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Parasite is the third part of The Underground series

Chapter 13 of 29

Living in Compromise

"No, things are a little too hot right now. Give me a week, maybe two to get everything nailed down here in Arcadia first."

With one finger plugged into his ear to down out the noisy thumping of what Abby Thrace considered "music", Mick leaned against a table trying to concentrate hard on the ongoing conversation.

"Well, what do you want me to say? I've only been here a few weeks... Yeah, and that's what kind of time it takes when you relocate you're entire operation." Okay, so that wasn't exactly the whole truth. His whole operation included mostly just himself. He'd just been lazy getting his act back together. After the beating he took at Waverly, Mick figured he deserved a break.

Other clients didn't seem to agree.

"Breakin' my balls, Fargo..." Mick sighed into the phone. Fact was, there was no way he was scheduling anything until this whole incident with Isis was over. He'd be out of his mind to set something up with a Federal Agent within an arms reach.

Even if retired, or fired, or whatever they did with him, Mick wasn't willing to risk the possibility that OCB already had his phone tapped. Sure, Agent Trilby was on their side, but honestly, how much did he really know about Jim Trilby? Alias seemed to have enough faith, and Mick had enough faith in Alias to run with it. He apparently had seen the agency files about Isis, but Mick hadn't.

"Then go with another guy." Mick finally laid out, giving up as he didn't feel the need for anymore shit. "Another guy you don't know is straight. I'm not sure what the actual statistic is, but you should look up how many busts Vice makes on dudes runnin' guns. I hate to be that guy," Mick hissed, "but I don't need to beg for clients. Free enterprise, dude! Capitalism is a beautiful thing! Two weeks, take it or leave it."

With that, he ended the call on his PDA. That was one thing he really missed about a flip phone, or a real phone for that matter. He missed not being able to do some dramatic form of the slamming of the receiver. Breaking your smartphone was just damn inconvenient, so slamming it was out. This meant that you really had to get 'em on your exit line. You had to make up for that dramatic phone slamming you couldn't do anymore because the phone store said the insurance didn't cover breaking that many phones!

Gun running was stressful enough without an exflame in town you've recently found out was not only a psychotic video game, but used to be the wife of a Federal Agent. Unlike Alias's trade, his mercenary niche, Mick was forced to deal with the Federal Government on nearly a daily basis. Maybe not the Government directly, but avoiding the Feds was part of dealing with them.

Unfortunately, moving weaponry onto domestic soil wasn't just about good smuggling anymore. It was a whole political nightmare. One client you do business for will pay for certain people to look the other way; that always helped. Other people, usually not fond of your client, would pay certain other people to look your way; that always sucked. The great part about it, was that agencies like the Organized Crime Bureau hunted people like Mick down constantly. And unlike Alias, Mick had a set of real credentials. His fake ID's would only get him so far with the Feds.

Mick slid from his seat, slipping his phone into his pocket. Moving slowly through the crowd making his way toward the door to exit Delirium, Mick caught the sight of a certain scantily clad waitress's chocolate and cinnamon hair. Weaving quickly through the mob of people, Mick hurried across to her.

Abby slowly opened the door to her bar, getting ready to go back on duty from her break. Mick slowly walked up behind her, however she didn't turn around.

"Hey, Abbs." Mick said aloud to her.

The feline slowly turned around, looking back at him, smiling casually. "Hey, Mick." She replied in her standard tone, walking behind the bar.

Mick stood there for a moment, trying to figure her out. He expected harsher words given the whole Isis revelation. He wasn't under any illusions that he owed her an explanation, but he liked her enough to explain.

"Hey, about the whole Isis thing, I hope you're not upset or anything." Mick explained, slowly following her.

Abby shook her head, as she grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge behind the bar. "Oh, I'm not upset." She replied, shaking her head and popping the beer's cap. "I don't have a flag planted in the middle of your chest."

Mick nodded as Abby handed the beer and a glass to a patron and walked over to her. "Yeah, I know." The mink replied, as she stopped to look at him. "I just didn't mean for you to find out that way. That's all."

At this Abby laughed slightly, as she punched in her employee ID into the cash register to swipe a credit card. "Find out what? That you're a guy? You sleep with other women? Dear," she continued turning and taking him gently by the chin, "I knew that already. You don't owe me an explanation." Abby rationalized, letting her fingers caress his face before letting go.

