Ugh. She detested taverns. They were loud, crowded, cramped and full of people. Wankers. The lot of them. Repulsive.

Alana was seated at the bar sipping ale. Disgusting stuff. She pulled a face. Why didn't they serve tea or hot cocoa?

The bar man eyed her strangely and she pondered whether she should pay him a visit later and slit his throat. It was rude to stare. Perhaps her fangs were showing. She'd taken extra care to cover up her claws with gloves. This place did not normally cater to demons.

The only reason she'd bothered showing up was to try and get work. Being an assassin for hire wasn't easy. Employers couldn't very well approach you in broad daylight and ask you to off someone. No, people tended to get a bit funny about that sort of talk. Peasants. They had no imagination. Some people simply deserved to die. Why was that so hard to understand? So it was safe to say that she didn't have many friends. Or any at all, really. Oh well.

Not that Alana gave a toss what anyone thought of her. But she tried to be subtle and inconspicuous; stealthy. She prided herself on being a skilled assassin rather than one of these numbskulls that went charging into battle with a big axe and an even bigger ego. No, she favoured smaller weapons and thought of her newly acquired katar with a smile. She hadn't even used it yet.

She'd heard whispers about an assassin's guild recently. In the alley of some backwater town of all places. But none of her contacts could provide her with any information. The idiots just stared at her with a vacant expression when she brought it up. They're supposed to be spies but they're utterly useless. I might as well gather all the intelligence myself. At least I'd be able to trust the source.

Alana gulped down her ale with a pained look and examined the tavern for potential employers or tasty male distractions. Apart from being an assassin, she also had the good luck to be a succuba, something she was particularly proud of as they were nearly extinct. That was mostly due to their unfortunate inability to reproduce. Not that she had ever wanted children. Bloody kids. Can't stand em. With their crying and temper tantrums and neediness. Alana preferred animals. Much more trustworthy and less annoying.

But her succuba senses were tingling now. She was blessed with the power to transform herself into a beautiful human woman to seduce men in their dreams. This was rather helpful as she had a very high libido. She squirmed in her seat, beginning to feel the urge. Not yet. I need work so I can pay the rent for my bloody room at the inn!

It might be considered surprising that succubi did not simply become courtesans but Alana shuddered at the thought of the inbreeds that frequented brothels. Ugly, bald, fat, mummy boy freaks. They were so far below her notice that any contact with them with highly undesirable to say the least. No man worth having would pay for sex and she had very high standards. No, she chose her victims very carefully and smacked her lips in anticipation. Muscular, rough warrior types were the ones she most enjoyed at night. The rougher the better.

But only by establishing a clear visual of her intended victim could she invade his dreams. The men here were either drunk beyond belief and dry humping their own sister (one fellow was actually kissing a goat) or toothless tramps with the personality of a damp cloth. Yikes. Tonight was proving to be rather disappointing. Would she actually need to start looking for normal work to fund her lifestyle?

Please say it isn't so.

Being an assassin was a strange, strange thing.  All too often, she found herself carrying belongings of the recently deceased in her side satchel – usually at the request of the client for whom she was carrying out the hit.  Most of them requested a piece of jewelry or clothing, or some identifying item that the target usually carried.  On occasion, she did experience a few… extreme requests.  More than once a client had requested a finger, or a toe… and once she even had a woman request an eye.  The left eye, to be precise.  

The hit the resulted in the removal of the eye had been quite interesting.  A woman had approached her with a contract.  At first, Dalanesca saw nothing unusual about it – women put out contracts for many reasons: unfaithful husbands, women who were in the way of the men they loved… she could go on and on.  But this woman… this one had been different.  She wanted Dalanesca to kill her husband, but not for infidelity.  She wanted her to kill him because he wanted her to bear his children, and she wanted nothing to do with it.  The woman had gone on and on for nearly an hour about how perfect her body was (and to be frank, Dalanesca saw nothing special with the woman), and how having a child would ruin her and she would have no reason to live any longer.

Now, Dalanesca did not entirely agree with the woman’s reasoning behind wanting to put the contract on her husband’s life… but silver crescents were silver crescents and she wasn’t going to turn the offer down.  She kept her comments to herself, and fulfilled the contract, bringing the woman her then-deceased husband’s eye in a glass jar.  The woman was absolutely alive with excitement upon seeing the proof of her husband’s demise, and provided Dalanesca with a much larger reward than originally promised.  It had been worth it.  Weird, but worth it.

This return to the Winking Mermaid wasn’t wrought with such oddity.  This client had only requested a ring be removed from the victim’s hand.  She could feel the heavy opal encrusted piece in her satchel as she walked into the room, headed towards the central area of the bar.  Scanning the environment around her, she noted that her client had not arrived yet.  According to her calculations, Dalanesca was a bit early anyway, and decided to grab a drink while she awaited her client.

After a few moments she was served a tall flagon of mead.  She took a few swigs, and as she drank her eyes fell upon a woman with gloved hands who seemed utterly disgusted with the other patrons of the bar.  She watched her for a moment, wondering if it could be a potential client, but the way that the person carried herself proved otherwise.  She was more likely to be of the same career type as she.  Competition?  That wouldn’t suffice.  Time to put on my game face, she thought, smirking to herself as she walked towards the character.  She lowered her hood so as not to seem too off putting, and walked right up to her.

