The city is a wonderful place to experience, to breathe. There's a certain attitude to it, a temporal pulse that explodes in time with the twin perceptions; the light and the dark, the love that illuminates and the hatred that blinds, the life that is animated and the death that is still. In all things that are these things exist, and inside of Everos, they flourished.<br/><br/>The previous night had been disappointing, the death of Damion Grey had not been cut into the flow of time, and yet, things moved forward. Everos had slept well following his failure, and rose again at about 1500 hours. His packing was done, and once sustenance was consumed, the man's equipment was packed and the room scrubbed of evidence. The broken down apartment he'd taken for the past week was terribly old, and had found itself infested with more than rats and cockroaches. Almost twice a day Everos found himself responsible for the deaths of drug lord goons, stupid men that followed an even dumber leader. Nonetheless, untrained and sloppy or not, the last few men that burst into his room carried automatic weapons. It was likely he'd have to come back later in the day, with a few matches, and burn the filthy place out.<br/><br/>But, for now, Everos found himself facing and crouched under a slightly open window. It was 1100 hours, and the night he'd stolen for a time was darker than what the city naturally had to offer. In truth, that had more to do with his hands than his presence. Not ten minutes ago, Everos had finished tampering with the electrical box for the small house, and about half an hour ago the surrounding street lights had been cut. Needless to say, it was very, very dark.<br/><br/>Though the wind blew hard, up and over from the other side of the house, it was relatively easy to hear the sounds of light breathing pass from the lips of the unaware. Though he was once much more than this, an assassin, it almost felt right to be in the position. His knees were bent slightly, and he worked quickly to apply elephant tranquilizer to his knife. The blade was about six inches long and curved wickedly at the tip, and now, there was enough toxin available to put most humans into a comma. He clenched the knife in his left hand, put away the poison, and drew the silencer with his right hand. Preparations were complete, if a little unorthodox, they were made to fit the circumstances of the night.<br/><br/>Reconnaissance had revealed something rather unsettling, and mildly annoying. Earlier in the day Everos had witnessed a man very renowned in the underworld entering and exiting the targeted building. Of course, he'd recognized and expected the return of the boy that led him there, a chaotic child, but the thief had little or no reason to appear. The house was unlikely to hold any valuables, and the man is never seen during daylight, but that was all negligible to Everos's plans. No, what bothered the man was the thief's clothing, a suit sewn with pure silver. At first he'd thought the suit was just a very shiny, but grey cloth is never so very reflective. The only substance that shined like that was silver, which was strange to say the least. Worst of all, the thief didn't take the suit when he left. Everos could only assume Damion Grey had bought the thing, the only reason the assassin wasn't going to slip through the window all quiet and slit his throat.<br/><br/>Maybe the poison was over kill, he only had one true target, but for some reason, he expected heavy resistance. Of course, Damion Grey was the only one in the house that had received military training. The thief lay asleep on the couch, the boy had left again, and the woman was deeper in the house. He would hope Damion Grey's existence hadn't damned the others.<br/><br/>The shadow took a few steps, took a deep breath of cold New York air, clenched both fists, and launched himself through the window. Shards flew everywhere, a few cutting into his hands, the lead in his jump. When he hit the ground inside the building he rolled twice, coming up with the couch to his left. Before rising to his feet, the assassin violently stabbed the thief three times in the upper thigh, leaving the blade buried in flesh on the third strike. Then he spun on his feet, standing, and shot Damion Grey three times in the chest with a silenced handgun.