Authors Note-Okay, the Crispin Glover reference in Chapter 3 was that Kat's favorite novel was Crime and Punishment, as is Crispin Glover's. Also (Though I didn't realize this at the time, some fan I am!) that Mr. Glover played the lead in the movie version of Crime and Punishment. Thus the line "She felt like the killer in Crime and Punishment" should have counted as a reference. For those who got the unintentional second one, congratulations, you get the pride of knowing you know more about Crispin Glover than I do.

The Thin Man marched through the night, with one purpose in his mind. To find the assassin they called The Phoenix. His mission to hunt her down and kill her.

Anthony had retired from the assassin business long ago, but had been persuaded to come back for one last job.

He looked at the picture of the young women getting a feel for her. He wondered what she could have done to offend such a powerful as the man who had hired him.

And wondered what the man who hired him was doing killing one of the best assassins in the business according to all accounts. This young woman could have butchered his boss into pieces, yet he was not afraid of her. Of course, thought Anthony that was why he has me. Protection. My boss can afford not to be afraid.

Anthony continued to study the picture. There was something in this young woman's attitude that reminded him strongly of himself. Cool, calm, determined, always one step ahead of the game. An energy, that when focused was deadly. It almost scared him. Almost.

For he knew he had been in the business for much longer than she had, and was much more experienced. He would find her, and he would destroy her.

He sat passive for a moment, than in a fit of want, pulled a lock of now faded red hair from his pocket, and slowly ran it over his face, inhaling. The scent had faded over the years, but he still treasured this lock above all others in his collection. In fact after he had met Dylan, he had never taken a lock of another woman's hair ever again.

Dylan.

He missed her so much. He did not know where she was, but always wondered what had happened to her. He had always regretted leaving her, but he knew that when his past started catching up with him, she was the one who would be hurt. She was always the one his enemies went after. Especially a certain one. One so evil Anthony knew he would stop at nothing to kill everyone he loved to get to him.

So he had left, though it hurt him to do so, leaving her with the hollow promise in his note that he would return someday. He knew he could not, for though it broke his heart to leave, he knew in the end that his love would destroy her.

And he could not bear that.

His thoughts turned to the task at hand. He had to find The Phoenix, find her real name. Who she worked for, get used to her patterns of the places she went and the people she knew, and when she least expected it, strike.

It would be his last favor to the fallen world of murder and lies. After this job, his killing days were over for good. And perhaps with this one life snubbed out of this world like a light, he would save many others, as she was a murderer. She had murdered many times and would again. He decided to think of it that way, instead of the innocent taking of a life. It disturbed him less. The guilt would cease. The young woman would be the sacrifice to help out of a world of hate. The world of killers.

Dylan walked down the lane to her apartment. She was bushed. She had spent all day working on the case of, as the police had dubbed it, The Silent Murderer. The One Who Strikes in the Dark. She was also very frustrated. After visiting crime scene after crime scene she still hadn't gotten any closer to cracking the case. She really hoped Kat would make dinner tonight. She wanted to pore over the evidence over dinner.

She unlocked the door and walked into her house, not paying very much attention.

Thus she didn't realize the fact the screen on her window was slightly askew. She walked into her bedroom to change. It was then that she saw him, a shadowy figure in the pale evening light. She tried to scream, but he put his hand over her mouth. She tried to fight back but he was too strong. The figure said, "Well Helen, I see you still have that fine arse on you."

Alex was preparing dinner. She sincerely hoped it would taste better than last night's meal. Even after 17 years of practice, her cooking still wasn't very good.

It was then she heard noise from the living room. Her finely tuned angel senses, unused for so long, kicked in. Her daughter Phoebe, her son Jason Jr. and her husband weren't home yet. She knew it wasn't them. She turned, grabbed a heavy pot and sneaked into the living room. She heard him before she saw him. He was clunking around the elegant room filled with antique Chinese vases. He had broken one. She heard the sick crunch of glass breaking. Then she saw him-a thick, ugly Irish thug.

She thought of one thing: Seamus.

She was about to get into fighting stance, when the gas turned on. She slipped to the floor. Her last thought before she lost consciousness was, I can't believe I fell for the oldest trick in the book-knockout gas.

Natalie was dancing along to her music when she felt a strong grip pull around her neck. A robber. She felt almost exultant.

She could finally put her training to good use after all this time. She had missed the action she had had in the angels, though the energy of all her kids had almost made up for it.

Natalie decided to strike. She pulled off an old move, flipping the man backwards. It was then she saw the other thugs and realized that this wasn't a stick-up.

Well, whatever it was bring it on! She could handle it.

Or so she thought.

She fought hard; putting all her judo and kick-boxing skills to use, but it was to no avail. She was rusty, there was no denying that. After around 17 years of doing nothing but teaching her children some simple defense moves and a quiet exercise routine every morning, she was weak. And in the end she fell, just as Alex and Dylan did, to an unknown captor, and an unknown fate.