"So... you're not mad?" Mick asked, feeling a little confused.

"Mick," Abby said, turning again and leaning into him slightly, "you're a good guy and you're great to have around. But I'm not stupid." She explained in a rational tone. "I've been around long enough to know how these things work." Her eyes fell from him for a moment. "I'm fine with it, because I don't know when I'll ever be stuck in a position like that." Abby confessed, then broke away going back to her serving.

Suddenly his phone began to vibrate with a message from Isis.

"Waiting..." was all that was texted. Alias, Otto and McCain were waiting outside where Isis was with for them. He wa holding up the show.

Fuck 'em. He had business to deal with. They could wait.

"Well, you know, I just wanted to check in with you." Mick replied, and turned and began to make his way to the door again. It's not like Mick felt the need to explain himself. There was nothing in his mind that made him feel a fidelity to her, but he didn't want her taking things out of context. She was a woman, and there was just no way he could predict how she took everything. Best to confront the problem rather than just letting it fester. Abby was his friend; his very close friend on a different level that someone like Alias or even Jenna wouldn't reach. It was just different with Abby, and she was different with him as well. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her feeling bad or dejected. Turns out, there wasn't an issue to be made. That definitely wasn't a bad thing, but...

Mick exhaled through his teeth; he didn't know.

"Hey, Mick!" A voice sounding like Abby's called to him. Slowly he turned around on the club floor, as the calico walked confidently up to him. Slowly she stood before him, soft smile on her muzzle, arms folded casually across her chest. "When we started this, we agreed it was just a couple of friends helping each other out." Abby reminded him. "I didn't want to bring it up, because, well, you know." She rocked her head slightly from side to side, thinking. "But, you're more than just a good time to me." Abby finally confessed. "You started out that way, and I'll be damned if I didn't start to think you..." A coy smile broke over her muzzle. "I started to think you're okay." She let out a laugh at this. "Usually these things just stay physical, but somewhere I started enjoying you more than what we were doing."

Mick felt his heart lurch at her words. Somehow, it worried him hearing this, and yet his body began feeling lighter than air at the same time.

"So... what are you saying? You're-"

"I'm saying," Abby silenced him, smile still on her face, "I think you're pretty cool and I wouldn't mind you dropping by every now and then. More than just when you come here with Alias. More than just when you don't feel like being alone for the night." She shook her head. "Like I said, I know how this place works, so I'm not really expecting anything by telling you this. Just, you know..." she shrugged, "since we're being honest with each other."

Again, his phone vibrated, reminding him there were others waiting. Again Mick ignored them.

A small smile slowly grew over Mick's muzzle as his brain processed this. "But Jenna might find out?"

"Meh..." Abby dismissed, waving a paw in the air. "Between Otto Frihe and Alias, that girl ain't got no room to say anything about the guys in my life!" She replied in good nature.

"So, what does this mean then?" He asked, folding his arms, shifting his weight to the side.

"It means, we'll talk when you get back." Abby nodded.

Talk later. Mick nodded hearing this, feeling satisfied with himself and this situation. He leaned forward, letting his lips land softly on her cheek. "I think Arcadia's growing on me." He replied simply, with a cocky, yet friendly smile as he turned slowly on his heels.

Feeling confident as Mick once again got the last word in, he began to walk away. After about a step and a half, a paw landed hard on his ass from an upward swing. As her palm squeezed, Mick bolted upright and let out a slight yelp in surprise.

"Good to know." Abby called to him, walking away slowly. Whipping around in surprise, Mick stood there a little dumbfounded, mouth hanging open. As she walked away, Abbs slowly turned to him, her hazel eyes meeting his, and winked, disappearing into the crowd.

A girl after his own heart.

A familiar vibrating from his pocket tickled his leg in the most annoying way.

"Yes?" Mick hissed as he answered his phone, not looking to see who it was.

"Don't mean to bother you or anything, but you're kind of keeping two competing mercenary groups waiting!" An angry voice snarled at him. McCain; what a dick... "No rush or anything!"

"Fuckin' scaly..." Mick muttered under his breath.

"What the hell did you just say?" McCain snarled on the other end.

