No flesh shall be spared [ Open, adult ]

Peter Hirsh stalked down the long marble hallway of the battleship class vessel absolutely assured of himself. The resonate tapping of his leather boots echoed beyond and in front of him as his slender frame was illuminated and darkened by crimson lights reflected. He was restless tonight, and his stance belied him. His arms swung quickly to match his step. He was approaching the large metal door and as he entered it he slowed his pace, and straightened his black suit and tie. Then he hauled the heavy doors open and stepped into the party.

There was light decadent music playing over the heads of the celebrators. Everything was black and crimson as bespoke the styles of the Empire. The glassy black silverware was matched by his own obsidian eyes and hair. He sauntered through the crowd gliding over the floor as people continued to talk about meaningless details of their lives. He picked a crystal glass of bright scarlet fluid from the hand of a shocked partygoer who instantly backed down after seeing the just who had taken his glass of spiced wine. Peter continued on towards the back of the room without even a second glance. His hips swayed slightly as he continued on, not even glancing to his right or left. He took sips of from his glass and licked his lips dry when he finally reached the end of the room, where no one stood. There was a large L-shaped couch where four enthralling people sat. They did not speak, they did not drink, they just sat and watched on as their people attempted to enjoy themselves. They were who Peter had come to see.

"Hello Mr. Hirsh. I assume you have something to say to us? The Sovereign asked before Peter had even stopped his gait."

"Yes, I do. I apologize for interrupting this meeting of nobles, but you must know. They have arrived."

Peter drained his glass before resuming his speech. "There is a shuttle ready to take off for recon, I assume you wanted your personal guards so they are waiting for you as well. I apologize once more, but it looks like the Empire Wars have begun anew"

"Excellent. Proceed with the plans"

Everyone at this party was a noble and would not take part in the fighting, but they would be the only ones negotiating, and sending their own fighters and resources into battle. It was time for the Empire to do what it does best: to war again.

He stood at the back of the crowd, his tinted glasses hiding his eyes as he glared over the crowd and listened carefully. Being a Marshal of the Empire demandd of him to attend at all social occasions. And many of them was a lot less interesting than he expected. He is a fighter, everything that doesn't involve ships exploding and screams isn't his cup of tea. He felt uncomfortable in the plainclothes tuxedo he wore, the feeling of his uniform much more pleasant to bear than this penguin-suit. He adjusted his collar for the millionth time and looked around carefully.

He had spent the last years working in law enforcement for the Empire, and now he had been promoted. It was a gift, they said. The ability to have direct orders from the Sovereign is intensely important in our troubled Universe, they moaned. Your gift could save countless lives, they cried. What a load of bull. He hated infidels just like the rest of the Universe, hated them even more so now that it was his job to find them. But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

There went Ludvig and the drunken woman, who took two seats on the left center of the room, where they both had a good view of the stage. The chatter was mellow, not too loud nor too silent. Cutlery and fancy plates were set before the entire audience, and the dining would start once the Sovereign had finished her speech. He saw Peter passing by like a lightining bold and at that moment he knew that he wouldn’t have the time to stick around for a good meal. Rubbing his freshly shaven face, he looked about, finally settling his light blue eyes upon the woman next to him. He had to admit, she was beautiful, soft, curly locks of blonde hair fell down past her shoulders, her lips painted a faint shade of red with lipstick, and her body was voluptuous in all the right places, and the fancy blue and black dress showed off what she had. One thing held the Marshal back from actually becoming intrigued with her… She was the Sovereign's protegee.

She smiled at him, slowly leaning closer toward him every few second until he finally gave her a quick smile and looked away. Loosening the red tie from around his neck, he unbuttoned the first button, allowing himself to breathe much more freely. Formal clothing was always so uncomfortable. Checking his watch, Levian heard a man clear his throat over a microphone and a hush eventually settled over the crowd. He began to look around, searching for his target, things starting to become slower as a small rush of adrenaline scattered throughout his veins. He took in a deep silent breathe to control his breathing and looked to his right to see the woman drinking the wine that was provided for the audience. She might as well have been chugging the nearly spherical wine glass.

I sat quietly at the officer's table, staring at the bubbles that played upwards through my glass of champagne. I wanted the speech to begin sooner, the only words that mattered were the Sovereign's words. But I understood that the formalities were almost as necessary as the golden alcohol sitting in front of me. A moment of tension, I could feel it.

