"Once perfect"

[Jacob]

*Setting: Walking passed the rounded balcony in the middle of the building, which showed all of the floors below, the injured female gently headed towards the large, office doors to the East of the building. The floor was black and white chequered marble and the walls, a light shade of beige, were covered with paintings of Vykkers, Glukkons and even Sligs. As she moved steadily down the hallway, she winced in pain. Both of her shoulders had been cut, sliced into with a bladed weapon so sharp it had cut through her shoulder blades. She moaned slightly, pressing her purply-fur covered hands against the large wooden door as she opened it. The office behind the door was vast. The room stretched out, big enough to fit three cars in. The back of the room was a large, glass window - overlooking the Demur desert. A desk was situated infront of the window, with a large, red, swivel chair inbetween the window and desk, but the chair had been turned, so that whoever was sat in it, was hidden from view as they looked outside. The walls of the office were lined with pictures of Vykkers and Glukkons, paintings of lush scenery and also certificates for different professions. The female Katterwol closed the door and rested her back against it, panting and sweating as a pool of red blood seeped out over the black latex bodysuit she was wearing. Muffled sniggering came from the right of her, glancing over the female saw, in the shadows, a small, Albino Slig. He was wearing a black tophat and a suit jacket, twirling a black cane with a silver balled head in his right hand. His pants seemed different to other Sligs also, they had blades on the outter sides of the bottom, for what purpose, the female didn't yet know. But they seemed to have the ability to retract and/or flip out.*

Female: "Shut your f*cking face, Manson...or i'll rip it the f*ck off."

The Slig cocked his head to one side, the red glow from the lenses of his goggles suddenly turning a sea blue.

Manson: "Your shoulder blades have been sliced into. You need a Doctor, heh."

He smirked, casting a glance to the desk and chair.

Female: "Yea, thanks, but I don't need a pair of f*cking X-ray goggles to tell me that."

Slowly she pushed herself off the door and began steadily walking over to the desk, a trail of red blood dripping across the floor. As she approached, the chair swivelled around to face her, showing a Vykker resting in it, looking up at her with a somewhat hatefilled expression. His skin seemed to be scarred in places and across his forehead was a large, vertical gash. Seemingly from a knife wound. His skin was a baby-pink colour, with a vague redness around his left eye. Probably a birth mark.

Vykker: "Amoeba, what exactly have you been doing the past three hours? Hm?"

He spoke softly, his voice slightly English-esque. Slowly he drummed his spindly fingers on the wooden desk, raising his right brow. The female winced in pain as she shifted her weight from one foot to the next.

Amoeba: "Iber...Iber was there."

She spat the name with disdain, with hatred. Her razor sharp claws unsheathing as she remembered him muttering one of his insane ramblings to her.

Amoeba: "He left me for dead, leaving me for those f*cking Critiscks...I had to use one...one of my Flashbangs..."

She placed her right hand down on the desk, steadying herself as a sudden dizziness swept over her. She blinked slowly, taking deep breaths as the room started to slowly rock from side to side.

Vykker: "Did you get any of the Terrorists? Or did you simply piss about?"

Amoeba narrowed her brow at the Vykker. Digging her claws into his desk as the rocking motion of the room began to get more violent.

Amoeba: "I'd hardly f*cking call trying to get away from a pack of Critiscks alive, pissing about. I'd like to see how you would have f*cking survived."

The Vykker slowly rose to his feet, picking up a Cattleprod that seemed to be hid underneathe the desk. He carefully lifted it to the unsteady females face, allowing the rods electricity to "kiss" the soft, purple fur of her left cheek. She tried to pull away, but instead ended up staggering to the right and falling on the marble floor, red blood splashing out moreso now. Manson jumped to his feet, his metallic pants clicking gently as he walked over to the semi-conscious female, who was now beginning to sweat more and more.

Manson: "I could put the bitch out of her misery."

He nudged her head with the silver ball on the top of his cane, smirking as she moaned, her head flopping to one side.

