Familiar Assassins

The Director winced, raising a hand to his aching chest. His questing fingers came away stained with wet redness, blood-warm and sticky. He stumbled a step forward, his assailant's familiar, terrible giggle still ringing in his mental ears. Another stumbling step, and he grimaced; his employees finally noticed he'd been hit, and yelped in shock.

"Gaignun-sama!"

"Quick, somebody--the Director's been attacked!"

He waved them off; it was already far too late for him. He reached out mentally to his attacker:

:Junior, I didn't get you the paintball gun so you could attack me in public. Cut it out.:

:Sorry: