Snippet #1151748

There was a heavy silence in the room. It was a simple, white room, with a dozen chairs placed out. Some of the people sitting in the chairs were talking - some excited, others low-toned and serious. That was the way with the Assasians - some were borderline psychotics who saw an opportunity for carnage unleashed in the name of Cloud - others were professionals who saw the true seriousness of the situation - who saw Cloud's power base, carefull built up during the last twenty years, threatened. Threatened by the actions of one of their own - by one of the Assasians. To Cloud, that was unacceptable.

Number Seven counted himself among the professionals. Codenamed the Gunman, he was the best sharpshooter in all of Cloud, and one of its most experienced operators. More importantly, if there was anything that was above any doubt, it was his loyalty to Cloud. Today, as always, his face was emotionless, his voice silent, and his glowing eyes obscured by his long black hair. Unlike the others, he didn't talk, or socialize with the rest of the Assasians. There was no need to. Instead, he sat in a chair, reading the latest report he had received on the situation in New York.

It was bad. Seriously bad.

It was bad enough that one of the Assasians, one of the thirteen most trusted and deadly wetworks agents within Cloud, had gone rogue. That, in itself, posed a danger and threat to the organization that would have to be dealt with swiftly, and without mercy. Which was how Cloud responded to any threat against the organization. But, the fact that #13 had actually attacked Cloud - no, even worse - attacked Cloud's headquarters in New York City...

Number Seven's loyalty to Cloud was above question. He was one of the agents they would send out to take down #13. Which other Assasians they would send out, he didn't know yet. He looked around the room, studying a few of them. He took notice of #8's chair. #8 was still missing. It was uncertain whether or not he would show up at the meeting at all. Rumors whispered through the corridors of Cloud's underground headquarters said he had joined forces with #13, but nothing had been confirmed by their superiors yet. He didn't miss the freak, however. Master of the Chain, #8 was a psychopath, and a liability to any mission. Number Seven had learned that first-hand, the hard way...

His eyes wandered on, and he noticed other missing Assasians - #5 and #6. The Samurai, and the Twins. Perhaps they had yet to arrive.

The Samurai...a sword-wielding samurai born in the wrong era. A dangerous Assasian, and a dangerous man to work with, because he didn't always follow orders - follow the plan. Not a rogue agent, but one that couldn't always be trusted and counted on - at least, that was the Gunman's opinion of and experience with working with him. Nobody knew much about the Samurai, though. Not even Cloud. Number Seven didn't really like #5, but he would work with him if ordered to. To Number Seven, orders from Cloud were above question. That was why he was one of the top Assasians within Cloud.

And the Twins... The Gunman thought about them. They were as deadly as they were beautiful, perhaps more deadly than any other Assasians in the room. They fought with the Senbon, weapons they had perfected the use of, in a deadly harmony of terrible, silent killing. When the Gunman killed, there was always a gunshot, as a last epitaph of or salute to the life he had taken for Cloud. To the victims of the Twins, death came without forewarning - without salute - as swift and merciless as by the hands of the Grim Reaper himself.

Of course, those were the characteristics of all the Assasians. That was why they were the best. The last hidden weapon of Cloud, when all other options had been exhausted. The nuclear weapons in Cloud's arsenal of human weapons. The mere mention of the Assasians was enough to make most people in the Corridors of Power in Washington, and the rest of the world, tremble in fear.

But one of them had gone rogue.

#13 - the Black Mamba, master Assasian and wielder of the whip... Number Seven gritted his teeth hard. On the outside, nobody noticed his fury. The insult of an Assasian going rogue, though, was enough to make even the most emotionless of the Assasians, angry. But he quickly calmed down, and looked around the room once more at the other Assasians. Then, the door opened, and all eyes were drawn to the front, when a man entered.

It was time.