Hell hath no fury....

I had to resist the urge to turn the entire area into a heap of rubble on the off chance he was inside, the thought of him bleeding on the ground, crushed beneath the rubble like and insect beneath my boot, ooooh, so good. Though I can't. No, not yet. That would be too quick. He wouldn't know, wouldn't understand. He needs to feel the same crushing despair he's made me feel. Yes, he'll suffer. Maybe I'll fillet that bitch he replaced me with, turn her into mulch before his eyes and then cut off his cock like I'm trimming a hedge. Maybe, but not yet. First he has to know. That's why I'm even doing this. I had daddy upgrade me, make me faster, stronger. He gave me new features, more power. I no longer need the suit, I can deploy my tools without even moving. Cilian will see, the look on his face.
Oh I'm loving it. That bastard will suffer for the pain he's caused, every tear shall be repaid in blood, every whimper shall have a matching scream. He will suffer. There it is, there's that whore's apartments. As much as I'd like to, I won't cut down the door, won't burst in. No no, I'm not that bitch Reaper. She's little more than an animal cage in human form. She's a liability. I shake my head, no sense in dwelling on garbage. Kneeling down, I deploy the very tip of one of my wires in the lock, the blade warping the metal as I twist and turn until I hear a click. I see he hasn't upgraded his security in my absence. Good, even when I broke in back then it was little more than a matter of a few careful turns and I was in. That dumb ass. If I wanted to, I could plant explosives in here, maybe a camera. Wait until he starts fucking that whore Anna and then detonate them right as he climaxes. Would be a merciful gesture, let him fuck his tart one last time.
I sneer, pushing the door gently open. He mustn't know something is wrong, not yet. No, no. He must walk willingly into his doom, just as a pig walks to its demise at a slaughterhouse. I look around, it's dark. Neither of them left any lights on. Idiots, I could leave a squad of Deadeyes behind and they'd never know. Those things are freaks, monsters with their minds spliced away. I chuckle. Am I so different? I'm more mechanical than organic. My entire skeletal structure save for my skull has been replaced with metal, even that is heavily plated. My brain is nearly sixty percent artificial, well, it was. Now it's more like eighty percent with Daddy's recent upgrades. I need to stop thinking about this. That bastard Hargrave's spy software has been back hacked. Everything they're receiving is being carefully traced. Maybe once I'm done here, I'll have Daddy turn on the blockers and ask him if I can kill that snide little prick myself. Ugh, that filthy little toad has seen me naked, probably stroked himself to my unconscious body. At least he can't see my thoughts any more. I stop in the living room. The place is meticulously clean, probably that bitch's doing. He was never very tidy unless it was his appearance.

God, I swear he's even more of a whore than she is. I see a wine bottle, allow my eyes to scan it. It's empty. Its been that way for nearly a year. That's the bottle he bought on our first date after he pulled that cruel trick with his little ink clone. I should have slit his throat for that, but like a naive little girl I forgave him. My back still aches from Daddy's lesson about allowing myself to be defeated. He was justified of course, I'd let a pretty face pull the wool over my eyes and cloud my judgement. Daddy is so smart. I should ask him if I can play with Jenny when I get back. She and I haven't hung out in ages! Last time we did anything together was before I went crazy. We watched a Jackie Chan movie, though the title escapes me. Anyway, I look at the wine bottle in disgust, turning away. Bastard probably kept it as a trophy of how he'd beaten the best using dirty tricks. I pull out a small photo from my purse. It's he and I together at the restaurant. He took it on his cell phone and printed it out. I leave it partially under the bottle. I make my way to the bedroom and leave a small package on his bed. God this place reeks of his cologne. That bastard always did lay it on thick. I look down at the note and smile mockingly.
It hurt to write it, to act as though I was still blind when my eyes have been open. It was like twisting a knife through my guts. The worst part is that I nearly forgot I was faking it. No, I won't have the wool pulled over my eyes by frivolous emotions ever again. To him, I was a cheap fuck. A booty call for him to enjoy when he wasn't otherwise occupied. I snarl, nearly lashing out with my wires. I need to stay calm. Logic will cause him far more pain then any petty property damage. Moving to his closet, I slide it open and leave a flower in one of his coats. It's a lily, my favorite. I turn around to the opposite wall.

There's a picture on it, framed and everything. It's of Lilia, Cilian and I. We're sitting on a ferris wheel. The little tart looks happy as can be. Then again, so do I. I was on the job then, but he didn't know it. So was she, then again, she forgot about that aspect of the trip and just wound up dilly dallying while Jennifer and I dispatched the threat. I may as well do something about it. Striding over, I leave another photo tucked into the frame. It's my corpse. The Deadeyes confirm every kill with a photo. This one is taken from such an angle that you can see the blood running down my chin, the bright red arterial blood pooling beneath my pale body. After I make sure it's tucked securely in, I flip the photo gently down. He'll notice that. It has his face on it so of course he notice it. Narcissistic prick. I hear a beep. It's my watch. I need to go. Now.

---

Rushing out the door, Sheryll closes it behind her, she was never there. Well, she was. He'd find that out soon enough. Her boots echo softly as she makes her way to the elevator, spying him out of the corner of her eye. She was sure he saw her, but didn't stop in time for him to get a good look. She really hoped he had. It would just make everything else so much sweeter. A ghost from his past looking for him. Yearning for his love. She giggled, though this one was filled with malice, a tone previously foreign to her voice, now quite familiar. Taking her first steps out of the elevator, she darted out of the building, not sure if he had followed her in another elevator. Then again, that was unlikely. He was lazy, so he'd probably send an ink clone or a little bird made of the blacken substance after her. No matter, she knew how to avoid it. She had her old apartment back, courtesy of her father. She had to get ready. Their date would start soon.

