Chapter 11

April 2012

This was the life, Samantha thought as she carefully made her way through the crowd. Once parties like this had been the norm in the States as well, they had been so common that she'd gone to them quite often. These days things were so bleak though. It had been bad after her father's death, but once the Pulse hit… She shook her head, that couldn't be helped now, and dreaming about how it used to be didn't make it any better.

Unfortunately, while looking around the room it was impossible for her to stop from doing exactly that. France too had been affected by the Pulse, yet here she was, at a party in a city where everything worked as it was supposed to. The worst part of the whole mess was that she couldn't really blame anyone for the lack of parties. Oh, it would have been nice if her mother had thrown more parties before the Pulse, but the woman had been hit hard by the sudden death of her husband.

And while she was far more like her old self again, those first months had been especially hard. So hard in fact that a sixteen year old Samantha had been suddenly forced into the position of pater familias. Which was plainly ridiculous. While she didn't want to sound sexist, that was a title meant for a man. It even said so in the name.

But there hadn't been anyone else capable of filling the position. With her mother an emotional wreck, and her little brother far too young, she had been the only choice. After all, she had no intention of giving over command of the family's fortune to someone who wasn't directly related to her. At least not once she'd gotten back to her senses. Hah! They had been so nice to her during the whole thing, offering emotional support, telling her she wouldn't have to worry about all the little things like finances, and even going so far as to pay for the funeral.

Okay, she had to be fair here. The funeral had been paid for by uncle George, and he had never shown any intention of taking over from her. But those other leaches… A strange look from a passing waiter made Samantha realize she was scowling, so she quickly schooled her expression into something more suitable for the occasion. With a polite smile pasted on her face she then continued her tour around the large room.

Knowing that some of those leaches were with her in this very room, Samantha didn't trust herself to start a conversation with anyone and instead chose to walk a bit more around the room. Who knew? She might even discover the location of her companion for the evening. The boy had managed to make himself scarce moments after their arrival, and she hadn't seen him since. It was rather cute, in an annoying kind of way, and he'd have to mend his ways if he intended to marry her.

Although she sometimes still caught herself thinking of him like a little boy, Jacob Masters was actually almost six years older than she was. Not that something like that stopped him from acting like a ten-year-old when it suited him.

The adorable way his face had crinkled after hearing that they would attend this party had almost made her want to kiss him. Alright, that wasn't the only reason, but that wasn't the point here. The fact was that if he intended to remain at her side, thereby merging the assets of both their families, he would need to learn to live with parties like these.

How he expected to go through life without them was something she couldn't understand anyway. People always were more open on these occasions, and there was usually at least one person who wouldn't be watching how much he was drinking. Thereby opening up opportunities anyone could take advantage of. And one of the last lessons her father had managed to impart on Samantha was that she should be the one to take advantage. But that boy just didn't seem to get that into his head. Now where was he?

"Another drink, madam?" was suddenly spoken from beside her, and, while the sudden appearance of the waiter surprised her, Samantha hid any sign on her face that might betray that feeling before she turned around

Looking at the silver tray the man was carrying, she didn't need long to make her decision. "Yes, thank you," was all she said before reaching for the glass of red wine. The first one she'd had of this vintage had been pretty good, not as good as some of the more well-known brands, but pretty good anyway.

"You're welcome," the man said while starting to around.

It was moments like this that Samantha wished she hadn't been raised so well. If that had been the case she could have just grabbed the man by his sleeve to stop him. But now the more polite way needed to be utilized. "Excuse me, could I ask you a question."

Turning back to her, the waiter raised an eyebrow in a manner that might have been construed condescending. Stuck up Frenchies. "Naturellement, madam."

Hah, if he thought to fool her by talking in that silly language, he was wrong. According to her mother it had been very important for her to be able to express herself in many languages, and Caroline Trudeau had been especially insistent when it came to French. So, she decided to simply continue in that language. "Yes, I was wondering about this wine. Where does it come from?"

Annoyingly enough, the man didn't appear fazed by her knowledge of his own language, as if he actually expected it. The cheeky bastard. No she shouldn't be like this to the poor man. He couldn't help it that she was so anxious to see that silly boy. "This comes from one of miss Summers' personal vineyards."

Hold on, had she heard that correctly? "One of her personal vineyards? You mean to tell me she has more than a single vineyard?"

"Naturellement, she has excellent taste when it comes to choosing wine. Over the last two years she has taken over several smaller ones, this will need to suffice until the main vineyard is ready."

"Ready? What do you mean by that? Isn't it just a question of placing the bushes, or trees, and turn the grapes into wine?"

This time she got a visible reaction from the waiter as he almost flinched at her statement. Butchering the way vineyards worked was probably a capital offense here in France, so she might have been better off keeping her mouth shut. "Not quite. It takes a number of years before a vineyard is capable of producing grapes of sufficient quality that they could be used to create a vintage of even a the least acceptable quality."

"Oh, and there's probably a lot of work involved as well."

"Indeed, many people will work on the vines in order to ensure a maximum harvest."

"Huh, and here I thought it was all done automatically," Samantha mused, but noticing how the man reacted to that, she quickly changed the subject. Lesson 43, always be nice to the personnel, both your own and your competitors'. They are the ones who keep the secrets that truly matter. "I'm sorry about that. I think I'll have to do a bit of research before continuing a conversation like this."

