Alright, so this chapter has a lot to digest in it, so try to take it all in. I may or may not have left certain hints to certain future events in certain circumstances. CERTAIN.

As always, thanks for reading. You guys make me feel awesome since you take time out of your busy (maybe bored) lives to check my stuff out. Thank you all. *blows kisses* Enjoy!

Distractions

Kat wasn't sure how much time had passed before the steaming hot shower grew cold. Her eyes were red and swollen, her ego bruised, but her mourning wasn't for the damage done to her possessions. No, Kat was crying because… she was the one who had orphaned Lucian.

Katja was a murderer—nothing but a filthy, rotten murderer. King Isaac's whore? Ha! More like Nobleman Gatlin's. The Hawthornes had loved her skin. When they were angry with someone and Kat happened to be cleaning in a room, she would get picked up by the collar of her floursack dress before being tossed at another slave. She was nothing but a weapon.

Leaning her head against the shower wall, Katja felt every single droplet of water running down her body. Old whip lashings had left deep scars that crisscrossed her back and the backs of her thighs. While Katja could use magical glamours to conceal them, the glamours disappeared in high emotion—such as sorrow.

Katja had been repenting for over a year now, but she knew it wasn't good enough. No good deed whether it be to the kingdom or those she'd harmed would be enough to bring back dead babies, mothers, and fathers. The ultimate sacrifice would be her death, but Kat thought that was the coward's way out. Suicide wouldn't bring back the dead. Suicide would only be a way for her to get rid of her remorse. No. To truly repent was to walk every day and see the faces of people orphaned by her blood soaked hands. That was Katja's Hell. It was a Hell she endured daily, and one she deserved.

Fingers curled against the tiles of the shower wall, and she forced her body straight. Water droplets slammed into her eyes before she closed them. Before any of the guys sent someone into the locker room looking for her, Katja rushed her shower.

Now wasn't the time to wallow. She had slavers to capture.

Keeping that resolve firm in her mind, Katja hastily applied shampoo/conditioner mix into her hair. When that was finished, she rinsed off. The towel was twisted atop her head as she re-entered the dressing room of the lockers.

The wide space was still empty. No one had come in through the one way entry, and Kat couldn't hear anyone in the hall that split the men's rooms from the girl's. Pleased by the silence, Katja put the puppy dog bra on Catori had given her. Then, she donned the leopard top and micro mini. Even when she completed the outfit with the combat boots and sleeveless vest, Kat felt naked.

How any woman felt she could enter the public world with so much skin showing was beyond Katja. She was clothed from head to toe most days. Her mother's hijab would often grace her skull though the two of them varied in religious beliefs. Malia had been Muslim. Katja claimed no god. It was hard to worship a Supreme Being when one's job was to murder innocent peoples. Malia had been able to do it. Katja had not. Just another example of how much stronger Malia was compared to her daughter.

Still, the hijab and niqab of her mother's were things Katja kept close. She wore them whenever she sought comfort, and Kat couldn't help going back to her ruined gym bag in search of the colorful hijab Katja had slipped in there for support during the games.

Katja tried hard not to look at herself in the mirror as she strolled to the gym bag, but it was hard to avoid. One entire section of wall was a mirror. Katja couldn't stop herself from getting a glimpse of her honey brown skin encased in Touchable Women's clothing. Her skin was on display for all to see.

Gulping, Katja hastily jerked her eyes to the trashcan. Her skin was an abomination. No one should see it. It had been bad before the whip lash scars, and it was worse now because of them.

"Just don't think about it," Kat hissed at herself as she opened up a side pocket in her gym bag. The fabric sack was irreparable. Seams had burst open and the zipper was beyond use. On the bright side, the side pocket was okay. Though it had almost been ripped wholly from the bag, Katja ripped the fabric away from the destroyed zipper. She couldn't even hold back the sigh of relief when her mother's hijab was still in perfect condition.

Jerking the fabric to her face, Kat kissed the fabric. The multicolored piece Malia had worn when away from the prying eyes of slave overseers and noblemen was perfectly safe.

Even so, Kat didn't put it on. Though it would serve as a good way to hide herself in case the Guard and Rogue came looking for her, Katja would be easy to spot by her little brother. Sven knew this cloth better than anyone else.