A warm stream of air blew passed thin lips and onto a clouded taxi window, fogging up the glass long enough for a smiley face to be etched into the temporary mist. A young man, handsome and impeccably dressed, sat with a complacent look in his gaze, his finger subconsciously tracing the first things to come to his mind on the makeshift canvas. A stickman, a bird, a woman, a breast. Momentary pieces of art vanishing almost as quickly as they were created, but they still provided some amusement during the rather monotonous car ride down the crowded streets of outer New York. Operations were finally underway to restore most of what had been destroyed during Necrodium's assault and for the most part the effort put into the restoration was awe inspiring as it was slightly depressing. The start of a new chapter for the once great city, men and woman giving birth to a new era of hope. These were noble actions, so much so that a certain individual had anonymously dropped off several thousand dollars in a nearby fundraiser to help with the cleanup effort. It was a kindhearted deed, but the man simply did it because he could, that and there was free candy being offered at the function. Not that cheap one dollar rubbish imported from China, this was the candy from Switzerland! There would be no way any man sane enough could ignore such a treat, especially someone given the title of 'Prince'.

Cilian Blanc had finally returned to home after his 'extended holiday' in Italy...not that he did much work to deserve a six month vacation in Europe, he simply did it because he could. The frenchman arrived with Anna, his adoring spouse and mother of his child, but business has called the instance they arrived and she was whisked off to do some administration work for the Thrones organisation. Her absence saw the perfect opportunity to clean up his modest little apartment, make space for Anna and all the activities they enthusiastically performed together. They had only briefly used the apartment a month before, only for a night due to the renovations happening in Chelle's mansion. Mementos of his past still scattered his humble home, fragments of a time equally enjoyable as it was painful. It would be best to clear them up before Anna came, don't want her worrying about any lingering lovers.

The cab eventually swerved into his street, his home slowly coming into view. The red brick apartment stood stout and proud, perservering through the wind and rain and surprisingly not eroding away like the rest of the city. Striding out of the car with a polite grin and a particularly generous tip the well groomed young man immediately headed inside, taking in the familiar sights and smells as they came. He avoided the elevators, sitting down too long meant he had to use some leg muscles and after one minute of dedicated stair-jogging he reached his level. A flash of brunette caressed his peripherals and an eerie giggle danced against the atmosphere right before his foot could tap on the marble flooring of floor 9. An elevator door closed and there was silence.

"Girl scouts..", he mumbled, craving their cookies as he unlocked the door to his apartment, lolling his head for a moment before stepping inside with a big yawn.

Everything was just as he had left it. A fine layer of dust rested on a majority of his belongings and a sliver of afternoon light seeped through the curtains, giving the room a strange red glow. Taking a step forward Cilian felt his skin crawl, the tattoos were reacting to a sense of foreboding. These subconscious alerts provided him a sixth sense unlike any other, thousands of invisible eyes constantly scanning the area around him. Something was strange. He noticed the peculiar little image underneath the celebratory champagne from a year ago. This image, a chapter in his past, sent a nervous shiver across his body. It was a photo of him and a stunning woman, the woman who brought him joy during his first few months in America. She looked happy, skin glowing with bountiful giddiness, a big grin was etched on her pink lips. Sheryll Paxton, his lover from a time gone by. His jaw clenched, a sharp breath escaping his nostrils before he forced himself to tear away from the image. Maybe Anna had found it and was subtly telling him off.

"Don't be a fool..", he muttered to himself, snatching the image off the table and putting it behind a nearby ornament. The wine bottle was quickly tosse into the bin as well.

Whisking himself into his bedroom Cilian's mind quickly readjusted itself to all the fun activities soon-to-be shared with his beloved Anna in this very space. A smirk caressed his lips and before he could entertain his cheeky fantasy any longer his gaze fell into the beige letter placed on his side of the bed. A simple envelope, he could feel the ink from the inside but it was his curiosity that forced him to open it...

"Dearest Lover,

Let's have a little fun shall we! I know what you're craving at the moment.
Come to 779 North Harley, Penthouse suite. No later than 6:30 PM.
Don't forget to wear something nice! "

Xoxo

A bright red lipstick marked the end of the letter, there was no name. Just a kiss.

The Frenchman pursed his lips, his brow furrowed for a moment before reading the letter once more. It was peculiar, but a bit exciting at the same time. Apparently Anna was doing much more than administering at the moment. "That cheeky woman", he grinned, brushing his hands through his midnight black hair and propping himself back up onto the floor. Quite a silly request asking him to wear something 'nice'...everything he wore was the very definition of nice. His mind ran with a multitude of reasons for this fun little game. Was she planning a belated surprise birthday party? Going to greet him in lingerie and take him into a night of pure ecstasy? Such ideas were typical of such a creative man and the little flower left on his most favourite suit jacket was also a pleasant touch. It was strange, he always thought she preferred tulips...Lilies were something else entirely, a reminder to something buried deep within his memory. But no...he wasn't going to over think things, particularly when he only had ten minutes to get to the seemingly familiar sounding destination.