Vykker: "No, i'll fix her up. This is the third time that two-cocked Cockroach has interferred with a job. Ugh, watch the phones, if any jobs come through, write them down. I should be finished in one hour."

Placing the Cattleprod back from where he picked it up, the Vykker then steadily walked around to the front of the desk, staring down at the once perfect assassin, a slight hint of disgust crossing his face. He had first hired Amoeba when she was one of the few assassins with a 100% success rate, watched her as she sneaked past over twenty guards and despatched a whole family. Seen her take on as many as fifteen armed guards and take them all down without being harmed once. And then Iber came onto the scene. The Vykker bent down and grabbed the females ankle, he then headed to the door, dragging her behind him and making a trail of red blood follow from behind...

Useful links;
Head Hunter...

(OOC: Blah, Amoeba wasn't even supposed to get her own story. Oh well. Any questions?)

[Jacob]

*Setting: Smoke unfurled from her mouth, the harsh, un-filtered stench hitting the large window and spreading out over it, like a mass of grey water. Eventually dissapating in the air. She stood behind the Vykkers chair, looking out at the large desert which had so very nearly claimed her life. Turning she then wandered over to the desk, looking down at the mass of papers that had been spread out, with red-penned, hand written notes highlighting or commenting on certain bits of the paper. The Vykker was sat in his chair, slowly he turned his head towards her, his brow narrowing as he waved a third hand at her, gesturing for her to move away.*

Vykker: "Not all of these pages are for your eyes, Amoeba."

She stayed silent, taking another drag of her cigarette as she paced steadily to the nearest painting. It was of two large Glukkons, Generals by the looks of their uniform. Amoeba was wearing a tight black t-shirt, showing her light-pink mid-drift. She also wore a pair of shredded jeans, torn and ripped at the thighs.

Vykker: "How are your shoulders? Has the stiffness worn off?"

Amoeba turned to the Vykker, rubbing her left shoulder with her right hand. The Vykker had sealed the sliced bones with molten metal, he had then welded on two small metal plates that fit over the wounds of each shoulder blade. At first, the new implements were troublesome and stiff. Now, after a few days, they were barely noticable.

Amoeba: "They're fine. Abit of a f*cking pain though if i need to go through some f*cking metal detectors."

Voice: "Heh, i'm sure you'd blow the security guards behind them apart before hand anyway."

She turned, Manson had entered, his pants clicking merrily as he made his way to the Vykkers desk. In his hands he grasped a mass bulk of white letters, all addressed to their office, but with only a 'V' stating to whom they were for. Throwing them down upon Vykkers desk, the Slig then stepped back, awaiting for the contents to be revealed. Slowly the Vykkers head rose, a bemused look upon his face.

Vykker: "Idiot."

He spoke this softly, but with pure malice dripping from his tone of voice. He then gently swiped at the pile of letters, knocking them from his desk and on to the floor. He then carried on with the work he was doing before he was interrupted. Minutes later he had finished. Quickly he gathered up a small amount of the papers, stacked them and then held them out for Amoeba, who took them slowly. Wondering what they were.

Vykker: "A new job. The bits highlighted in red are important, i've remarked on some easy access points and guises for the situation. Should be easy enough, even by your failing standards."

Amoeba began slowly reading through the first page, taking drags of her cigarette every couple of lines or so.

Vykker: "The client is a reputable businessman, a Mudokon. He's recently found out his wifes having an affair. He's also found out she's pregnant. He wants us to do a pregnancy test on her, i have his DNA results. If they're negative, he wants us to kill his wife and her lover. If they're positive. Just kill the lover."

Amoeba's big, yellow eyes slowly looked up at the Vykker, her left brow raising.

Amoeba: "We're not a f*cking Hospital. If he wants his wife testing, he can do it his f*cking self."

She flicked through the rest of the pages, skimming their content.

Vykker: "Amoeba, i'm sure i don't have to stress just how important this job is, but, just incase, if you do not do this job in a satisfactory manner, it will be your life on the line. And your head on the platter."