Hastily, Katja folded her mother's hijab then tied it around the bit of her calf hidden by the combat boots. Thanks to Catori, Kat had an even better disguise than the hijab. Her punk goth attire would never be expected, especially with all the skin it showed.

Had Catori known that? She could read souls, but did Tori know about the argument with the guard—the situation with Rogue?

Catori was crafty, but she'd been in the showers. There was no way.

No matter, Kat was thankful. This get up would help Katja stalk Lucian. If he was out to get her and the Guard, he may know something about the slave traders attacking mages. So long as Kat stayed out of sight of the Guard, she would be able to hunt him down. The plan for tonight was to follow Hidden Mask everywhere they went.

Determined, Katja double checked her mother's head scarf then opened up the locker room door. The hallway was completely empty, not surprising given that the games had been over for a while now. The preliminary round had been from eight to four in the afternoon. That was eight hours of people sitting in the stands. Everyone was probably out to eat in the many restaurants. Later, they would hit up the foreign bars.

The Guard would be on patrol. If Katja remembered right, Felix was over the port. Colin was hitting up the town. Hollis was with Isaac. Then, Sven should be on guild duty. All Kat had to do was act the complete opposite of her normal self, and none of the guys would recognize her.

Narrowing her eyes on the locker room doors, Katja remembered Rogue would have gotten into the showers about the same time as she. He hadn't looked like he'd cleaned up between her giving him the towel then the announcement. He could still be in the locker room. It wouldn't hurt to check and make sure.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, a new one wanted to interfere with it. That's the Men's locker rooms, Katja's conscious told her. She might get an eyeful of everything her lack of being touched kept her from.

One part of Katja was thrilled at the prospect of taking a peek at the naked male body since she'd never be able to see it in person otherwise. Another part of Katja was scolding her pervy mind for wanting to sneak a peak. "Just for safety's sake," Katja justified in a whisper. She needed to see if Rogue was in the locker room to make sure he wouldn't see her leave.

Yeah right, Katja scolded herself. I just want to see what I'll never be able to touch.

Shrugging, Katja tried to don that same indifference in human anatomy as Princess Adamine had. The woman had no regards for modesty. She lived in the woods with a dragon, and all clothing was optional. Her Amazonian nature had left her with little curiosity about the nude form. Someone strolled around naked. Adamine didn't bat a lash. Katja turned a hundred shades red and hid her face into the collar of her shirt. Or, she would think she would do that. It was her reaction to naked locker room girls. Would it be worse since she'd never seen a naked man before?

Curious, Katja eased open the door to the men's locker room. Much like in the girl's room, this one was empty. An array of lockers with the guilds' marks stating who had what locker were lined in the same rectangular format as the women's. When Katja heard voices, she caught her breath and pressed hard against the wall. She kept the door cracked.

"So, what's going on with you and the assassin girl?" Sting's voice snickered from somewhere Kat couldn't see.

There was the sound of cloth shuffling, and Rogue's voice stated, "Nothing. I barely know her."

"Ah. I see, so you just go smashing faces with every girl you barely know?"

"Oh, please. That was just so she could give me a numbing poison for me to ride the snowboard without motion sickness." The voices drew nearer, and Katja leaned closer to the opening. It wasn't long before her patient quiet was rewarded. She caught a glimpse of Rogue and Sting wearing towels around their narrow hips.

Sting snorted, "Yeah. Yeah. You didn't look to be complaining too much about being 'poisoned'." His fingers made air quotes when he finished his sentence.

"Katja is an attractive girl, and she seems rather smart, too. What's there to complain about?"

"Oh! So, you do think she's hot! So, what was it like? Any tongue?"

Tongue? Katja narrowed her eyes. Why was he asking about tongue? Did people use their tongues when they kissed? She stuck her own, long tongue out to examine it. How did that even work? It sounded difficult.

Looking flustered, Rogue barked, "No! I said it was just to give me the numbing poison! There was nothing sexual about her—"

"Kissing you."

"Yes," Rogue sighed, "kissing me. Besides, what about you and Yukino?"