"Time to have some fun..", he whistled, delicately plucking some lint off his outfit before checking to see if everything was in check. Strolling through his apartment, the uneasy tension still lingered in the back of his mind. What was it? The prince had to physically shake his head to rid his conscious of his paranoia. This should be an interesting night, his tattoos were probably getting all nostalgic from returning home...of course they weren't reacting to the final gift left near the photo with himself, Sheryll and Lilia. But it was too late.

He had already walked out the door...

I get to my door, unlocking it and quickly striding in. I don't have much time, I wrote for him to be here at 6:30 and it's 6:15, so unless that pathetic excuse for a human being has suddenly decided to add tardiness to his list of sins, I need to hurry. That bastard, he used to use me as his own personal alarm clock. I'd silently enter his room and gently rouse him from sleep, a big grin on my face so he'd wake up to a smile. God he was probably mocking me silently the whole time. Oh look at Sheryll, the dumb girl thinks I love her, oh how cute. Little does she know she's only a cheap fuck for me. Oh how I long for the day she's on the ground crying her eyes out while I laugh. That sick bastard. Those thoughts were probably what that twinkle in his eye was whenever he'd first wake up. I can't wait to slit his throat. I enter my room and drop my pants, carelessly removing my shirt and tossing it to the hamper. I need to choose a pretty dress, something black. It fits considering I'm going to that snake's funeral tonight. I pick out a nice backless dress, knee length and expensive material. There are slits along the legs for ease of movement. I made sure to pick a backless one. It shows off more skin and will give him a nice little reminder of the scars he forced Daddy to give me, the faintest imprints still on my back. I think I'll give him a matching set later.
I lay the dress down on my bed and rush to the bathroom, beginning to do my hair and makeup. I'm only wearing panties, I had to take off my bra, otherwise you could see it through the dress I'll be wearing. I see my body in the mirror and snarl. That bastard. I'll greet him with that same doofy grin on my face and act like nothing has changed, like I'm still blinded by his false words and sweet nothings. It'll be painful to pretend, but the payoff... Oh it will be worth just a little more suffering to see it returned unto him one hundred fold. I'll get him on that bed where he fucked that whore, I'll pin him under me and just when he thinks he's finally safe, I'll do it. I'll show him the true meaning of pain. I shiver, realizing that not only will I have to put up with him for two hours, I'll have to deal with his gazes. With the outfit I've chosen he's likely to be too busy ogling me to pay attention to the fact that I'm alive.

That pig, that's all he cares about. My body, it's all he ever cared about. He was probably fucking Lilia on the side. I could care less if that cheap slut fucks another man but I'll be damned if it's mi... Him. He's going to suffer even worse for that. He though he could do it with her even while we were dating. I should have known from the start, the way he looked at her. Gave her presents. They were both playing me for a fool. I apply my lipstick, a deep red that matches my eyeliner. I'm not gonna lay the eyeliner on too thick, just enough to dazzle him stupid. Not that hard, he'll be too busy staring at my chest. Heh, I'll take to the restaurant Daddy picked out, there are plenty of agents planted there to keep me on track, to keep me from falling under the snake's spell again. They're all male of course. Any females run the risk of being seduced by Cilian.

The whore, he uses honeyed words to bring you close, then tears out your heart for the sheer thrill of it. I pop my lips, making sure the lipstick is applied properly and smile, attempting to fake that grin from so long ago. I move quickly back into my bedroom, donning the dress and tying the back. The material feels good against my skin, if a tad tight. He likes tight. Let all the blood rush out of his brain, let it go somewhere else so I can cut it off and watch it spray like a fountain. I turn to look at myself in the mirror. Perfect. I slip on a pair of stockings and some high heeled shoes. Open toed and black. I exit my room, flipping the light off and closing the door. I head to the kitchen and begin preparing a little wine. It's the same kind as that day so long ago, a bit of champagne. I'll have him eating out of my hand by the end of the night. Well, by the end of the night he'll be six feet under eating dirt.
I look at the clock.

6:29.

Almost time.

He better not be late. I've got a schedule to keep. Metas to hunt. Adam's such a good dad, always lets me have my fun before working.

6:30 on the dot.

I hear a knock on the door. It must be him. I sigh, readying myself, spreading that grin across my face and picking up two glasses of champagne. I dart over and stand a few feet from the door. It's time.

"Come in" I purr seductively, the words tasting foul on my tongue. It's for a purpose, I remind myself. He'll taste the venom soon enough.

Brisk elegant strides took the primped and preened Prince on a graceful tour down the back streets and corridors of the ruins of New York. A melodic whistling tune playfully coming forth from his lips as the young man hopped over debris and garbage like nothing in the world could both him. His worries and suspicions were set aside, if Anna was planning on scolding him about the photos then he was more than willing to explain...even though his beloved wife wasn't the type to get overtly jealous over such things. She too was affected by Sheryll's death, mourning the bubbly brunettes passing like the rest of Thrones. He had told her about the months spent with Sheryll, about the rather playful infatuation they had for one another. Even though the warmth of those fleeting moments with the trained killer were joyful they were but faint memories in the scheme of things. What initially started off as a consensual 'friends with benefits' type relationship soon plunged into heart wrenching chapter involving a particularly malevolent father and a revelation that took the young man several weeks to accept. Sheryll was a creature of war, plain and simple. This embodiment of death had slipped from the young man's grasp the very day her father lashed out against her body. The prince unwillingly got himself snagged into the first coils of war against the Metahumans and letting go of his beloved friend was a painful task indeed.

