Some artists have partners, others have muses. Together in an intimate dance and a few swift flicks of the wrist, Art is created.

But this art is different; it is not created by one but by two people. It has its own spirit and soul. It lives and breathes, for when two artists move and create as one, it is magic.

As always the same thing can be said for an assassin. When you have a partner, you move as one, you function as a cohesive unit. Sometimes the Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome kicks in and many feel like they are on top of the world. From friends to lovers, an assassin’s greatest strength, biggest weakness and above all their life is their partner.

Many try to steer clear of a partner; no strings appeal to everyone. The Helsinki rapture made having a partner an unnecessary commodity. Partners are jealous; they can betray you at the drop of a hat.

Betrayal means burned, betrayal equals death.

But then again it takes a foolish person to make foolish mistakes.

-o-

So get this, pretty boy Viper decides that he is going to be the leader of this unholy grouping because of his so called “expertise.” Its all bullshit if you ask me, I mean gone are the days when all you needed were good-looks and a gun. He maybe good but I am not called the child prodigy for nothing.

Anyway, we were now on our way to the Big Apple to hit up a few government insiders for our new case. Our insider for the day just happens to be David Littman, a Jewish banker. Davie leads the double life- nice law abiding Jew banker by day, stupid cartel running snitch by night. Normally his kind would have been weeded out and tossed into jail, but luckily for him, he gets all the good info and the government needed his ass. David was going to help us find our newest mark: Quest.

Once we landed, the plane on the tarp, I couldn’t help but gaze and admire the city line; I had missed my home. “Look” the soft accented ramble caught my attention. “I need to go to Ramnsteins. I will meet you at the bankers.” I rolled my eyes, but was secretly pleased; it gave me more time to do what I needed to do. “Whatever”

He stared at me hard, as if he was trying to impose his cool polite demeanor onto me. “We will meet at eleven, don’t be late.”

I looked at my watch; it was seven-thirty. Nodding my head in agreement, we didn’t utter a word as we went our separate ways.

-o-

Ramnsteins to the assassin world was like a candy shop to a child, only you had to be pretty damn special to be on their clientele. From the finest cavalier to the latest gadget and gun, Ramnsteins had it. You see, Ramnsteins only chooses the best to use their gear; Viper was chosen and the child prodigy wasn’t. Ramnsteins was a slice of the old doing well in a new world. And with faces live Viper; Ramnsteins will always be top dog. Stepping into the exquisite boutique viper walked past all of the diamond displayed counters until he got to the last counter at the back of the room. “I need guns."

-o-

‘Ah my home, how I have missed you so.’ Once I got in the NY, I carted my ass straight to my Times Square penthouse apartment. After a nice bath and nap I made a few very important phone calls. A quick glance at my clock told me that it was nine thirty, which meant Nicky had five seconds to walk through my door.

Nicky- better known as Nicolas Hewitt- is my personal Ramnsteins. The computer genius works for me and only me which means all of my gear is hot off the press and custom built for moi. No one else had my shit and I plan on keeping it that way. Although it took balls to publicly deny me access to their gear, I could care less; they didn’t need me and I didn’t need them. My front door opened knocking me out of my musing. “Well it’s about time Nicky. Suit me up."

-o-

Like always the child prodigy was late. Viper waited in the shadows of American Gothic, a warehouse turned club, for the horrid little brat to make an appearance. Gorgeous blondes and brunettes made their way in and out of the club each flashing a look to the irate Frenchman; he paid them no mind. Instead he got a cigarette and lit it, standing in the darkness, his dark eyes twinkling in mild amusement.

A short chubby figure caught the Frenchman’s eyes. Slightly stumbling over the gravel, a dark skinned girl in all black made her way over to the clubs front door, which conveniently was near the Frenchman’s corner. As she got closer, the man took a good look at her. ‘Cute’ he thought smirking. “You’re late.”

Black hair whipped around as Cassia took a look into darkness. Smirking she adjusted her clothing. “Aw, it’s sweet how you actually waited for me. And here I though you would be inside smoozing it up with some blond…again.”

Throwing the cigarette at the girl’s feet, stone-faced Viper made his way out of the shadows and into the club.

“Another game of follow the leader…Yay.” Cassia sneered as she followed the man into the club.

 -o-

Meanwhile in an undisclosed location in Romania

 “They are on to us” a gruff voice sounded. His companion coughed, taking a puff of his cigar. He paused to place the cigar down, grabbing his glass of brandy instead. “Not us, me.”  

The sound of two bullets could be heard, striking the other man dead. Setting his now empty glass down, the man pressed a button on his phone. “Davit, come and escort Alek out. And call Ion. We are leaving.”