Merci had accepted a job in Detroit, and the job would indeed be completed, but not by her.

She'd told Kathryn the details of the contract, explained how the research was done and which modes of travel were preferred in which cases. This was a low profile hit, so going by plane was acceptable and low risk. 

On the flight over, she handed the girl a thin dossier, and watched as Kathryn read the documents carefully, memorizing the details. The plan was to watch the mark for 24 hours, and then eliminate him as he left his home for work in the morning.

Kathryn never asked questions pertaining to the target...no whys, hows, whos. And she didn't flinch, at least outwardly, when she read the part detailing the man's family...he had small children, a loving wife, a loyal dog. She believed Kathryn was as ready as she could be mentally, and she'd been shooting at expert levels at the range for a week now. She could do this.

After the plane touched down and they made their way towards the mark's neighborhood in a rented car, Kathryn finally did ask a question.

"The house across the street, the one we're hitting him from...how'd you secure it? Was it empty?"

"No," she answered with a small smile. "Routine gas company inspection showed a leak. The family has been relocated to a hotel for 2 days while repairs are made. There is no leak, of course...I hired a couple fellas to don some jumpsuits and rattle some official looking papers at them. They were scared shitless, couldn't leave fast enough."

Parking down the street a ways, they approach the 'leaky' house at a late enough hour that neither they, nor the car, is noticed. Getting in is easy...after all, they were given a key.

"Okay. Pop quiz. Which room will give you the best visuals on the target? Look around, see what you see. We'll set up in that room and get some rest, then surveil early...he gets up at 6 AM, leaves about 7:15. Assuming there's no hitch in that giddyup, we'll hit that target on the following morning," she says, working the kinks out of her back. She wondered absently if this family owned a jar of green olives.

 Kathryn couldn't help but mirror Merci's stretch, trying to recover from the long car ride and the longer flight. Her heart was beating a little faster now that they were actually here, but she knew she could keep it from reaching her eyes. Burying her emotions was something she had lots of practice with and there was no one alive now who could tell when she was covering something up. 

The only part that really bothered her was the fact that he had kids. But whatever, at least he had a wife to look after them. Once she had the skills she needed and implemented them in the way she wanted, it would be a net gain. Even if she had to blast through a thousand innocent suckers to get to that point.

Banishing the thoughts from her mind, she patrolled the house. Downstairs: kitchen, dining room, living room, office, bathroom. Upstairs: master bedroom, 2 other bedrooms, bathroom. Returning to Merci, she had her answer.

"Front side bedroom- not the master one. Master one has some slight tree obstruction. Technically, the dining room is better- but he's more likely to notice people in the window at ground level. At least, that's what I'm thinking?"

Merci grins. 

"I'm not even going to double check you. Is there enough furniture in there for us to both get confortable, or do we need to move some chairs...? I like to spend as much time as I can in the place where I shoot from. You acclimate to the room...the lighting, the shadows, the little creaks and pops floors tend to make. You don't have to, of course, that's just my habit." She's in the kitchen now, looking in the fridge. No olives. Darn.

"There's enough furniture in there. Twin sized bed. A rocking chair."

Kathryn pauses for a moment.

"Are we going to be shooting from inside here? Who's the client?"

Merci just stares at Kathryn for a moment, evaluating her.

"I'm only asking because I don't want you to go easy on me. Someone gets taken down by a rifle across the street, that's going to look like a hit. Now if whoever it is- and I don't need to know precisely who- but if whoever it is WANTS it to look like a hit to send a message, that's fine. I'll take the shot, whatever you say."

Kathryn's soft blue eyes are steady.

"I'm not saying  you are, but I just don't want you to treat me like I'm on the junior varsity. If someone hired you on this job and you would've had them pick you up as a hitchhiker or catch a ride leaving a bar- just have the guy and the car vanish. Or use poison. Or seduction. I can handle anything. I'll have to."

Merci sighs.

"You're too smart for your own good. But yes, it would have gone down this way. I don't do up close and personal. I'm a shooter. And yes, it's a message being delivered. This...man...is turning state's evidence against the man who hired me. But the only reason he's doing it is because he's indebted to him. Things could have gone differently...the man I'm working for isn't an animal...but that guy across the street decided he'd take his chances, along with those of his wife and kids, and roll the dice through the court system. All over a gambling debt.

