His eyes were large, lips trembling as all colour drained from his face, the pistol clattering to the floor, empty. "You're the one, the ghost!"

"Oh, is that what they're calling me now?" he asked nonchalantly, frowning at his jacket as the fabric became damp with dark fluids around the hole, more annoyed than anything else.

"You…. you really are a monster…"

"Well isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?"

Earlier

Vash sat behind his desk, retrieving the folder from virtually thin air as he quickly locked the hidden drawer. "I reviewed the case before you arrived. The target's name is Boyan Vodenicharov, a Bulgarian. My sources were able to track his movements from passing the wall to where he is now in Dijon."

A low whistle escaped Gilbert's lips as he leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over his chest, "He made it all the way to France? Bulgarian or not, there is no way he'd be able to make it that far on his own."

"Indeed. According to my source, he's also living quite the relaxing life in a particularly upscale area reserved mainly for German elites."

Gilbert didn't respond for a while, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling as he thought, Vash little more than background noise as he mulled things over. "They don't have a use for him anymore, he's simply bait."

"I was just about to say," the blonde frowned, eyeing the assassin disapprovingly, "chances are someone is watching him. And the odds are it is this individual." Opening the folder, two profiles lined each face of the file, the primary target to the right, a round-faced blonde smiled back on the left.

"Tino Väinämöinen. He looks like a high school student."

"Keep reading."

Gilbert took the folder in his hands, flipping the pages for the Finnish man, reading over his known information, a pale brow quirking upwards in interest. "And we're certain this is the bodyguard?"

"Fairly," Vash admitted, interlocking his fingers on the top of his desk as he did so. "We've only seen them interact once according to the source, right when Boyan entered Dijon. Due to Väinämöinen's particular set of skills, it wouldn't be surprising for him to not require constant contact with his ward.

The albino groaned, closing the folder against the tabletop, "That makes this harder. I need to find this sniper before I can do anything with Boyan."

"Excuse me if I haven't dedicated any of my personnel to the task."

Gilbert sighed, making to reach for his pack of cigarettes before remembering that he left them behind. The damned Nazis and their anti-tobacco laws. Instead he settled for running a hand through his dyed hair and balancing on the back two legs of his chair. "I wouldn't expect that of you. Though I do have to ask how much information Roderich has received on this case."

"I would assume all of it. I got these files from one of Carriedo's middlemen in the area, but Edelstein was the one who set up the rendezvous."

"Good," he dropped the chair rather harshly, earning a glare from the blonde as he stood, "So now we know who we're working for, in the broad sense, Who'd have thought the RNM would need our help?"

Vash sniffed, taking the folder and shoving them in a drawer where the whirl of a shredder could be heard. "Don't let it get to your head. You're hardly at their superstar status."

She didn't know when he managed to slip away. He stood out no matter where he was, the long sleeves in the late spring weather and his use of hats and hoods were really enough to trigger her suspicions, but still he had a habit of disappearing into crowds. Probably meeting an informant, but it was cause enough for her to have just gone ahead.

'If he is up-to-date on Vodenicharov, he'll have to come here.'

Her fake Visa was going to run out soon, another two days at this rate, three already having gone by since she crossed out of Poland. France was a whole day's journey in itself, which constrained things further. Maybe she should have risked the tracking beacon when she had the chance, but the last thing they wanted was to make enemies where they could foster alliances. That is what Ivan said anyway.

She sat at the cafe sipping at the tiny cup of espresso as she pretended to read the newspaper as she discreetly watched the exits of the train station behind the large, dark sunglasses. He had probably sensed her or something, wouldn't have been the first time, she knew she wasn't the most inconspicuous, but she was easy to omit.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, love."

She jolted, the paper crumpling in her grasp as she whipped around, having not even heard the man approach, let alone see him arrive. She had never seen his face before, always having had something blocking out the sun; even now he wore a wide-brimmed fedora shadowing blue eyes that looked just a little too even in colour. He was young, a lazy grin on his face as he sat across from her, a summer blazer laying across his legs.

"How-?"

Her brain short circuited. It was just this dull buzz of white noise as all the questions just collapsed.

"The alley. I saw you, for just a second, but you are very … memorable."

She scowled, folding the newspaper. "Pervert."

"I'm a man," he shrugged, the smile never falling as he looked towards the train station. "Nice location. Ah, but that's the Visa terminal isn't it? I would have done the same if I were you, so don't feel bad. So since we are now acquainted, what should I call you?"

He was lean, a bit on the skinny side. He motioned for the server, ordering his own drink. Left-handed. Most of all he was painfully pale. He had jumped from the roof of a five story building unscathed. The only logical conclusion was that this man was not human.

"Sophia," the blonde woman tucked her short hair behind her ear, "And what do I call you, Raven?"

"Johanne is fine," he smiled broadly.

'Obviously a fake name. Guess you aren't easy to fool.'

"So why would you contact me directly? You know our jobs are done best when at a healthy distance."

The man held a finger at her and the server appeared a moment later. She had forgotten how public this place was. Looking around, no one seemed to pay any attention to them. If anything, they were actively ignored. The server left again, vanished basically, leaving a matching cup of espresso. "Your job is to make sure the assignment is complete and my job is to complete this task. That comes down to finding Boyan. You should also know he isn't alone."

"Yes, he's always guarded by the White Death, though how he can have such range is mystifying," she conceded, appreciating that he had been given decent information. Maybe the leader of the Hollow Oak wasn't as hollow-headed as she had previously feared.

Johanne nodded, dipping a sugar cube into the drink and watching the brown liquid soak into the granules, "Precisely. Now, the fact remains you want Boyan, but his friend isn't going to let that happen. I can't be in two places at once and the last thing I need is getting caught because of a delay."

"Are you backing out to save your own ass?"

He laughed, forgetting about the sugar as it melted between his fingers before letting the sloppy mess plop into the cup. She watched him lick the tip of his finger like a kid as he leaned forward. She hadn't even realized herself move back, her shoulders pressed into the back cushion. "If that was my intention I could have fucked off home. No, I'm saying I need your help. Boyan will be easy to find, he thinks he's in the clear. The Finn, not so much. We know he is always watching though, so from there we can narrow things down. I'll deal with Väinämöinen, you can take out Boyan."

Sophia scoffed, "Your job is to get Boyan."

"It is, but I think you'll agree with me."

"Why is that?"

Johanne's wide grin lessened to something she was more familiar with. Working with killers, she had seen that smile hundreds of times before. "If we can get this done with the least amount of attention and before that pretty little Visa runs out, I think we'd both be benefiting parties."

When had she started smiling?