His eyes seemed to gleam slightly as he said this, as if wanting her to fail. A stiffled chuckle also came from Manson, who had picked up the letters and was now waiting for his superior to accept them. With a gentle hiss, the female Katterwol turned to the door, casting the butt of her smoked out cigarette to the floor, and stamping hard on it as she left.

[Fading Away]

Very good, keep it up!

[Jacob]

*Setting: The street was practically empty, all apart from three prostitutes at one end of it, smoking and talking amongst themselves. Amoeba was watching them from the dark of the shadows, looking at them in a vague disdainfilled expression, pondering whether anybody would notice, or care, if she just shot each one of them. Leaving them to bleed their STD ridden blood out onto the ground. But as she watched, the sound of an approaching vehicle startled her, a hover taxi, a dirty shade of yellow, was slowly heading to street level, a Slig as the driver. In the back of the taxi were two Mudokons, both a vague greeny-yellow with tints of purple in their skin pigment. One was obviously female, her long plume of pink feathers draped around her shoulders whilst the mans plume was a more purply-pink. These were her marks. As the taxi reached street level and the participants got out from the side facing away from her, Amoeba drew her guns. The female was dressed in an extravagantly frilly black dress, the male in a tuxedo. He was bent down, talking to the taxi driver as he rumaged through his jacket for change, the Slig was facing away from her. Pointing her Uzi at the back of the Sligs head, she took aim. Closing one eye in the process and smiling sadisticly as...
*Single, silenced gunshot*
The front of the Mudokons white shirt seemed to instantly spatter with black blood, sparks flying from the front and back of the mask through were the bullet entered and exited. Stumbling backwards and falling down, the Mudokon clutched his stomach, wincing in pain as he felt the hot lead burn his insides. The bullet had passed through the metallic mask and hard skull, entering the Mudokons stomach were it then lodged painfully. The female Mudokon let out a sudden scream of fright and terror, rushing to the wounded males side. Slowly Amoeba strolled out from the shadows, smiling as she began to walk around the back of the vehicle, holstering her gun in the process. The prostitutes had now taken an interest in the screaming female, who had now began to sob as the male began to slip into shock. But her sobbings were soon subdued however, as the silent Bounty hunter stepped up behind her and raised a foot, kicking the female in the back of the head and knocking her unconscious instantly. The prostitutes, seeing this, began calling out to Amoeba, threatening her and cursing her as two of them moved towards her whilst the third began calling for help. Opening the back of the taxi, Amoeba picked up the female and flung her in the back, closely followed by the male, who, although still conscious, was barely in a state to fight back. Upon slamming the back door shut, Amoeba then opened the drivers door, dragging the cold corpse of the Slig out and allowing it to drop, with a 'thud' to the concrete. As the prostitutes neared, Amoeba could clearly see that they were holding knives, a weapon all prostitutes, male or female, carried to protect them in their line of work. She ignored the pair of them, who had now began to jog, with extreme difficulty considering the size of their heels, towards her. Climbing in the front seat and slamming the door, Amoeba quickly put the car into hover mode, winding down the window simutaneously. She then withdrew her gun again and pointed it out of the window, smiling as the expressions of the hookers suddenly changed.
*Rapid, silenced gunfire*
Blood spattered the ground surrounding the two whores, and as both of their bodies dropped to the ground, causing more blood to spatter out, Amoeba took off higher into the air, holstering her weapon and heading to a derelict warehouse that she had prepared beforehand...*

***

*Setting: The female Mudokon woke up groggily, squinting in the bright light, trying to remember what had happened before everything had gone black. Her head was thumping harder than ever before, and every movement she made seemed to make it worse. It took her a few moments to actually realise what was going on, and that she was actually strapped down to a cold, metallic table which was tilted at an angle. The light beaming in her eyes was from a large lamp, much like the one used by Dentists, but twice as powerful.*

Amoeba: "So you've finally decided to wake the f*ck up."