Shaking his head of such thoughts Cilian snagged several roses from an overgrown bush nearby, snipping them with a lash of ink trailing off his fingertips. Anna loved flowers, and he thought it a suitable gift considering that she had planned this secret little night out. The address did seem a bit peculiar though, maybe it had a fantastic view of the sunset of something equally enchanting. Aside from this eyebrow raising choice of venue he was more than happy to have a little fun, get whisked away on a gleeful adventure on his first day back.

6:23 PM. He had less than a kilometre to go, enough time to bargain and sweet-talk with a local saleswoman about the cost of a pair of ruby earrings. Truly dazzling pieces of jewellery and the perfect item to go alongside the aromatic flowers he carefully clutched in his hands and no sooner had he whisked his way into the small jewellery store did he come out with a cute little black box and a pleased grin on his face. Haggling took thirty dollars off the original price, more money for food and other pleasantries later tonight. Shouldve bought her some new lingerie as well.., he thought to himself, smirking at the fate of the several other pieces of ladywear they had accidentally torn during their passionate moments together. But no, Cilian had just under four minutes to get to his destination and within a second of entering a shadowy alleyway he had set off into the violet sky, the thoughts of purchasing lacy underwear for his wife saved for another day.

The swirling mass of ink sped through the air, leaving a wispy black trail in its wake as he soared high above the debris and commuters on their way back home. He was a shadowy streak through the air, a slightly ominous spectre flickering through the sky as it made its way to the 779 North Harley. The flight was just under two minutes, the roses and earrings staying intact as his suede shoes gracefully tapped onto the concrete earth below. Straightening his bow tie and running his hand through his perfectly unkempt hair he strolled into the elevator and waited for the metal contraption to lead him to the upper level, the penthouse...where his darling awaited him. Nostalgia crept through his pores as he dawdled in the rising elevator, why did this all seem so familiar? Had he once taken a girl back home some time ago? Strange, considering he often did it at night when he was half drunk...sights and sounds meant little to an alcoholic. Everything was bathed in a gentle light and suppressed colour, it seemed so foreign yet so familiar at the same time.

6:29 PM. Tracing his fingers down his jawline the wily French prince took one last glance at his suited form in the elevator mirror before striding over towards the door. A flash in his memory took hold, a brief moment of déjà vu right before his fist knocked on the mahogany door. Anna should be inside, who else could it be? Why was his mind beginning to retrace the moments of his past like they actually held importance during this moment of apparent romance. Why here? He asked himself, furrowing his brow and letting a quick stream of air to exhale from his lips.

That's when he heard the voice.

A sharp pang of distress coursed through his veins, the ink trawling his skin instantly freezing in place as his heart hammered against his chest. No, he must've been hearing things. That was Anna trying to be sexy, making she's had too much to drink already. His fists were clenched around the bundle of roses, a thorn penetretatinf his palm, forcing a light stream of crimson to pour down his fingers. There was no pain, only a mild wave of horror and trepidation jolting across his mind as his free hand tentatively pushed the door open. The room was bathed in a sensual red glow, candles scented with the finest oils adding a thick perfume to the space as what could only be described as soft jazz played in the background. A single female stood in the center of the room, waiting and ready for her guest.

This was not Anna. She was too tall to be Anna, her hair was not white and her eyes did not shine that strange ethereal green glow. Reality finally impaled its cruel talons into his being and the young man flinched, his jaw dropping as his gaze finally fell on the woman's face. This was an illusion, it had to be an illusion. The woman in front of him was supposed to be dead, not provocatively dressed with glasses of champagne in her slender hands.

His tattoos were silently screaming at him, what was this cruel demon taking on the form of his deceased friend? Who was this imposter? His creations were howling, wolves lashing those murky black fangs at this foul doppelgänger; bees forming at the edge of his hands as he stood frozen. His mouth shook, this had to be dream. There was no other explanation, had his sins finally caught up with him and taken on the most heart wrenching form they could create? Or was this real? Where was Anna? Why was Sheryll standing in front of him?

"Impossible..."

He pushes open the door, his face uncomfortable at first, but quickly changing to an expression of pure shock with something else mixed in. Guilt? Unlikely, this man is a sociopath who only cares about his own pleasure. I almost feel sorry for that succubus who took him. Then again, it can't have been that hard. His decisions are all governed by one thing. Ugh, it's okay, just smile and pretend. Smile. And. Pretend. I keep the grin on my face, shoving one of the glasses into his hand and pressing myself against him in a hug, my grin kept only by the vague notion that his tattoos might see it change. Being this close to him again... his musk... Ugh, god, no. Not again. He's laid the cologne on as thick as ever, that's what I'm smelling. I'm gripping him tight, though not enough to cause pain. Oh how I wish I could end it right here, shoot him full of holes and watch him bleed out as the last flicker of realization twinkles in his rapidly dulling eyes. I can't however. Not yet. This isn't just a pleasure cruise. Daddy gave me a job beforehand. I can do it while I'm suffering, get at least something out of this night before the end. I've held him for several seconds, the wine glass pressed into both our abdomens. I pull back, my smile wide. I bat my eyelashes at him and take hold of his tie playfully, gentling tugging him into the apartment.
That awkward look he's giving is so adorable pathetic, like a bitch ready to be mounted by the alpha male. Then again, that's probably what this scum sucking animal thinks he's getting. Let him assume, it'll just make things easier for me. I let go of him once he's firmly inside and close the door with one of my heels, their hard surface clacking against the marble flooring. I've lit some candles and have some soft jazz playing, all the better to set the mood with. Not yet though, no he won't die here. He'll die on his own bed, the last thing he sees will be me mounted atop him just as he wished. How dare he even think such thoughts after what he's done. First he fucks Lilia and now he's taken a new whore. He never loved me, I was just his latest arm candy in a long line of unfortunate souls. I'm sure the only reason he's marrying that bitch Anna is because he's too scared of what Chelle would do to him should he break up with her beloved secretary.

