(For Leiley and Symbol) Of Love, Blood and Revenge

"The Viper" Dante Valeron

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The target was Hugo Van Rauken. He was a dutch trader that had based himself in the City of London after a series of very rich, very lucrative... very behind-closed-doors deals that had made him a powerful man. He lived in a luxurious apartment in the city centre and liked to entertain young boys more nights than not. His routine was mechanical and tedious. Everyday he would leave his apartments at 9am to begin his rounds, visiting all the properties in which he had a share. He'd stop for lunch at noon, just after visiting the bakery, taking some buttered bread and meat in the Fox and Hound Inn, where he'd sit at the same table he always sat at. Here he would receive any business appointments he had and collect any protection taxes he was due. He was never anywhere without his three bodyguards in tow. His paranoid habits even extended to his suspicion of fraud. Whenever he received any money, he would, without fail, sit and bite every single coin to make sure it was real. He would leave the Fox and Hound at 5pm, when he would drop in on a few various associates. He was back in his apartment by 7pm.

Dante Valeron sat on a bench by the canal, one ankle rested on his other knee, one arm across the back of the bench. Taking a deep breath, he itched his nose and refocused his concentration on the front entrance to the Fox and Hound inn. The afternoon had all-but passed by, the autumn sun making an early start on it's descent to the western horizon. Dante welcomed the change in the seasons. Cold weather made his job much easier. He'd been taught that accident and death generally spiked in the cold seasons, which gave an assassin more easily accessible cover-up opportunities. And there was also the point that a heavy, hooded cloak would not look so out of place as it would with the sun beaming down.

5pm came and as sure as the wind blew, one of Van Rauken's guards emerged from the inn, followed by Van Rauken himself and his other two bodyguards. Dante stroked the bit of black fuzz on his chin as his eyes followed his target down the street. He did not get up. After tailing this tubby dutchman for two weeks, he decided that he'd seen enough. A good plan of action had come to mind during this day, one that would enable him to strike with the hand of death without being anywhere near the merchant. But for the plan to work, he would need a catspaw. And a good one to boot.

Ameila had grown up surrounded by money, and all the pretty things that money could buy. Her parents were old money, a term used for only the most elite of society. They had accumulated their wealth through trading commodities. Mia was never entirly sure what that phrase meant, but still they were loaded. That was all that mattered, right? Even though she'd been privately educated by all the best tutors, *she still wasn't particularly intelligent. She would openly admit that she was pretty stupid where books and numbers were concerned, but luckily for her, she was never really going to have to provide for herself. To most people, her life would seem almost idyllic; but to Ameilia, it was stifling and mind numbingly dull. It was because of this, that she sort her thrills in other places.

A gang, a simple organisation by definition, but almost certainly a lot darker when one is embroiled with its kind. Mia was by no way a gangster, but she had been delightfully tangled*up with one not so long ago. Their relationship was rather unhealthy, and was only brief in length, but Ameilia had picked up a certain amount of 'skill' along the way. A rather light touch made her a rather stealthy pick pocket, that old take anything she felt the need of from passers by without them ever knowing. The young woman didn't like stealing, but it was the adrenaline rush, the sheer excitement. Something that her normal day-to-day life was sadly lacking in.

So as usual, Mia found herself wandering down the through the main route into town. Helping herself to whatever took her fancy on the way. Delightful.

The City of London: The Land of Opportunity. For rich and poor alike. Dante guessed it wouldn't take long to find the kind of kid he was looking for, and so he was proved right, when, before the sun had even set, a prospect presented herself.

An assassin is able to see more in a brief glance than an ordinary man sees in a lifetime... Or so the saying goes. Dante never really gave the old Italian proverbs much credence or attention, but in this situation he could not help but think of his lesson. It was not the girl who had given herself away, but the noble-woman who'd bumped arms with her as they crossed paths. The women was sporting two thin thongs of leather dangling from her wrist, and they bounced and swayed as she ambled along. Was it a new fashion for middle-aged women these days? Certainly not. That cord should have been attached to a money purse and, without a doubt, it was, until just mere moments ago.

