"Whoever loves becomes humble. Those who love have, so to speak, pawned a part of their narcissism."- Sigmund Freud

The next day, I woke to the sound of soft rain. Autumn had evidently returned. I lay in the same position for a while, my arm draped lazily over my eyes, before removing it and sitting up. I stared out of the window, tired and light-headed. A few rays of light had managed to seep through the clouds, but overall it was a very grizzly day in Bodhum. I could see the city's main beach from afar, behind a few rows of small houses. Where only a few hours prior people had gathered from every corner of the town, it now lay deserted. The excitement from last night seemed like a world away.

Last night, I reminded myself, as I remembered the events from the night before. Eager to ignore the happenings that had continued to play on my mind during my slumber, I positioned myself back down and shut my eyes. I remained in a state of tranquility for another minute or two, before being brutally brought back to the real world by a rather dynamic Fang.

"Time to get up, Sunshine." She said, removing the blanket she had previously placed over me. "Coffee ?"

I shook my head lethargically, rubbing my eyes. The strong smell of caffeine stung my nostrils. I sat up, resting my spine against the back of the loveseat I had slept on.

Fang's apartment felt like home. I had spent more than a few nights there. It was a fairly quaint abode; the kitchen and living room formed a large open space. However the two neighboring bedrooms were small in size. The walls were painted in vibrant tones that failed to highlight the room's main feature : a beautiful bay window over-looking the suburban area of Bodhum. Frankly, it was almost the exact opposite of my own home, which is probably why it felt so welcoming.

I looked around the room for a few minutes. It occurred to me that Fang was in serious need of an interior decorator. The furniture didn't match and the colors clashed. I found the place too cluttered. Fang enjoyed collecting odd knickknacks and would display them with pride. With each step you could learn something new about her. Each trinket represented a place she'd visited or a friend she had made. On the shelf above her stove was where she kept her most prized possessions. It surprised me how I had made my way onto it. There, resting beside a colorful picture frame given to her by her most recent girlfriend, was a small ornate box I had bought Fang on her twenty-first birthday. I insisted she put it to some use. Instead, it lay dormant in her kitchen, where Fang was now standing.

"What time is it ?" I mumbled.

"Just past ten." She answered, playing around with some colorful mugs. "You called me pretty late last night, so I thought I'd leave you to get a bit more shut-eye."

I let out a light groan. I felt like hell. My body, which I usually took care in keeping finely tuned, had obviously suffered from the lack of sleep. My head pounded as Fang approached me, cup in hand. With the other she threw me my cell.

"The bloody thing hasn't stopped beeping all morning."

"Oh... Right." I managed to whisper, looking down at the gadget in my lap. I picked it up and opened it.

"Three texts and two missed calls." I heard from beside me. "I guess he's never heard of the three day rule." She scoffed into her beverage.

I didn't necessarily enjoy Fang snooping around my affairs, but decided to let it slide that one time. I glanced at the notifications briefly, to confirm what she had said. Much to my dismay, they were all, indeed, from my target. I couldn't face reading them. I shut my phone violently.

"So..." Fang started, clearly not picking up my irritation. "You want to tell me what exactly happened yesterday ?"

After she'd picked me up from Euride Gorge, we spent most of the car ride in silence. I was far too exasperated to talk. She appeared to understand, and we left it at that. She offered to let me sleep at her apartment and I accepted.

I sighed vehemently before commencing my narration.

"I found him just sitting in the sand on his own. He mistook me for some other girl and got a little too handsy." I began to feel nauseated, in the same manner I had previously.

"So ya' punched him ! Slimy bastard."

"No, I... didn't do anything. After that we just spoke for awhile until he offered to take me home."

"And that's how you ended up on a train to Nautilus. I see..." I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic, but I didn't care.

"I could have just shot him when we met and saved myself a lot of hassle." I shook my head once more, regretfully.

"Well why didn't you ?"

"My ammo vanished."

She stared at me for a few seconds, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. I glared back at her, anticipating a wave of mockeries.

"Oh, come on, L-" She began, before I interrupted her.

"Don't." I warned, raising a hand.

"What ?"

"You know damned well what."

She took a few sips of her drink, stifling a laugh. "You're really not a morning person are you ?"

I shot her a glare. A stern expression was purposely painted across my face. I was in no mood to deal with her sarcasm. I was already frustrated at my doomed attempt at completing my job. A scolding was not what I needed. And especially not from Fang.

It seemed that my body language hadn't conveyed the intended message, as Fang decided to reply in a more than familiar tone.

"Quit with the death glares Farron. You know better than I do that that's bull'." She stared up into the air and rolled her eyes. " I think someone got a little too carried away and forgot her mission."

"Who do you think your talking to ? Without me you woul-"

"Yeah. I wouldn't know anything about assassination. Etro, get off your damned high horse already."

