivory organza and lace slip covers
were draped over the high-backed chairs.

Serena closed her eyes and let the music from the
conventional band wash over her. She fell into a
half-trance until a sharp voice interrupted her reverie.

"So you're the flavor of the month."

Serena's eyes shot open at that acerbic remark to
find a short, red-haired woman standing in front
of her and looking her over disdainfully. In startling
contrast to the flame-red hair, the woman was
wearing a sleek, form-fitting sheath in midnight blue
that was dotted with silver sparkles. The material
looked like it had been cut directly out of a night
sky filled with stars. From the fashionable cut of the
dress and the ostentatious diamonds and sapphires
that bedecked the décolletage, Serena could tell
that this was a wealthy woman.

"Excuse me?" Serena asked in a shocked voice,
confused by the fact that she didn't recall seeing
this woman among the guests she had greeted.

"You and Alan. I saw you together earlier."

"Is that so?" Serena said haughtily, feeling quite
affronted. "And what business is that of yours?"

The redhead smiled a smile that was not at all nice.
It was a smile that made Serena want to reach for
her gun. "I'll only say this once: stay away from
Alan if you know what's good for you."

"I'll do whatever I please, thank you very much."
The nerve of this woman! Serena wondered who
the heck she was.

The smile dropped from the woman's face, and
she leaned in close to Serena. "You'll regret it."

"Was that a threat?" Serena's eyebrows shot up in
incredulity. What was going on here?

The crimson-haired woman simply shrugged
negligently and turned to leave. As she disappeared
into the crowd on the dance floor, she tossed the
words over her shoulder, "Only if you want it to be."

Serena sat stunned for several seconds until Alan
appeared at her elbow, drinks in hand. Taking one
look at the expression on her face, he said, "Ah. I
see you've met Ann."

"That was Ann!" Serena could only stare at Alan.

"Short, red hair, bitch?"

"How did you know?

Alan looked away into the ballroom. "She's the
only one I know capable of having that effect on
people."

"So who is she?" Serena felt eaten alive with
curiosity. She studied Alan closely, but he
remained silent, steadfastly gazing in the direction
Ann had gone. Serena said softly, "Alan, why did
she try to kill you?"

The answer was a long time coming. "She's my
ex-fiancé."


Next Chapter: As Alan's charity gets off the ground
and Serena goes head-to-head with Ann, the Project
forces Serena to make a difficult choice.

Aglaia