"That might be for the best, madam."

She looked in his eyes, using her winsome smile to its greatest effect. "But I wasn't aware Summers had a vineyard, I always thought she did something with genetics."

"Miss Summers has many business interests, in fields ranging from biogenetics to finance and even manufacture," the waiter explained. "However, in this case it has to do with her personal preferences. She spent quite a bit of her youth near a vineyard, and has pleasant memories about them. Aside from that, she takes satisfaction from the fact that her guests enjoy a vintage the she has worked on herself."

"Okay…" Samantha slowly said, while trying to come to grips with this torrent of information. Maybe she should have done some more research into her subject, how could she not have known all this? Only some genetic engineering, hah! Someone was going to wish he'd given her more up-to-date information once she got back home.

"If you'll excuse me now madam, I'll have to continue my round."

"Oh sure," she answered, without really paying attention to his words. It wasn't until he turned around once more that what he said registered in her mind. "Sorry, one last question."

She knew he had to be pissed by now, but he didn't let any of it show in his behavior. Obviously a well-trained professional this. "Yes?"

"Do you happen to know what's keeping miss Summers? I thought she would have been here over an hour ago."

"Unfortunately, something has come up that she needed to deal with immediately."

X.X.X

The moment she dropped to the ground Dawn already knew it was too late. Something that was confirmed when a bullet painfully grazed her shoulder, briefly calling back memories of another time that shoulder had been hit. But no, quickly rolling over until she was hidden behind one of the pillars that adorned the mansion's front porch, she realized this wound wasn't nearly as bad as the one she'd received in Iowa had been.

Despite the similar location, this was only a grazing wound that wouldn't even impair her ability to function. Thinking of which… She had been distracted for only a fraction of a second, but now it was time to pay attention to the world again. Getting to her feet, she realized that she was still in a situation that was far from comfortable.

As her hiding place became her opponents' prime target, Dawn wondered where these guards had suddenly come from. How could they have remained hidden from her until now? And more importantly, why had they remained hidden for all this time? Before she could contemplate this question a stone chip from the pillar she was hiding behind managed to work its way into her arm. Thereby tearing her attention once again back to the present.

How many were there? And how long would it be before they'd start to circle around her? Those questions raced through her head, easily supplanting the earlier ones, and there was even a pretty simple solution for finding the answer to them. All she had to do was risk her head and look around the pillar. Right, that shouldn't be a problem, now should it?

Mere moments before she almost tried to sneak a peek anyway, reason returned and she remembered there were other ways to do something like this. A small plastic mirror appeared from the pocket she kept it in, and was used to scan the garden.

Yes, there were the two guards she'd taken out upon first arriving here. They had been so easy to handle, and in her mind that had set the tone for the rest of the mission. All the guards would undoubtedly be that easy to handle, leaving her free to do what she'd come here for.

Of course, she realized now that these two must've simply been the least competent of the bunch, but that realization had obviously come a bit late. She wasn't here for self recrimination though, especially when there were better things to do. Using the mirror Dawn could aim at her targets without exposing herself, so that's what she did.

It probably looked silly how she was practically hugging the pillar, but where it concerned her safety this was a lot better than any other choice Dawn had at the moment. The only things that might stand a chance of getting hit by the guards were her hands, one holding the mirror and the other pointing the business end of her gun at them.

Her first shot went wide, but came close enough to scare the fools into hiding. The next shots got closer to where she aimed, but there were too many factors involved here for her to be able to aim as well as she usually did. Not to mention the fact that the cowards were now hiding behind pillars. Damn this all to hell! Had she known the assignment would be this hard she'd never taken it on for tonight. She didn't need the fee and she didn't have any use for the man's possessions either.

With anyone else, she might have emptied some of his bank accounts into a Swiss one that she controlled, but not even that had been possible here. Despite his posturing, mister Beauchamps was obviously broke. Well duh, she thought, if that hadn't been the case she wouldn't have been hired by the people he borrowed from, now would she?

Shaking her mind at the silly thoughts she sometimes had, Dawn used the opportunity that was provided when one of the guards broke cover. She only needed to pull the trigger twice before the man fell over, never to rise again. One down, far too many to go. She really shouldn't have accepted this assignment. Just because it might have gone to the Order if she hadn't wasn't a good enough reason. Not today at least.

Today was after all the day that she'd throw her first party for the so-called elite. A party, she remembered chagrined, that started almost an hour ago. A lot of planning had gone into this party, and now she wasn't even showing up. Oh boy, was Véronique ever going to be pissed at her.

But as she'd told the woman before, socializing wasn't her strongest point. And with a sheepish look on her face, yet a complete lack of guilt, she had to admit that the party might perhaps have been one of the reasons she'd accepted this mission. Sure, she could keep on telling herself that it was because of other reasons, but the truth was rather obvious and simple. She'd have to wear one of those non-functional ridiculous dresses.

The appearance of a guard within her sight triggered another automatic response from her, and once he was lying on the ground she took a moment to check her ammo. Seven rounds left in this magazine, and, apart from the half-full one she'd replaced earlier, only two magazines left. That wasn't entirely bad, bit it wasn't good either. And it wasn't as if she hadn't brought enough ammo for two missions of this nature. Two missions where her information had been correct that is.