With one final scowl. I stood up, reaching for my keys that I had thrown on her coffee-table the night before, and stormed off.

"Don't think you'll be on top forever." I heard her hiss sharply.

I slammed the door behind me.

I made my way outside, where a "delightful" shower of rain was waiting for me. A received a few looks from passers by, mainly due to my attire. I was sporting, and quite thankfully, the trench-coat I had been gifted the night before. It may not have been my favored style of clothing, but it did a good job of keeping the falling water off of my limp body.

I considered returning to my apartment, but decided instead to stretch my legs for a while. After all, a weekend was to be enjoyed and not spent alone, in one's bedroom.

Consequently, I was now wandering around Bodhum in the rain, with no foreseeable plans for my weekend. I drifted past the crowd, in no hurry to make my way, well, anywhere.

The city was busy, as it was every morning. People were hurrying out of the drizzle into charming little coffee shops. Others were huddled under umbrellas, chatting and laughing as they pranced beside me. Some pitiable bastards were holding briefcases, no doubt on their way to work. I on the other hand, looked rather out of place. I was probably the only poor soul without any plans. But it had become a habit of mine.

Solitude had become my biggest friend since I had started my job. Quite believably, killing people for money doesn't leave one with much time for a social life. And when an opportunity did arise to make a new acquaintance, something would always get in the way. Mainly, my complete disregard for other people's well-being. Worrying about myself was hard enough, I hardly needed another entity to agonize over. At least, that was what I thought.

It seemed difficult to meet new people. More than once, a few brave colleagues had asked me to go drinking with them. However, I preferred to keep my distance from other "employees". It seemed ludicrous to even consider organizing an outing with assassins. It would be both dangerous and slightly sinister. I didn't even want to think about possible topics of conversation. And so, with an nonexistent desire to get involved with people from work, where else was I supposed to meet other beings ?

I continued to reflect as I roamed the city aimlessly.

It wasn't until my cell phone -which had been nestled in my hand since the start of my trek- began to ring, that I returned to reality. I prayed to every living Falcie before looking down at the number. My trembling hands holding the animated object, I sighed in relief. It wasn't Villiers. But the number was nevertheless one I recognized. I answered, dazed, holding the phone up to my ear. Yaag Rosch's voice rang out through the speakers.

"Farron, it's your boss. Get down here now."

Without further explanation, he hung up.

I did have plans after all.

I decided to head straight over to G.C headquarters, where my boss was awaiting my arrival.

I was filled with a large sense of uneasiness as I activated the callbox at the building's entrance. Even secretaries had to work today, it seemed, as the regular sultry tone of the offices' clerical assistant let me in.

I ambled through the empty halls of the building, passing a few offices and waiting rooms. I then waited for an elevator. I didn't have to fight for one, as I usually did. Instead, I enjoyed a brief moment of peace. The interns' and associates' absence was very welcome today. I felt a strange feeling of ambivalence as I listened to the overly-played elevator music, watching the buttons light up I headed higher and higher up. Of course, being the head of a top assassination office had it's perks. Rosch had been assigned the largest, highest and most beautiful of all offices. But it was a pain in the ass to get to.

I arrived in front of his secretary swiftly. She was typing fervently on keyboard, barely noticing my presence until I let out a soft cough, drawing her attention. She looked up, slightly confused. Her expression caught me off guard; this was hardly our first encounter. Her hands drifted away from her computer.

"Miss. Farron." She noted, politely, before picking up a small phone next to her. She mumbled into it incoherently.

I took note of her actions and strolled towards Rosch's office, resting a hand on the glass, ready to open it. I heard talking from inside. A small voice called out from behind me.

"Excuse me, Miss Farron !" Her tone was slightly more affirmative this time. "You need to head down to the armory."

I turned my head, taking my hand off of the door. "The armory ?" I inquired.

"Yes." She answered, her gaze dropping to the floor. "Head's orders."

"Head's orders." I muttered to myself, retracing my steps as I made my way back to the elevator. "He couldn't have told me that sooner ?"

And so, with modest aggravation, I headed back down.

It didn't take me long to find the armory. It was situated on the lowest level of the base, underground and hidden from any peering eyes. If the guys at PSICOM knew what we were hiding down here, they would probably shut us down. Even though the two units both worked from the Sanctum, they each had their own jobs and each held there own morals.

I jotted down the stairs leading to the large, subterranean bunker. The entire structure was made out of tin and metal. Every footstep could be heard from miles away. The green walls were stained black after a fire broke out a few years prior. Hardly any weapons made it out unscathed, and even less were usable. They had to employ a brand new team to put the pieces back together.

I arrived in front of the vault door. Instinctively glancing to my right, I approached the print scanner and entered the code, before pressing my thumb against the device. It wasn't my first time down here.