Now, Sting's brows drew inwards. "What do you mean 'What about me and Yukino'?"

"You're always together, and she's pretty much your keeper. 'Hey, Yukino, where's Sting at?' 'Oh, he's eating half the world's food supply at the moment.'" Rogue dropped his towel and reached for a pair of pants.

Immediately, Katja let loose a squeak of sound. The door hit her in the forehead at the same time Sting asked, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I think someone was spying on us. It sounded like a girl."

"Yeah, like a girl really wants to see your schlong," Rogue laughed. He gave a dramatic pause before adding, "Unless it was Yukino!"

Katja heard some scuffling and Rogue's laughter, but she was too busy staring at the closed locker room door. Her hands were over her mouth, and her eyes were wide. Her skin had turned so red she looked like someone had painted over her body.

Even though Rogue had joked about Sting's schlong, Rogue had been…

"Oh, my," Katja whispered. The image of his manhood would forever be stuck inside her head for the rest of her life. Part of her was titillated that she finally knew what a trouser snake looked like, and another part of her was trying to figure out how other guys hid it in their tight jeans. Rogue had loose pants, but some males wore tight jeans. Where did it go?

Shaking her head, Katja tried to clear the images of naked Rogue out of her head. She coughed into her hand then ran her other hand through her curling, damp hair. She needed to get going before he got clothed and came looking for her, but… Would she even be able to face him without blurting, "I was trying to make sure you weren't looking for me when I left the locker rooms, so I peeked inside the guy's locker room. Er. I may or may not have gotten a view of your schlong before squealing like a schoolgirl and running off."

Katja closed her eyes tight, but her brain decided that was just the right time to let Rogue flash through her skull again. Dirty, pervy, Katja. You just ruined yourself by acting like a voyeur and checking out the men's locker rooms, her mind's voice scolded.

Closing her hands over her face, Kat tried to get her head out of the gutter. It didn't take long. As soon as Kat heard a locker door slam shut, she jerked upwards. Katja needed to get back on track. Lucian was out there, possibly hunting Sven. Schlongs or no schlongs, Kat had to focus.

She took a hard gulp of air before marching out of there as fast as she could. Katja wasn't alarmed at the emptiness of the coliseum. As a matter of fact, she was glad for it. It let her get out of there without any witnesses.

Katja quickly exited the coliseum before finding the main roads. While Thor's Field was a little out of the way of the main town, Capital Lance was crowded. Foreign faces filled the city. People were walking, talking balls of entertainment as they took in the culture of Lancet. Nomadic tribes that dwelled high in the mountains had even come down to join the festivities.

She saw one of the younger children dashing through the crowds. He was pickpocketing the travelers with ease as they watched the tribes play instruments and dance in Lancet fashion. When the boy came her way, all it took was a stern look for him to veer off towards the oblivious tourists.

Lancet was becoming quite the place, Katja noticed. The tribes were playing harmonica and acoustic guitar. One had even set up a kind of stand to offer kabobs for food on the go. Tourists were bopping in and out of clothing shops. Katja had never seen the kingdom so lively. It was like a whole new spirit for a formerly dead and stoic country.

Still, Katja felt naked amongst all these people. Her micro mini was extremely short compared to her skinny jeans, and while today was a warm day for the Lancet Winter, Katja felt chill bumps on her freshly waxed legs. The worst part? Every movement of her legs made her extremely aware of the fact that she was not wearing any underwear. Curse Catori and her normal sized bum!

Who wears a micro mini without underwear on? Apparently, Katja did.

Katja was being forced to discover a whole new side to herself, and as much as she was leary of admitting it, Katja felt people staring at her. They looked at the chains bouncing against her leather boots, and they gawked at how tightly her breasts pressed against the low cut top of her tank. No amount of adjusting the vest was covering up her chest, Katja quickly realized after fitful attempts at covering herself.

She felt like sighing at the ridiculous get up Catori had whipped together for her. At the very least, Lancet had a dry cold instead of a wet cold. Katja's dark skin absorbed enough heat from the direct sunlight in a cloudless afternoon sky for her to stay warm. So long as the clouds stayed gone, she wouldn't have to worry about freezing to death.

