The bus swayed and jerked noisily as it moved across the open dirt road, the quiet hum of the other passengers speaking amongst themselves blending in with the rumbling sound of the engine. Even from her seat in the very last row she could make out every word, but majority of it was pointless drivel so she did her best to block it out. She sat patiently, staring out the window, the passing scenery reflecting in the lenses of her large black sunglasses. Now and then her hand would reach out to adjust the tall black canvas bag that was wedged between her knee and the wall, but other than that she had rarely moved at all during the drawn out hours of travel.

That is, until the inner pocket of her leather jacket began to buzz with vibrations. A cellphone was quickly removed and flipped open, her eyes scanning briskly over the new message. It contained a picture of a middle-aged man, his hair peppered with gray and thin lips set in a hard grim line. She didn't have much information on him yet besides a name and now what he looked like, hell, she wasn't even aware of this town until the contract had been issued, but it was only a matter of time. He didn't appear to be much, but that thought was gone just as quickly as it had come. She was living proof of the old adage "never judge a book by it's cover." Besides, something about him had to be different considering how large her pull was going to be for this hit alone.

Before she could entertain thoughts of just how much her bank roll would bloat once this man was a thing of the past the cellphone was snapped closed and tucked back into her pocket, her attention shifting to a man who was now standing in the aisle at her side and staring at her with a large dopey grin. Behind the glasses her eyes dropped and trailed upwards taking in all that she could see. Jeans, a pale green polo, dirty blonde locks greased into perfectly coiffed spikes, and no obvious threat. He wasn't aiming to injure her, but he was going to hit on her. Her lips barely twitched with disdain and for a moment she actually wished he would instead try and shoot her rather then attempt to knock her off her feet with cheesy pick-up lines.

His smile fell when she said nothing, his weight shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably under her silent gaze. Then he seemed to mentally work up his confidence once more, regaining that cocky smile as he spoke. "Isn't it a bit lonely back here" Pretty girls should never sit alone." She gave no reaction and instead turned to stare straight ahead. Majority of men, in her experience, were like children and puppies. If you ignore them while they're doing something obnoxious they usually give up and leave. This one, on the other hand, was diligent and somehow twisted her lack of attention into a shy invite for conversation.

He sat down in the empty seat beside her, continuing to speak to fill what was probably awkward silence to him. "My name's Jesse. What's your name?" No reply. After a long pause he tilted his head. "Am I making you nervous?" He grinned at the thought. "I'm sorry if I am. I'm traveling alone and saw that you were by yourself, too, so I figured it only made sense that we pass the rest of the time together. Besides, it's always good to know someone when you're coming to a new town." Her only acknowledgment that he existed was a soft "Hm", though she didn't waste her time to look at him.

His brows puckered lightly at the lack of attention he was getting. These were probably some of his best moves and that fact that she wasn't sitting in his lap and giggling in his ear was probably a disturbing notion to the young Casanova. Not that he would give up now. His expression turned sly, his body leaning towards her, invading her personal space as he spoke in a low tone. "What's wrong, honey' You coming to town to meet up with some guy and are worried I'm going to steal away all the fun you're saving for him?"

That finally drew a ghost of a smile from her and an actual reply. "I suppose you could say that."

His pride was already swelling that he had gotten her to talk to him. Being sweet didn't work, but every girl loved a bad boy. He continued in his low conspiratorial tone. "Look, I don't know anything about him, but you don't seem that enthused to be here. Maybe you guys have a long history together. Maybe this is the first time you're meeting. But we have about fifteen minutes left until we hit town and if you have some nerves you need worked out I would be more than happy to help. Maybe you'll enjoy yourself so much you'll forget about him?" Then, as if he felt she might be too thick to catch the indecent proposal, he nodded his head towards the nearby bathroom door.

What little patience she had was gone, her gaze fully on him now. His expression was unsure for a moment, but then his smarmy grin was back. Finally, she nodded her head towards the door. "Go wait for me. I'll be there in a few minutes." Then she offered a wide smile, impossible to resist. He was already scrambling out of his seat and hauling tail across the aisle to the bathroom door, briefly fumbling with the handle before he could wretch the door open and launch himself inside excitedly. When he was gone the smile fell from her lips, her silent observation of the the world that passed outside of the window resuming.

