[b] Alice [/b] 

I listened closely while Death spoke, absently following his lips as he formed each words. I observed the pictures as the screens descended, noting when I saw a building that was visible in the image; each one could serve as a possible nest. However, something bugged me as the images flashed... one of the families had children. I had no problem with discharging a round into a corrupt businessman, but I didn't think I could ever pull the trigger on a kid... I shook the thought from my head as "Death" announced the forming of the teams. I cocked a surprised eyebrow when he mentioned that he and I would be on the same team, but I wasn't with another recruit. 

Death offered further explanation, and I caught the card as he thrust it towards me. I flipped and read the contents, nodding in agreement and confirmation to the man. As expected, I would be a perched sniper, covering everyone's hides if they screwed up... I pocketed the card in my black cargo pants and kept listening. When he dismissed us, I immediately left the room, ignoring Shitsui's comments about heading to the entertainment district. The only reason I cared if they came back wasted or not was the fact that I'd be their cover if they messed up... I laughed silently to myself - [i]What have you got yourself into, Alice?[/i]

I ascended the steps to the third floor, the sleeping quarters, and stepped into the corridor. Journeying to the end of the hall, I went into my room and closed and locked the door. It was a simple room by any standards: a boring paint job, one mirror, a simple bed and a desk. I slid off my jacket and unraveled the scarf from my neck, exposing my dark grey tank top, then throwing both articles to the bed. I stopped to examine myself in the mirror, a task of vanity that I did too often. I wished the girl in the glass wasn't me, she looked to confident and brave. I wasn't that girl; I was insecure about quite a lot. My blonde hair didn't always sit right, my face wasn't as smooth as diamond and I wasn't exactly the prettiest. I reached to my loose ponytail and slid it from my shoulder, exposing the thin, white eternal scar on my left shoulder that had been placed by my father's belt years ago. I forced back a shudder and replaced my ponytail to my to shoulder and covered up the scar. 

Under my desk sat a black case, locked with a number code only I knew. In honesty, I wouldn't be surprised if Death had figured out my 4-digit combination, as well. I bent down and pulled the case out and lay it atop the desk. I entered the combination, 1-5-2-9, and lifted the lid, examining the 5 pieces of the rifle that lay within. I curled my hand around the heavy frame of the bullet chamber, before laying it back down. Beside the pieces rested 4 boxes of 50 rifle rounds, full to the brim. The case also contained a single, 8 round magazine, a black silencer, and a tripod for stabilization. Trigger mechanism to chamber, stock to chamber, barrel to chamber, scope to chamber rail, and tripod to lower chamber rail. I clicked my watch again. I grimaced at my time, 0:23.22, and I hadn't even put the silencer on this time. I strapped the rifle to my back, closed the case, and re-locked it, pulling it from the desk and replacing it underneath to its former spot and heading out of the door. 

I descended to flights of stairs to the training room. Upon entering, I spotted Amaya polishing her swords. I'd never exchanged words with the girl, but I did know that I should never take her on in a hand to hand fight. No matter what level of martial arts I could accomplish, her swords would tear me to shreds. Now, give me a distant roof and send her running and I could shoot her down without thought, but absolutely no close-hand. I wandered to the firing targets and set my rifle on the table. I took the magazine from the rifle, and picked up the box of rounds, filling the 8 rounds and inserting the magazine into the rifle. I pulled the bolt back on the rifle and chambered the first round and looked down my scope. 

The firing dummy was already littered with holes from my time spent shooting it. I reached under the table and took a pair of ear-guards from the ground. Breathing in, I squeezed the trigger once, sending a round into the target's jaw. I reloaded and fired again, this time pegging the dummy in the lower abdominal muscles. It was amusing to watch a target die from excessive bleeding when I hit the arteries in the abdomen, but unfortunately, practice dummies didn't hold blood. I repeat the firing process six more time until my magazine ran out. I then disassembled the weapon and began to clean it vigorously, tasking myself until 12:00 came...