Gehenna: A swirling ball of barren death. The terra-forming had been going on so long that nobody living could even recall knowing anybody that had ever been alive when it was started. Fortunately, the most noisome of the gasses were fairly heavy, so when the dome air-conditioning was working properly (As it sometimes did) people inside the domed city of Abaddon could sometime see the stars sparkling above. Inside the 100 mile across dome, the city waited like a coiled snake ready to pounce. Soaring through the canyons of buildings AVs filled the air, when the traffic wasn't jammed. 100 foot tall video billboards exhorted everyone to buy the "Hammer And Anvil (R) Brand reusable condoms, while the gliding news zeppelin assured everybody that crime was in check and the recent death of a celebrated crime lord would not incite a gang war.

The air conditioning was malfunctioning...again. It was raining in the domed city of Abaddon. It rained and rained, but it never seemed to make things clean.

In the space port, Jazzy lit up one of his black cigarettes. He glared at the 'Port security guy, who was pointing at the no smoking sign, until the man went away. Jazzy was a tall man, dressed in a plain black suit. His dark hair was pulled back into a pony tail. He looked over at the man with him, "Peppers, when the Hell was that goddamn flight supposed ta get here? Ya know, I got better things I could be doin'. Like........well, they sure as Hell are better than cooling my heels waitin' for a flight that's takin' forever ta get here."

Peppers seemed to be a bit distracted, what with all the chicks bustling through the crowd. His cyber-eye's teleoptics and image enhancement features were being kept busy as he scanned the scene intently. Six feet tall, Leone "Peppers" Pepparelli was olive skinned, and very fit. His hair was black, feathered and bushy (OOC: picture a typical guy's 'do from the American '70s--right on!) and his sideburns big. The moustache on his face was trimmed small, and his eyes were brown. He wore the same type of black suit and tie that Jazzy wore.

He slapped his buddy distractedly on the arm, "Whoa... lookit that one.... "

Jazzy nods appreciatively. "Nice rack, not much in the face, but when ya gotta rack like that, who cares?"

"Hey Jazzy, you seen anyone famous yet? I hear you can see vid stars and stuff in these places..."

"Nah," Replies Jazzy, "I don't watch vids. Those people aren't nothing. All they do is parrot out what some underpaid sap locked in a little offce wrote up for them to say. Ya wanna see someone famous, ya need ta see a musician. Someone that can breath their own soul out through their horn. There's something about music that is so totally spiritual.....Sweet Zombie Jesus, look at the tits on that broad!"

Peppers went from nodding seriously back to wide-eyed gawking in a split second. "Whoa...."

"Ya know, she don't turn up soon. I'm thinkin' maybe I can convince that broad to go into a broom closet with me and discuss the meanin' of life, ya know what I mean?"

"I hear ya, brother..." Pep replied and glanced back at the gate. ~Oh shit...~

He slapped Jazzy's arm again. "Look sharp, Jaz, our charge has landed." Peppers' stomach began to churn... he had never met Ky Lasse, only heard about her. ~A real ball breaker, that's what I heard...~ He fumbled out a smoke, trying to calm down... "Gimme a light," he muttered from around the filter.

Jazzy lets him catch a spark off of his evil smelling black cigarette, "Peppers, ya gotta get with the times. Self ignition smokes are the only way to go. Ya just gotta remember to wait 'til the chem smell clear before ya take yer first puff. Believe me, it only takes once ta learn that lesson."

"Fuck that shit," Peppers retorted, "I hear them things spark up in yer pocket and shit. One minute you're fallin' asleep in front of the vids, the next minute your fucking shirt is on fire... uh uh."

Jazzy grins, "Heh-heh-heh. That's ta keep ya on yer toes, and ta weed out the weak. It's an evolution tool."

Peppers snorted, and glanced at Jazzy while taking a drag. "I only see one of us gettin' evoluted with them things. Guess that makes you the weak one." He exhaled his smoke and grinned.