"I said, fucking save me! I'm a little busy taking care of some shit!" Mick recovered, not caring if McCain truly had heard him or not. He wasn't even sure what his last statement was supposed to mean, only that it synced phonically with the 'scaly' slur. With that, he ended the call, doing a mental phone slam on McCain.

Even as a dick, McCain did make a valid point. It was do or die time, so one way or another Isis would get her mercenaries. Hopefully, if all went well, it'd be them, and they'd be one step closer to ridding their lives of Isis. That would be nice in so many ways...

As he stepped outside Delirium the snow immediately caught his eyes, floating downward lazily. Whatever Isis had them doing tonight, he hoped it was indoors. Winter was cold enough in the coastal city, trudging through blankets of white snow didn't make it any better.

There were two black sedans lined up along the curb. New paint, new details, everything completely pristine. The extent to which Isis's funds reached was almost incalculable. The only thing that could match her assets was probably her knowledge of financial matters. She understood how one marriages public trading with Underground deals, and how to do it almost legally. It was scary how right she always would be.

Mick didn't know if he believed all this about AI's and whatever. As far as he was concerned she was just a cougar who turned out to be a terrorist as well. As far as the OCB guy, Trilby, that guy was insane. To actually believe his wife was taken by a computer program; that's was just ridiculous. When Mick had asked, Alias didn't really say either way if he believed Trilby or not. He simply had commented that Trilby had information he was willing to give up for help. Regardless, it didn't matter if Trilby was planning on bringing the OCB down on everyone, Mick already knew the legal way out; entrapment.

A shifty looking hare stood in the snow not looking like the sharpest tack in the box. As he saw Mick, he opened the front passenger door for him. Not liking the cold wind, Mick quickly scooted inside.

Isis wasn't driving, it was that hare who looked like a rough brute. He didn't talk a lot, just did as he was told. Money or intimidation kept him that way, Mick knew this. His eyes were fixed on the road before him. His biggest concern was navigating through the slushy streets, salted by the trucks earlier that evening. Eye catching the rearview mirror, Mick saw Isis sitting next to a complete shadow. If Mick hadn't known it was Alias, he wouldn't even had seen the fox's face until a car passed along the street, shining it's headlights into the darkened cab.

"Michael..." Isis called in her velvety tone from the rear drivers side seat. "I hope you don't mind if I get to know Mr. Alias... He intrigues me..."

"By all means." Mick replied, looking straight forward, glad he wasn't in the hotseat tonight.

Alias sat there still and silent, remaining utterly placid. Mick had never seen Alias in a sitdown with a client before, thus he had no idea how the mercenary conducted himself. He knew from experience that Alias could be intense when he was doing business willingly. What would be his demeanor when he was getting forced into a contract war? Then again... Alias was getting something out of helping Trilby. It just sucked the old bastard wanted her alive. Had he not, this whole ordeal would have been so simple...

Sitting there with her long legs crossed, paws folded on her black skirt gently, Mick watched as her eyes roamed over Alias, almost like they were studying him, reading his body language. She watched him, his reactions to her, the demeanor and vibe he'd give off.

"What is it you want to know?" Alias asked flatly with no emotion in her voice, as he turned his direction out the snowy window at the passing cityscape. "Why the ruse? Why jerk us around when you have another mercenary group bidding on the same contract?"

"Because..." She cooed reaching across, letting her fingertips rest against the nape of his neck. "I didn't believe you were truly capable of what I'd been told."

"That's good." Alias shot back, keeping his answers short and simple. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"But I have every reason to."

Mick looked up, watching Alias's reaction from the mirror. He slowly looked over at Isis, eyes narrow and hardened. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I haven't been entirely honest with you, Mr. Alias." Isis started.

"I'm shocked..." He muttered in return.

"The truth is, Mr. Alias, you were not my first choice as far as mercenaries go. The Nine Pillars came to my attention some months ago." Slowly she leaned in towards him. "You seemed to come into existence overnight. No credentials, no background, not even a name to run by. Simply a series of kills, one right after the other." The feline's mouth twisted into a smile; creeping Mick out knowing her muscles were simply responding to stimuli, not emotion. It was like watching the most graphic marionette puppet of all time. "Did you know it's possible to track you from Palamont to Arcadia simply following the trail of bodies you left along the way?"

Alias simply shifted his weight, turning his shoulders away from her. "You caught me at a unique point in my life."