Don't worry you worthless pig, Chelle is next after you and your whore are crossed off my list. Maybe that's what I'll do once he's dead. I'll wait in their apartment until his newest slut shows up and slit her throat, letting her bleed out while I hang her from one of his ties. Then I'll call Chelle, it will be easy with the phone that bitch is sure to have on her. I'll call her and then send all the data on it to Daddy. Once that bitch arrives, I'll mulch her before she can so much as blink. All of Thrones' leadership wiped out in under a night. Daddy will be so proud, maybe he'll take some time off so he, Jenny and I can spend some time together. It makes me giddy just thinking about it. The smile on my face widens, though I try and keep the joy I'm feeling restrained. Whatever, let him think what he thinks of it. He seems to be trying to say something. It doesn't matter. I grab him and twirl him onto the couch in a joking manner, careful to push him too hard. Don't want to tip him off yet. No, not yet. I sashay over to the opposite couch, perpendicular to the one I threw him on, and sit down, leaning forward and sipping my champagne.

"So Cilian darling, what have you been up to. It's been far too long since we've seen each other. Tell me, how are things with you and Anna?" I say, pulling the glass away from my face, a small dab of lipstick still on it.

"Do you like the champagne? It's the same brand as the one from the day we met. I know it's expensive but I figured 'what the heck, it's a special occasion'. I didn't think you'd mind" I continue, trying to keep myself perky. It would be so easy if I was still in the dark about him and his whore. But no, I know now... and I'll never forgive him.

It would not be an exaggeration to state that the Prince of Thrones was used to the weird and wonderful things that lurked in the shadows of society. Cilian had battled witches, taken siege of shady German organisations and impregnated a Kitsune and whilst each of these achievements had their merits none were as disturbing as the situation that lay before him at that very moment. His throat clenched up, allowing no words to escape as the figment of his past slunk towards him, his gaze was lost in those familiar eyes and that bright cheery smile. The warmth of her body against his own was so painfully familiar, the feeling of the brunette strands against his neck and the soft alluring scent was more than enough to bring back a wave of nostalgia. This woman was not a mirage, he could feel the warmth of her back against the palm of his hand, smell the shampoo soaked into her hair and hear the soft drawn out breaths escaping her supple lips. This was the real Sheryll, there was no denying that. Swallowing his suspicions the young man forced an attempted grin to cross his mouth, one that said "I totally knew you were going to show up instead of my wife..". Lightly shaking his head the tattooed tuxedo wearing troublemaker hesitantly gave the sultry woman the bundle of roses, awkwardly grinning as the makeshift gift was handed to her.

"...Sheryll, I uhh..well this is a surprise!", he stammered with attempted enthusiasm, the usual honeyed nonchalant tone he was so famous for making way for a more bewildered type, how on earth was she still alive? All that blood, the pain and the absolute terror from that day so many months ago still burned away into his consciousness and yet here she was sliding his body through her penthouse like none of it happened.

The young man forced himself to avert his gaze, Sheryll had chosen to wear a particularly revealing dress among other things and her perky chest was barely covered by the thin, tight black material. Oh Cilian was very familiar with her body, every curve he once lavished and tasted. He knew where all her hidden beauty spots and birthmarks lay and he was completely in the know of what made her scream to high heavens. For that period of time their bodies were wonderfully beautiful pieces of work, equally pleasurable to play with as well as to marvel at. But such thoughts had to be thrown into the furthest crevice of his mind, he was a married man now and thinking about his questionable escapades with Sheryll simply felt inappropriate. Downing the champagne in one quick gulp he allowed the sensation of the alcohol to overwhelm his senses rather than the woman in front of him. He knew Anna may find it particularly worrying that he was currently in the same room as an old lover...one with the potential to skewer him right then and there.

His mind and body were not in communion with one another, one was screaming at him to return home and tell his Queen of this startling news whilst the other was begging him to taste Sheryll's body once more. He harshly refused such an urge and allowed his body to slump into the couch, his lips pursed as he watched the woman in front of him. This was beyond awkward, made even worse by the fact that she was obviously trying to flaunt herself more than necessary...maybe she had a bit too much to drink prior to this. Particularly with the cringeworthy conversation starter. She knew about him and Anna...something which has been kept a secret from his peers and yet here she was prodding him with this info as if she had known all along.