"Damn straight." Agrees Jazzy, "I'm the last of a rare breed. I'm unique, a rare precious gem, that's me." He maintians a straight face as long as he could, but in the end the goofiness found it's release in a laugh.

The spacecraft which had landed was huge... one of the largest models available outside of tankers and cargo ships. Had it been a commercial flight, dozens upon dozens of people would have started to file out of the doors leading from the airlocks. But no one had yet disembarked.

A minute passed. Then two. Peppers was getting more fidgety by the moment.

Jazzy shuffles around nervously, and says under his breath, "Oh man...Hey should we be holding up a cardboard sign saying 'crime boss'?"

Finally, after another minute, they saw the shadows down the corridor of someone approaching. A man appeared, tall and dark. Dark suit, dark glasses, short dark hair. His large frame rippled with power, but he moved with the grace and silence of a large cat. On sweeping through the doors, the man's hed moved quickly and efficiently, scanning the room and appraising the scene.

He paused for the barest moment, before nodding to Jazzy and Peppers and heading their way.

~Oh, shit. I forgot about Vincent. Creepy bastard...~ thought Peppers as he watched the large man approach.

Vincent's green eyes inspected the two men before him, noting the nervousness, sizing up their abilities and probable weaknesses.

The grin on his face was tight, and it did little to soften the sight of the rest of his face... a battered landscape, scarred from his formative years spent moving up the ranks of the organization as a cunning and efficient soldier.

Vincent stopped in front of the two men, and extended a large hand, "Leone, right? Or do you prefer Peppers?" His voice was deep and resonant, flowing liquidly like dark water over sharp stones.

Pep took the hand, and tried not to react to the painful squeeze. "Either. Whatever. Welcome back to Abaddon, Mr. Guidone."

"Vincent," he corrected, and turned to Jazzy, extending a hand. "Joe, or Jazzy?"

"Jazzy, Mr Guidone." Replies Jazzy trying to remain calm under that gaze. As heavily armed as Jazzy was, there wasn't much that scared him, but this creep definitely had him tense.

"Good ta see ya's again." Even as Vincent spoke, the Sicilian's mind whirred along, showing him the best ways to go about destroying the men in front of him. A blow to the throat here, a blow to the nose there, and several variations for each weapon he carried. These things raced through Vincent's mind because he was a born killer, and he couldn't help himself.

"Nice ta see you again too." Replied Jazzy. He pried his eyes away from Vincent's to look around behind him, "We got a good limo waiting on the parking pads.....uh, is *she* with you?"

It was hard to tell where Vincent was looking exactly... his glasses were that dark. But he answered, "Yeah. Here's how its gonna work. You tell me where the limo is, and then I'll send the luggage carrier to it, we ain't gonna fuck around with them fuckin' robo-handlers and belts and claim areas and all that shit. And don't worry, we won't have no trouble with security." He paused for a second, frozen completely, as if he was waiting a predetermined amount of time for what he had said to sink in.

Jazzy continued to watch him for a moment, as the pause continued, he flicked Peppers a quick questioning look, but returned full attention to Vincent when he spoke again

Vincent then continued, "I got us set up to move through the VIP area's detectors without any trouble, so once they got the luggage stowed, I'll let Ms. Lasse know we're ready. At that point, we will move-- and I mean *move*-- to the limo, and get the fuck outta here. Capishe?"

"Yeah, got it." Replies Jazzy, "The rig is up on the top level. I figured it'd make for a smooth quick get away. I slipped the hump running the garage an extra fifty ta keep the whole top deck sealed off for us alone."

"Good man," rumbled Vincent, pleased. Suddenly, he swung a small walkie talkie to his face... turning to glance out the window as he spoke into it. "Top level, parking garage. Look for a single limo." Click. Vincent turned his glasses towards the pair again quickly, "There a driver up there?"

Peppers glanced at Jaz, and stammered, "Uh... yeah, he's up there..."