She had waited five minutes and then rose to her feet, the black canvas bag lifted with her and slung over her shoulder as she moved to the aisle and into the small bathroom with her waiting Romeo.

- - - - -

It had been a little under ten minutes when the brakes of the bus hissed causing the steady movement of hours to finally come to a halt. Instantaneously she stepped out of the bathroom. Jesse lay crumpled on the floor not moving, staring straight ahead unblinking. His neck was twisted at an unnatural angle with a large lump that should definitely not be there sticking out from below the skin.

The bathroom door was closed behind her and she was calmly on the move, the nearby emergency exit opened so she could drop down out of the bus without having to fight through the crowd all trying to leave through the front. She looked left, then right. An unreadable smirk taking up residence on her lips before she started a steady pace away from the scene. A large wooden sign with a bold script carved across it greeted her as she stepped into town.

Welcome to RhyDin.

Noon came around, and the mercenary was sitting at a table off in the back of the small restaurant, drumming his fingers lightly atop it as he waited. He glanced up as someone sat before him, grinning ear to ear at Frank.

"Frankie, good to see ya again. How's the wife in kids?"

"I'm not married, Crowley," the informant replied dryly, smoothing out his coat while he set his briefcase beside him.

"Right, divorce," the merc, replied grinningly.

"No. You killed her. I paid you. Now can we get on to business?"

"Alright, alright, just tryin" to have a bit of small talk. Didn't know you were so professional," Crowley replied with a mocking smirk as he leaned back in his seat. "What do ya got?"

"Brooklyn" Well, we don't know much about her yet," the briefcase was set down in its side and opened. "She's a mercenary, though I'm sure you figured that out. All I know is that she's here on a job, just a few rumors, it might not even be true."

"She is," Crowley nodded slowly. "Real tight lipped about it."

"So you know her?" Frank arched a brow, rubbing his moustache in an idle gesture of discomfort. He never did like Crowley.

"Yeah, met her last night," the mercenary's grin twisted into a wide, lecherous thing. "Got real acquainted."

"I see. And are you aware that by doing so, you could very well have been what made getting information so difficult?"

"Hey, Frankie. I know what I'm doin". Besides, what?s life without a little challenge" How do ya think you'll ever get better without it?" his grin tugged wider, ear-to-ear, like a mad man.

Sighing, Franklin tossed a manila folder stuffed with papers on the table in front of Crowley. "That's who we think she's been hired by. There are three groups, it's one of them."

"I need more than this, Frankie. I need to know who she's here to kill."

"It isn't you, Crowley. Trust me, these guys know who you are."

The mercenary frowned a touch, tugging the folder over to flip through it. "Murasaki, Caldris, Wilthorpe. I've worked for them before, pay good money. Must be a big hit."

Franklin shrugged. "Probably is, can I go now?"

"What' You're not even gonna invite me back to your apartment?" Crowley asked with an arching brow, smirking once more.

"See you around, Crowley," Franklin rolled his eyes, closing the briefcase as he slid from the seat and turned for the door.

"Payment's already in your account," the merc replied.

"Thanks. Good luck," and then Franklin left, leaving Crowley to study the papers in silence.

"Hirayshi Murasaki," he mused quietly, leaning to study the picture of the well-known businessman. "I'll pay you a visit first."

Crowley paid for the coffee he ordered, gave the waitress a substantial tip, wink, and whispered a few words into her ear, grinning deviously at the girlish giggle he received in response. He tucked her number into his pocket and winked one last time before slipping out the door to head downtown.

Some might view being the proverbial new kid in town as a draw back, but when it came down to it all of these cities had the same sorts of people. The ones that were most important to her today were those who carried information. Everyone was willing to share what they knew, it was just a matter of discovering their price. Majority of the time it was money, but when that didn't work it could be as simple as security, safety, and health. Everyone has a price.

Those black combat boots had already been pounding the pavement for hours when the chest pocket of her coat began to vibrate. Her pace over the cobblestone path of the marketplace made no sign of pausing as it was removed and flipped open before being held up to her ear. "Go ahead."

"Ah, Miss Brooklyn, how has your stay in the city been so far?"

Her brows furrowed briefly, though the shift in her expression was lost behind large black sunglasses. Murasaki's kindness sounded just about as heartfelt as her own ever would, but the fact he was going through the trouble was still unusual. Never in her career had she received a courtesy call from a contractor. "It's been just fine, Murasaki. Everything is moving along just as we discussed."

