Before Sin made it to his room, a shrill ring broke the almost obscene noised coming from the room next to his.  Silence, and than it rank again.  It took him more than a moment to realize that it was the cell phone Diedrich had given him, when he had left to go off into the middle of the crazy, and sometimes dirty streets of London. Digging into his Jacket, it took him less time than expected to fish out the small, silver call.  Flipping it open, he heard breathing on the other end, completely male, and completely familiar to his fine tuned ears.  Than a whispered word was given, something in Polish.<br/><br/>"przemawiają"  Sin could feel the air coming out ragged from somewhere within his throat, and he swallowed down his sudden bout of surprise and nervousness.  It took him a moment to remember that it was his turn to speak, and he cleared his throat to speak the Russian that was expected of him.<br/><br/>"Я здесь служить радетель отца."  His words where simple, 'I am here to serve Father Guardian.'  They where words he had practiced a million times in front of a mirror in his tiny, yet utilitarian white room, back at the place of his creation.  He had been told in stern tones that if he where to be contacted for work, to expect the odd back and forth, the odd mixture of Polish and Russian had confused him for only a moment before he had shrugged it off.  He had also been told of a dozen other odd communications, all with different meanings, but they had all equaled the same thing in his young mind, they where all words that told him that he was dealing with friends.<br/><br/>So he listened to the ragged, almost too gruff voice on the other end, savoring the feelings the tone and pitch produced in his body, this man was one of a few that where in essence his family, or at the very least something close to family.  He was given clear and straight forward directions, the names of people and places imprinting themselves into his brain.  He had been given a job, one of his firsts, and yet not his first, it would be another trial, but one he was prepared for.  But than again, the assassination of one of the leaders within the the Black Dragons regimes was not necessarily an easy thing, it was a good thing for Sin that the idea of impossibilities hadn't stuck in his mind of things that needed to be remembered.  He whistled to himself, thinking back on his first job, the heat and boil of arson on his skin, the blaze of licking flames flowing over his skin, beckoning him to join them in their odd reckless dance of destruction.<br/><br/>Shaking himself out of his musings, he sauntered over to the pub on the corner.  He had found that while it wasn't empty, neither was it ever filled, and the food was decent, not that he needed to eat it...but he enjoyed it non the less.  Time was needed to plan, but he didn't have much of that, so he settled with smoothing out the hard angles of the plan already told to him. The only question was how would he get close enough to stick the mark hard, how would he get close enough to kill?