She moved the light out of the females eyes, allowing her to realise she was in a large, empty warehouse and that the male Mudokon who had been accompanying her was strung up by his ankles, swaying gently. His clothes had been removed, leaving him only in his boxers, thus causing him to shiver.

Female: "W-Who are you? What do you want?"

It took the female a couple of seconds to realise that her black dress had been severed down the middle and that Amoeba was now parting the two parts away, revealing her undergarments and, partially, swollen stomach.

Amoeba: "Mind your f*cking business."

As she said this she ran a sharp claw down the females chest, between her breasts, slicing into the skin and causing her victim to wince in pain.

Female: "What have you done to him!? What have you done to my brother?!"

She ignored Amoeba's threat, snarling these last words through gritted teeth in fear and desperation, struggling in her constraints as she looked at the males gunshot wound, which now had blackened gauze taped to it.

Amoeba: "Brother? Heh...so, not lover?"

The female looked at Amoeba with a look of confusion.

Female: "N-No. Why would you think that?"

Amoeba ignored her, instead opting to walk around the back of the table and drag out a large tray on wheels. On it was a single scalpel and a set of tweezers. The female looked at the tray in horror, wondering what kind of barbaric treatment she was going to be put under.

Female: "Well!? W-Why??"

Amoeba: "No reason."

She smirked, knowing that technically her mission was now void, due to the reason she was sent on it being false. But for some reason she didn't care, she had been sent to complete a mission, and she was going to, regardless of the falsities that had emerged.

Female: "What are you going to do? Please, don't hurt me, i'm pr..."

Amoeba placed her left hand over the females mouth, hushing her up. She then reached behind her, removing, what looked to be, a stapler from her belt. The females eyes widened as she knew what was coming, but the strength of the Katterwol was overwhelming and as she struggled to open her mouth, the Katterwol pressed it shut, placed the staple gun on her lips and fired. The first staple dug deep into the middle of both lips, she then stapled both sides. Smiling softly as she stepped back and admired her work, holstering the gun at the back of her belt once more. Tears rolled down the female Mudokons eyes and as Amoeba backed away, she nudged the male.

Amoeba: "F*cking improvement, eh?"

The male replied with a simple and low murmur. Amoeba then cracked her fingers and approached the female. Standing infront of her, she then picked up the scalpel and, very slowly, began to make a vertical incision on the womans small bump. Muffled mumbles of horror and terror suddenly burst from the gaps in females mouth, she squirmed around roughly, trying to break away from the metal restraints. Amoeba ignored her, making another, horizontal, incision across the middle of the vertical one. She then put the, bloodied, scalpel down and picked the tweezers up, peeling back the flaps of skin to reveal a large "entrance" into the womb, the Mudokon foetus squirming furiously in the sack of fluid protecting it.

Male: "L-Leave her..."

He tried to speak up, but due to being upside down the blood was rushing to his head, making him feel weak and weary. Picking up the scalpel again Amoeba then sliced through the sack of fluid, revealing a small, partially developed, Mudokon foetus. The mother sobbed, not moving now but instead shaking furiously, blood was spurting furiously out of the gaping hole in her womb, weakening her sufficiently. Tilting her head to one side and looking at the wriggling mass of cells, Amoeba then rammed her whole hand into he womb, grasped the foetus by it's mid-section and then yanked it out, snapping the umbilical chord in the process, more blood spurted through the air, staining the gravel grey floor black. For a brief moment the foetus tried to struggle, wriggling around as if knowing it was in danger, but as Amoeba's grip tightened and she quickly flung it on the small metal table with her operating utensils, it's movements quickly became subdued. Tears streamed down the female Mudokons eyes, she looked at her small offspring with a broken Heart, her lip quivering so violently that the staples were beginning to tear her skin. Amoeba, on the other hand, couldn't have looked less bothered as she wiped the foul, sticky substance off her hand and onto the Mudokon females left leg, she then picked up the scalpel again, beginning to slowly cut into the small beings under developed forearm. She then replaced the scalpel for the tweezers and picked up the small sticky piece of meat, walked over to the male and forced his mouth open with her free hand. He struggled wearily for a moment, but Amoeba's strength soon got the better of him and as he hung upside down, swaying slightly, she forced the small foetus arm into his mouth and held it shut.