"Trust me, even without the insurance policy, his family is better off." She trudges up the stairs with her equipment bag, then let's out a,tiny squeak of happy when she realizes she packed a bottle of olives!

Kathryn nods, quietly relieved. She was prepared to do whatever she had to, but she didn't relish the idea of looking into someone's eyes as she ended them. This way was easier. Cleaner.

"Understood."

Kathryn follows Merci up the stairs and nearly grabs for her gun in her purse as she hears Merci make a strange noise, only to find her new companion holding a jar of olives. As they enter the room, Kathryn places her bag on the floor and drags the bed over to the window. 

"Why do you like those things so much? Pregnancy craving?"

The slightest hint of a smirk and a minuscule arch of her eyebrow are the only hints that she's kidding.

"Hu...what?!? Oh, no. Ha! That would be something," she trails off, plopping down on the corner of the bed. 

"Feel free to shower, or pilfer a little food. They rarely say anything or even notice," she says, stifling a yawn. All the travelling was the worst part. Too bad she couldn't just kill a bunch of people in Vegas. She missed her cat.

"So why me? I guess I should be alarmed you even knew there WAS a me," she adds.

Kathryn reclined back on her elbows, keeping her legs crossed as they draped off the bed. Merci can see the machinery moving behind her eyes and noted again how different Kathryn seemed from the young woman who first arrived in Vegas? Had it all been an act, early on, and she now had confidence? Or was this the act, feigning a new mastery? Or both? But her voice disrupted Merci's thoughts. A familiar voice- they'd been speaking so much at the range that the other person had almost entered each of their inner monologues.

"To be honest with you? A man wouldn't take me seriously. I tried to have Jack show me some things and he was so worried about me hurting myself that he was a shitty teacher. I figure if I try to have a guy show me the ropes, he's either going to try to protect me, fall in love with me, or want to fuck me. Possibly all three. At once, even."

"So I needed a woman, because at least you can hold out longer before you fall in love with me, right?"

She laughed, musically.

"I also needed someone who was skilled enough at their job to teach me what I wanted to, while not being so ridiculously rich or incurious that they'd immediately kick me to the curb. As for how I found you... I'm rich, remember? It does have its advantages."

"You've been around a long time, but you've been a freelancer. I figure that if things go the way I want them to, after you've trained me up to the skill level I want, then I have a decent shot at persuading you to stick around with me."

She grinned.

"I can be pretty persuasive."

"Fair enough. You're very thorough, which will work well for you. Let's take this in shifts...it's likely not necessary but I'd rather not take the chance. You want to go first? Look for the ordinary, not just the inordinary. If he walks his dog at 2 AM, we need to know that. Wake me in a couple hours and we'll switch," she indicates, but that never actually happens. They spend the entire night helping themselves to their unsuspecting hosts' pantry and liquor cabinet while chatting away about everything and nothing. Merci has just finished eating a green olive monstrosity of a sandwich that makes Kathryn's skin crawl when they hear a front door close, and freeze. Kathryn is in the rocker by the window and peeks out...it's already 7:15, and the mark is leaving for work.

Shit. Merci had intended to have the rifle set up so that Kathryn could trace the trajectory through the scope, but they've missed their opportunity now.

"Well, a bit of a missed chance there, but that's alright. We've still learned a lot. Tell me what you saw. Does his wife walk him to his car? Does he walk quickly, or is he carrying objects...a briefcase, a lunch pail, a cup of coffee...that slow his pace? Does he lock his car? 

"And most importantly, how do you feel, now that you've seen his face? Can you still go through with it tomorrow morning?"

Kathryn blinked, weary but still fighting to operate at full capacity. It had been an interesting night; Kathryn had never actively delved too deeply in a conversation with Merci since they'd started training. Mostly they discussed business, tactics, and mundane minutiae. Kathryn had been a bit more forthcoming than usual last night when Merci had questioned her, but after that single query they'd pulled back, cautiously circling the other as years of dissembling on each side contemplated the other.

When the front door opened, Kathryn leaned forward in the rocker and froze like a cat, muscles tensed. A few moments of perfect silence endured inside the room. Finally, the sound of the car's engine moves away and Kathryn quickly answered Merci's questions.