Looking around she checked for anywhere that would be safer than where she was now. Unfortunately, the only place that presented itself was the open door leading into the house.

There was no way that she'd be able to keep these people pinned down for much longer, it actually was surprising she had managed this long. Sooner or later they'd come to the conclusion that she'd never be able to kill all of them if they all acted at the same time. Luckily it appeared as if there was no real hero among them, but it couldn't be very long until they'd gain enough courage anyway.

Which meant that staying out here would get her killed, leaving her without a real choice. Taking two quick steps in the direction of the door Dawn dove for the floor and rolled until she was once again on her feet, a mere two meters from the opening. Meters that she bridged quickly while emptying her gun in the direction of the guards. Only once she was safely inside did she allow herself to heave a small sigh of relief at having gotten through.

Alright, she'd had a breather now Dawn thought while focusing once more on the situation. While replacing the empty magazine, she took stock of the situation. The main lobby, well the only positive thing she could say about it was its location on the inside of the house. From studying the blueprints of the mansion, Dawn knew that there were three ways to reach the room she was in now. The first was through the front door, but she was certain that the guards were good enough to realize they'd never survive that.

Which meant that only two or three of them would stay on the front porch, while the others would circle around for the other entrances. So, she had to figure out a way to stop them once they arrived or, even better, before they'd get here. A three-pronged attack would be a bit difficult to survive in this bare room.

A look at the stairway leading to the upper floor told her immediately that trying to secure that would be impossible. She might be able to keep anyone from coming down the wide steps, if that was the only thing she needed to do. But if the guards descending the stairs were covered from above, and an attack came from the outside, and more guards arrived through floor level entrance to the room as well… No, that would be impossible.

This room was simply far too dangerous for her to stay in; she needed to continue on into the house. Crossing the room, Dawn opened the door she found there to the hallway beyond, only to discover that a guard had already arrived. How? She hadn't been standing there that long had she? No, she hadn't. Understanding came the very moment she killed the guard, and she couldn't contain the long-suffering sigh.

Obviously the time had arrived for another test. And it wasn't the corpse lying in the bedroom upstairs. It made sense. It was the most obvious solution to something that had been bothering her the entire night. If the target was broke, how could he afford any guards at all? Damn it! Hitting the wall with her fist Dawn fumed at the unfairness of it.

Why did she have to keep going through these things? She hadn't liked it when she'd had to deal with Dux, or the people that Soldats had sent after he'd been killed, but she'd always survived the encounters. Something everybody had been able to look up even back when they still used DVDs. So why did those Terakan fools believe they could succeed where Soldats had failed?

X.X.X

This was unbelievable. Simply unbelievable, Samantha thought while taking in the sight before her. She had left the party room when she'd finally admitted to herself that Jacob wasn't in there, and had gone exploring. Her first impression of the mansion was that it looked incredible—obviously a good designer had gone over it—but it seemed empty. As if nobody was ever here to enjoy its luxuries.

Upon realizing that, she had immediately vowed to herself that once she had her own house, it would be a place she could call home. Somewhere she could really live, not just exist as the inhabitant of this place obviously did. Of course, it made sense that Summers was never here. Especially if the information the waiter had given her was correct. Setting up a commercial empire like that took a lot of time, no matter how many people you had working for you.

But what she was looking at now wasn't something Samantha would have expected in a thousand years. It was a large room, although somehow it didn't seem nearly as empty as the smaller ones had, something that wasn't just because of the people inside.

Equipment was placed throughout the room, both for fitness and a wide variety of sports. No team sports though, everything she saw was either for one single person, or at the most two competing people.

But that wasn't what she found unbelievable. No, not even the fencing equipment hanging from the wall that she longed to use earned the title of unbelievable. There was only one thing that could be termed thus, and wonder of wonders it was the boy she'd been looking for.

"Jacob! What do you think you're doing?"

And he even had the gall not to look sorry! "Oh, hi Samantha. Come here, I want to introduce you to my new buddies here."

New buddies? What was he thinking? They were common servants, nothing more, nothing less. But it was easier to admonish him when she was next to him anyway, so she walked over. "Why aren't you at the party?"

"Why aren't you?" The shit-eating grin on his face told her that he was attempting to make a joke, but she couldn't really laugh about it.

"I was looking for you."

"You were worried," Jacob breathed surprised, before his grin widened at this, obviously incorrect, realization.

"Was not."

"Yes you were. You were worried about me."

"Why would I be worried about someone who can't even spend more than five minutes at an important gathering?"

"Oh no, you can't fool me," he told her with that smile still on his face. He really looked like the lovable fool he was when he did that, didn't he? No! Angry, she was angry at him and shouldn't let him distract her.

"Why aren't you at the party?" There, let him answer that question.

"It was boring. I told you it would be boring even before we came here, and I did not feel like suffering for an entire evening."

"I thought your parents asked you to secure a business deal with miss Summers? Shouldn't you be working on that?"

"She's not here yet, or has she arrived in the last five minutes?" Jacob asked her, with that annoyingly smug look on his face. How could one man look adorable one moment, and like a total jerk the next? And more importantly, how dare he use logic against her valid arguments?