"You know what drew me to you?" She asked, paw falling from his neck and slowly tracing down his back. "Efficiency." Isis shrugged. "The Nine Pillars, as skilled as they are, lack efficiency."

"They got the drop on all of us last night." Alias shot back, sounding annoyed. Mick remembered how visibly livid both of them had been. They hadn't been mad at each other; just pissed off at the whole situation that Isis forced them into. "Our definitions of 'efficient' must not be the same."

"Oh I assure you they are." The siamese feline confirmed. "Why do you think you're still here?"

This time Alias said nothing; he simply stared back at her.

"You were there; first. Your team was in position; first. Although it's another matter entirely, Michael was even talented enough to get the weapon payload in; first." A sinister smile slowly crept across her muzzle. Mick, himself, never wanted any sort of praise from Isis, just out of her short leash. "I thought your... diverse group was laughable. However, I have no problem admitting an error." She then sighed, using the back of her paw to gently caress Alias's cheek, before retreating to her own side of the car. "In hindsight, I never should have tipped The Nine off, but your improvisation was beyond impressive; thus you are still here."

Upon hearing this revelation, that Isis had fed The Nine intel to fuck with them, Mick could feel his own anger and frustration with Isis resurface. However, Mick remained still, his brown eyes watching Alias's reaction, feeding off his manner.

"That was you?" Alias growled, looking back at her infuriated. "Understand something! I'm still here because you've got us all by our throats!" Alias's dark voice cracked through the cold air. "Don't sit there and talk like you're doing me a favor!"

"How much do you truly think I know about you, Mr. Alias?" Isis questioned, raising en eyebrow. "Having seen your aptitude level, would it be logical for me to blackmail you into anything?" She shook her head, eyes shutting. "Of course not. How did I become intrigued with you? You called my bluff, so to speak. I've seen evidence of your work, and Mr. Terwilliger assures me the jobs were yours, but what evidence do I have linking you to any of them?" Again, Isis shook her head, shrugging. "I don't. Never have. Your first assumption during our initial meeting. Most never are wiser." Letting out a long, feminine sigh Isis's gaze went to the window momentarily; watching the changing scenery. "You have a style to your work." She explained, looking back at the black fox. "Like an artist's signature, you leave your own mark. After seeing your work first hand, I'm convinced the Lazarus Plaza incident was you."

Isis was flirting with death. Mick was positive the only reason she was still breathing was because Alias needed to know what Trilby knew. Connecting him with Lazarus Plaza, something Alias had been on the run because of, was something all of them were in on, not just Alias. Mick had played his part, and Jenna was a key figure in that whole ordeal. Alias had simply lit the match that was flicked into the gasoline. Regardless, calling him out on it would make Alias want to guarantee silence.

Silence in any way it could be maintained.

"Don't worry..." Isis's velvety tone soothed Alias after she watched his reaction to her words. "Your secret is safe with me. I respect the kind of talent it takes to pull a job like that. After I saw what you were capable of against a group who's way of life is one combat theater to another, dare say you've earned enough respect to have another chance. However, this time it is your call." She explained. "I've got nothing on you, and Michael has already proven his worth many times over. Furthermore, as an act of good faith, I'm willing to leave your other friend alone. What's her name again? Jenna?"

Scowling hard, Alias shook his head. "Then what is it you want?"

"People I can trust. You have the potential... I'm just not sure if you're willing to use it." Recrossing her legs, Isis turned to look out her own window. "Look at yourself. Scraping by on the cusp of two societies. How easily could you assassinate so many of the players in this war that's not seen by the common person?" She asked him sounding confident. "How easily could you murder my whole crew, including myself? You'd do it without blinking an eye. You would do whatever it takes to come out on top, would you not?" As she spoke, Mick couldn't help but notice that cornered look Alias had on his face; pegged. "Lazarus Plaza was just a hunch that Mr. Terwilliger had. But just seeing your reaction to the very words, I'm guessing that one was true. All the more reason why I want you around."

It was things like this that constantly blew Mick away about Isis. She seemed so perceptive, calling Alias out on everything. It's like she could read anyone like an open book. Her serpentine eyes would simply study your body and pull what she needed to know from your mind like a scanner to a barcode. It made him worry that she could very well know about their deal with Agent Trilby.

The very notion made Mick sweat.

