It was dark outside. As it usually was on Imperial worlds, and Titan was no exception. Even in the midst of the noonday sun, the light level was that of sunset on the central worlds. The great golden sun, the proverbial teet from which the fledgling race suckled from was little more than a bright speck in Titan's sky. Yet, still it gave off enough light to put the planet in a state of perpetual twilight. It was the darkness that Twenty-nine liked.<br/>Oh, it was a far cry from the usual eternal nights of Triton or the unrelenting thunderstorms of the Imperial city, but it still felt somewhat homey, relaxing even.<br/>He smiled darkly as he exited the lift, his features shrouded  in the darkness of the hallway that lay before him. Even the dimming lights flickered and blew themselves out in sequence as he plodded his course.<br/><br/>Twenty-nine walked at a deliberate pace, the hard leather soles of his brouges slapping against the wooden floors, giving them an audible clapping sound as he paced his way down the row of apartment buildings. Taking note of numbers, doors and the somewhat grimey state of the building. Not the worst he had seen by far, but still a far cry of the antiseptic labs or the military cleanliness of Mars.<br/><br/>Again, Twenty-nine found his mind wandering, taking flights of whimsy into unimportant areas of thought, but then again, this was a simple job, after all. Get in, do the job, get out. Another life snuffed out in the name of his employer.<br/>As he walked down the hall, Twenty-nine noticed a young child playing with a rubber ball in the hall. The boy was scruffy looking, with dirty blonde hair, blue eyes and parchment coloured skin. He was sitting outside one of the apartments, bouncing a small red rubber ball against the baseboard of the hall, and catching it as it reflected back into hand. The boy wore a scowl, mixed with the weary grimace of resignation. As Twenty-nine closed, he became aware of muffled voices, a man and a woman's, raised in anger, and the sounds of crashing and thumping coming from within the apartment which the boy was stationed outside of.<br/><br/>It became obvious to Twenty-nine at that moment, why the boy stationed himself outside the doorway. Twenty-nine stopped in his stride, looking down at the boy with shadowed eyes and a perturbed grimace.<br/>Possible witnesses are something that were a liablity to his work, even one as young as this boy, and while his military instincts purposed his usual course of action for dealing with possible nuisances, he felt a kind of empathy for the boy, knowing all too well what he must be feeling right now.<br/><br/>The scruffy kid looked up at Twenty-nine, pupils dilated, trying to adjust to the sudden absence of light, and slightly in trepidation and uncertainty on why such a dark figure would take interest in him.<br/>Twenty-nine met's the child's gaze, and for a moment, they studied one another, not moving, nor blinking as a long second passed.<br/>"Here kid." Twenty-nine, grumbled quietly, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a couple of credit coins. He dumped them in the kid's hand, about thirty credits worth, enough to have a good meal and maybe a toy of some kind.<br/>"Go get yourself something nice while this blows over."<br/><br/>The boy looked at the credits, at first unbelieving, and then with a sudden joy. "Thanks mister!" he chirped happily and then scurried off down the hallway, as if afraid the money would melt if he did not spend it quickly.<br/>Twenty-nine paused for a moment, letting the slightest of grins crack across his features as he watched the child run off. A long moment passed after the child was gone, the retreating footsteps vanishing as Twenty-nine's mind came back on task.<br/>He doubled his pace, moving briskly now, with purpose towards his target. His brain kicked into gear and his sense sharpened. Even in simple runs such as these, there was danger. There always was. But he was a professional and after all... technically he was already dead.<br/><br/>Twenty-nine kept his pace, and then, he came to it.  A simple wooden door, with the number "34" emblazoned on the outside in faded black. This was it. This was his target.<br/>Twenty-nine withdrew his weapon from his holster under his coat, and gently he pulled back the receiver and chambered a round. He placed his left hand on the door knob and wrapped his fingers gently around it. As promised, the door was unlocked, already picked by another one of the organization's shadowy agents.<br/><br/>He took the knob in his palm, pressing his left shoulder against the door with care as he pressed open the door way, slowly, gently, careful not to make a sound. A breath of warm air hit his face as he entered, the scent of fresh warm water and musk clung tightly to the air, as well as a perfume or shampoo he could not quite place. The room smelled of life, fresh and tender, the gentle hum of electronics also reaching Twenty-nine's enhanced senses.<br/><br/>Even as he entered, carefully closing the door behind him, he heard the sounds of exertion, feminine and somewhat rough to his ears, as if someone in a fight, though he heard no voice of an opponent. Thuds landed, soft and muffled, leather, padded....punching bag. One arm's thumping barrage of blows sounded deeper than the other, striking harder and fuller, make its voice known, even the impact sounded less human...mechanical, enhanced....<br/>Twenty-nine grinned at his fortunate timing, this was going to be easier than he thought. Sure enough, as he rounded the corner quietly, the target was in the middle of her workout routine, caught up in a punching match with a dead piece of cowhide stuffed with cotton. Her raven hair was cropped close in the definite style of a soldier, her back was to him, she was clad in a white t and a simple set of Imperial marine fatigues which looked somewhat worse for the wear, not up to inspection standards but still in usable condition. Twenty-nine also noted her beauty, despite the fact that her entire right arm was mechanical and scars, surgical and otherwise ran all up and down that side of her body. Had he seen her when he was younger...still in the Marines...<br/>A flare of self-pity almost bubbled forth, Twenty-nine swatted it back down. He had chosen his path, it was up to him to bear the burden of his choice.<br/><br/>It almost seemed a shame to him, to do what he must, but he took solace in the fact that one way or another. Miss Greenfield's burden's would soon be....eased...<br/><br/>With her back to him still, Twenty-nine raised his pistol, and took aim at the back of her neck. Five paces. He wasn't going to miss...<br/>...and he pulled the trigger...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>