"That's not the point!" Samantha almost screamed at him. Boy, did she hate having to resort to something like that. There had to be a way to convince him that she was right, he was wrong, and that he should do what she told him to.

"Of course it is. I don't have to talk to the people in there, they don't have anything I need from them."

"Not now perhaps, but who knows how it will be in a couple of years? Or don't you think that's important? You're supposed to talk to them to make new contacts that you can abuse later on."

"Abuse?" he asked with a smile, interrupting her nice refreshing rant. Abuse? Had she said that?

"Use, I obviously meant use. Don't you try to correct me here. It's you who's wrong."

But Jacob didn't appear to want to give up on her Freudian slip. "I think that you're not as innocent as you try to appear."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." How come she was suddenly on the defense? He was in the wrong, not her. Right?

"No, no. I think that behind that proper facade, you're actually a naughty little girl. Telling everybody what they should be doing, but not because it's the right thing to do. Oh no," Jacob raised himself from the bench he'd been seated on and approached her, while she took a doubtful step backwards. "You want people to follow the rules because you think you know them better than they do. And when they play by the rules you can outmaneuver them and take what you want."

Right. Time for the counterstrike. "T-that's ridiculous." Oh great one Samantha, see how he's standing there incapable of a good retort?

"Is it? I think it sounds exactly like the kind of thing a smart woman like you would try to do. And do you know why I think you do it like this?"

"No, but why don't you enlighten me with your clairvoyant knowledge? I obviously have a good reason for it, otherwise you'd never have attempted these ridiculous accusations." There, that's better. Sarcasm strikes again, but even as she was trying to convince herself that she was starting to get back in the game, Samantha could feel her heart racing. And that wasn't just because of the wonderful aftershave Jacob was wearing.

Jacob kept approaching her, and Samantha took another step back, only to encounter the wall. How had she gotten here? Shouldn't she have backed out the door or something? But a quick look to the side showed her that somehow she must've turned somewhere.

His fault! He'd done this to her! How dare he mess with her mind like this? And he even continued doing so! The cheeky… she never finished that thought as she was suddenly focused on the wonderful feeling of his lips on her forehead. In fact, she was so focused on it that she missed his murmur. "What did you say?"

"I said it's because you're a decent person. One of the rare really good people left in the world," Jacob repeated his comment.

What? That didn't make sense, so Samantha immediately struck back. "Don't be ridiculous, don't you realize how much you're contradicting yourself here? How can I be both a sneaky bitch trying to manipulate everyone around her, and at the same time be such a good person. Huh? Explain that to me."

"Oh my love." He'd called her my love! She loved it when he did that, and she was pretty sure he knew that because he only used it sparingly. Usually when he was in trouble. And he dared accuse her of manipulating people? "I said you want everybody to use the system, because you know the system so well. What I mean is that it's the only way you can get an advantage over certain people, as you are simply incapable of going outside the rules. You simply can't cheat."

"I so can cheat. I distinctly remember doing so." And she did, she could easily remember the last time she'd cheated.

"Really? And when was that?"

She huffed at the question, and deliberately looked away from him. "I don't need to answer that question."

"True, because I already know the answer. Richard told me."

What? "I don't believe you." Stall tactics engaged.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you cheated while playing checkers with your six year old brother. Or should I say, attempted to cheat?"

He really did know. Oh god, how could that have happened? No, she knew how it had happened. She'd kill Richard for doing this to her, how dare he tell Jacob all these secrets? It wasn't like she gossiped with his girlfriends. Well, except for that time with Claudia perhaps, but that didn't count. Nor did the one with Jessica for that matter. But she could deal with him later, first she had to talk herself out of this. "He was very perceptive at that age."

"Of course he was. I'm sure that's the reason a ten-year-old couldn't cheat against someone four years her junior. Face it Samantha, you're just too honest."

"I'm not. I mean…" she trailed off. Was there even a good way she could answer this?

"You are. Everybody knows it, even you. Isn't that why you let other people handle the actual contracts while you focus on networking? Of course, that is a flaw the both of us share. Except maybe that you're willing to talk to anybody, while I only do so with people I like."

"There's another difference as well," Samantha told him, having already given up in defeat. He obviously knew her a lot better than she'd thought. He probably knew most of her secrets now, except for that thing about the vampires but she had no idea how to bring that up.

"And what's that?"

"Our egos."

"Our egos? What do you mean?"

Pushing him back from her, she raised herself from the wall she'd been pressed against and started directing him backwards. "Unlike you, I don't constantly try to brag about how wonderful I am."

"I love you."

"Don't interrupt me, I'm just getting warmed up here. Unlike you, I don't always try to prove myself to every man I come across."

"Marry me."

"I sa-" what did he just say? Had she heard him correctly? Was this real? She could barely whisper the question. "What did you say?"

The moment he went to his knees, Samantha knew that she had heard it correctly. "Samantha Trudeau, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" She had no need to see the ring he was holding up for her, no bauble, no matter how beautiful, could influence her decision here. Her mind had been made up long ago.

"Yes, oh yes." Realizing her tears of happiness were ruining her mascara, she tried to brush them away. Only to have her hands interrupted by her fiancé.