The noble-woman sauntered down the street importantly, completely unaware of anything amiss - Especially the young man who lounged on a bench at the street-side, blue eyes following her for a few moments longer before changing the object of their attention the other way down the street to the tiny little thing who was a fair-deal richer this evening.

Dante rose to his feet and followed her into town. Hopefully he could corner the young lass somewhere quiet........

Ameilia chuckled to herself, it had been even easier than she'd initially assumed. Amusing, yet disappointing. Perhaps she'd seek out a more difficult target later on in the day. It was all getting far too easy. As her attention was diverted by something pretty in a shop window, her hands slipped rather idly into her pockets. The characteristic emerald eyes shone back in the refracted light as the blonde sighed inwardly. What was she to do with the rest of her day? After a moment or two of contemplation, she decide to move on.

The young woman strolled along the street, the pang of hunger starting to stir in the pit of her stomach. Therewas a rather delicious bakery situation on the corner of main street that frequented often, and unsurprisingly; this was the destination that her empty stomach led her to. Taking her usual seat at the back by the window. Mia ordered her favourite chocolate pastry, happily accompanied by a mug of vanilla coffee. With a stretch, she let her cheek rest against the palm of her hand lazily, as she watched the people buzzing around like little bee's. Everyone was always so damn busy these days? What was the rush? All work and no play..well, not everybody was fortunate enough to not have to work, but still that wasn't the point.

Taking a bite of the rich chocolate, she wrinkled her nose absent mindedly. Just another ordinary day, how mind numbingly depressing.

She took him to a bakery on the corner of main street. He strolled past in his usual leisurely manner, sparing a glance into the shop window just as she was taking her seat. It wasn't an ideal place to be chatting-up a mark, but it was fairly late and peak hours of business for the shop had passed for the day. It was empty, and therefore, it would do.

The doorbell chimed as Dante walked into a quaint, little tailors nearby. The shopkeeper entertained him at once and Dante played the part of pompous noble-man rather well as he kept an eye on the bakery. The assassin fed the man some trivia about a wanting a new hat and they talked for a minute or two. All the while, Dante found himself impressed with the girl's choice of seat in the bakery. She was at a table near the window where she watch the comings and goings of anyone around, and get a full view of anyone who chose to enter the bakery. Whether the choice was on purpose or not, mattered little. It all showed good instincts.

"On second thoughts," Dante said to the tailor. "It's getting late, and I find myself rather peckish. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Of course, sir."

He went to the bakery next and, as he got to the door, he observed that this girl in the window was far older than he had first given her credit for. He went inside and ordered a cup of tea. The place was still empty and the shop itself was large enough that baker behind the counter would not be able to eavesdrop without Dante catching him at it. So he took his tea over to the girl's table and sat down opposite her, choosing to gaze out of the window aswell.

"That was a rather splendid lift, m'lady," he said conversationally. He was only half-lying, for even though he hadn't seen the actual lift, the fact that the woman had walked off significantly lighter and not even noticed, was a testament to the young woman's skills. "But why waste your talent and risk your freedom for such a small purse?" He took his gaze away from the window paid attention to his tea, dunking the teabag a few times more to strengthen it up a bit. "This is the City of London. The great melting pot of opportunity." Then, without so much as a glance at her, he looked back out of the window to watch people go by, taking an audible sip of the hot beverage. "Methinks you can do much... much better."

A blonde eyebrow perked as she regarded the man in front of her for just a moment. "Big or small, the size or contents of the wallet matters not to me." Leaning back in the sturdy wooden seat, Ameilia tilted her head to the side. "Although, I must confess, your interest in other peoples business is rather rude." Lifting the steaming mug to her pretty pink lips, she took a sip. Her eyes not leaving the face of Dante as she surveyed him quizzically. "Now, don't get me wrong, I do rather enjoy being accosted by handsome strangers; but I do feel that there is an alterior motive to your rather bizarre compliment." Waggling her eyebrows in an amusing manner, her fingers set the mug down on the table as her well manicured nails rapped against the polished wooden surface in thought. Who was this man? His eyes are rather stunning..wait..no. Concentrate Ameilia.