It was then that something raised the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. A familiar gut feeling that something unpleasant was about to happen. In my line of work, I'd been around such events quite a bit, often being the one to initiate them. Honestly, I didn't care what anyone else did, so long as it didn't inconvenience me in anyway. Unfortunately, this was not one of those times. I spot the man who was preparing to enter the dinner, a foreigner Ambassador. He wasn't even close to fit the description. A man of brute manners and brute vocabulary. His eyes lost, very clear not acquainted with the high level society he was trying to fit in.

Under the simple guise that I was getting up to leave, I " accidentally-on-purpose " knocked my wine glass, sending it flying across the table. If it wasn't me, certainly a commoner would have paid for this act.

"I'm sorry, truly. Here..." I nodded to the other officers who stared in furious silence at me, but I ignored it and quickly moved off toward the door. Damn these high heels!

"Damn black tie affair..." she muttered under her breath as she entered the dining hall pulling at her exquisite black cocktail dress. Her instincts taking over quickly, she scanned the room. Ah yes, we're all here. And many others I'm not familiar with. Exhaling deeply, she begins shuffling through the crowd, glancing quickly through faces, her photographic memory working overtime tonight. A slight smile crosses her crimson pout as she nods to the fellow members of CR-E weaving through the throng of bodies. Reaching the far side of the room, she glances at the stage, finding the beautiful Sovereign, noticing her surroundings, making sure. ("Sure of what?") Shaking her head nonchalantly, she reaches for a glass of champagne from the table closest to her and takes a sip, trying to calm her nerves. ("Why the nervousness? Something's not right.") Trying to shake the thought from her head, she scans the room once more and tries to breathe deeply. A deep, quiet voice is heard beside her, asking her pardon. She moves slightly to the right, allowing the stranger to pass, keeping her eyes glued to the stage and its occupants. Closing her eyes briefly, she finds a still place in her mind and tries to concentrate on slowing her breath to a somewhat normal pace. Her heartbeat pounds rhythmically in her ears, drowning out the cacophony of voices. Opening her eyes, she glances around, trying to locate The Crimsons, just in case. ("Just in case what? God, Nira, get a grip.") Locking eyes briefly with Semra, she slightly nods a hello and continues glancing through the crowd. Another nod and slight smile when she spots Levian. ("Why does everyone seem so uptight?")

"Damn!..." A quiet curse from somewhere near the stage, as a glass finds the floor. Parfum stands and mumbles an apology to those close to her and quickly moves towards the door. Another movement catches her eye almost simultaneously as Peter moved quickly and silently through the crowd, the look on his face turning her already nervous stomach into a tumult. Glancing over and catching eyes briefly with Levian, and then Semra, she pauses and takes a deep breath, ready to move at any moment. She slowly takes another sip of the champagne, the taste falling on dead taste-buds. ("I'm ready.....")

A voice reverberates from the microphone, and a hush falls over the crowd, but the butterflies refuse to stop dancing in her gut. ("Hurry up and let the Sovereign speak, so we can get the hell out of here. This place is insane....") Muscles tense and ready, she sits on the edge of her stool, toying with her champagne glass.

The Imperial Star Vessel Dies Irae was a floating mammoth in the darkness of space. Several lights illuminated through the thousands of windows decks of the ship. It boasted the highest capacity of passengers, fitting nearly 800,000 along with personal rooms for each passenger. Of course the ship was much more than just a floating hotel though. The ship had its own theatre, along with a bar on every one of its 8 floors, a ballroom, a strip club, a recreational centre, and an extremely large dining room where tonight, the Sovereign would be giving a speech on ( No one knows the subject ) The dinner was to be set at 2100 and formal attire was indeed enforced.

The customized Skylark, a civilian transport capable of storing three passengers and a pilot, entered the docking bay. The design of the machine was sleek and the customization was no where near noticeable. Rocket pods along a machine gun turret, which both slid smoothly out from the lower hatch of the craft had replaced the areas where passengers would normally sit. The cockpit slid open and the pilot pulled the HUD visor off. Stepping out of the machine, I looked around the docking port and continued on my way.

Exiting the docking port, walking down the hall, I immediately entered a swarm of people on their way to the dining room, where a drunk woman bumped into me, hitting my forearm causing the spring loaded derringer energy pistol to extend out into my palm. I quickly flicked my wrist, retracting the weapon before anyone could see that I was armed.