Her eyes lined black with khol and lips ruby red, she commented to the other, feigning disgust (although she was not disgusted in the slightest – these foolish drunkards were generally the ones who freely spent their crescents on killing someone they had a mere disagreement with) as well.  ”Kind of a sorry, sad lot, aren’t they?” she quipped, raising a dark eyebrow.

Alana didn't like interruptions. And this woman, whoever she was, most definitely qualified as one. She appeared out of nowhere and joined her at the bar. At first, she seemed satisfied to simply sit and wait for her companion. She looked around the tavern and Alana observed her from the corner of her eye; she was now watching her, judging her. Does she know what I am and what I do for a living?

No one liked being judged, least of all demons. Alana wondered what her business here was. Her dress suggested she was no lady of the night, nor did she flirt or bat her eyelashes at those around her. Not here in search of an evening's entertainment either, then.

Perhaps they possessed similar talents. Alana had not met many female assassins before but this woman was certainly subtle enough to be one and seemed confident in her manner and address. Before she could reach a verdict on the woman, she spoke to her.

This was an unexpected development. Alana had not come here looking for companionship or friendly banter. She did not do banter or that other hideous social invention - small talk. People everywhere seemed to find it the most natural thing in the world to discuss mundane subjects such as the weather in a most animated voice. However they managed it she would never know.

The woman echoed one her own sentiments about the people gathered here. It would be rude not to make some attempt at a reply. Oh, very well, then. She sighed at the prospect. At least she would gain a better understanding of the mysterious female.

''Yes, indeed, they are. And yet we are here. What does that make us?''

The red-lipped lady was clearly not here so socialise and Alana was too curious not to ask.

''I take it they are not your friends, then. Are you here on business if you don't mind my asking?''

If her companion was an assassin as she suspected, she might not tell the truth or even wish to answer her question. How could she set her mind at ease? Perhaps with a half truth.

''I am here looking for clients myself. I am a warrior of sorts.'' That should make her understand if she was one of them. If she failed to comprehend the nature of her business, she was no assassin and therefore simply a girl.

Alana hoped she was more than that as she was not interested in talking to insipid bland girls looking for beaux. Women can be strong. Women can be worthy warriors. We don't need a man.

''My name is Alana.''

She could instantly tell that the woman was not entirely happy about the fact that Dalanesca had chosen to speak to her.  For some reason, this thought caused her a bit of inward joy – she found pleasure in the annoyance of others, when she was the cause of that annoyance.  She only offered a smile and a shrug at the woman’s first question.  She had not walked over for idle chit chat –she had walked over to assess what type of threat this woman could be to her operation, if one at all.

”Those people are not my friends,” she said, blatant and to the point.  ”I guess you could call it business, but I don’t need to explain that to you.”  She was quite clear that she knew what the woman was in terms of her being an assassin, and it was also clear that she did not care if she knew that she, too, was an assassin.  She found that she was the one feeling annoyed now, as this tended to be her territory and this woman was now here looking for clients as well.  She did not take kindly to people who stole her work, and whether or not this woman was doing it intentionally, that is what she would be doing if she were to take a client on in this establishment.

She pulled out a chair and turned it ‘round backwards, straddling it and sitting down, facing the woman.  ”I’m D.” She refused to speak her actual name.  ‘D’ had a reputation, and she did not need ‘Dalanesca’  becoming associated with that reputation.   She did not attempt to join common society on a regular basis, but she wanted the ability to present herself as someone other than an assassin if the need arose.  ”And you have chosen a terrible place to look for clients, ‘warrior,’” she added, venom nearly dripping from her voice.  

Her eyes darted around the establishment for a moment, before falling back on the woman in front of her.  ”Listen, Alana,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing.  ”I work here.   This is where I meet my clients.  So, unless you’re interested in becoming one of my targets, I suggest you shove off,” she threatened.  

Just then, a barmaid decided to walk past and check for drinks.  Dalanesca nodded at her brusquely, indicating that yes, they’d take another round.  Her attention turned back to the woman before her, if she was a woman at all – there was something slightly off about her.

So much for a friendly chat. Alana raised an eyebrow. That had escalated quickly. Did she really have to put her bitch face on? Maybe it was her period. The assassin meekly ordered another drink to show that she had no intention of leaving. Threats did not scare her. Not much in this world did. Only cats. Filthy buggers. They couldn't be trusted, she was absolutely certain.

She had to resist the urge to laugh at the woman referring to herself as ''D''. ''A, B and C were taken?'' Maybe D stands for douche.

She had wanted to be civilised but clearly this D had other ideas and wanted to assert her dominance like a dog pissing all over his territory. Very mature. She wasn't exactly shivering in her boots. Who did she think she was? Queen of the bloody underworld? Alana snorted at the thought.