"Yet that is why I have contacted you, Miss Brooklyn. I'm calling to inform you of a change to the situation at hand." Brooklyn said nothing in reply. Once Murasaki realized she was not going to prompt an explanation he continued on his own. "I was approached by a long-time associate who has taken an interest in the same contract I have offered to you. I am not removing you from the contract, but instead have added this person to the job well."

Her lips were pulling back, like a feral animal being threatened and preparing to rip out someone's throat. It was fitting since her next words were practically growled. "Murasaki, are you suggesting that I will be working with someone else on this?"

The businessman was instantly thankful that this conversation was being handled over the phone. "No, no. The new stipulation of the agreement is that the first person to complete the terms of the contract will receive payment while the other will receive nothing. It's simply business, Miss Brooklyn, I'm sure you'll understand. If you are as good as many have lead me to believe then you will have no problem." His words were rushed. He wanted to get off the phone with the woman as quickly as possible and it was becoming quite evident.

Brooklyn was well aware there was no use in fighting now, the way Murasaki was speaking made it quite clear that the second contract had already been pulled up and signed. That didn't mean she was going to take this lying down. "Who is holding the second contract, Murasaki?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to share that information, Mi-"

"Brooklyn. No "Miss". Just Brooklyn." Her eyes narrowed even if he couldn't see it. Who in this God forsaken town would take any interest in what she was doing and go out of their way to put themselves between her and a payout' She decided to take a stab in the dark. "It's Crowley"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Brooklyn-"

The well rehearsed line cut off by the merc. "It's Crowley, Murasaki." as if she were informing him of something he didn't know. "I've reached my fill of games for quite some time now, thank you. The next time I will be contacting you is when the target has been terminated." The cellphone was closed with a snap and shoved back into her pocket.

The anger that she felt flared then was pushed down into the pit of her stomach, to be put to better use at a later time. For right now it was back to business. She was on a tighter schedule, but other than that nothing had changed. She was going to follow through with the hit and she was going to get paid, now with the added bonus of wiping that smug grin off Crowley's face.

And just who was the figure walking out into the hallway' Crowley, of course. The mercenary walked down the hall in a very nice, very expensive, and finely tailored tuxedo. His hair was even brushed. All in all, Crowley certainly looked sharp in the evening's attire.

Sharper still, than Crowley's impressive wardrobe was the blade slung over his shoulder. But that wasn't the only weapon he carried. In his hand was an MP5, slung from a shoulder, and aimed at the pair. The look on his face was nothing short of smug amusement, triumphant victory. Evidently, the mercenary believed he'd won this round.

"Hey there, Brooklyn. Don"cha look stunnin" in that dress. You might wanna step aside, "fore I get blood all over it," he warned while gesturing with his free hand for her to move. "You there," he said to Claybourne, pointing at the man after gesturing Brooklyn aside. "You stay right there, let's make this as smooth and easy as possible. It'll be less painless for the both of us that way.?

"I figured you've been dreamin" about me all spruced up for ya, suppose I'd make that one come true," he fired off a wink before arching a brow at Claybourne's expression when he looked over at Brooklyn. "Trust me, fella. She ain't that good in bed."

Then as Claybourne was shoved aside, Crowley dropped, anticipating the attack that came immediately afterword. He turned to move off to the side, hiding behind a jutting piece of the wall that housed one of the building's support beams. The MP5 was tucked out from around the corner with the trigger being squeezed on a few times in warning.

"Come on, sweetness. Let's not fight over this. You just walk away, let me kill him. Then you and I can go get some dinner. Later on, we can swing back t"my place and enjoy ourselves. No reason to ruin that pretty dress of yours."

As he spoke, his hand slipped into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a long and slender object, a knife.

"That's harsh, sweetness. I'll let it slide though, I know you don't mean it," Crowley smirked to himself as his knife was freed, placing it between his teeth so he could adjust the strap of the MP5 at a more appropriate and comfortable angle. His keen hearing alerted him to the footsteps darting across the hall, and immediately, Crowley took off from around his little corner.

The gun was lifted to fire a few shots at Brooklyn, not aimed, but more as quick scare tactics to deter her from moving into his line of fire while he closed the distance with surprising speed. His knife flashed in the air as he brought it up to intercept her blade, still sliding with the momentum of his run to twist around at the same time. His leg lifted into the air mid-twist, and then was brought down in an arching kick.