Amoeba: "To some, this shit's considered a f*cking delicacy. What do you think?"

Her eyes widened for a brief moment, staring deeply into his as he felt the substance seemingly melt on the roof of his mouth. He tried his hardest to stop his tongue from touching it, tried to keep it flattened to the bottom of his mouth, but even gravity was too strong for him in this state, and gradually it drooped into the gunk, forcing his tastebuds to taste the foul, salty-flesh taste of his deceased relation. Amoeba judged by his reaction that he had finally tasted it and slowly backed away, smirking.

Amoeba: "Hmm, the head next, i think..."

She turned to the small body, but as she brought the scalpel down on the neck of the bulbous, squishy head...
*Gunshot, closely followed by cocking*
The female Mudokons head jerked backwards suddenly, blood oozing from the massive hole in her head that had caused her eyes to roll back into her skull. Amoeba snarled, reaching back for her gun and pulled it slowly out.
*Gunshot*
The bullet had gone through the male Mudokon, shattering through the bone of his neck, slicing through his throat and finally hitting the bottom of the metal table the female was strapped to, spattering it slightly with black blood. Amoeba listened out, listening through the rapid dripping of the males blood.
*Cocking*
She turned her head towards the far corner of the warehouse, moving slowly towards it, walking past the hanging corpse of the male, leaving the gooey foetus behind along with its mother.
*Gunshot*
Within seeing the brief flash of the nozzle, Amoeba had jerked her head out of the path of the oncoming bullet, which hit the ground a few feet behind her, cracking it slightly. Raising her armed hand, she took aim at were she saw the flash come from, slowly squeezing the trigger softly. But before she fired she stopped. The shooter, whoever it had been, had gone. A grimace crossed her face, her fun had been cut short by some unknown assailant, and even though a Katterwols eyes are good in the dark, she hadn't been able to pick out the being firing at her. Turning back to the corpses and looking at the expanding pool of blood beneath the male, she realised something - at least she didn't have to waste any bullets killing them.

(OOC: Thanks for the comments thus far!! Anything you want to see included in this fic? I'll try and include if i can.)

[Jacob]

*Setting: It was the night after Amoeba's job and her employer was far from impressed. Infact he was close to ordering her death. Amoeba had failed to do what she was ordered to do, and it had nearly cost the lot of them their lives. The Faction that they were involved with, loathed failures, and if it so much as felt that one of its own was beginning to fail, it would execute the leader and everyone below him/her.*

Vykker: "I have never witnessed a being secrete so much incompetance in all my life. Never have i seen, or heard of, such recklessness!!"

The Vykker was sat down, speaking softly, yet lividly. And although Amoeba's standing pressence should've made him feel psychologically intimidated, it didn't.

Vykker: "I would have thought my orders of "do a DNA test on the child first" would have been clear enough for you to take heed of. Obviously i was wrong. So VERY wrong."

His first two arms rubbed his face slowly, he sighed, thinking of how he could explain this to the Faction. Amoeba stood apatheticly however, not really caring. She had told him that the Faction was not a hospital, and that she had no intention of doing a DNA test. Turning her head slightly, she tried to look behind her, were Manson was standing.

Vykker: "LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

He slammed his primary right arm down, the clenched fist hitting the surface of the table and juddering it slightly. Her head snapped back to meet with the eyes of her superior, they seemed to be alight with menace and hatred.

Vykker: "And then feeding the foetus to the brother-in-law of our client. You...You are a..."

Amoeba: "How did you know he was the f*cking brother-in-law? And how did you know what i did to him?"