"Tell him to get out and be ready to help load the shit." Turning his head back towards the window, Vincent continued into the walkie talkie: "Driver will be waiting. Call me when you're done with the load." Click. It crackled back: "Roger."

Peppers activated his commo implant, and subvocalized to the limo driver, "Hey, Nero, this is Peppers. The luggage is coming up, get out and flag the guy down. We'll be up when you're through..." The reply came back immediately, "Gotcha, Pep."

Peppers grinned nervously at Vincent, then shot a sidelong glance at Jazzy. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. His gaze drifted again to the corridor which led from Ky's spacecraft. His tension mounted, rising with each footstep of the crowd behind him.

Vincent stood rock still, his head moving from side to side as he scanned the room. His arms were held in front of him, hands together, holding the walkie talkie. The maps of the spaceport were implanted into a chip in Vincent's back. His mind spun the best routes for foot-traffic pattern avoidance, and of course, scenarios of violent death.

The minutes pass.

Then, another crackle from the walkie talkie: "All secured, sir." Vincent had it lifted to his face before the man was done speaking. "Thank you." Click. He tossed it into a nearby trash can, and subvocalized to the craft, "We're ready for her."

The big man turned back to Jazzy and Peppers. "She's on her way. Be ready."

Peppers nearly fainted. A small whimper was held back in the nick of time, and wide-eyed, he attempted to grin... it came out rictus. But he took some deep breaths, and calmed quickly...

~She's just a broad. Another boss. Pull y'self together you fuckin' pussy...~

Vincent noticed this, but his dark glance lasted only a second, before turning back to the corridor.

~Hard to find help around here, apparently...~ He then seemed to recall something, and glanced back at the boys, adding in lower tones, "Introductions later. I'll lead the way, you guys watch the rear."

Jazzy was tense, but not so much as Peppers. As per Vincent's suggestion, Jazzy checks the crowd over. No one really seems to be paying too much attention now. The Space port security seemed to be actively NOT paying attention to anyone in the area. He figured everything was 5x5, but the V man was right, best to be ready for anything. That was often the difference between and successful hood, and the contents of several cans of pet food.

She walked down the corridor unhurriedly. One could almost say she sauntered ... but, for all the impression of leisurely movement. she covered a hell of a lot of ground rather rapidly ...

She was not alone. Various minions from the space craft, from the spacepoort, hovered in anxious attendance. But she ignored them. Her face was calm, cool, aloof ... as much of it as could be seen behind the dark glasses.

Ah ... the dark glasses ... the pre-requisite of cool from Robespierre onwards. Yes, of course she wore them .... large frames, which caught and exagerrated the heart shape of her face .... large dark lenses that swallowed the almost delicate features ... but didn't hide the determination of that small chin, or the fulness of those parted reddened lips ...

She was wearing a simple black dress. Sleeveless. A simple shaft of silk that slid softly over her pale limbs as she walked. The kind of simplicity for which you need money so serious that it renounces the world and lives as a trappist monk for thirty years.

And around her neck a simple strand of perfectly matched pearls ... those oysters must have died happy ... hell, they rolled over on the backs and just flopped open at the thought that their treasure was going to glow with the lustre of the creamy skin of Ky Lasse ... as they did now, even under the harsh artificial lights of the spaceport.

She was carrying what appeared to be a small dog ... a Maltese terrier ... a lot of silky fur .... a dark nose and a small pink tongue ... and the occasional glimpse of a malevolent eye peering through ...

An invisible demarcation line. She stopped fo a second, then glanced over her shoulder and nodded briefly to two large men in spacer uniform. Clearly the function of the uniform was to break it tpo all beholders that, despite evidence to the contrary, these two goons were, in fact, human, and reliable employees ... well - up to a point.

A point drawn invisibibly on the floor ...

They stopped and she moved forward, with a cool nod at Vincent. Then she looked at his two companions.