"Me?" Alias asked, sounding very skeptical.

"Yes, you." Isis nodded. "I hope we can let bygones be bygones, as I only used your friends against you to see if you could do what Mr. Terwilliger assures me you were capable of. What you can become when you have no other options..." She leaned forward, face inches from Alias's. "You're meant for greater things than your life as a two-bit hitman." Shaking her head slowly, Isis exhaled. "You know it, you've felt it like a tingling at the base of your neck. That you were created... for so much more." Mick watched the mirror almost like he was watching a program on television. "By the end of our time together, maybe you'll discover what similar creatures we are, Mr. Alias." The siamese slowly leaned forward, sensual red lips less than an inch from Alias's black ear. "We're survivors."

Mick watched the mirror as Alias slowly turned around, seething green eyes. "Interesting choice words..."

"So you agree then?" Isis jousted.

"I make a living at killing people." Alias replied in his dark tone, causing the hairs on Mick's neck to stand upward. "I have no delusions of grandeur. That's where we differ."

"Interesting..." Isis nodded. "Remorse isn't an emotion I'd tag on someone like you."

"Well, 'remorse' isn't exactly the word I'd choose, and If you don't mind," Alias cut her off coldly, closing that conversation, "I'd like to know what I'm being called out this late at night for, with people I don't like."

"Are The Nine really that intolerable?"

Alias's eyes turned to slivers as he shook his head slowly. "Who said anything about The Nine?"

Hoping to see a shocked or offended expression on Isis's face, Mick was met with disappointment as she smiled confidently. "By the end of the evening," Isis soothed in her velvety tone, "I'll only prove myself right about us."

"Yeah, we'll see about that, won't we?" Alias shrugged her off.

At this, the siamese nodded her head. "You may stop the car." She ordered her driver, who complied, pulling to the curb. "We're all a slaves to our nature, Mr. Alias." Isis said, pulling her coat around her shoulders, and opening the door. "You'll soon be a living example of this."

As Isis stepped out of the car, Mick and Alias followed promptly. From the vehicle behind them, McCain and Otto had already hit the concrete sidewalk, walking over to them.

"Gentlemen," Isis said loudly, as the cold wind blew flakes of snow around them, "often times, we are forced to work with those we aren't particularly fond of" She explained, raven hair tossed and teased by the wind elegantly. "That's why we're here tonight. Prove to me you can work together, and you'll prove to me you can work with me."

A look passed between Mick and Alias. He could tell the fox didn't like what he was hearing so far.

Her cream paw went to her pocket, pulling out a photo. "This man is Aaron Stiglitz." Isis passed around the picture. "Today, a subordinate of his has discovered a clerical error for his accounting firm he works for. If Mr. Stiglitz has a chance to report the error, it will compromise my entire operation. The nature of the error is not mission critical, thus is not of your concern." After Alias was finished with the picture, he passed it to Mick. The black and white photo of Stiglitz was unflattering to say the least. Taken candid like most surveillance photos were, Mick studied the plump little mouse, thick round glasses on the end of his nose, and parted brown hair. He looked like an average joe sixpack. There was nothing special about him. "You will work as a team, secure Stiglitz, and bring him to me so I may... discuss the terms of his silence."

"That's a good plan and all," McCain jumped in, "but where is this lardass supposed to be anyway?"

Isis's eyes narrowed, moving to McCain. "Directly behind you, and thirty stories up. He's supervising the firm's late-shift proof checking department. That's his job. So, consider there are quite a few bystanders and one security guard. I recommend discretion."

"That's it?" Alias asked, shrugging to which Isis nodded.

"That's it." She confirmed. "Bring Mr. Stiglitz to me."

"This is stupid, we don't even have our tech guy with us!" Otto snapped, folding his arms. "We're just supposed to walk in there... then right back out again, face one every camera in the building?"

She nodded. "Gentlemen, if you can't trust me to tell you when you're in danger and when you're not... well, this business relationship wouldn't go far." A sweet smile overtook her muzzle. "Either you can trust me when I tell you that a direct approach is available..." her attention went from one group to the other, "or you can't." She then turned around, pointing down an alley to a small door on the side of the building. "We've already paid the custodian to leave the door unlocked..."