"Oh..uhh she's fine I guess. Why so curious for? And yes...the champagne is delicious, I'm surprised you managed to find it..", he spoke with feigned innocence, better to play dumb and rid any topics of his diminutive wife. Licking his lips and glancing to his side the prince fiddled with his empty glass, the suave nature was slowly cracking under the pressure of trying not to freak out about conversing with a person he believed dead and done. Had she come back to haunt him and terrorise him for not saving her? Such questions ran through the young man's mind as his mouth opened up to ask some rather generic questions, best keep the conversation going. "How's your father? Oh and how is little Lilia going? I saw the national broadcast..and well, it was a bit of a shock to say the least..", he muttered, clenching his jaw as he allowed the awkward conversation to delve into said issues. Sheryll being here brought so many questions to his mind and for the lack of proper attention he had somehow agreed to take the woman out to dinner once they had finished the pleasantries in the overly romantic atmosphere of her penthouse.

As the well dressed Frnechman made his way out the door he could not help but notice the faint crimson scars plastered on Sheryll's exposed back. Such brutal marks that could have only been delivered by some I humane torture device and the more his eyes lingered on the wounds the more he internally cringed. He did not remember these foul marks during the nights spent with this woman and yet he could not muster the courage to ask her where they were from...best avoid such subjects, particularly before dinner. Offering his arm like a gentleman Cilian attempted to present an air of casual charm like he usually did. He smiled and and laughed, coaxing the former emotions of his past self in the hopes of not offending the woman.

What had happened during the months of not seeing each other?

"Oh, no reason" I reply, a smile on my face. He comments on the champagne. Of course you're surprised you drooling neanderthal, the wine isn't something scum like you can normally afford.

He asks me about Daddy and that little whore Lilia. Of course he asks about her first, not even bothering to see how I'm doing. He was definitely fucking her. Maybe he still is. That little whore! All those sidelong glances, looks of fear and loathing she's been giving me recently. She's fucking him! I'm going to beat that little bitch to a pulp when I'm through with this pig. I'm going to slice her up and turn her into a chandelier for this penthouse. She'll go lovely with my Cilian skin rug. A frown edges at the very corner of my lips. I bite it back, tasting just the slightest amount of blood. Now isn't the time, later, later. He'll suffer then. Not now, for now, I'm going to play his little brain like a fiddle.

"Daddy's doing great, he's kept me really busy like usual but nothing too harsh. He's such a great guy, always looking out for me and keeping me out of trouble" I declare, feeling proud. While I could expound on him all day, I vaguely remember that the snake asked about his dessert slut.

"She's fine. She volunteered for that you know. Trying to get back in Daddy's good graces" I lie. He'll buy it, he doesn't care about the women he fucks. In fact, I could have told him she wanted to go out there naked as the day she was born and he'd believe it.

He probably thinks all women are whores, ready to throw themselves at him. I was like that once, blind and stupid. He probably saw how innocent I was and jumped at the chance to exploit a poor girl's affections. That bastard. Within moments, I've suggested we go out to dinner, telling the restaurant I've made reservations at. Like always, he agrees. He's such a chump, thinks with the brain in his pants rather than the one in his head. Oh well, his loss, my gain. He opens the door for me like the faux gentleman he is. I take a step through and gaze back at him, a look of quiet longing in my eyes. He's been staring at my back, I can tell. Fucking pervert is probably getting off on my scars. Let him, less blood in his brain. I move my hand his his cheek and gently stroke it. His skin is so smooth, so perfect disgusting. Like someone took a baby and plastered hair on it. He looks more like a confused lesbian than a man with all that eyeliner. Sliding my hand from his, face, I move it down his chest, stopping at his waist and taking hold of his hand. As we start our movement to the elevator, I coil and his arm like a lover, not allowing him to escape my grasp. Turning away, the smile on my face fades for only an instant, returning as I gaze upon him once more. A wicked idea fills my brain, one sure to leave him shocked and likely a little horny.

"So, is she better in bed than me? I mean, I'm sure she's got some advantage given that she lets you go bareback. How else would you be having a baby? Hmm, maybe a competition is in order" I say, mixing what I'm sure is a tantalizing suggestion with the subtle assertion that I know of their little whore baby. The elevator opens, its great metal doors ushering us in like a couple going to a wedding, or a funeral.

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She gazed at the small metal box, its silvery coloration reflecting the couple like a fun house mirror, proportions out of whack and insane looks on their faces, though hers might have been there anyway. She was trying to avoid showing her hatred, though it was increasingly hard to remember why. Why didn't she just kill him and have done? Making them suffer was Reaper's way, not hers. She'd always gone for the quick kill. Something felt wrong in her mind, though she couldn't place what it was. A nagging feeling in the back of her head seemed to be poking her thoughts, trying to communicate a point that she couldn't quite grasp. The doors of the elevator slid open as the pair took their first steps out of it and into the lobby.

Sheryll's vicegrip on his suited arm was firm, the pressure of the slender arm around his own forcing the young man to wince in slight discomfort. What on earth was happening? It was like she did not want him to leave, as if she still believed that their relationship status was the same as it was a year ago. No, Sheryll was now nothing more than a friend and being this close to her only made the situation more awkward for the young man. The period of time where he believed Sheryll deceased was painful, Anna came in and provided sincere loving and warmth like none other. Yet, why were his feelings still lingering on something old and forgotten, had this brief 'fling' of theirs not have a proper conclusion, was his farewell not good enough? His mind ached with the overload of thoughts, his emotions were rustling between apprehension and utter disbelief at the situation and yet his tattoos still silently screamed out for escape. The images pleaded with him, flashes of worry cascading his mind as the inky creations subconsciously sent him alerts. Alerts to what exactly? Sheryll wasn't even wearing her suit, the glaringly obvious lack of concealment was more than enough to convince Cilian that she was currently harmless. Was it the fear of Anna catching him with this woman, his beautiful little pregnant wife. Oh, how he loved her, the very thought of the gentle white haired female witnessing this awkward dinner date causing him to wrinkle his nose in discomfort. Definitetly did not want to bump into her.