"Middle aged man. Overweight. Still relatively young looking. He walked like he was in a rush: maybe that was just today or maybe he likes being a little bit earlier. Carried a briefcase, black, swinging in his left hand, then tossed it in the passenger seat. I didn't... couldn't see if he locked the car or not. He's only walking from the door to the driver's seat for about five or six seconds, but it's a straight line from here, so it should be relatively easy."

She looks out at the children emerging from the house, their mother waiting in her bathrobe with them for the school bus.

"As for how I feel? How I feel doesn't matter. Whatever you tell me to do, I'll do it. What I would... suggest... is that we don't pop the guy and have his two kids and his wife come running out of the house screaming. If you're client wants to send a message, a guy getting popped by a rifle in his own driveway is a hell of a message. Get the kids involved, that makes this whole thing "A Story" that the papers are going to start digging into, manipulating emotions for eyeballs. If it were up to me? I'd pop one of his tires tonight after he goes to bed- or yank something important out of his car so it won't start. Guy comes out, car doesn't work, goes back inside to call his work. Kids go to school. Next time he comes out to either check his car or get a ride, I'll take him then- and there won't be any front page pictures of Billy and Jane or whoever crying over their father's corpse to bring extra heat. Unless you think that's what your client wants here?"

Kathryn stood, popping her hips as she twisted.

"But like I said. You're in charge here."

"Actually, no, this is your show to run as you see fit. I like that idea, actually. I mean, I never stick around to watch the fallout, but it's an interesting approach and I see no reason to discard it. We can catch up on sleep today and prep for his arrival home this afternoon. I don't have any blades, do you?"she asked as she walked towards the master bathroom, stripping off her shirt along the way. It didn't even occur to her that it might be considered rude, unladylike, flirtatious. The sound of the shower running can be heard through the open doorway. 

"Ha! This guy's cologne comes in a bottle shaped like a race car. Classy!" she calls out as the sound of a shower curtain being pulled close can be heard over the running water.

Race cars were an appropriate metaphor. Kathryn felt her own engine heating up after watching Mercedes walk away. Her mind was just considering whether "blades" meant razors or combat knives when Merci nonchalantly slid her shirt over her head. Kathryn, despite what she'd tried to display early on in Vegas, had a damned good poker face- but a 6 hour flight and an all night stake out took their toll on anyone, and Merci would have undoubtedly caught her staring if she'd looked back.

It had been a long time for Kathryn. Revenge was a powerful drug- an obsession that had a way of subsuming any other passions- but it wasn't omnipotent. Kathryn had always been attracted to both women and men: both could invoke lust, aesthetic appreciation, a friendly smile, or anything in between. Her time in college, of course, was focused on men. She was an heiress; without a son of his own, her father needed her to be well matched to a man who could help build up his company. There'd been a few drunken kisses that had lingered too long with a particular girl... but there was no future there, so nothing had ever happened. But now? What future did she have? What did she have to lose?

For a moment, Kathryn toyed with the idea of walking into the bathroom with Merci and trying to seduce her. There was no doubt in her mind that she could get Merci in the shower, back on the bed... but no, that would ruin things.

Kathryn wasn't trying to find a paramour; she was looking for a subordinate. Not a slave, but someone she respected, someone who could still follow orders. But if Kathryn was going to keep the promises she'd made to herself, she needed to be in charge- and she couldn't compromise her plans. That meant being in charge in the boardroom- and in the bedroom as well. How could Merci respect her if Kathryn started following her around like a puppy? Besides, there was Augustus. A wealthy man of increasing power. Not only married to Merci, perhaps, but potentially available to her as well.

Who knows what Merci meant by her actions? Was it an invitation to join her? A rejection of any possibility by the familiarity and casual attitude that she did it with? It would have to rest for now. Just like Kathryn.

If Merci wanted her, then she would have to come to Kathryn on her knees. The thought made Kathryn smile and her cheeks burn brightly as she lay back on the bed. It would be convenient. Merci was beautiful. No chance of getting pregnant, which would obviously shoot her plans to shit. And there was also the allure of the unknown. A woman. A woman like Merci. Her friends from college would never believe it. But she wasn't that girl anymore. Still, getting involved with an assassin, particularly one teaching you about the business, seemed like a risky proposition.