After a few stern words to herself, she cleared her throat. "So, mysterious stranger that seems to have been stalking my morning activities; who are you and what do you want?" Turning her head, she looked back to the window. "It's not very busy in town today, which is a little bit disappointing. It's easier to disappear in a crowd. Still, who doesn't love a good challenge eh?" With a smirk, she stretch a little. Her outfit clung to the rather enviable figure that lurked beneath for a brief moment, before loosening up as the stretch ended.

"You know what? I can indeed do better, on that small fact we must agree." Nodding, Mia took a bite from her pastry, savouring the taste before swallowing it down. "I suppose I should introduce myself; I'm Ameilia, or Mia..whichever suits. Who are you?"

She heard him out without interruption, then replied quickly and certainly with, "Big or small, the size or contents of the wallet matters not to me."

Dante's gaze remained out the window, nodding slowly at her words. In the corner of his eye, he'd been taking in her appearance. And he was beginning to realise that this was no poor girl. Far from it, in fact. She was well-nourished, well groomed. Her accent spoke of good education... Dante was rather upset with himself, for he'd rushed his assessment and gotten this all wrong.

"Although, I must confess, your interest in other peoples business is rather rude."

The young assassin inclined his head slightly, pulling the corners of his mouth down into a shrug. She wasn't wrong. He met her extremely green eyes over the rim of her mug, and as she lowered her drink, Dante was able to take in her appearance properly. At this moment, it didn't seem to make any sense. Perhaps he couldn't think properly for the prettiness of her - She was indeed beautiful. Impossibly so, as a matter of fact - or maybe it was the shock of making such a mess of his initial assessment. In any case: Why would such a girl be on the streets, stealing from people?

"Now, don't get me wrong, I do rather enjoy being accosted by handsome strangers..." Dante snorted softly. "...but I do feel that there is an alterior motive to your rather bizarre compliment."

"But, of course," he bounced back, suddenly deciding to enjoy the moment. After all, he need not be so tentative and careful anymore, for it was pretty clear that she wasn't frightened by his imposition. He smiled easily and leaned back into his own chair. Besides... I could flirt with a woman like this the day long.

"So, mysterious stranger that seems to have been stalking my morning activities; who are you and what do you want?" Turning her head, she looked back to the window. "It's not very busy in town today, which is a little bit disappointing. It's easier to disappear in a crowd. Still, who doesn't love a good challenge eh?" With a smirk, she stretched a little.

It was a motion that, if only for a brief moment, revealed to Dante that her body, although petite, was by no means girlish. She was young. But she was a woman. An extremely attractive one at that. Dante felt a little rush inside himself. And clever, he thought to himself. She did that little stretch on purpose. He was sure of it. He took a bigger sip of his tea.

"Only a plebeian, surely," Dante decided to respond. "But for the best of us... a challenge can be hard to come by."

"You know what? I can indeed do better, on that small fact we must agree." They both nodded in sync, something that made Dante smile again. She does like to listen to the sound of her own voice, he thought as he studied her enjoying her pastry. It was like looking in the mirror for the young assassin.

When she introduced herself, he decided he'd call her Ameilia. He liked the name. When she asked his name; "Where are my manners?" he started. "Fenn Talismon, also known as Skeleton Key, for those that know of my talents. Better not known at all, to be perfectly fair. I was hoping we could form a partnership for a job I've been tasked with. Let me buy you dinner and you can hear out my proposal - I won't lie, the challenge won't be in the work, but in escaping with your life afterward..." Dante was sure that would get her attention. Ordinarily he would've left that bit out, but it seemed appropriate for this little enigma.

"...and if you don't like the sound of what I have to say, then we shall never have to see each other again." He raised his eyebrows awaiting her response, then added as a pretend after-thought, "I don't even know your last name. And you can choose where we eat. No expense spared."

After getting his first impression of her wrong, he felt he'd figured her out a lot better by now. He was confident she wouldn't refuse. This chance encounter was all rather exciting for her, he guessed. She was certainly enjoying herself. So confident he was, in fact, that he swigged his drink to halfway and stood up, and turned his back on her.