Unfortunately for Cilian, the situation he found himself in took a particularly disturbing turn. Speaking with an edge to her voice and unwanted level of lust dripping off her tongue Sheryll uttered a few words that racked the young prince to his core. She knew about Anna and his unborn child. A sharp breath escaped his lips once it was uttered, a cold sweat instantly sprouting from his skin as his golden eyes temporarily widened in shock. How did she know? How on earth could this figment of his past know about such a cherished secret? There was no way Anna told her, and it wasn't even obvious yet, a mild bump at best. The very mention of his sex life with Anna was made all the more awkward considering Sheryll was the one who me mentioned it, was there anything she didn't know?

"Oh..uh I think a competition is unecessary..you both have special talents..", he mumbled, attempting to remain cool and calm, not even looking at the lady clutched into him. He did not want to dwell on his time with Sheryll, whilst it was so much fun he could not compromise the bond he had created with Anna. "How uhh..how did you know about the baby..?", he spoke, his voice barely louder than a whisper. The young man grimaced at the clumsy reveal, this was the last thing he would want to talk about with this woman, having a baby with another female. He wasn't even sure if Sheryll was capable of getting pregnant, being half cyborg must of had its downfalls.

He wanted to sprint away from her the instance the elevator came to its abrupt stop on the ground floor, flee this mirage of his past and come back into the loving embrace of his wife's arms. He could not escape, regardless of how much he wanted to. His arm grew slack against Sheryll's iron grip, his elegant strides becoming feeble steps as they slowly approached the restaurant. This was an awful situation, what happened to the lighthearted ease with which he so passionately enjoyed with the bubbly brunette? Even standing at the front of the Thai cuisine restaurant the prince was still apprehensive. Leaving her would be rude and ungentlemanly, besides this could be an enjoyable catchup if it weren't for the highly distracting outfit she had on and her constant jabs at his sex life. His sex life was amazing, that's all she needed to know. Her typical playfulness was now whittled down to passive aggressive remarks, he knew the woman well enough to notice the faint bile in her words and the malicious edge to her voice. Maybe she was a bit drunk..

"Thai food...how very appropriate..", he uttered, he always brought Sheryll Thai food every Tuesday. Tuesday was their relaxation day, eat good food, drink excessively and partake in ridiculous amounts of coitus until neither of them could walk. Simply standing in front of this restaurant sparked memories of all of their Tuesdays together...was Sheryll doing this on purpose? "After you my dear..", he sighed, motioning for the brunette to enter first. This ought to be an interesting experience.

Sheryll strode forward confidently, the fabric of her dress waving magnificently with each graceful movement. She could see the look of shock flicker into her former lover's eyes even without looking. It manifested itself in the briefest of jerks, the slightest twitch that broke his otherwise practiced stride. Then again, that was all she needed. In their month together she'd learned every detail of the man beside her. How he moved, his favorite food, each and every tattoo that covered his otherwise pristine skin. Deep down, some part of her longed to touch him once more, to caress every inch of his well toned skin with zealous fervor. Like a neophyte worshiping the altar of her god. In her mind however, the face on the altar twisted into a monster, a sick and twisted grin having been carved into the stone and replacing the gentle smile that had once dwelt upon its visage. The perfectly sculpted musculature became scarred and pitted, deep cuts going along its body. What were once great wings like those on a bird fell away, revealing little more than skeletal stumps in their wake. Yet all of it could have been ignored had the beastly thing's eyes not been filled with mockery, a diabolical and sadistic glint at its priest's sense of betrayal. This impish thing that had replaced her god was held with only contempt, despite a longing for the return of its prior appearance.

This oddly dark comparison was the only way to accurately portray how Sheryll felt now, hanging on the arm of Cilian Blanc, the Prince of Thrones. The walk to the thai restaurant was familiar, it was one they had walked many times before, though in truth she was half dragging him. Had she gone too far? Had the Angel of Death overplayed her hand and given up a vital piece of information? In a word, yes, she had. She had gone from having his nostalgic confusion to being seen as a slightly petty and disturbing beast in the former of a long dead romance. Of course she didn't know this. She believed herself clever, her father's programming overriding common sense. The foolish girl had allowed her father to put her under the knife once more under the pretense of 'upgrading' her. In the right state of mind she might have refused, if only out a fear of being euthanized while asleep. However, in her broken and emotionally fragile state, she was easy prey for the man's manipulations.
Had he ordered it, she might have very well slit both Reaper and Lilia's throats with a gleeful smile. The number one agent of Dominus was now little more than a borderline bi-polar puppet, barely better than any of her sisters save for her combat potential. In many ways, this information would have been critical to poor Cilian, for had he known earlier, he might have been able to convince her of her own folly, reclaiming some small piece of the woman from so long ago before she was shattered completely.
Unfortunately, it was not to be. His distress at the mention of Anna's unborn child only solicited the slightest smile from his mentally altered companion.

"Oh you know, a woman has her ways" Sheryll intoned, her usual grin upon her face. Her voice was sing-song and flippant, yet it held a hint of finality, as though that was the end of the conversation whether her companion wanted to speak more of it or not.