Unsure of what she wanted, but steadfast in her belief that if anyone was going to be seduced it was not going to be her, Kathryn slipped out of her jeans and climbed into the empty bed. To anyone who saw her, she seemed like an exhausted, beautiful young woman who'd simply drifted off to a peaceful, innocent slumber. Surely it was a coincidence that the sheet had been wrapped so tightly to display her figure, and that long, lean, naked leg had somehow slipped out on its own.

Smiling to herself, Kathryn let herself fall into a deep, comfortable sleep as she listened to the sound of the shower running- and for her last few moments of consciousness, she let her imagination run with it.

Merci finishes her shower, squeezes the water from her hair, and heads back into the bedroom to grab some fresh clothes. She stops at the sight of Kathryn laying there, wrapped like a mummy up to her bustline, with a leg dangling over the side of the bed. 

Twenty million thoughts blew throught her mind, none of them viable. As she reaches for her bag, she admires the leg, wonders briefly how flexible it is, then shakes the thought from her brain.

This was awkward. She hadn't run into the issue of mixing business with pleasure before. And she was married. Wasn't she? She still had to work through that mess.  

She turns to go back into the bathroom and stops again. If you looked hard enough at the sheet tucked around her chest, you could just barely make out...

Nope. Stop. This isn't...nope. Hustling back into the bathroom, she changes quickly and comes out to find a seat in the rocker, scrubbing her hands down her face. 

She never sees the cat-like grin appear on Kathryn's lips.

Kathryn had faded away into a restful sleep. She only needed 4 or 5 hours to fully recharge the battery- well, she could pull that off for a week before she needed to go for longer. It gave her an edge over most people: they just couldn't keep up with her. Although she suspected Merci, not to mention a few others in the business, could give her a run for her money. Time would tell. Silently, she wrapped the sheet around her and slipped her bare foot down to the thick, sound dampening carpet and snuck to her small carry on luggage. In Merci's line of work, light sleeping seemed like an asset- but after the long flight and the all nighter, she gave no indication of being awake. Still, Kathryn made sure she wrapped the sheet tightly. If she was going to lure in Merci, it was going to be a well orchestrated symphony- not a bull rush. Well, perhaps in that metaphor Kathryn would be the dancer, twirling the red cloth multiple times before her target charged. With her small bag in hand, Kathryn closed the bathroom door behind her. In a few minutes, the shower was blasting- and Kathryn was plotting her strategy for the day.

She couldn't tell how long she was in there for. Lots of her best thinking happened in the shower. It also took her a fair amount of time to put herself together, at least when she was trying to prepare for more than a trip to the shooting range with Merci. When she emerged, her straight hair was parted in the middle, falling to her shoulders. She wore a dress the color of buttercream that came to an end two thirds of the way down her thigh, with three horizontal black lines circling below the waist. It was a bold dress, but still gave off the air of a high class young woman.

As she exited the bathroom she winked at Merci, who had just awoken.

"Figured I'd clean up. Take a ride around the neighborhood to scout things out. Exits, potential problems, etc. If anyone asks..."

Her voice lost it's edge and Merci heard the young girl who'd just happened to sit down at her table a few weeks ago.

"Oh my goodness, my husband Joe is getting transferred here and he wanted me to look in this neighborhood to see if any houses were available! What can you tell us about the area? Any issues? Noisy neighbors?"

She grinned as her voice changes again.

"Want to play real estate agent? Might have to get you into something... professional."

Merci physically deflated ..no way was she going shopping...but then she remembered that a woman lived in this bedroom. Stepping to the closet, she reached for a pants suit in black. It had likely been worn to a funeral, but it was as far as she was willing to go. She went to the bathroom and changed again, reappearing with her hair up and clothed in a decently fitted outfit. She'd even applied makeup, but the woman in residence preferred a deep red, and Merci's full lips were exceptionally pronounced.

Kathryn smirked as she saw Merci.

"You clean up nice. I should take you out with me more often."