Most people in Lancet were accustomed to cold weather. Every day was a shorts day so long as the sun was out and the wind was still. Even as Katja tried to make sure her tiny leather skirt didn't ride up to reveal the cleft of her ass, she noticed other girls wearing short clothing.

One had on a pair of jeans ripped from thigh to ankle. Another was wearing a plaid skirt. They were in a tightly knit group of females as they giggled and walked. They touched bare skin to bare skin without flinching. Katja was having to make sure she didn't accidentally brush arms with a short sleeve wearing male.

Did the streets really have to be this crowded? Not only was the thick of the masses making it hard for Kat to not touch anyone, but the throngs were also making a tougher time of hunting for Sven or Colin. The rooftops would be an easy spot for them to check people out without having to be seen, but Kat was distracted by not touching anyone.

Her hazel eyes dipped in and out of the crowds before she caught sight of Blue Pegasus. They were on their way into a bar that group of giggling women had entered. Metal music beat against the wooden walls of the bar, and Katja could see people starting a mosh pit in front of a live band.

Had Katja not been on the downlow away from the Guard, she would have been in there with Blue Pegasus right now. Every other day Katja was to switch from Blue Pegasus then back to Sabertooth while visiting the guild Grimm between see-to's. She was suddenly glad she wouldn't be heading into that bar with the flirty guild boys when a drunken male was thrown onto a crowd waiting to get inside.

It was amazing how much people touched in a day. Accidentally brushing arms, hugging, kissing, and whispering were things Katja had to be leary of. She'd met with Blue Pegasus briefly to get them settled in their lodge and had nearly poisoned Ichiya when he was groaning about perfume. Thankfully, no one had gotten harmed before she could explain her No Touchy Policy. Some days, she really felt she should wrap herself up in police caution tape and call it a day.

Running a hand through her hair, Katja took a look towards the rooftops just in time to catch sight of Colin hopping from rooftop to rooftop. He had his Image Captor Lacrima out and was snapping images. Had Katja not been familiar with Colin's techniques, she would have thought him to be sightseeing. No, Colin was looking for Kat. He would take pics of crowds then look for someone wearing a turtleneck collar, long sleeves, and skinny jeans.

"Thank you, Tori," Katja murmured as she kept traversing through the crowds. Colin was headed towards Castle Lance. Kat was headed towards the docks. She was so busy staring at Colin's departure that she didn't realize the tall man in front of her had stopped dead in his tracks.

Her face collided wholly with the spot between his shoulder blades before she let out a sharp squeak of surprise. The sound shred through her lips before she could stop it. Bare hands were thankfully touching the man's clothing, but when she scampered away, her leg got tangled between that of someone walking too close to her. In a matter of seconds, Katja had created a road block of domino tumbling bodies.

Her hands slammed tight against her front, and Katja curled in on herself to prevent her body from touching anyone else's. Right when she was sure her bare arm was going to touch a stray hand, the man she'd run over snatched her wrist.

She had no time to warn him. Like some kind of foreign dance move, the giant male had twisted Katja until she stood bewildered in front of him. Yellow eyes bored holes inside her skull. The intensity of his gaze rendered her mute. With a deep rasp, the strange man barked, "Malia!"

Eyes that had already been wide shot even wider. Katja's mouth parted to question how this unfamiliar face knew the name of her mom until she saw Colin's Myst Body flowing back their way on the rooftops. He must have heard the commotion and headed towards them. Narrowing her hazel gaze, Kat snatched the man up by the sleeve of his long, dark robe.

"Follow me!" Katja commanded. Her voice didn't give him room to argue. Katja was already hauling a man almost twice her size down the alleyways.

People had their laundry hung out on strings that spanned between apartments. Katja swung a white sheet out of her way before having to wrestle with a pair of baggy jeans. She didn't need to look behind her to know that the man she was running with got slapped in the face with the pants. He made some kind of growling noise before shredding the clothing right off the pins that held it.

How did this guy know her mother? Malia had been kidnapped when she was pregnant then sold to slavers at a foreign port. Her long robes and dark skin had been the telltale signs that she wasn't from Lancet as had her accent. This man sported long robes. What little of his covered skin Katja could see was the same honey brown of Malia's. Also, the accent matched. Kat knew her mother's accent better than the voice of her king. This man was foreign.