"Pepper and Joe? Jazzy?" Her voice had an odd quality ... a little girl pout, and a slight huskiness. "I've read so much about you in Uncle Max's data files ... I really feel I know you."

Peppers looked like a deer in the headlights. But he managed a weak smile, and a nod, "Nice ta meetcha, Ma'am."

The best Jazzy manages at this point is to shut his gaping mouth. Man o man, whatta doll. But with so much more class and strength than any woman he'd ever met before. He didn't know how to act.A quick swirl of torment clanged into place with the decision to ignore the fact she was a major league hottie, and deal with her like he did the old man: All business.....but he would hink about her when he got home tonight alone.

"Perhaps you should take Dodo," she added to Peppers. "You're the one who likes dogs, aren't you? In a red wine sauce, if I recall ... with lots of sage."

Peppers' eyes were like saucers, he glanced at Jazzy and gulped. ~Christ! How'd she know about that?!~ He eyed Dodo nervously, but took him gingerly, hiding his disgust.

"Uncle Max was very impressed," she went on as they began to move again. "A whole data disk. He thought the client would never sign ... and you had him up to the mark in a single night. After a single meal, you might say. Do tell ... are poodles very difficult to skin?"

Peppers relaxed... he had expected a harsh lecture or something. ~So old Max knew about that, huh? And he was impressed? Heh, well, I *am* a pro.~ The memory of the event drew forth a devilish grin. "No ma'am. Not after they're dead," he replied, with a glance at Dodo. "They don't give you no trouble at all."

"So clever of you," she sighed. "I would never have thought of ... sage."

Jazzy grinned. He didn't think anybody but him knew of Pepper's poodle roast. The apple in the mouth was a nice touch, he recalled. He was even more impressed by the new Boss.

"Perhaps Jazzy should take my dear little Dodo after all."

The grin froze, and then slowly faded. A dog. He looked to Peppers to see if he was gonna keep the dog, or stiff Jazzy with it.

For the first time in several hours, Peppers smiled genuinely. He thrust the runt out to Jazzy, "You heard the boss. Take good care..."

Oh, such a look Jazzy gives him, that he rapidly changes to a happy smile in case the Boss is looking. He takes the dog, handeling it like it was toxic waste...but very valuable toxic waste.

As they moved on, she looked around.

"Do tell," she murmured. "Where is my dear little cousin?"

"Uh," Starts Jazzy, "She's back at SkyTop. We figured it would be safer for her there, until we...I mean you...I mean.....ummm..." He noticed the eyes upon him, "That is until things get sorted out....and stuff." He finished lamely.

"Hmmmmmm," she said.

Many politicians manage to convey less in a two hour oration than Ky Lasse did with that simple sound. Namely, she was not impressed. But neither was she wholly surprised.

There was a slight drop in temperature.

Now free of his smelly burden, and floating on the belief that he had impressed not only Max, but Ky, Peppers went happily back into work mode, scanning the crowd from the rear. He did steal several peeks at Ky's small lithe frame, but simply stored the images away for later.

Jazzy followed along, still watching the rear, and (in spite of his busuness only attitude) watching hers as well, while still lugging around the pooch.

Vincent was in front, like the bow of an ice-breaker, parting the crowd before them. His pace seemed perfectly matched to the stride of his employer, even though she was much shorter. They neared the VIP door, and Vincent opened it, and held it open for the entourage.

Dodo was used to being carried but she also expected to be the centre of attention ... at least for the carrier. This was clearly not the case ... the carrier was distracted, she felt, a state of affairs that should be remedied forthwith.

She wriggled. She gave a short sharp bark.

And last but not least, she gave a frantic twist and leapt vertically in her arms, her teeth bared and heading for his nose ....

Alerted by the bark, Ky Lasse turned her head.

"Dodo, play nice," she admonished. Then she gave Jazzy the full force of her smile. "She likes you. She always plays with people she likes ... "

And then she turned her head again and moved elegantly through the door Vincent was holding open, tilting her head back to smile thannks at him.