She raised her left brow, a confused expression glazing her face.

Vykker: "I had Manson follow you, if you must know. And it was a good job too, otherwise i wouldn't have known how fu..."

He stopped himself from swearing, knowing it would only lower himself to Amoeba's foul mouthed standards.

Vykker: "...how moronic you are. And also, atleast now we can say that the two marks were killed by an unknown assailant. You, however, will still have to be disciplined."

But Amoeba hadn't listened to what he had said after finding out she had been tailed. After finding out who had taken a shot at her.

Amoeba: "Manson f*cking tailed me? It was him who f*cking killed my marks!? HE F*CKING TOOK A SHOT AT ME!! HE TRIED TO F*CKING KILL ME!!"

She turned around, her claws unsheathing. Manson merely smirked, twirling his cane in his right hand and jumping slightly, which made the blades on the outter-legs of his pants flip out, making him a couple of inches taller. He then balanced on the points with amazing ease, preparing himself for Amoeba's attack.

Vykker: "LOOK AT ME!!"

The moment Amoeba had made an attempt to go for Manson, the Vykker had stood, grasping her right arm and spinning her around. His grip was strong and his face was now directly infront of the female Katterwols. His brows now narrowed as he quivered gently with unbridled anger.

Vykker: "His shot at you will soon mean nothing if you don't clean this mess up. As soon as the Faction gets wind of this, all our heads are going to be on the platter. And i, for one, am not willing to be killed for your...mess."

Once again he refrained himself from swearing. He then picked up a small piece of paper, which had obviously been torn from somewhere, and placed it in Amoeba's hand.

Vykker: "This is our clients address. Now, you kill him, and you do it quick. Because i'm thinking he's soon going to find out that his wife was not cheating. And that, that baby you fed to his brother-in-law, was his. And when he does, you can guarantee he's not going to be pleased. So...kill him. Now."

He seemed to growl the last word, pushing Amoeba back as he did so. Manson stepped to the side, jumping softly so that the blades retracted to their usual position and he was once again his regular size. As Amoeba slowly left the room, giving one glance at the address, they watched. Both wanting to see her dead. Once she had exited and the large doors to the room were securely closed, Manson turned to his superior.

Manson: "Giving her another job after all her failures. Heh, you have patience."

The Vykker sat down slowly, an evil smirk spreading across his face.

Vykker: "Oohh, i guarantee you this will be her last job. Our ex-client found out about his brother-in-law. Apparently they were going to be introduced the night that Amoeba killed them. His wife left him a message on his answering machine, infact. A message about how she had "big news" for him and how she wanted him to meet her younger brother. Heh."

Manson looked at the Vykker in shock, his calmness was strangely uncomfortable, especially now since the Faction was surely going to be after them.

Manson: "But...But that means we're..."

Vykker: "No. Heh. You see, after finding out about how we, or shall we say Amoeba, never followed his directions, he was angry. Upset. And wanted blood. Sources tell me that the first call he made wasn't to our superiors. But to the small Bounty office run by Griegfeld."

A snigger escaped him after this sentence, and he seemed to go into a dreamy gaze. The revelation of where their ex-client had called had also intrigued Manson, who was now staring at his superior in, a kind of, awe.

Vykker: "And guess who he hired. Out of all the Bounty hunters he could have picked. Guess which he chose..."

Manson thought for a moment, before it became all too clear who it was and why his superior was so peculiarly happy.

Manson: "Not...Not Iber, surely?"

He smiled, broadly. A small chuckle escaping him as the Vykker nodded.

Vykker: "And they're meeting tonight. And finally our rival can be of some use, and relieve us of that thorn in our side..."

The brief moment of silence between both creatures was quickly broken as the Vykker cackled highly, this loud and freaky laugh soon accompanied by Mansons. The room seemed to ring with the sound of their manic laughter, echoeing loudly off the marble surfaces as Amoeba, obliviously, walked into the jaws of death...

~End~

(OOC: *Dramatic music*)