"Allow me," and as she had no intention of stopping him from touching her, she remained silent until he'd cleaned her face. And once her face was clean, he slipped the ring on her finger.

It was while Samantha was admiring the beautiful piece of jewelry that she was suddenly reminded that they hadn't been alone in the room after all. "May I be the first to congratulate you, madam? And you too sir."

"Please Jacques, I told you to call me Jacob."

"Of course, Jacob."

Samantha knew she had to look ridiculous, the way she was gaping in surprise, but that didn't stop her from doing so. How could she possibly have forgotten these servants were in the room as well?

"Samantha, I'd like you to meet these fine men. Guys, this is my fiancée, Samantha. Now, to prove to my beloved that I'm not a total waste of space, I believe you were about to tell me something about how you came to work for miss Summers?"

X.X.X

Not good. Running through the door Dawn once again cursed her stupidity for having accepted this trap, she refused to call it a mission any longer, even as yet another bullet came far to close to hitting her. Why couldn't she have simply left it alone for once? No, she knew why she'd accepted and even as she ducked into a room she was forced to acknowledge her greatest weakness. She had become predictable.

Every single time when she was about to refuse a mission, all the client needed to do was say that he'd hire the Order of Teraka if she didn't want the job. And of course, she couldn't let such a challenge go.

Turning back to the door she fired another salvo, causing her pursuers to jump back and hide in the hallway. How many more of these people were left anyway? She had already killed eight of them, and wounded several others, but there didn't seem to be an end to them. Not that it mattered, unless the Terakans had changed their modus operandi, the only threat that mattered was still coming.

Continuing her flight, she opened the door on the other side of the room and went through it. A new hallway. Quickly she looked to both sides to get an indication of where she was. Good, it seemed as if they at least hadn't messed with the blueprints.. For a moment she'd feared that possibility, but they obviously hadn't gone this far in their attempt to catch her.

"There she is!"

The words came from behind her, and instinctively she spun around to see who it was that had spoken while simultaneously raising her gun. Four shots, and two corpses later, the gun clicked empty. Leaving her without an easy way to kill her pursuers. She had a couple of seconds before they'd find her again, but that wasn't enough to retrieve the weapons of her latest victims. That didn't mean she was about to waste those seconds though.

Another room offered the solution she required, and ducking into it she jumped over, and hid behind, a couch. Holstering her gun, Dawn once again went over her current situation. Fact: the people she was facing now were cannon fodder, sent here to flush her out and if possible weaken her for the final confrontation with the Terakan. Man, that almost sounded like a video game or bad movie.

Where would this Terakan be hiding though? Dawn didn't feel like she was being driven in a certain direction, but that was undoubtedly the plan. Except if the cannon fodder didn't know why they were here. Maybe she should ask one of them. Yes, that might work.

It wasn't long after reaching this decision that she heard the door open, and listening from behind the couch, she heard the conversation between the guards. "I don't see her here. Are you sure she went this direction?"

"What? You think Christof and André killed themselves? No, she's either in this room or one of the others. We've got every exit covered, there's no way that she could've gotten past us."

Well, that answered one question, they were indeed trying to keep her inside the building. But they hadn't mentioned anyone who could be the Terakan either. Time for more information.

Peeking around the couch she had already discovered that her opponents weren't paying a lot of attention to the room anymore, so when she suddenly rose to her feet, the two were caught flatfooted. One of her knives flew true, impaling the first, and with swift strides she reached the other, kicking the gun out of his hand before he could use it.

The man wasn't put off by that however, and immediately put in a kick of his own, catching her in the side. It wasn't enough to topple her, but the swift movement did get her respect, and made her size the man up before she would try again.

"So, you're the all powerful Noir, eh?" her opponent sneered. "I don't think you look like much. In fact, I think you're worthless without any weapons. Or do you really think you can beat me in hand-to-hand?"

Wonderful, a talker. His previous action had earned him some respect, so why did he feel the need to give that up? At least he was cocky enough that he didn't call for his friends to help him.

The two of them continued circling for several seconds, each looking for an opening. In the end, it was her opponent who struck first. Aiming a punch at her left side, he waited until she moved to block it before turning the feint into a real attack on her right. The foot came at her at an almost inhuman speed, but even though she had fallen for the trick, Dawn was able to spin away from the attack, only suffering a glancing blow.

But, she decided, enough was enough. The short test had been nice, and it proved that she wasn't infallible, yet, but she couldn't waste this much time on it. Sooner or later somebody would come to check on these two, and she wanted to be gone once that happened.

Coming out of the spin, Dawn let loose a series of her own blows, aiming for the target's head. A simple left-right combo with her fists was blocked, but managed to divert his attention away from her real attack. A feint was something most people expected to cross in a fight, but it wasn't all that common that a real attack was used as a diversion.

But when her right foot suddenly crushed her opponent's knee, he had to have realized that was exactly what she'd done. Dispassionately she watched him go down, but she managed to grab him by the throat, cutting off his air supply, before more than the start of a scream escaped his mouth.

"Not so cocky now, are we? No matter, I've got some questions for you," Dawn started interrogating the man who was lying at her feet. "And there are two ways this can go. Either you answer my questions, or you suffer."