Then they were moving through the VIP door.

"Vincent, where's the limo?" she asked. And for the very first time, there was a note of tension in her voice.

"Not much farther now, Madame." Vincent replied in a professional tone, still leading the way. "It's on the roof of the parking garage. The elevator is just ahead."

And it was. The hallway in which they found themselves contained a plethora of weapon scanners, but even though they were heavily armed, no one seemed to notice.

Finally they reached the elevators, and as a man was stepping off of the center one, Vincent grabbed the door to keep it open. The man scurried away with a nervous glance upwards, and Vincent stepped inside to hold it for the others. An older couple were bringing up the rear, and attempted to enter behind the group, but found themselves looking up at Vincent, who had blocked the door. He stared down at them, as the doors began to close, and said, "We're full. Sorry." The indignant protests of the old man were cut off by the closing doors, and the lift started smoothly upwards.

Meanwhile ... awaiting them ....

At SkyTop, Yixing waited.

Waited for the axe to fall.

Waited for her cousin, Ky Lasse... sometime dealer in flesh, and now... dealer in arms... to arrive...

... to take over...

Yixing stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was very round, her chin pointed, lips small and full, like the bud of some flower... her almond eyes, mysterious... Unblinking, she brushed her hair to a living sheen of shiny jet--almost iridescent, like oil on water-- counting the strokes...

~twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three...~

Her bedroom was large, and full of natural light from the numerous windows and doors to the patios, and the courtyards. She had convinced her father only last year to get rid of the little-girl lace. The arched canopy which she had so despised was finally replaced with a stark iron four-poster, and thin silk netting. The fringed shades with halogen lamps. The carpet with terrazzo. The design of the whole room, in fact, had a strong focus on line and form. The furnishing were all white leather and wrought iron. Chic. Soothing. Organized... Clean.

~thirty-five, thirty-six...~

Outside the door, she heard Paolo's voice. He was, no doubt, on the commo with Jazzy or Peppers... being briefed...

... about *her* arrival...

~forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty.~

Neatly, she set down her brush , just as Paolo knocked.

"Yes, Paolo," she called without turning. "Open the door and tell me your news."

After a short pause, the left-hand side of the large leather-padded double door opened, and Paolo's small reflection appeared in Yixing's mirror, like an insect on the glass. He ventured no further than the threshold, standing with an at-ease posture which, sadly, looked to be anything but easy.

Paolo was nervous. Peppers and Jazzy had been nervous. Everyone was nervous. Nervous about the arrival. The Arrival. It would change everything.

Paolo, confronted from far across the room by only the lovely back of Yixing's ebony tressed head, took the opportunity to straighten his jacket, lest she should turn and see that he had been rumpled.

But she did not turn.

"Well?" she asked, her voice feminine and high pitched, like that of a school girl. Betimes it had such an alluring quality, a passive sweetness to it... It was chilling to hear it so unyielding as it was when she was displeased. As it was now. Assertive. Cold.

"She is in Abaddon, Miss Lasse," he said rather formally. He was not always so formal with her. He could remember a time when he would help her to the lowest branches of the chestnut trees on the west green... when she would climb like a cat, and giggle until her father, roaring with laughter, would climb up after her. Sometimes, she and her father would have tea, perched precariously above Paolo on creaking, flowered boughs. No more. Max was gone. Paolo cleared his throat. "The party should be arriving shortly."

She felt a sudden rage, and swallowed bile. "Very well," she said shortly. "Have the refreshments sent to the lower den. Notify me when the limo lands."

"Yes, Miss Lasse," he said, and backed out the door, closing it behind him. Leaving her framed in the mirror, across the room... staring...expressionless. He resumed his post outside her room.

~Poor Yixing,~ he thought. ~Poor little Yixing...~

And he began conveying instructions...