<div class="floatleft">(http://static3.depositphotos.com/1003940/195/i/450/dep_1958881-Sexy-Business-Woman-MG..jpg)</div><br/>Precision is an ill understood concept.  The words passed through the mind of Agent Parker, a frown tugging down at her pale, painted lips of pink.  Features that seemed cast of marble failed to react to the downturn of her mouth, to the flexing of those miniscule muscles of her face that gave such a stark glare.  Some might consider her face coldly beautiful while others could say hauntingly passive, but for her the best description was professional.  Cold eyes of honey brown regarded her face in the mirror as she reflected on the concept of precision.  Manicured fingers draw closed a pair of cuff links at her sleeve, the white blouse shimmering around her breasts and stomach as the material moved with her actions.  Agent Parker had done this act a thousand times before and would do this a thousand times more until the day she was unable.<br/><br/>Accuracy was often mistake for precision.  The art of getting the bullet closest to the mark, of achieving as close to perfect as possible was the key to accuracy.  Agent Parker had no interest in luck, only in the hard fact of precision.  Time tested and proven methods of achieving success even if imperfect were of interest to her.  Across her shoulders now rested the padding of her coat while she considered her thoughts in silence and her body in the mirror.  One hand moved to press the coat together at her waist to broaden her shoulders and narrow her mid-section.  Charcoal gray coat and trousers showed back their approval.  Thin pin strips made their way down the exterior of the clothing before her hand did the same to ensure the padding was properly set to disguise the bulge of her pistol and the brush of armor.<br/><br/>Slender fingers moved to collect her purse.  A thin chain of silver and leather twined together to make the strap.  Against the mirror she saw the light catch off her one decoration, a flaw in her precision.  Gold and turquoise, exotic and ancient the ring on her fingers was certainly an eye catching bit of antiquity.  Agent Parker dismissed the ring as being an heirloom but the power resonated even to her mortal senses.  The edge of her lips twisted again as she frowned at the play of events that had led to the ring on her finger and to the twist of fate that brought a powerful creature to her control.  Such a thing had led her to this moment and to this place.  The purse was brought up to her shoulder, contents inspected within the small bag of leather.  Removing the chain would make the purse a simple clutch, but for today the hands-free nature of the purse would do best.  At her wrist the glass like screen of her watch made a digital projection of the time.<br/><br/>Precision was being able to do the same thing again and again.  To make the shot count not once, but a thousand times.  To make something happen again and again each time.  Perfection might be sought after but precision was what won the battle each day.  So with pride she stepped forward with her black, wedge shoes from her room.  Brown hair, nearly dark enough to be called black was pulled sternly back from her face so that not even a  strand dared disobey her.  Eyes cut across those gathered before she made her way into the room, avoiding the waiting breakfast for coffee and toast instead.<br/><br/>“Good morning everyone.”<br/><br/>The voice was the same a teacher might use when stepping into class for the first time that day.