The awkward silence that followed was quickly put to an end upon their arrival at the restaurant, a place filled to the brim with planted Dominus agents and wiretaps. Each had instructions to only observe the pair unless otherwise directed. A precaution taken by Adam to prevent his newly reacquired asset from slipping away once more. She was still too fragile, too unbalanced and pliable to be doing this, but the girl had insisted, her artificially enhanced hatred of the man she was with brooking no argument. Entering the establishment, Sheryll moved up the maître d' and spoke in a soft voice.

"Yes, I have reservations for two, 6:45" she said politely, squeezing Cilian against her lovingly. Regardless of her hatred of him, her act so far had been unconvincing and borderline creepy. Now was the time to step it up, to bring him once more into her web.

The man called over a waiter and assigned them a secluded booth near the back of the restaurant, amidst the hushed tones of casual restaurant speak being faked by the agents. To the casual listener, the conversations were convincing, chats that anyone could be having. Upon further inspection however, one would notice that certain topics were repeated, responses different only to preserve the pretense of real back-and-forth. Of course, they were allowed to go off script so long as the subjects discussed were mundane, unassuming things. Then again, given how many of these people were soldiers rather than spies, that possibility went relatively unexplored.

Seating herself across from Cilian, Sheryll looked over at him and batted her eyelashes in a romantic manner.

"How have things been with Thrones Cilian? I've missed so much during my vacation" she inquired, attempting to add an air of levity to the tense atmosphere that had begun to develop.

[spoiler]The restaurant was just as it had been ever since the last time the wily french prince happened to order from it. This establishment was an essential element to the relationship he once shared with the bubbly brunette woman, every meal they ate together offered moments of casual delight that could only be balanced by the fantastic physicality of what usually followed. Unfortunately, his taste for Thai shrivelled up when Sheryll disappeared, the yearning for spicy warm delicacies drifting away like the attraction he once felt for her. The faint smells of green curry and cashew nut salad sent a pungent wave of nostalgia through him. All of this, the woman he was accompanying and the very environment they were setting foot in were as if they had returned to the past, returned to their sappy sex crazed life together. The overwhelming sense of deja vu brought jolts of disconcerting shivers across his tattooed skin, the very essence of the place making him feel uneasy. The deep red interior flooded the Prince's view, the gentle lulling south-east asian tunes playing in the background as the mumbled chatter of the well dressed patrons droned on in the background. This was a suitable enough, little chance of Sheryll doing anything remotely inappropriate or questionable in front of all of their neighbouring diners. The worst she could do was play footsies and even then he wouldn't join in, Anna would definitely not appreciate such a thing.

Taking his seat opposite Sheryll in their well lit booth, their conversation was initially interrupted by a well mannered waitress pouring glasses of tea for the two. Of course, how could he forget the tea! The warmth of the simmering yellow drink provided some repose during the period of silence. Merely returning to this eatery with Sheryll was more than enough to rid the young man of his appetite, however his love for the tea gave him some glimmer of hope. Taking a sip of the herbal brew he sat still and waited for the evening meal to commence, hoping that Anna was safe and yet to return home to an empty apartment. The last thing Cilian wanted his dainty wife to know was this rather awkward and spontaneous outing with a lover he once thought dead.

Cocking his head at the sound of her voice the dashing prince raised an eyebrow at her remark, it seems the possible shreds of passive negativity had all but vanished in the inviting smells of coconut rice and curry. Of course it was a question about work, she did happen to be a high ranking member of the organisation so it was no suprise to him that the ex-rook of the thrones had some sliver of curiosity for Chelle's league of guardians. "Everyone is doing quite well, people have settled into the villa in Italy and we're currently renovating the New York head office after...after that accident...", he mumbled the last part, there was no need to bring up the very obvious fact that Dominus, Sheryll's current alliegance, had blown up the building in a bid to slay the Queen. Shaking his head from that particularly dark chapter he attempted a gentle smile, hoping to reinvigorate some innocent playfulness in what remained of their tumultuous relationship. "I'll tell Chelle that you are well and in good shape, it would please her to know that!", he remarked, downing the tea in a swift gulp and serving himself another.

Eventually their entrees were served and the conversation had somewhat taken the semblance of what once was, aside from a few notable changes in Sheryll's attitude. Attempting to ignore such minor quirks the young prince absorbed himself in the delicacies provided, barely making eye contact with the woman opposite him as he desperately attempted to finish the meal as quickly as possible, best be home before his darling wife returns. However, his need to return to Anna did not excuse rude manners and he allowed petty small talk to escape his lips, hoping that the brunettes woman would not mention any babies, lovers or sex during the conversations. "So I saw the Dominus broadcast...and well I must say, it was quite impressive. However, poor Lilia did seem a bit scared, oh well I'm sure her big sister has taken good care of her anyways..", he smiled, referencing the envious relationship both girls shared, they were nigh inseparable when he hung around them and genuinely thought the Russian ballerina as his own little sister.

"Strange thing I just noticed...I remember this joint having more Asian customers. You know what they say about Asian restaurants, the more Asian folk the better the food. Looks like our dear oriental friends have been swapped for the upper easy side...", he smirked, glancing at the various other patrons in the room. Surely they were all simple folk going out for tasty meals together. The thought of them being anything else not passing the wily Prince's mind at all. It simply seemed too farfetched to assume such a thing..