Moving her head closer so that not only could she look into his eyes, but even smell the sweat that adorned his face, she continued in a whispery voice. "And I have a lot of experience making people suffer, trust me on that, you don't want to test my abilities in that field. Do you understand?"

Probably fearing the consequences if he answered the question aloud, the man nodded frantically, causing her to purr her answer. "Perfect.

"Now, the first question. How many of you are there?"

"T-twenty-s-six."

"In total, or still alive?"

"Total." Hmm… Dawn considered this information. Not counting the two here she had killed ten of them. Which left fourteen. That was quite a large number actually, and not something that made her happy.

"I heard you mention that you've got the exits covered. How?" The man didn't answer the question immediately, probably finding some courage again, so she broke one of his fingers. "How do you have the exits covered. Don't make me ask a third time."

This finally had the required effect, and for the next minute the sobbing man detailed the way his people had gone about guarding the front and back doors. At least he hadn't started begging for relief of the pain yet, she hated it when they reached that state. It always made them take so long in answering her questions.

When he had finally finished speaking, something that Dawn started to believe was taking too long as well, she asked her next question. The question she already knew the answer too, but wanted confirmed. "Who hired you?"

"I-I don't know." Snap, another finger was broken. By now the man was crying non-stop, a ridiculous sign of weakness that proved he wasn't a professional, but didn't stop him from repeating the same lie. Not that she believed him, so kicking him around a bit Dawn waited until she had a clear shot at his sole remaining intact knee, and crushed that with a powerful kick as well.

Naturally, this caused him to cry out again, and this time not even the lack of oxygen was enough to silence him. Undoubtedly calling the attention of his friends. But while he was rolling on the floor he kept repeating his earlier words in between the crying, begging for his life, and asking her to have mercy on his children. She didn't have any more quick ways to persuade him to talk, so her only choice was to accept what he'd told her.

That didn't mean she didn't have any other questions for him though. "You don't know that the Order hired you. But they must have sent an envoy, where is he?"

"I-I d-don't know wha-what you're talking about," the man sniffed. He was stalling, probably hoping his friends would arrive. She didn't have time for this. She was on edge already with the knowledge that soon more opponents would come here. No more being nice to him.

"Of course you do. You have five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One." Snap, a punch on his nose broke another bone in the man's body.

"There isn't anyone," he begged, "please believe me. All we had to do was keep you here, until…"

"Until what?" Dawn demanded, but allowing her hearing to focus on things further away than the hallway, she believed for a moment that she could make out the faint sound of approaching sirens. The surprise she felt made her voice the ridiculous option out loud. "The police? The bastards try to use the police to take me out?"

Her distraction at that thought almost caused her to miss her victim trying to reach one of the guns lying in the room. Which was quite impressive when you considered his injuries. Oh well, desperate times and such.

But there was a far better use for those guns than letting him waste bullets on trying to shoot her. Two steps and she was standing next to him. Bending over she then pulled on his head until it was at an uncomfortable angle for him, but a rather convenient one for the twisting movement that ended his life.

Quickly Dawn gathered the two guns and the spare clips the men carried, before leaving the room, where she encountered the first of the hirelings who'd come to rescue his colleague. Not that he'd be successful in that, because that sort of thing was hard to do when both you and the one you were trying to save were dead.

….…

Reaching the window she was now looking out of hadn't been very easy. And she'd had to take more risks than she really liked to get there this fast, but it couldn't be more than a minute or two before those police officers arrived. And when they did, she needed to be gone. A last mental check of everything she'd done here confirmed that she hadn't left anything behind.

Her gun, empty though it might be, was still in its holster, and everything else she'd used was in its appointed place as well. The only proof that might be used to connect her to the here and now was the blood she'd lost when she'd been shot. That might eventually prove to be a bit of a problem, but she should be able to make that sample disappear. If the cops even found it that is.

The borrowed guns she was holding now were fully loaded, and without waiting another moment she started to empty them. Like her informant had told her, the exits were well guarded. But even now, years after the fight in that alley in Nowhereville, Iowa, everybody still forgot that the world was three-dimensional. Yes, there was such a thing as height, and as she shot the four fools below her Dawn proved that to them.

Shards from the window followed the path of the first bullets, ensuring the glass wouldn't bother the ones fired later. Even so, after taking care of the hirelings outside, Dawn still needed to remove some of the remaining shards. In that too, the guns proved they were pretty useful.

Dropping to the ground she scanned her surroundings for anyone she might have missed, but when she didn't find anyone she quickly crossed the garden until she reached the fence. Dropping the guns, so she wouldn't have to walk through the streets with them, Dawn then vaulted over the fence and started running again, until she finally reached her getaway car.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Dawn opened the door, and let herself drop in the backseat while stripping of her gloves. At last, all she wanted to do now was to go home and sleep. Leaning her head back she let her heart calm down while Frederique started the limousine.

They had barely pulled away from the parking space when the first police car crossed their path, making her realize even more how lucky she'd been. And she was relieved when the cops didn't try to stop her, never once thinking that an assassin would drive such a conspicuous car. And therefore never realizing how close to death they'd just come.

Still, the only reason she had reached the car on time was through sheer luck. Her current way of choosing missions was obviously flawed and she needed to do something about it. Later. What she really wanted to do now was to soak in a hot tub for an hour before going to bed.