Once she was positive that she had lost Colin's misty form, she halted in her tracks. She grabbed the robed male by the fabric on his shoulder before slamming him to the walls. Thanks to his thick clothing, Katja hadn't touched a single inch of skin. Raising her hand in the same claw-like position she held it when sheathed by gauntlets, Katja snarled, "My skin is poisonous. One touch, and you'll be a writhing, foaming mass in the alleyway. Now, tell me how you know my mother!"

"M-mother?" that deep rasp of a voice questioned. The man's mouth was covered by his robes, and in a state of what looked to be shock, he tugged the fabric away. Scars littered his face. A strange, crescent moon had been engraved beneath his eye, and a healed sword wound spanned from forehead to mid cheek on the left of his face.

Not interested all that much in repeating herself, Katja hissed, "Malia. My mom. How do you know her name?"

One large, scarred hand reached to touch Katja's face. She was stunned into silence when the same poison she'd used on Colin earlier had no effect on this man. His calloused palm was so big it covered most of the side of her face. "Your mother," he murmured in that deep voice. "So… You are… Katja."

His voice broke like emotion had slammed him hard. With the moisture filling his golden gaze, and the tender touch on the side of Kat's face, she wasn't sure what to do. "Yeah. So, spit it out, Old Man. How do you know our names?" The threat in her voice was gone, and since her poison was doing nothing to him, she dropped the defensive stance of her hand. Without her poison Katja would have no defense against this man. He was bigger, obviously older, and bore more scars. He had practice in the art of death from what she could see. What was keeping him safe? Was he like her mother? Was he like Sven? That curiosity was enough to get Kat to drop the arm trying to strangle the man against a stone building.

Slowly, the man grabbed the side of his headwrap. He moved like someone trying to not scare off a frightened animal, and Katja watched in interest as piece by piece the fabric around his head unveiled more of his face. Tousled black hair fell across his pitch black eyebrows, and when the shadow of the wrap fully left his face, Katja was left to stare into the most vibrant, golden eyes she'd ever seen. The man was a mix of honey brown skin, ebony hair tumbling at his shoulders, thick stubble dotting a hard jawline, and those vibrant, gold eyes. All good looks aside, what stole Katja's breath were the runes engraved into this stranger's skin.

Identical to her mother, this stranger had runes worn into his body. The crescent moon had only been one of many. His throat, his jawline, and even a slash through his eyebrows stated exactly what he was—a member of the Silent Assassins.

He bore the same ring as Katja's mother on his left hand.

"I was a friend of your mother's. We… worked together. She was my partner on many missions," the man stated. His hand pulled away from her face, and he ran that same hand through his hair. "So… What happened to Malia? Is she still—" He took a sharp gulp. "—alive?"

Hands that had still been braced in case the situation turned ugly dropped to either side of Katja's body. She'd heard many stories about a man her mother worked with. By the name of Sinbard, the man had been a hero. He did his best to protect Kat's mother from the cruelty of being a commandeered assassin.

Unlike most members of the Silent Assassins, Malia had been reserved, a holy woman taken from her temple during a raid in her village. She wasn't meant to live the cruel life of an assassin, and she wasn't cut out to deal with the constant harassment of Gatlin Hawthorne's wicked, wicked father. She always whispered, "Some day, he'll come back for you. He'll save you because I know he lived," after the torment the elder Hawthorne dealt her. Was this tall, broad male actually the man Malia said was her father? Was this Sinbard?

When words could finally form in Katja's throat, she stated, "N-No. She… she successfully poisoned Gatlin Hawthorne's father, the former nobleman that led Lancet before the current king. When people found out he died from poison, they immediately killed her." She gave a pause. The memory of her mother's death had always been so clean in Katja's mind. It was the one thing that her Time Out Box couldn't contain because unlike those nameless faces Katja had been forced to get rid of, Malia had been her mom. Both Sven and Katja had been forced to the beheading.

Malia's head had been forced to the chopping block. The axe had glistened above her head. "Protect your sister!" Malia had screamed when the axe came down. Her words had ended in a bloody gurgle before Katja watched her mother's head roll into a basket filled with other skulls.