"Easy there, darlin". You wouldn't wanna kill my contract for me, now would ya" I wouldn't get paid then," he tsked in mid kick, smirking all the wider.

"Come now, sweetness. If you just put your guns down," he said guns, because he believed her to be carrying more than one. "And your knives, and all your other weapons. Things will go down smoother for the both of us," Crowley warned as she moved forward, grunting but twisting away while her kick connected. He dropped into a sideways roll, twisting and springing up from his feet to flick the knife through the air at her.

Meanwhile, the MP5 was adjusted and made to aim at the unconscious Claybourne, threateningly. A single round was fired off, the bullet ripping through the air before he charged forward, angling to put his shoulder in line with Brooklyn to try and simply shove her aside.

"There are plenty of women in Rh"yDin, Brook. I don't need you to stay alive. I don't have a problem in killin" you if you don't back down," came his final warning as he charged.

His grin was only slightly twisted downward by the knife plunging into his side. Crowley let a few more shots fire harmlessly to the side, and then let the empty gun drop between them while his fist reared back. It was sent forward in a harsh, snapping punch aimed right at her face. Crowley wasn't above doing anything to anyone.

"Listen, sweetness," said Crowley through a smirking growl. "You're not gonna kill Claybourne. And if you're good and do as I say, you won't be killed either. Best stand down before I lose my patience with ya, kitten."

As he spoke, the fist flew, and he used it and his knee, which was in the process of lifting up quickly in an attempt to push her away from him. Crowley's free hand dropped to his side, trying to tear her grasp from the knife so she wouldn't wrench it when he shoved her away.

As she moved back and withdrew that second blade, Crowley smirked. His hand dropped to the weapon still embedded in his side, taking it by the handle to twist once, twice, and a third time before tearing it out without so much as a grimace in pain. Adrenaline took care of that for him. His grin tugged wider at her suddenly smooth tone of voice, and the blood covered, knife wielding hand lifted, his forefinger extending to tick side to side at her mockingly.

"Oh, sweetness. Seems you'll never learn," he said with a mock sigh, his free hand lifting to draw the considerably longer blade that was sheathed at his back. The hand wielding the knife cut down along his chest, slicing the buttons of the jacket off to allow more freedom of movement. "This is my hit. And this is my town."

He stepped back, turning as though he meant to flee, and then whirled around quickly to hurl the blood soaked blade at her with considerable force, smirking as it whistled through the air. Crowley followed the makeshift projectile, dashing forward with his blade low, sweeping it up in a diagonal slice from hip to shoulder. "If you wanna come along for a ride, you gotta follow my rules."

His blade moved down and to the side, sliding along one of her smaller ones to protect himself from her attack. Meanwhile, the opposing arm snapped down in the opposite direction to knock the knife aside, taking a nasty cut along his forearm as a result. But it wasn't life threatening at the moment, so he merely sneered and shrugged it off.

"One last kiss then" Before I give up and let you take it?? he asked with an oddly pleading tone, leading toward her during their close proximity. He nipped at her bottom lip, smirking when his head pulled back then jerked forward in an attempt to connect his forehead with her nose. And he had a hard head!

Crowley backed away, shoving from her while twisting the blade around in his hand, then twisted, charging forward again with a surprising amount of nimble grace. Twisting, turning, slicing and swiping, Crowley's attack could have very well come from any direction during his blood soaked dance.

Crowley tsked as he reached the top of the stairs, leaning over the banister to eye the body of Claybourne crumpled below. The blade was lifted to scratch through his hair, and then slipped down into the sheath on his back. Turning, Crowley eyed Brooklyn, smirking faintly.

"See ya around, darlin"," he winked teasingly and started down the stairs, shoving his hands into his pockets as he began to whistle an upbeat tune despite the panic surrounding him in his exit. He chuckled quietly, interrupting the tune he whistled when confronted with the confused, horrified stares of the partygoers. A hand lifted to wave them all off dismissively.

"Get back to your celebration, folks. Life is short, ya only live it once," he glanced over his shoulder, up at the top of the stairs where he saw Brooklyn, and smirked all the wider for it. "Sorry "bout your dress," snickering, Crowley ducked out of the room and disappeared.