“I’m … So sorry about that. Let me make it up to you.” The drunken woman began to apologize.

I smiled at the woman as I began to think, improvising like I always did. Normally, these kind of events were attended as couples and I did not have the luxury to bring a date due to my Skylark that was considered a sleeper assault craft. Perfect.

“Accompany me at the Sovereign’s speech, I’d love to have some company.” I replied.

The woman laughed and slipped her arm around mine, and we both walked in, side by side. Problem solved… Now I won’t stick out as a loner. The last thing I wanted to do before a hitman job was to stick out.

"There's one more of theirs at the southeast corner, ten feet from the stairs."

"I've got him Parfume." (I manipulate data on the computer) "Okay, that brings it to four inside. Any more outside Peter?"

"No. Just two at the front."

"Alright. Team stay in position."

"Me (via com) Parfume? How much longer?"

"Another five"

Ludvig (turns head and touches his ear) "I'm here. I ave him on my view. I think we could put him down before the Sovereign's speech"

"Don't breach the Protocol. We wait for the Sovereign's sign."

Casual elegance...she always made this formal thing look easy. Lips painted glossy red so when she smiled their gaze was drawn to them and not to her eyes...

Her eyes flitted across the room, never distracted by the seemingly endless twinkling of jewels and medals. Adept at lip reading, her gaze would pause on one conversation...

"You wouldn't believe what I found out," some random party-goer says, interest piqued, "she is sleeping with..."

Her eyes glide off to the next convo, then the next...
Wretched bores...with their gossip and their constant vying for whose "whatever" is better than whose.

She doesn't reach fidget, no need to smooth down her hair, no need to adjust her dress, she knows she looks perfect.

She smiled her "we're all friends here" smile at them, nodding in the right places in their stories...but her eyes never stopped

flitting

seeking

reading

seeing

moving on...

Her face never revealing her thoughts, not even a twitch of her nose as a cloud of too much perfume and too much liquor hit her senses. Ludvig and his date passing by.

How can he stand that, her thoughts rebel against it...but on her face the perfect smile, can't believe he's not choking on it.

A commotion at the table, Parfum, my eyes briefly catching the other's before I make some remark to the people around me, smoothing their already frazzled nerves...flashing my "everything is just fine" smile this time. Always works on these people.

She reaches for a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and moves towards fluidly through the crowd, ears picking up what her eyes miss...
so far...nothing but garbage

"Oh yes, hello Commander, nice to see you, hope you are having a good time."

"The Sovereign will be speaking shortly, you won't be disappointed."

Words...

Words...

Words...and the perfect smile...

She does her diplomatic dance...the words her music...

So it begins....

"He's in. All got that?"

Karl's voice said as the comms piece in my ear clicked on and crackled to life.

"Roger." I said calmly, the comms piece in my jacket collar picking it up. I walked silently through the crowd with a certain smile on my face.

"Seneschal" I smiled politely and nodded to the woman as I passed her.

"Glad you could make it Mr. Hirsh"

She said as she pointed down a slightly crowded hall. I gave another polite smile and left in the direction she pointed. I walked slowly, allowing my finger to trace upon the red walls. My hand dropped down to the golden rail, which hovered above the white trim. There were pictures all up and down this hallway. People were smoking, talking and laughing. Champagne and other drinks were being pressed to people's lips and sipped slowly. An eruption of giggles from a few ladies to my left caused quite a few stares. One of them, in a black dress, promptly put a hand to her mouth, turning red with a tinge of embarrassment, as she turned back and whispered quietly to her friends.

After walking a little further the hallway ended in an open doorway. I presumed the white marbled floors and walls, along with the deep blue, tall open ceiling, was the ballroom. As I walked through the open doorway I was engulfed in loud voices, music, dancing and quite a few other indulgences of my senses. The comms link crackled on again.

"Operation: The Sovereign has given green light. All clear? We're go."

To my left was a beautiful, black, grande-piano. Promptly hither-to I noticed the bar in front of me. There was a man who didn't seem dressed for the occasion. He didn't look indecent, but he was a little under-par comparatively. I made my way over to him and sat down.

"Calmly now," The comms crackled on again, "Be cordial, order him a drink. Whiskey. Order yourself white wine."