Often enough, employees here would need specific "tools" to aid them with their work. They had everything here, from grenades to daggers, from pistols to flame-throwers. Most assassins preferred the more traditional weapons; however there were a few that enjoyed playing with their targets before delivering the final blow. The Heads chose to ignore all of that. As long as the job got done, as long as someone's blood was spilled, as long as someone got paid, they didn't care.

In one clean maneuver the door opened. Walking inside, I couldn't help but notice a strange burning smell. It hadn't been present the last time I'd visited.

A deep voice rumbled from afar, demanding to know who it was. I answered casually, stating only my last name with vigor. He called me over.

I walked past the shelves of guns, then blades. I inspected each object scrumptiously in awe and fear. I even touched a few of them. The cold steel burned my fingers.

I followed the voice as it spoke out to me, asking me what I wanted. It wasn't until I saw a somber figure emerge from the darkness that I stopped my prodding.

"Stop touching my shit, girl !" He commanded, batting my hand away.

"It's good to see you too, Barret." I joked, placing a hand on my hip.

Barret Walace was quite remarkably one of the strongest men I knew. He had been working down in the armory for around two years. Implausibly, he was once one of the most wanted beings at our offices. He used to lead a small resistance movement, and, unfortunately, attracted too much unwanted attention. He was caught soon enough, but the Heads decided to let him live, as long as he put his knowledge to good use. He accepted, in fear of losing his daughter. I couldn't help but respect him for that.

"Nice coat." He added, slapping me on the back a little too forcefully.

"Right." I replied, rubbing my spine.

He began to laugh. He stopped all of sudden and turned around, running back off into the blackness.

"I've got something for you," He shouted from afar. "a little gift from your boss."

He soon came bounding back, a brown, paper box in hand.

Reaching out for it, I began to grow anxious, wondering if it was perhaps a trap. I opened it prudently.

"It's a gunblade ! I made it this morning." He declared, pleased with himself.

I picked the weapon up, handling it with care. Barret took note of my apprehension and took a few steps back, offering to teach me how to use it. I refused. Instead, I slashed into the air brutally. The weight was manageable. Applying a small amount of pressure onto one of the two triggers, it suddenly changed form.

"I see. Two-in-one." I maundered. "It's a little dangerous, don't you think ?"

"Nah, it's just takes some getting used to. Boss thought you'd love it."

"Boss ?" I asked, perplexed.

"Yeah. He called me in early this morning to make it. I had to leave Marlene all on-"

I cut him off. "Rosch ? Why ?"

He paid no attention to my disrespect. "I think it's a reward."

My bewilderment grew with each answer. I got the feeling that Barret only knew as much as I did.

"I need to go." I stated, heading for the exit.

"Wait ! You forgot the case !"

I snatched the leather accessory from his hands and sprinted to the stairs.

I arrived back at the elevator in next to no time. This time however, I had to wait a few minutes. Tapping my foot anxiously on the ground, I crossed my arms over my chest. My heart stopped when the doors opened. Inside, holding a small notebook, was Fang. She glared at me for a second and then walked past me.

"What are you doing here ?" I asked, in a frosty tone.

Her voice faded as she walked further away. " Your not the only one with a job, Lightning."

Before I knew it, she was gone. Her cold presence here only added to my bemusement. I ignored it. There were far more pressing matters to be attended to.

With a complete indifference towards my boss' doltish secretary I burst into his office.

I saw him standing behind his desk, as was his habit, and walked towards him, gunblade in hand.

"What is this ?" I barked, pointing the weapon in his direction.

He looked up once, smiled, and then returned to his folder.

"A gift." He confirmed, a few fingers on his lips.

"For what ?" I lowered my newly acquired weapon.

He sighed and slumped into his large office chair. He then removed his ear piece and threw it onto the desk.

"For doing such a great job on Villiers' case." He explained.

I felt like a small disillusioned child, who was unable of understanding anything.

"What ?"

"In all honesty, I find it a little bit cruel to wear his coat as a trophy... But to each his own."

I couldn't find the words to reply. But I needn't search much longer, as Yaag picked up on my astonishment.

"A few of my men followed you last night. They saw you and our Hero get into a car. After that, they lost you."

"I...I don't know what to say."

He shut his folder and walked around to face me. "Spare me the details." He said, still grinning. "I have but one question for you : what did you do with the body ?"

A/N : It's been a long time since I've updated (cliche, right ?). I started writing this chapter in January, but never got around to finishing it. Plus, I also got a really weird comment last time and it bothered me a lot *hum*...

I'm scared the plot will get too complicated, so warn me if it does. However, if things seem odd, they are for a reason. I promise. And as I've said on my profile, I ALWAYS tie up my loose ends.

Anyway, let me know what you think about the story ! Favorites and Reviews are appreciated. :)