Jessica stepped into the tattoo parlor and looked around; there was only one person there, the tattoist, reading a magazine behind the front desk; he looked up as she entered - and down, and up, and down, and up again. He was checking her out, but that was no surprise - she wasn't exactly hiding what her mother had given her.

She smiled and approached the front desk. Twenty minutes later, Jessica was heading for the door; the man was dead, just as her other victims always were. She grabbed her purse walked out the front door, heading down the street to have some fun, and maybe even get some action...

The sound of a gun cocking came rather quickly from behind the girl, a cold metallic sound that spoke of rising dread and deep annoyance.

"God damn it. Ow...that hurt, shit. Note to self, stop using religious connotations some time this century..." a voice snapped, then complained from behind Jessica.

"Hell, you killed the tattoo artist...damn it. What the hell did you do that for?" the voice demanded fury deep in its scolding and annoyed milieu.

Istar Indora was deeply annoyed, screw that, he was totally furious. Looking at the girl, he considered putting a slug in her head, or more appropriately he considered using a slug to take her head off.

Gotta love the .50 Cal. He laughed mentally. Still humor was the last thing on the seemingly young man’s mind. No, instead he found he could not pull his mind from all the money he had just lost because of this little girl in front of him.

“God damn it…” he repeated, only to wince in pain once again with the religious reference. This pain only served to further degrade any good humor that the contract killer might have had after his client had just been iced still owing him half of his four million dollar sum.

“Damn it girl, do you have any idea who the hell it was that you just killed?” the man asked anger now peaking in his voice, but then he didn’t wait for the girl to answer “You killed Tony the Butcher, damn it. He is a money washer for the boys around here and killing someone that stole money from him isn’t gonna do me any good when he’s not around to give me my payment.”

With this the man, Istar “Donny” Indora seemed to be born from the shadows, his gold plated and tiger striped titanium Desert Eagle pointed at the back of the woman’s head. Dressed in black Armani, with black dress shirt, and tie, the annoyed assassin seemed to blend into the darkness around him. Even the black fedora he wore looked to be nothing more than a shadow, and his honey touched cocoa skin almost made the illusion complete.

“So pretty girl, how do you suppose to make up my payment to me?” he asked with a harsh sneer.