The snow was light upon the ground, a mere dusting of brightest white, sparkling like miniscule diamonds on the filthy earth. Up above, the sky was velveteen black, joined by the silver glistening of the arrogant stars, and the proud, all-encompassing glow of twin moons. For some people in the world, it would be a glorious night; a night of passion, perhaps, triumph, or peace. The moons would be the bringers of good news; the stars, messengers of the Gods, answering the needy people's prayers; and the sky itself, a haven across which gryphons and phoenixes could soar, brief comets that the world would soon forget.

This was not Agent Number Nine's night of glory, triumph, or peace. Tonight was a night of danger, of chaos, of destruction - and she revelled in it.

"I'll do it! Take another step and I'll do it, do not move or I will!" Black boots were firmly planted apart from eachother, leather-gloved hands both occupied; one holding several locks of hair, and one wielding a long, pointed dagger. "You both know why we're here. You both know how to diffuse this situation." Sharp, golden eyes darted between the two figures frozen in place before her, shivering where they stood, freezing. "You are under suspicion for partaking in the murder of Professor Torchhill, as I'm sure you're aware." The words were not her own; obviously just standard phrases, things the agent had to say - but they changed. [=cadetblue]"By 'partaking'

"Piece of shit, leave her alone! Human scum!"
"Lorette, be quiet--you don't have to do this, please--we'll tell you, let her go--she's just a girl!"

"Aw, no, babe. She's not just a girl." Agent Number Nine chuckled, shaking her head, knife pressed tightly to her captive's throat, hand held completely still however. "She's your girl, and you know what that means?" Her enemies were silent; good, then. She continued. "It means you're gonna do whatever the fuck I say unless you want her pretty little throat slit. Yes? No? Why the hesitation, guys? You think I'm bluffing?" A sudden, sharp laugh; she yanked the little girl's head further back. "Or d'you want to save your own asses instead? Tell you what."

It was disobeying the rules. It was going against orders, and she knew it - but she wasn't supposed to be threatening them, either. Had her comrade been with her, it might have been going a lot smoother, with less danger and more talk. Had her comrade been with her, the elves would not have been crying. Had her comrade been with her, she would not have been tearing a family apart.

Saxophone leaned forwards, thin lips curved upwards into a cold smile. "If you turn yourselves in, I'll let her go." As the two started, she growled, effectively stilling them for fear the knife might 'slip'. "If you don't, and you make this difficult, she dies. I've come a long damn way to punish you. Orders." Lies. "...Of course, I could always let you go free, unharmed, safe."

"--let us leave, we won't trouble you--"
"--we'll do anything--take anything--"

"Your daughter."

"I--what--?"
"What do you mean our daughter?! Let her go!"

"I mean your daughter's life for yours, ain't it obvious?"

The little girl gave an anguished, terrified squeal, and started to struggle. Agent Number Nine stared at the adults, both of whom were pleading with their child to be still, to be quiet.

"Well?"

Suddenly lanterns were flashing - there was the snarling of various beasts and sentient creatures - a heavy stench of sweat - sounds of alarm - and they were surrounded by multiple elves in the large, stone room, accompanied with beasts of burden that would snap when commanded.

"Assassin! We've got an assassin in the building!"
"Get away from the girl! Get away from the girl!"
"Put the blade down, filth, and you won't get hurt!"
"That's not an assassin, you idiots! It's an agent!"
"What does it matter?! She's the same as them!"

Ocher eyes darted everywhere, uneasy, but still she refused to let go of her prey. Saxophone started to walk slowly backwards, until her spine was backed against the wall. Her hand let go of the elven girl's hair and grasped the metal spear within a suit of armour's hands, pulling it out very slowly. The blade stayed against the girl's throat.

The guards started to close in.

"No! Don't!"
"She'll kill her! Don't! Don't move!"

Too late.

A flick of the wrist; blood spurted from an open wound and the child fell to the floor; a spear pierced the closest's chest and sent him reeling, breaking the circle; the agent-assassin fled through the gap and left a broken unit and a shattered family behind, chaos in her wake.

These violent delights have violent ends.