Shivering as the cold wind blew over him, Mick turned to Alias who nodded silently. Almost as one collective group, The Nine, Alias and Mick walked down the dark alley. Reaching for the doorknob, Alias twisted the handle, and just as Isis has said, it was indeed unlocked.

"Is this actually happening?" McCain asked, sounding disgusted. "Are we really working together again?"

About to step inside the building, Alias stopped, looking over his shoulder. "You call it what you want." His dark acidic tone replied. "But I'm bringing Stiglitz down... with or without you."

Moving through the darkened service halls, the group of four moved quickly and quietly. It was late enough that most people who worked there had long since gone home. Everyone except for Stiglitz's number checkers on the thirtieth floor.

Avoiding the elevator and taking the stairs, Alias walked out onto the floor. Basically, the whole floor was a bunch of cubicles with computers with people who were pouring over papers. They slaved away, barely aware of what was going on around them under the burning buzz of the fluorescent lights. The office grunts hadn't even noticed the four of them sneaking in. Their world was the three grey walls around them. The thought of holding a job such as this made Mick's stomach churn. Who ever said this was a better alternative to The Underground?

Far in the back corner, Mick saw the uniformed guard... if that's what you'd consider him. The hound was old... old. Hell knows how long he'd been a part of the companies' security. Probably since it was first founded. Then again, who's want to hold up a data analysis and interpretation agency? Still, there were a ton of people working at the desks, and they had to go.

"Mick..." Alias leaned over, whispering in his ear. "Take the guard. Frihe, when McCain and I get to Stiglitz's office pull that fire alarm." He indicated to the far wall, out of direct sight.

McCain grunted. "That leaves me with you?"

"You're dumb as Hell if you think I'm letting you walk out of here with Stigliz alone!" Alias hissed under his breath, trying not to attract attention. "This way, at least both of us will be there. Any other issues, McCain?" He snapped quietly.

McCain simply rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

Without another word the four soldiers of fortune were moving. Mick stuck to a far wall, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. What never failed to amaze him was how oblivious people could be towards the world around them. Here, four armed mercenaries all armed had just walked in, and they were about to walk out with their boss. As Mick's eyes scanned the zombified faces of the pencil-pushers, he wondered if they'd even care...

As he approached the guard's cubical, Mick waited around the, looking back at Alias and McCain who were standing outside Stiglitz's office. Alias nodded to Otto, then his focus turned to Mick.

Like clockwork, the fire alarm went off, and Mick's arms latched around the old rent-a-cop's neck, cutting off the blood-flow. Chairs and desks scooted as the good people of the thirtieth floor obediently followed the agreed upon evacuation plan. The hound struggled, violently at first, but slowed and eventually stopped as he lost consciousness and Mick rested his tired, wrinkled head against the desk gently. He was probably someone's granddad. Watching from the safety and privacy of the guard's cubicle, Mick waited as McCain and Alias disappeared into Stiglitz's office, shutting the door.

It didn't take long before the floor had cleared out completely, leaving Mick and Otto alone with the unconscious security guard. Almost as soon as they entered, Alias opened the door, checking to see if anyone was still around. McCain having a much larger build than Alias, simply carried a knocked out Stiglitz across his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, rushing toward the stairs. Stiglitz muttered nonsense as his brain tried to recover from whatever trauma those two had put him through.

When the exited the building, using the same door they had entered, Isis was already waiting for them. Alias began walking in the directions of the car, thinking they were going on the move. However, Isis's feet remained planted in the newly fallen snow.

"Right here." She pointed to the ground with her bright red nail on her index finger. McCain grunted something then dumped Stiglitz before her. Slowly she lowered herself down to Stiglitz. Drawing her paw back, she brutally brought her palm across his face, slapping him awake. Stiglitz yelped, eyes going wide as he woke up in new surroundings.

"W-What's going on? Who a-are you people?" He asked, anxiety apparent in his voice. He quickly scrambled to his knees which pressed into the freezing, slushy snow of the alley.

"Gentlemen," Isis started in her sultry tone standing up, "I present to you Mister Hugo Aaron Walter Stiglitz." She pointed at Stiglitz who moved to stand, but caught Isis's guard, Terwilliger's paw, shoving him back down to the ground. "There is absolutely nothing significant about this man."

"Don't you t-touch me!" Stiglitz shouted dignified at Terwilliger. "What's going on? What do you want?"