"They didn't even give her a trial," Katja whispered under her breath.

"They didn't have to. They owned her. They did what they wanted," he snarled. His upper lip curled to reveal pearly white teeth. The hand that was encircled with the golden band moved until he was holding it tight between his fingertips.

"That may be the case, but it's straight cruelty in my eyes." Katja's eyes closed tightly before she reopened them in the stranger's direction. Hands whipped towards her hips, and she leaned towards the man. "For someone who knows a hell of a lot about us, I don't know a single thing about you. How about you start with your name?" she barked while thinking, And, please, let it be Sinbard. Don't let me be an orphan. Please.

Coughing into his hand, the man stated, "I-Ichiro. I'm here for the Winter Games. Member of the guild, Grimm."

Katja's heart might as well have sunk into a pit of solitude. The games. Of course. "So, you wouldn't happen to know anything about my father then? Sinbard?" She could at least ask. If they were in the same den, they should have known each other. Malia listed off enough names of friends and comrades that she'd made, and while she'd been easily voted off as the weakest link in the den, her partner had been the strongest. Did Malia have more than one male partner other than Katja's father, or was Ichiro lying to her about his identity? What would he have to gain by that?

Ichiro's hand went through his hair. He studied Katja long and hard. "The last I heard of Sinbard was that he was to be captured and left to die in the deserts," he explained. There was something in his voice. Though it was deep and rumbly, it held a hint of something in it. Katja wasn't sure whether it was the topic or the conversation. Some part of her wished that the change in his voice was a lie. This was the first man to ever come to Lancet and claim to be from the Silent Assassins. Why couldn't he just be her dad?

Katja's head was so deep into her own thoughts that she nearly jumped when a hand clamped down on her shoulder. Ichiro drew her tight against him. Resting his chin on top of her brunette mane, he mentioned, "But, I know he'd be proud to have such a strong, independent daughter like you, Katja. Malia is looking somewhere from the Heavens upon you, and I know that she is proud."

Katja wasn't sure what to do. These kind of moments were so rare for her. She could feel the warmth of this large man's body, and she didn't have to worry about their skin touching. How? What kept him from her poison? And, just why was he holding her? How close had he been to Malia and to Sinbard?

"Is he dead?" Katja whispered into the robes covering Ichiro.

"He… He hasn't been the same since they took Malia. The man he once was is dead."

Almost awkwardly, Ichiro moved to place his arms at his sides. He wouldn't make eye contact with her, and she wasn't sure whether or not to make eye contact with him. "You must be patrolling the grounds," he blurted abruptly while taking a step back.

"I-I am," Kat admitted. She took her own step.

Ichiro was headed back towards the town, and Katja had turned to the docks. Ichiro was right. Katja had no time for sympathy. She needed to find Lucian. If she truly was an orphan, she wouldn't be made into an only child. Life sucked when you were alone, and Katja had been that every moment her brother was not by her side.

Ichiro's Adam's apple bobbed as he took an audible gulp. "T-Then, I will leave you to it." He took a step back and straight into one of the hanging sheets. Ichiro got tangled up inside the wind wrapped sheet but was making a hasty escape. In his attempt to flee, he wound up taking the blanket off the pins. His robed body was encased in a pink sheet as he darted back towards the busy streets. Almost like he was in a kind of comedy skit, Ichiro's foot got stuck in a box before he went tumbling face first towards the grounds.

"Where's the fire?" a deep voiced man asked as he caught Ichiro in his arms.

"M-met my d-d-dau—" The man turned sheet white before going loose in the knees. He fell like a limp noodle only to get hauled up onto the dark haired man's shoulder.

"Damn. Would have thought that he'd been drinkin' if I didn't know him better. Yer acting like Clint put something in your drink, mate," the new man stated. His look of concern undermined the playfulness in his voice. He hefted Ichiro higher onto his shoulder before looking down into the alley.

He saw nothing. Katja had plastered her body tight against a doorway to watch the two men.

"Get me outta here, Krage," Ichiro grumbled.

"And, he's still talking. That's like… What, a whole ten words or so? This must be the end of the world."