"Come on... pick a place you've never eaten at before," he challenged over his shoulder as he walked to the door. "Now there's a challenge for a rich young woman such as yourself."

Outside, he put his hands on his hips and surveyed the streets importantly. When he heard the bakery door open, he took a whiff of the air and said, "I do love the the City of London. Did you grow up here? I grew up in a quiet town. Very boring stuff." It wasn't the greatest time to make this point as the streets were relatively empty, but there it was. "So... where to?"

Ameilia let her eyes trail after Dante as he left the bakery. It was a curious situation to find oneself; although it was an incredibly tempting proposition. Of course, the fact that the man himself was incredibly handsome did nothing to discourage Ameilia from agreeing to hear him out. Dinner? Should she go to dinner? For somebody that craved excitiment, the girl was shockingly bad at making decision. Taking one last sip of her coffee, and demolishing the remainder of her chocolate pastry, she rose from her seat and made her way towards the external door. A brief stop was made by the wooden counter, where Mia handed over the entirety of the stolen wallet. The woman that she'd taken it from was clearly well off, she most definitely had no need for it; why shouldn't she give it all to the baker?

Finally, the blonde made her way outside to where her new aquaintance was stood waiting, rather confidently one might add. "So, I'm interested in hearing some more..but you probably knew that already." Chuckling slightly, she rolled her eyes. "You know, I'm really not very sure about where we should eat. I must confess that I rarely venture into the city for meals. Maybe you could decide? I'm afraid that I am rather indecisive as far as day to day decisions go." With a sigh, Mia slipped her hands into the pockets of her dress. "Oh and my surname is Curr in reference to your earlier statement."

As the pair started off down the street, Mia found herself lost in thought for a moment or two. This man could be anyone. He could hit her over the head and drop her into the Thames without any warning. The man didn't look like a normal kind of thug, and she definitely didn't feel uncomfortable in his company. It was probably best not to think about what he could do, and concentrate on what he was currently doing. Yes..that sounded like a sensible plan to the wayward teen.

"You know, I'm really not very sure about where we should eat. I must confess that I rarely venture into the city for meals. Maybe you could decide? I'm afraid that I am rather indecisive as far as day to day decisions go."

Dante nodded as he looked down the street both ways, hands still on his hips. He knew a couple of fancy restaurants that would be able to match the quality of food and society she was no-doubt used to. Then his eyes brightened as the realization struck him. Perhaps she would like a more rugged, rough around the edges, meal for two. Some kind of place that was not smelly or dirty, but was common, loud and boisterous, with the chances of a fight breaking out any moment. It would be an exciting change of pace, Dante guessed to himself. He'd been right to expect her to take the bait, after all. If his reasoning was right, then she would enjoy slumming it with Dante far more than some posh quiet place.

Wait just a minute, he suddenly thought with alarm, scrunching up his eyebrows. Why do I care what she would enjoy? This is a mark, a catspaw, a tool for a job. I should not be so bothered about showing her a good time?

"Oh and my surname is Curr in reference to your earlier statement."

Dante blinked out of his reverie and looked at Amelia, who was stood next to him. "Curr?" he echoed. "Hardly what you are, but no one picks their family name." Dante decided that the Hearth and Hound would be a good place to go. It would be noisy at this time, making their conversation more private. "Okay, shall we be off then, Ameilia, dear?"

He ran a hand through his hair and then shouldered back his cloak, so it was more like a cape, and walked with swinging arms as if he eight feet tall and king of everything...........

The Hearth and Hound was no Marie Celeste, but it was certainly no cesspit either. The taproom was huge, the floor decked in smooth planks and full of tables. In one corner was the bar, long and crowded. And in another corner was the stage and the band playing hearty ballads. The atmosphere was a warm, contented mix of pipe smoke, roasting pork and music. Men drank and made banter. Women laughed and flirted. All the while, the bartender made good on the orders of patrons and the tavern-wenches surfed the crowds taking orders and delivering food about. When Dante stepped into the place and surveyed all, Ameilia appearing at his side, he turned his head to regard her. "Quite a happy mood, tonight," he remarked.

They found themselves a table on the quieter side of the taproom...