Reaching into her warm coat, Isis let light fall onto a nickel-plated pistol and pulled the hammer back. "One gun, one round, one mercenary team." Her eyes darted from Alias to McCain. "Who's it going to be?" She asked in her words of velvet, holding out the gun for anyone to grab.

"Wh-What?" At the sight of the gun, Stiglitz's eyes dilated in fear. "You- You can't be serious! "

"You said you wanted to discuss his terms of silence!" Mick turned as Alias spoke, eyes looking hostile.

"There are only so many ways one discusses eternal silence." She shook her head. "It always ends the same."

"I- I- I..." Stiglitz stuttered. Mick knew this poor chubby bastard's mind was racing for something, anything that could save his life. "I don't know any of you! There's no reason to k-kill me! I swear to God, whatever this is about w-we can working something out!" His voice caught on the one word.

"What does this prove?" Alias growled, taking a step backward.

"Nothing. Just that you're willing to carry out my orders without question." Isis explained; tone carefree. "Something that will be very key for the operation that is ahead of us."

"For the love of Christ!" The mouse begged for his life pathetically. "I have a family! I have kids! For the love of God, you can't do this!" Stiglitz wailed.

Turning his head in the direction of the noise, Mick heard the wail of another siren. The fire department was responding to the building's alarm. Authorities were on the way...

Isis nodded. "He's not lying. A son and two daughters... the former about to graduate from the Naval Academe."

"Please!" Stiglitz cried out again, this time moving to his knees, paws clasped together, grabbing ahold of Alias's paw since he was closest, begging for mercy. "Please don't do this..." He began sobbing in the cold snow on his knees, as Alias jerked his paw away. A look of revulsion plastered on Alias's face, but his look wasn't directed towards Stiglitz. "Please... I just want to go home... I just want to see my wife and children again..."

Mick felt his stomach churn as he heard Stiglitz's pleas for life. As each second passed, Mick found it harder to actually believe Alias would go through with this. He wouldn't... would he?

"This is fucked up..." McCain muttered, taking a step back.

Watching a grown man cry openly was hard enough, but watching one cry while begging for his life? It was almost too much for Mick. Sure, Mick had killed before. In The Underground, it came with the turf. But Mick had never killed anyone who was on their knees... on their knees begging in the snow.

"I just want to go home..." Stigltiz wept freely, face buried in his paws. "I don't want to die... I don't want to die..." He kept repeating through his sobs in the cold, Arcadian air.

"This man has never had a speeding ticket." Isis continued to speak, walking around Stiglitz as if she were stalking her prey. "He helps his landlady take our her garbage, and visits his mother-in-law religiously every Saturday at her retirement community." Her voice, without care or bias, just stated facts as she held out the shiny pistol, metal reflecting the orangish hugh of the Arcadia's ambient light. "The round is in the chamber, gentlemen."

Stiglitz's teeth gritted in fear, as his face turned upward to the night sky. His lips moved in quick, but silent movements. Tears still slowly ran down his cheeks past his thick, aviator-style bifocals. They dripped from his face, disappearing into the grungy grey snow of the inner city.

He was praying.

Mick looked over at Alias, who stood behind him. His eyes were shut, face turned down toward the ground as the wind blew his trenchcoat against his, wrapping around him like a gothic cape. He wasn't expecting Mick to do this, was he? Looking for some kind of cue, Mick was stuck in one spot as Alias left him without anything.

"Tick-tock gentlemen." Isis reminded them gently, hearing the sirens growing louder. "Time is running out..."

Before Mick could even react, he felt his body being shoved away, harshly. Looking up, he watched as Alias pushed both him and McCain out of the way, paw snatching the pistol from Isis's paw, and moved it before Stiglitz's crying face. His eyes shut involuntarily as Alias's dark finger squeezed around the trigger, a thunderclap exploding from the barrel.

It all happened so fast, Mick scarcely had time to look away.

When Mick finally did look back, Stiglitz's weeping had grown silent, body laying on it's back in the cold snow. Growing around his head in a red radial patch, his blood reminded Mick of a bad special effect from a movie. The dark crimson liquid was already melting the bright snow. A single hole went through the middle of Stiglitz's forehead and his glossy dead eyes stared up into space. Alias's arm went lax as his eyes looked down upon the body of the dead Aaron Stiglitz; the frozen snow acting as his tomb in the dank alley.

