This is a very short chapter. Sorry for the delay, please read the announcement at the bottom afterwards... it is very important.

Chapter 3 - The big bad world.

Hell hath no wrath like a one, going on twenty year old, baby. Such was the conclusion Kirika was able to come to as she yet again rushed towards the bed in another attempt to placate the very young assassin. It had been at least a day since Mireille had become her younger self, and yet to Kirika it felt like weeks.

It hadn't helped that Kirika had been up at least six times last night, answering to the various calls and screams that Mireille would let out.

The night had not been an easy one. Simply that.

In the most cases Mireille had wanted feeding, and Kirika had of course noticed that Mireille only drank milk. Perhaps that was a rule with babies? Another thing she had noticed, was that she seemed to be able to tell what Mireille wanted from the way she cried. There was the hungry cry, the needing comfort cry and the "Kirika you are useless" cry...

"Shh… it's okay." Kirika spoke quietly to the crying child, rocking it slightly as she brought some more milk to it's mouth. Instantly Mireille stopped crying and began to drink of the white liquid, silently gulping until she was finished. Afterwards Kirika lightly patted her on the back until she burped and then let her down again.

I must be getting better at this. She thought to herself as she looked at her tiny partner. Later today she was going to take Mireille out, and find her contacts. Surely one of them would have some information on this "Author."

Surely?

She looked at the clock on the wall, it was almost one in the afternoon… she would head out in an hour.

With Mireille…

So much could go wrong…

Wow, Kirika's getting better at this… Mireille had to admit to herself as she sat quietly watching the young girl sort her things out. Kirika was currently sitting on the bed with her, but trying to choose what to put in her small bag.

One Beretta, six clips of 9mm ammunition, a few knives… the assassin list went on, but with a few noticeable additions. Most importantly in Mireille's mind, six small cartons of milk.

There was a feverish industriousness in the way Kirika was setting everything out, an intense silence that Mireille didn't exactly want to break. Even though she was bored.

That revelation had come to her with some surprise, as an assassin she could wait for hours without doing anything, but it seemed as this baby she couldn't sit still for more than a few minutes without wanting to break something. Or chew something.

Not that she had any teeth. But still the desire to put something in her mouth and gum it to death was nearly overpowering.

It was as if she could feel another presence inside her mind, another her. Like a dormant feeling in her head that was trying to take control, and make her do strange things. Like the urge she had to crawl around the apartment for a few hours. Despite the fact she couldn't crawl yet…

That's something I should remedy, as long as I'm stuck in this form I should make the best of it. When we get back I'll teach myself to crawl! How hard could it be?

"I think we'll have to wrap you up Mireille," Kirika spoke in her booming voice, making Mireille look up at her curiously, "I mean, I'm Asian, carrying you would make me look suspicious as it is, let alone if you're pale and blonde."

Good plan Kirika. Mireille mentally complimented her.

"We're going to check out some of your contacts, surely one of them knows something of this author guy…"

You can try. I wouldn't trust them with anything though. Mireille wanted to warn her, realistically her contacts were just for things like counting bodies or obtaining easy info. Any complex information needed some more advanced research.

"Shouldn't be too hard really." Kirika continued, zipping up the duffel bag and smiling at her.

Don't be so sure Kirika, nothing's ever easy…

"Why am I even talking to you, it's not as if you can even understand me."

I'm going to kill you Kirika, painfully and slowly. Mireille thought, smiling sweetly at the girl.

"Aww, cute." Came the oblivious reply.

"Author? You mean like a writer?" Yet another man asked curiously, his face twisted in suspicion, as if she were playing a big joke on him. Kirika hated when they said that. So far, ALL fifteen contacts she had talked to had said that. Every single one. YES, she knew what an author was! Instead of voicing such complaints she merely nodded. So far none had any useful information, and many had simply walked away from her, determined that she was either too young to be what she claimed, or that she was making fun of them.

She didn't think she had ever been so angry in her entire life.

People had treated her as a killer, a monster, a friend and a lover... but no one had ignored her. The simple reason being that in most cases taking your eyes from her resulted in a broken neck...

Try one more, then i'll have to move to plan B.

Kirika didn't like plan B, in fact plan B sucked. But given the circumstances plan B was looking even more likely. It wasn't giving up... that was plan C. She wasn't going to take plan C, Mireille would kill her fo giving up, and Kirika would probably kill herself for giving up! She needed Mireille.

Mireille chose that moment to start crying.

No no no no no! Not now, anytime but now...

Regardless of her silent protests Mireille continued to cry and Kirika was forced to quickly unwrap her, sit at a nearby bench and begin rocking her gently, trying to amuse her. She knew that cry, it screamed of boredom.

What am I supposed to do now? I can't sit here all day keeping her busy, and if I just carry on with her like this then someone is bound to question me, and I'll have no answers for them!

The question turned out to be pointless however, for something heavy crashed into her side and sent her tumbling from the bench roughly and slamming into the hard eart floor. Instinctively her arms clutched Mireille to her and she rolled to land on her back and keep the baby safe, she hit the floor and skidded, scratching her shoulder raw and making her grit her teeth in pain. Whoever had done that was in for a world of hurt.

Something began clawing at her front and she thrashed an arm blindly in front of her, hitting whatever it was in the face. It gave off a masculine grunt as it continued to fight her, seemingly trying to force her down. Calmly she assessed the situation. Rape? Unlikely, too crowded an area... theft? no chance... Soldats? One man against me... so no... I can't fight like this, if i put Mireille down I can beat him.

It failed to occur to her however, that this might have been what the man wanted.

The scream that erupted from her throat was of purest rage, and sent birds flying from the trees as she leapt to her feet in one instant, already chasing after the bastard that had snatched up a crying Mireille and run away. He was barely ten feet ahead of her, and his lead was failing him. She had to stop him, and quickly! Angril she took a corner at speed, before slamming on the metaphorical brakes at the sight before her.

Ten armed men, in assorted clothing.

Today was not a good day.

ANOUNCEMENT! PLEASE READ THIS, AND FORGIVE ME!

It has come to it people, and i am sorry. I cannot manage all these fanfictions, three is just too much for me, and since school has started and i am in my last year of college it is cutting drastically into all my time. It is adversely affecting grades, and i am being forced to write crappy little chapters like this.

Here is what i propose. I am offering both Young Mother, and Bunker Fever to a good home. To anyone who wants to carry them on, you dont need to take both, just someone say if they want one. I will keep Divine Contract, but i am being somewhat put off by my hunour fics, and i AM sorry, i know people may have waited for this, i really thought i could manage it. And bunker fever too! But both are draining me, and my will to write at all!

If no body wants them... i will continue them... Surprised you there didn't I? But be warned it may be at this pace... OR i may start writing chapters this small. Mainly because with my humour fics i am losing the will to write long chapters. I DO apologise, i really do. Will anyone please help me? Take one off my hands, just ask in a review! I am very sorry, i hope you will forgive me. This has been so long to update, and look what came of it! So little...

Please... Young Mother. and Bunker Fever. to anyone who wants one of them. You can have it as your own, and change any previous chapters, just say "The idea for this fic was created by Cavalyn, and he wrote chapters one to... which ever. Before giving up like a stupid constipated monkey!" that is all i ask, if anyone does want them then i can happily give it to you.

Sorry. i really am.