''I have no idea who you are but you act like I should do. I don't give a shit if this is where you normally pick up your clients. If you want me to go, you'll have to drag me out 'cos I'm not leaving voluntarily. I didn't come here to make friends or cause trouble but threaten me again and I'll punch you in the face. Your choice. I'd rather keep things civilised.''

Alana did not look forward to the prospect of a tavern brawl but if this nasty piece of work kept pushing her buttons, she'd shove her sword up her ass. It would not provide her with any answers. Only more bruises. Not the way she wanted to go but no true assassin would let someone threaten them without any consequences.

Maybe you should shove off. It was a disappointing turn of events. Alana had so been hoping to learn more about this Assassin's Guild but it had all come to nothing. D had only spoken to her in a pathetic attempt to scare her off and probably had no knowledge of anything that might force her to work together with other assassins. The woman clearly feared any sort of competition. Is she really that insecure?

''It doesn't look like there are any clients to be found for either of us tonight, anyway. Maybe we should widen our search.''

Alana would speak with some locals and enquire where trouble could be found. Contracts were never far away. This tavern was a dead end. She should've stayed at home where she had peace and quiet. Now she was surrounded by enemies, drunks and disgusting beverages. And some believed Hell didn't exist.

The moment the woman quipped about her name, and she fought every urge to slice her throat at the very words.  Internally she raged, but she kept her demeanor cool and calm on the outside.  She refused to let anyone – be it her enemies or her companions – see her true feelings.  To do so was an incredibly rare act.  

She raised an eyebrow at the woman’s next comment, which seemed a bit more hostile than necessary.  ”I act as though you should know me because it is well known that I am the assassin that can easily be found in this establishment,” she answered, her voice low and barely above a whisper.  ”I’ve no interest in a brawl with you, nor’ve I any interest in continuing this conversation.”  With a scoff, she ran a hand through her hair, and turned to walk away from the woman, shaking her head in distaste.  With a  turn back, she let out one last sentence: ”You can have the clients – I’ve already fulfilled the good paying contracts.  The ones that are left are shit,” she said, and turned on her heel.

What sort of assassin would so gladly get into a brawl in the middle of a tavern?  She couldn’t fathom.  One of the key components of being a successful assassin was the art of surprise and the ability to be able to hide oneself from others.  You wouldn’t want your target walking into a tavern and seeing two women clad in black fighting one another, especially when most targets knew that someone was after them.

With a knowing glance back at the woman, she walked up to the bar and tossed a couple coins down, instructing the barmaid to pay for the next round of drinks for the other.  It was her way of showing that she stood on higher ground.  She may have threatened her for coming to the establishment, but what she did not do was cause a scene, and she was proud of that fact.  She drew her hood back over her head and covered her face with the half mask she carried and stepped out into the night, wondering what would become of the unpleasantries that had just been exchanged.

There would be no brawl tonight. Alana was glad. She'd only come here in search of work, not trouble. But this assassin puzzled her. Why threaten her that this was her territory and then back down so quickly when challenged? She was a toothless dragon, ready to mark her territory but not to defend it. Alana considered that weakness as it meant this tavern was hers for the taking.

''Perhaps you were the only assassin here till now. But times change. Perhaps we could even agree what days we both frequent this tavern so we need never meet again.''

Though Alana knew exactly which days were the most profitable and she didn't doubt that D did, too. But she did not have the time or inclination to cultivate another enemy. Besides, it would certainly be wisest to keep her rival close. She thinks she knows it all, that one. It might be worth keeping an eye on her. She knows this place better than I do, a stranger in these parts.

It did not bother her that D supposedly fulfilled the best paying contracts. How could she even know as more contracts were posted regularly? Alana would stay alert in case new ones came up. ''You say that the ones that are left are shit. But surely that is a matter of opinion and merely an opportunity to open negotiations? At any rate, I would rather accept two shit contracts than sit alone at the bar drinking cheap ale, not making any coin.''

Alana watched the assassin head to the bar, order drinks and then unexpectedly depart. That's it? She's given up for the night? The bar maid brought her another disgusting drink that Alana eyed suspiciously. She'd give her right leg for a nice cup of tea. But as that was not on offer, she reluctantly emptied the tankard and made a final sweep across the room. Just drunks and prostitutes. Nothing of interest here.

Disappointed, Alana arose from her seat and left the tavern, feeling relief when she closed the door and the night took her in its icy embrace. I am a creature of the night. Born in the darkness, I am strongest here.

In the dark, she could discern but little; just the occasional shadow flitting past a torch. Her inner demon roared at her. The succuba was thirsty now and needed a man. It was a primal instinct hard to explain to humans but something she felt even more fiercely than hunger. Her eyes darted from figure to figure, looking for a man alone. She did not attack groups as it was far too risky for a single demon and would draw attention.

A young man dressed in a dark cloak passed her by in silence. Alana turned to watch him, licking her lips. He would do very well. She followed him, hiding in shadows and moving stealthily, her footsteps as light as a cat's. He stopped in front of a small house and slipped inside. Alana waited for him to light a candle in the window and smirked. That's where he slept and she would invade his dreams tonight. All she had to do was be patient. He would sleep soon. The prospect made her body tingle.

He will be mine.