Placing one stiletto heel in front of the other, Isis slowly walked over to Alias. Her paw traced lovingly down his arm, taking her gun back from him. Alias didn't even move; not even when she touched him.

"Fuck this!" McCain spat, breaking the silence. "Stealing from some asshole who makes bombs, fine! That I can handle. Finding random people and dragging them out into an alley to shoot? I don't handle that so well." Again, he shook his head with disgust. "Fuck this shit, I'm out of here. You can have the damn contract..."

With that, the rivalry between Mick, Alias, and The Nine was over. McCain turned on his heels, exiting the alley without so much as a glance over his shoulder. Otto, however, stuck around for a few moments, looking down at the lifeless Stiglitz. Mick's eyes went to the doxie, watching his throat swallow hard. Then he looked up at Alias.

"You know..." He whispered, shaking his head. "It's times like these that I'm glad you're not one of us anymore..." Otto told Alias, eyes looking disgusted by his actions. Scoffing, he then turned, following McCain. Always following McCain.

"There is just one more task I have for you before your contract is secured." Isis whispered in his ear. Reaching across his chest, she pushed a piece of paper into his jacket. "Dead drop at Clayton Plaza, be a dear and pick it up for me." Her eyes again went to the dead body, laying peacefully in the snow. "Survivors... Mr. Alias." She repeated, looking back at him.

And once again, Isis vanished into the night, leaving Mick and Alias alone with the corpse. In all this time, Alias still hadn't moved from his fixed position. He just kept staring down at Stiglitz's body, like he didn't believe what he was seeing; that maybe he just wasn't looking at it right. If he were simply to change his perspective, it would seem right.

Letting a sigh escape his lips, he nodded. He knew the thoughts going through Alias's head was that there was no perspective he could take that could make this right. None. Stiglitz was dead. Alias had killed him. The facts were as cold as the snow Stiglitz lay in.

"Hey..." Mick finally spoke, moving his paw to the back of Alias's arm to get his attention. His paw didn't stay long as the fox jolted so violently, Mick thought Alias was about to attack him. However, he calmed as if nothing had happened, and readjusted his coat that had fallen off his shoulders.

"We need to get the hell out of here." Mick reminded him, the emergency sirens now only a few blocks away.

However, Alias said nothing, following Mick out of they alley. His silence was a testament to the pride he held in his life's work. The whole time, Isis's words, what she had said to him earlier, echoed in Mick's ear. Slave to his nature; was that all Alias was? Was that all he saw of himself?

"You did..." Mick started slowly, "something that had to be done." He said in a strong, but understanding tone. "He was dead. Before we even went into that building, Stiglitz was dead; one way or another. If you hadn't... it just would have been someone else. Someone like one of The Nine, where it's just another paycheck. At least this way his death wasn't meaningless..."

Alias stopped walking, and just stared straight forward; Mick looking over at him with curiosity. He expected some harsh, comment in return. Some kind of emotional backlash from Mick's comments that Alias had taken out of proportion. Honestly, the quiet was so unnerving, Mick would almost rather suffer one of Alias's tirades than be lost in silence.

"Mick." Alias finally spoke, voice just barely louder than the sound of the falling snow. "I'd appreciate it if we never talk about this night again..."

Those were his last words spoken for the rest of the night. After that, he just started walking down the street. There was nothing in this part of town that could interest Alias at this hour. But as Mick watched Alias fade into the falling snow, he knew that wasn't the point. Even Mick had been in those moments where he would have given anything to walk right out of his own shoes and into someone else's.

People saw The Underground, and they immediately thought of the perks this world brought. They would think of the wealth and adventure, but never of times like these. This is what The Underground was, what it forced people to become. It was the law of the jungle; hunt or be hunted. Was it right? Was it fair? Had Alias made the right call?

Who would ever be arrogant enough to even suggest an answer? In Mick's mind, he wasn't even going to touch on the subject if Alias's actions were justified or not. Anyone who ever lived and breathed in the air of this oppressed world knew it was much more complicated than "right" and "wrong". It was one thing when it was only your life on the line, it was something much different when it affected those around you. To hold Alias to a contemporary moral standard was a joke.

Because unless you had been there holding the gun, you had no idea what the fuck you were talking about.