Turning to look out of the window Dawn suddenly let out a loud groan. That damned party. Not only couldn't she go to bed, she had to dress up prettily as well so that she could mingle and make new contacts.

Life had been so much easier when she'd been a simple assassin and didn't have to concern herself with all these ridiculous things. At least there was some time before they reached the house, so she might as well rest a bit longer.

Of course, relaxing made her mental grip on her body weaken. And she had barely started when her body decided it was time for her to be reminded of the injuries she'd sustained.

X.X.X

"Originally I'm from a small village located near the border of Switzerland," Jacques started, while Samantha and her intended joined the servants on the bench. "Now, our village was a place that had successfully staved off civilization since its inception.

"Not entirely of course," he hastened to add, "we did have mail, cars, and such, not to mention the occasional tourist who wandered into the town. But I'm sure you understand what I mean. We were happy without all that nonsense people think is so important. There was no television or computer anywhere in the village."

"Why?" Samantha interrupted, she had never been able to understand why anyone would give up the ability to have the information those machines provided.

"You mean, why didn't we have them?" he asked a bit surprised.

"Yeah, I could perhaps imagine living without a TV because that's simply another way to be spammed with commercials, but computers make your life so much easier."

"Only if you need them," Jacques countered, "and we didn't. To us a computer was simply something that we didn't need to live our lives. Our lives back then weren't comparable to anything you might understand. We took care of the crops, the animals, and enjoyed a quiet life. No hurrying, no appointments that needed to be kept.

"No that's not entirely true, there were appointments that needed to be kept. But those appointments concerned things like when the wheat needed to be planted and the grass needed to be hayed. The most pressing matter each day was to ensure the cows got milked on time. It was hard work, but compared to modern life it was wonderful. Rustic, I think that's the word for it." He sighed and stared into the void for a moment.

"You miss it," Jacob stated the exact thing Samantha had been thinking.

Jacques only nodded, as did the other servants. "Yes, there are days when I almost wish she had never parked her car at the center of the town."

"She? You mean Summers?"

"Miss Summers, please," Jacques chastised her, "but yes. At first glance her arrival seemed like just another tourist, a French tourist, but a tourist nonetheless."

That didn't fit with her information, Samantha thought. "French? She's American."

"That my dear, was merely an accident of birth."

My dear? She raised her eyebrow in an admonishment to the servant. She might be kind enough to listen to his story, but he should remember his place.

"Miss Trudeau," the immediately contrite man told her. At least, she chose to see his actions as being contrite, if the waiter had been a good indication, you never knew with these people.

"Better. Now, explain your comment."

Now the man smiled as he if recalling a happy memory. "Those are her own words. Ahh, but I still remember the day she walked into the croissanterie, Véronique had just put a new batch in the oven when she walked in. Miss Summers had been directed there by my daughter you know."

Right, she couldn't really see the importance of that, but if the man thought it important… "That's wonderful, but why don't we skip the part where you're going to tell us what she ate?"

"But this is an important part of the story," the Frenchman protested.

"I'm sure you can summarize it for us." The glow from being proposed was enough to keep her in a good mood, but she was starting to get a bit anxious. There were only two things Samantha really wanted to do right now. The first being to rub her engagement into the noses of all the leaches in the other room, and the second was to properly celebrate it. And she couldn't do that last part until they were back in their hotel room.

"As you wish. Miss Summers came to our village because she'd heard of the Manor and was wondering if she might buy it. It wasn't in very good state however, and when she was there a piece of stone broke off, and hit her back."

"Ouch."

"Indeed, she was wounded when she returned to our village, and there we had even worse news for her," once again the servant trailed off while thinking about that day. No doubt the news was terrible, his favorite lamb or something had probably died.

But gullible, yet always lovable, Jacob asked the question anyway. "How so?"

"While she was visiting the Manor we had been informed of the terrorist attack on your country." Oh. This time Samantha silently apologized for her earlier thoughts, especially as she still remembered that night when suddenly all the lights in Seattle turned off. When suddenly the world became a darker place.

She moved a little closer to Jacob in an attempt to stave off those memories, and was relieved when he put his arm around her. A minute passed in silence as they all thought about the things that had happened on that day, but soon enough Jacques continued his story. "It was on that day that we made the decision to dedicate our lives to her."

"What, all of you?" Jacob asked surprised, but that wasn't the question Samantha wanted to ask. She was more interested in the why. Why would they suddenly decide on something like that? So she asked.

"Yes, the entire village. And as for why? Our ancestors always served those who lived at the Manor, and miss Summers had decided she wanted to purchase and renovate it. So, we could do no less than to offer our services."

Right. And that was supposed to make sense how? But Samantha decided against speaking up. If these people wanted to live like that, she wouldn't stand in their way.

"And I take it she accepted?" Strange how Jacob seemed so immersed in this story, while she wasn't. Looking at him she could clearly see how interested he was; all the telltale signs were there, the slightly bated breath, the shining eyes, and even the way he was slightly leaning forward. While she on the other hand kept waiting for anything interesting to turn up in the story.