The bartender walked over to me and smiled with a polite 'yessir?' to which I responded with my drink order. He returned a moment later with the drinks for me and the man. The man looked at me and smiled.

"Shall we make a toast?" He said politely.

"Sure," I responded, "What do we toast to?"

I asked that question, in reality, to my Empire officers. They were the ones walking me through this.

"The delights of war." My comms device relayed to me through the static.

The man smiled gingerly and said, "To peace!" I simply returned the smile and said, "To the delights of war." as I cordially sip from my glass and stood up from the bar, going to mingle in the crowd a bit.

"Good job Peter. Just play it cool for now." The comms device crackled again.

A poetic waltzy feel came to the music. I walked fluidly through the crowd, reaching over and taking a glass of white wine from a tray that a waiter was carrying. I would take a sip from the glass but so often on my way out. The scent of the wine permeated my mouth and into my nostrils. Slowly, I walked out of back entrance.

I stood by the small river that ran past the Sovereign's garden. A beautiful room, where any virtual reality could be created while inside the ship. I took a deep breath looking at the virtual full moon. The way its white lights ran down the waters, some would say it reflected the Sovereign's soul.

I heard footsteps but thought nothing of it.

"Okay Parfum," My comms piece cracked on, "There are two Deltan males coming up behind you. The one to your right has a gun. Be ready."

"Why would they bother with me?" I said calmly before taking a cigarette.
Their response: "Street mugging. Just watch it."

Almost as soon as the comms clicked off I heard a voice.

"Hey miss... Can I ask you something?"

I spull fully around on my right heel, knocking the gun from his hand with my left fore-arm. I gave him a punch to the gut and threw him to the ground before kicking the other man in the stomach with my left foot. Pulling out my gun I beat the second man over the head with the handle. The first man was struggling to get to his feet when I squeezed the trigger, releasing a round into the chamber, through the suppressor, and finally, plunging into his skull. He fell instantly, blood leaking out around him. The second man was already out cold. I simply placed the gun betwixt his eyes and squeezed. Dead.

After putting up my gun I made quick work of the bodies by depositing them into the ships' waste. Throwing my cigarette in to chase after them, I turned back and walked inside, leaving my wine glass outside hoping it would come back to haunt me.

I returned to the party and resumed grazing about as usual. I was hoping to find either a partner or a lead. Anything suspicious or helpful would do.

I scanned the lovely walls of the hall around me and the woman now alone at the table. Walking along the red carpet I see, Parfum and Ludvig, The Sovereign's royal black guards flanking to my sides, I approached the young woman at the table, whose head was down as she was seemingly reading something.
After a moment of silence I loudly cleared my throat and she looked up, her face flustered as she took one look at me and gasped.

"Marshal, terribly sorry" she said, her voice heavy with an exotic accent. I smiled "Please, call me Levian". The woman, whom I recognized as one of the Sovereign's many silk slaves trained for cover ops smiled and stepped down from her white perch. "By the way you look at me, I'm sure that you know who I am. Now keep your gaze and pretend to fill the glass. Follow me."

After leading me down the hall, she turned back around "The Sovereign is currently attending a brief meeting" she said, and opened her mouth to say more before I cut her off.

"Perfectly fine" I said, realising that she had started speaking the military coded sequence.

The young lady smiled and bowed her head in respect "You may tell the others that the drink must be served cold" she said, opening her ring and placing a very small capsule in my hand.

I held the object and glanced around the crowded room that surrounded us. "Anything special?" I asked quietly in ancient veil language, a language only taught to crimson Empire officers. Looking around, Atyria gave a shrug and gave a short, deep laugh. "Not at the moment. As far as the majority is concerned, this is some Diplomatic event. And I must keep my drunken role"

I sighed and looking around the room, eyeing the oblivious fancy dressed occupants, sipping champagne and laughing heartily. "The majority isn't everyone" I said as I gave a quick smile to a young man who passed by. "Does Ludvig knows?"

"Of course not. The watchers must watch the watchers"

"Alright" I said, and turned away from my associate. "Let's mingle". I grabbed a crystal glass of sparkling wine as I walked away from Atyria, whom I hoped would continue drawing to much attention to herself. I looked about the faces that surrounded me, hoping to smart perhaps a slightly compelling conversation.