Merci muttered something unintelligible as she headed for the door, Kathryn close on her heels. A few moments later they were cruising through the neighborhood. Every so often it seemed like Merci felt the urge to slam on the gas, but she always remembered before her foot hit the pedal. Kathryn had rolled the window down, smiling as she felt the wind in her hair. It was nice, being somewhere that wasn't in the desert. She had her legs crossed and the chair reclined, externally the image of the slightly bored, rich trophy wife- but when her eyes wandered over, which they did every so often, Merci noticed Kathryn's eyes intently examining the surroundings. 

"Couple houses for sale. 34 and 57. There's our cover. Doesn't seem like there're too many perpetual porch-dwellers, although there could be some in the morning. I guess that over there is our backup plan to get out of the neighborhood to the freeway. Seems like a quiet spot overall. Think we should park in the street parallel to us? Behind the backyard? We could cut through, avoid the commotion when it happens. I'm sure the shot and the body will draw a crowd. If we hop the fence, we'll be headed away where no one's looking?"

Her eyes gleamed.

"And hey- any updates on you and Mr. Caesar? Still Mrs. Caesar?"

Merci's brow furrowed. "I guess. He burned the papers. No idea why," she said, turning a corner to get the car where they needed it to be. "You're more his type...rich, young, ambitious. Maybe I should set you two up," Merci says, only half kidding. 

Kathryn exaggeratedly raised both eyebrows at Merci, before letting her soft blue eyes dance over her figure.

"Uh huh. No idea why."

She relaxes again, seemingly weighing Merci's proposition. 

"Can't say I've ever had someone recommend I date their husband before.. He's certainly an attractive man. Powerful. My savings account isn't going to last forever, and he might be able to help with that..."

"... but then again, burning things seems a bit impetuous. A complicated man making a bold move. Not sure I need that right now- at least not in my love life. So to speak." 

She waves her hand, dismissing the concept of her love life entirely.

Parking the car, Merci gets out, surveilling the neighborhood as she does. Not a soul to be seen. It's as if they're on a movie set.

Walking back the way they've come, Merci debates on further enlightening her new bestie. Lacking any other female friends, and simply needing to fill the time, she ploughs ahead.

"His right hand man sent me flowers. Claims he's n love with me, and will treat me better than my cheating, lecherous husband does. IF said husband were to suddeny disappear from the picture," she says, glancing at Kathryn to gauge her reaction. 

After stashing the car behind the house, in a spot that would make for a quiet getaway, Kathryn follows next to Merci. Her voice gets slightly more focused, like she's calculating a math problem.

"An interesting dilemma.

Having your husband "disappear" would certainly be a boost to your bank account. Although you figure anytime someone who owns a casino gets popped and their new, mysterious wife inherits everything... well, I think that lady would get a lot of attention from the cops, if not the Feds. Could be lots of heat. It'd be one thing if he was trying to screw you."

Merci shoots her a look.

"You know what I mean. Seems like he's got a legitimate interest in you, is what I'm saying. Besides, I don't care if this RHM looks like Hercules, thinks like Odysseus, and fucks like Zeus... anyone stupid enough to make this move without knowing what you're answer is... well, that person's level of stupid is going to take them down sooner or later. Why go along for the ride? What he should have done was seduce you, win you over, THEN mention the whole knocking off your husband thing. So yea. I'd stick with Augustus. He might be bold, but he's not as foolhardy as whoever this RHM is. You deserve someone with the proper motivations for seducing y-"

As they approached the house on foot, Kathryn felt the hairs on the back of her neck explode. Had Merci seen it, too? A quick glance and a smile from the older woman told Kathryn to zip it and act normal. The last minute of walking, covered by empty filler and laughter, took an eternity to go by. When they got in the house, Merci immediately bolted the door behind them and ran upstairs, her gun in her hand. She'd already cleared the upstairs by the time Kathryn got there- she was narrating to Merci like she had been the entire trip.

"Saw a man's face in the window of the target's house, reflection off binoculars. Either the wife's having an affair with a peeping Tom or... we're being set up? Is that why the entire neighborhood is empty? People getting cleared out or told to stay inside? By cops? Hit squad posing as cops? Does someone know I'm with you? Not unless Orsini has sources in Vegas... must be for you, you're the one who got hired... could be me..."

She was barely talking to Merci now, just trying to analyze the different possibilities.

"What's the move? Take a look and run for the car out the back? Try to play it cool and walk around like we did before?"

As she spoke, Kathryn checked her revolver. She was ready.