"Yes, she did. It wasn't easy, but when Véronique came down and told us she had accepted. Oh, you can't possibly imagine how happy we were. It was almost as if we'd been waiting for that day for more than thirty generations." Yawn, and now the fact that someone lifted them from their paltry little lives was seen as the act of a savior. Snuggling a little deeper into Jacob's embrace, she dimly wondered how long it would be before the arrival of the first bible reference.

"That's wonderful," Samantha interjected before that horrible thought could actually become reality, "but why don't you tell us something a bit more intere-, recent? Perhaps about how she started her company?"

"Interrecent? Of course," Jacques didn't seem to be insulted by her slip, instead switching to the next subject," I can tell you a little about how miss Summers started her business.

"When she came to us she had enough money to rebuild the Manor, but there were costs she hadn't anticipated and luckily she had enough foresight to discover this before work started on the Manor. In those first months after the Pulse, the stock market was truly on its lowest point ever, and she used that to her advantage.

"There were a number of small companies that were not much more than fronts for their US based mother companies. And that is where she started. As most of her planning took place in the village we were aware of her plans, and her methods in acquiring those companies.

"At first she looked for those companies with the highest chance of a quick payoff once they'd be back on their feet. After she had identified these, she approached the individual stockholders and offered them more than they could expect on the market.

"Now, because you're so fond of summaries," Jacques told Samantha, "I will simply tell you that within those first months she spent her money until she was almost broke. But once the financial markets started to recover again, her financial situation soon turned for the better."

Interesting. And while this wasn't a subject where she was satisfied with a summary, Samantha decided against pushing the servant, instead opting to consider the information. Business-wise it made sense. The whole plot was a fast way to make money over the backs of others, something that might not be the nicest thing to do, but was definitely effective. "You said that's how she started, implying she changed her behavior later on. Can you tell me something about that?"

"I'm not sure if I should, but you have just gotten engaged and I doubt miss Summers would mind so-" Jacques suddenly broke off when the doors to the room opened.

"Jacques, your presence is required."

"Bernard? What is it?" the man asked, while starting to get up.

"Miss Summers has arrived, there are some things she wants to discuss."

Jacques nodded his understanding. "Of course, did everything go well with the negotiations?"

"She encountered some problems, but managed to handle them."

This seemed to worry Jacques, and he continued asking questions while he walked towards the other servant. "What kind of problems?"

"The usual kind. Don't worry, she told Frederique everything was fine."

"Dawn would say that everything was fine if she were lying with her stomach cut open. Have you spoken to her yet?"

Dawn? Did the woman allow her servants to be that familiar with her? That was rather unexpected. But as she watched the servants hurry out of the room, Samantha suddenly realized it was time for her to get back as well. Maybe rub her oncoming wedding a bit in the noses of the leaches, meet Summers, and spend the rest of the night celebrating.

X.X.X

"Miss Trudeau, right?" Dawn asked the young woman before her.

"Yes, I'm Samantha Trudeau. And this is-"

"Your fiancée, Jacob Masters. Jacques couldn't help but tell me the wonderful news. Congratulations to the both of you." Of course, the information Jacques had provided to her was far more extensive, including the useful bits from the conversation the Americans had in the gym.

"Thank you," both Samantha and Jacob said.

Cute. Dawn had no doubt that these two would make an interesting pair, especially with the way they seemed to complement each other. And as it also signified the merger of two obviously wealthy families, she was pretty sure they would make interesting business partners. Something that she could use in the United States, at least once it had been partly rebuilt.

"Miss Trudeau, mister Masters, I once more wish to apologize for arriving this late. Although, in hindsight it obviously served a purpose."

"A purpose?" Masters asked.

"Your proposal."

He smiled at that, while looking lovingly at the woman beside him. "Oh yes, it definitely served a purpose there. so in my opinion you shouldn't apologize. And I do not believe for a moment that you'd planned on staying away."

"Not like you would have done," Trudeau interjected.

"That's not fair. What would our hostess think of you saying that?"

"That it's the truth?" the woman asked, before turning to Dawn. "You see, my fiancée here isn't very fond of parties and usually does his very best to avoid them. The only reason he showed up today is because I told him to."

"It's good to see that you can handle him," Dawn told Trudeau. "I'm sure that bodes well for your future together."

The polite chit-chat continued, giving Dawn the opportunity to examine the two Americans. Yes, they would do. It was easy for her to talk to them, and most importantly they were both very honest. Sometimes extremely so, which couldn't be good for them in negotiations, but was perfect for her.

The problem with honest people was that they believed that everybody was honest with them as well. Often even going so far as to believe that about people they knew lied to others. Combine all that with the emotional tie the two of them now had to her, and you had the perfect insta-friend.

There was only one thing that bothered her. Trudeau. She knew that name but she just couldn't figure out from where. "Miss Summers," a flustered Jacques suddenly appeared at her side.

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid I have some bad news."

The police? Had they discovered her after all? Panic started to set in, but with an iron will she managed to repress it. "Speak up." After all, if it had been something that personal, he would have never started about it while Trudeau and Masters were with her.

"An earthquake, the biggest ever."

What? "Where?"

"California. It's been completely destroyed." DAVE! NO!

Post-fic comments: Thank you for reading, don't forget about the review button at the bottom of the screen.

Xelab, thank you for the compliments, now if people would listen to that and review it would be even better...