''The truth must be silent' the words of her mistress echoed in her ears.

"Madam, your drink?" The bartender repeated the question that she has missed.

"Ice water and a bloody mary" she asked, her tone both sweet and sharp but the tender simply smirked at her before filling her glasses upon request.
Atyria took a seat to wait, her right leg crossing over her left so she could wrap her long black duster over her legs which were covered by a pair of knee-high stockings with ankle high boots and a skirt of the same colour as the coat; the halter top she wore was a colour of crimson.
She ran her fingers threw her hair but her bangs just fell back in place. She should keep calm, and hope that the marshal would take the gift to the point number two soon enough so she would be able to return to the chambers.
Just being in a party where Infidels were around was irritating.
The terrible people, babbling incessantly about dates, sex, drugs, and any other insignificant topic that had no real value. Constant questions, observations, and unwanted comments came pouring from the infidels' mouths like flooding tides of white water: Noisy, destructive, and most importantly; a total bitch to bear. She mentally cursed her heightened demonic hearing, something that she received from the Empire special trainings. She forced herself to relax, though inwardly was playing with the idea of just killing them all.

It was then that she felt it: A sharp surge in power, accompanied by a pulsing aura, blatantly different from any of the humans'. Almost instantly, her head snapped to the side, silvery gaze searching for the source of the change in surroundings.

To me, the noise, that constant ruckus of feeling and emotion, was exactly that. Something I had long since grown used to, along with the conflicting emotions that went along with it.

Looking at the Marshal speaking with Atyria from a far side of the room Now, a person, a man of his position should not have such things in his head. It was the very reason why he was a black sheep in my view and the source of disapproval from the Royal guards. But I also know that he strived for the overeign’s approval. For the scrapes of just a little attention from her high and busy table and this makes him loyal beyond doubt . A titan. Yes, the Marshal is a great man and strived for the good of all, but sometimes, I thought, he went about in the wrong way.

Leaning my head against one of the windows, my thoughts wandered down that path of Officers and the Empire. A crease formed between my brows, eyes narrowing on a small capsule that Atyria had given to him.

Would he make it in time?

Sharpening my attention I quickly pulled myself away and began to feel the death of the Ambassador in advance. There is nothing better than feeling someone else’s death, the adrenaline... it was the very reason I stuck to going to parties, meetings, and other traditionally Empire gatherings. It was never what it meant to be to the public. My emerald eyes began to glisten even as they hardened. With a dangerous focus I scanned the crowd, searching, looking for anything out of place that could be on the way between the Marshal and the capsule's destiny.
Death was something that could not be delayed.

Go, cold and fickle trifler! go--
And bear thy traitor-smiles afar,
Where none, like me, too well shall know,
How hollow, and how vain, they are.

I repeat the words in my head at each handshake, each nod for some nonsense comment.

How long have we been here, I think, already I feel a need to bathe. The men, and not so few women placing their squirming, greasy hands at the small of my back as I address them. My own fault for wearing a backless gown.

My eyes search for the Marshal...

there

an unperceivable nod, he has the little..gift

I turn towards the man, with the increasingly bold hand, beside me.

"Excuse me Ambassador, for just a moment. I will refresh our drinks."

"Of course darling." He practically leers and I repress the urge to shudder.

"You wait here, I will be right back," smiling my own falsely sweet smile and turning to go.

"Wait, aren't you gonna take my glass?" His voice is repulsive to me.

"No Ambassador, you finish what's left in that one, I will find us new drinks," smiling broader, "no need for someone of your importance to reuse a glass."

That ended that, smug little worm, you'll soon join your brethren earth crawlers in the ground. Never fails to appeal to a man's ego, especially one that is already over inflated.

Finally away, the path clear for Levian to do his deed. I make for the table, excited by the climax that's to come. The man already forgotten as my thoughts turn delightfully to the upcoming speech from our Sovereign.

As Parfum slid away,a black-suited man appeared as if out nowhere next to the Ambassador.

The Ambassador startled for a moment. "Pardon, I did not see you there"

"Mr Ambassador" the man said, "I believe you have an appointment with Mr. Stein-Bach"

The ambassador looked puzzled, "You must have me mistaken for.." he saw the expression on the mans face. "..Oh..I do believe I do."

The man nodded.

The ambassador started toward an exit, escorted by the stranger.