Disclaimer: I do not own MGLN but my girlfriend reckons she should!

Author's Notes: Thank you to Redmoon021 and 4DaLuvOfFutanari for the great reviews and to all those who are following this story. I present chapter 3. Enjoy!


Chapter 3

Bitter

Fate's POV.

I sit in bitter silence. Waiting. Waiting for my prey, my poor unsuspecting prey. It won't be long now. I remain perfectly still. Dressed in black, dressed to hide and disappear in the cruel dark night.

I wait…

The sound of laughter pierces the silence. Adrenaline refusing to course through my body. This was not a challenge. I would not lose and they would undeniably suffer. Suffer by my hands. Suffer for a crime I didn't know. Perhaps even suffer for someone else's crime. I didn't care anymore. I had once. Once a long interminable time ago.

Who was I kidding just like the others, they were probably innocent. I would serve them unjust retribution for a crime they didn't commit, one they may not even be aware of.

The laughter and chatting becomes louder as the unsuspecting victims walk closer to their unfortunate fate. Ha I would find that funny if I hadn't lost my sense of humour. Focus! The moment is fast approaching. I take a couple of short shallow breaths readying myself to accomplish my task, steeling my resolve.

The dark street provides ample shadows for me to lie in wait undetected. I am a monster, a puppet condemned to seek retribution for the unscrupulous characters of this world. Once another life time ago I went against this fate, I tried to fight it but it ultimately resulted in my resignation.

They have almost reached me. I silently sigh. This is it.

They seem like such a happy family. In a moment of weakness I think what it would be like to feel that. I mentally slap myself. There is no room for thoughts like that. I can't think those things. I can't…

I walk out of the shadows right in front of them. They stop, startled by my sudden appearance. I shut all thought process but focus on the task at hand. It is the only way I can do this. I close my heart or at least what is left of it. It is the only way I survive my mental anguish at the pain and suffering I will cause and have caused to those in the past. I do this for her.

The husband/father of this small 3 member family protectively steps in front of his wife and daughter but maintains a smile to try and diffuse the tension he has sensed in the air. I smile to myself. He is brave. It's a quality I used to admire, a quality I used to be intimately familiar with.

"Good evening" he says to me. I nod in response. The less contact I make the less it will hurt them and ultimately me.

"I am sorry" I breathe out as my body rushes mechanically towards him.

Before it even begins it is over. I am walking away to the sounds of the wife's and daughter's screams of desperation and for help. I hate what they make me do. I hate who I have become. I hate who I am. I walk to the end of the street where 3 spectators are waiting and watching.

"My my Fate that was no fun. It wasn't entertaining in the slightest." The woman with startling purple hair masking one of her eyes says to me in a voice dripping with malicious intent. The woman for whom I do this for. The woman I obey. The woman I try to make happy. My mother…

"I agree with Precia, you barely touched him" the man next to her adds in a bored tone.

"Could it be that it was too easy or maybe you still disagree with all of this?" Mother asks me with a giggle escaping her venomous lips. "I am not sure I nor the client are satisfied with the results, wouldn't you agree Jail?" she says as she tenderly looks over to the man next to her, her lover, her partner in crime.

Jail looks at mother then at the so called client of this fiasco who is standing next to him. A silent nod of agreement is passed between them.

I stop in between them and as flatly as I can muster reply: "The client wanted him beaten up in front of his wife and child. I have accomplished that. I did exactly as was required of me. It isn't my fault the client is incompetent when it comes to specifying details and therefore I took the liberty to judge the amount the victim could take. The…"

*SLAP*

Mother slaps me. I don't flinch. My eyes betray nothing. She walks right up to me, owning my personal space, her face inches from mine. I could smell the pungent smell of cigarettes and whiskey on her breath. She grabs my chin with her cold unfeeling fingers that had slapped me mere moments ago.

"My dear dutiful daughter, you do not think, you do no make decisions, you do not talk badly of the clients especially not in front of them and you definitely do not talk back to me. Remember everything you are and do belongs to the Project now. Your mind, body and soul are not yours. You do as I say. Even after so many years. You are useless. The contract was to beat up that man yet you barely touched him. You will be punished when we get to the Fortress the way I know you love" she smirks as she turns my face and licks my stinging cheek. Her saliva feels like acid burning my flesh. I am disgusted, I am disgusting! I do not give her the satisfaction of a response.

In the background I could hear the cries for help where replaced with sobs.

Jail takes this moment to walk up to us holding a black cloth and adds his two cents to this lovely family conversation: "My beautiful butterfly," he looks at my mother, "I have spoken to the client and he is not entirely happy but satisfied that that guy got the message" he said while pointing with his thumb in the direction of the crying family "he wont be upstaging the client's son at work anymore" he finishes with a laugh.

As if this situation was funny.

In the distance I could hear the sound of sirens. The wife must have called the police. It was the sound of security, the real sound of justice, the sound of help to the innocent hard working husband who probably got offered a promotion over the client's lazy corrupt son.

Mother looks in the direction the sirens are coming from then back at me. She still had her hand on my chin: "Time to go" she says then lets me go.

I close my eyes waiting for the black bag to get placed over my head by Jail and get roughly pushed into the unwelcoming metallic floor of a van.

The last thing I hear before we drive away is the excruciating sound of the siren piercing my thoughts, reminding me that I am the cause of this. At least he is now safe. At least they are now safe. Safe from the Project. Safe from me.

To be continued…