Wasp gave a wry smirk back to Shark, tugging her head into a nod of approval as he flashed his hand gesture. His sudden change in modality, admittedly, caught her a little off guard - it wasn’t everyday that H.E.A.R.T commented on good behaviour, which she figured was probably a focal point as to why group work felt so rewarding. Such notions were soon chased away as Smiles stumbled into her path; Wasp felt her eyes widen as the sudden advance pushed her footing a few steps back. “Uh, Howdy,” she raised an eyebrow in curiosity, attempting to peer through Smile’s tinted helmet, through his smiling facade, but to no avail as he swiveled away.

Wasp wasn’t surprised when Ghost delivered her talk on the importance of a team leader. As supportive as the company was to Wasp, the business had not much information on her private life, and vice versa. As curious as Wasp was about the rest of the member’s lives, she had never wanted work and personal life to integrate. The only piece of evidence that could be revealed about her life at home were depicted through her gloves, seemingly worn and well loved after many trials of re-construction. Like a gene in DNA splicing, only the cool, important bits of her student activities were injected into her business as an assassin. “I guess it’s on everyone’s minds that being in a team is a tad strange. I, for one, am not used to not being told the deets on a briefin’... Good thing I know you better as ‘cap’n’, huh,” she remarked. Impressed by Ghost’s confidence, Wasp wondered if the woman had done missions such as these in the past...

Soon, the fabled, mysterious fifth member spoke through the communicators. It just so happened that the female tone rung familiar to her, instantly calming Wasp’s anticipated worry of another member. “Ah, it’s Iris, hey~ Glad to hear you’re not dead yet; looking forward to saving your butt if you’d happen to fall into that circumstance again.” Playfully touching upon Iris and Wasp’s previous mission from the past year, she was aware of the lady’s capabilities enough to know that she were a huge asset to any campaign, albeit one easy to joke around with for not physically capable of killing, as a member of an assassin company. Watching and listening as Ghost conversed with Iris about the target’s whereabouts, she fiddled another dose into her digits. A few moments passed before the restless stirrings of inside the target’s room became apparent to the crew. “Wha-” she barely made a sound before the bubbling laughter of Ghost came to her attention. “...I wish I knew what the heck you’re on about, but for the benefit of the cap’n, I’m finding it funny anyway...” She couldn’t help but part her lips into a laugh, amused, as Ghost commented to the group. “Though, very glad you’re not just a straight-faced robot comprising of holograms, mate, ahah.”

When all was settled, and Ghost started to count down, Wasp’s fingers tensed. A bead of sweat slid down the side of her face. It came to her attention that this was the first time she’d participate in group combat, multiple people ‘taking down’ a singular target. “Right behind ye.” She spoke to Shark, eager to slip through the doors for an attack very much unexpected by the other party. She turned to Smiles with a nod. “Lookin’ forward to seeing what you can do, helmet head.” And with a friendly remark, off she went to fulfill her role in the mission.

_________________

As Ghost complimented Georgie's quick reflexes he felt a glimmer of pride, despite her mocking tone. If there was any way to get to him, it was through his pride. He was certainly the best, and only fools differed in opinion. Of course, he had to rely on the assistance of others, but they were just tools that he selected and acquired to get the job done. He was also pleased by his successful tracking of the team, as Ghost certainly seemed a bit disgruntled by his arrival. He was mystery, an empty vessel of a person yet to be filled in her thoughts. Georgie would definitely appeal to her, as she seemed to be in a position of power. He needed to play his gambit and make sure he was friendly towards her, and emulated the traits she wished to see from a fellow assassin. Judging from her type, she was unlikely to end up sleeping with him, but that was just a fun side-game, not the main objective. Wasp and Shark were currently on the back-burner, but would serve well as samples of different behaviours.
While he was musing, voice came through Georgie's communication network, belonging to someone to someone who had not yet spoken. The fifth, then. One mystery was solved. They appeared to be a collector of intelligence, not a true assassin. Georgie knew little about them, but then again, he didn't particularly care, as long as they did their job well. He himself was expecting to do excellently on the task set before him, to acquire some sort of weapon and disable it, it seemed. Ghost appeared to have little information on the weapon itself, so Georgie's mind whirred with concepts and ideas on what it was, exactly, to be able to bring down a top notch cyborg.
"...we can move fast," a piece of conversation between Ghost and the still unidentified scout caught Georgie's ears, causing him a brief bout of annoyance. His main tactic was stealth, and stealth was not to be hurried. Even with the expert technology of the time, he couldn't just magically walk in completely undetected. The camouflage effect unfortunately rippled slightly when he moved, causing him to resort to carefully calculated movement. A trained eye was more likely to spot the distortion than the average populace, but he would still rather do a job right than be rushed. And, of course, there was the element of distraction. If his target happened to be protected, he would have to find a way to distract them in a way that wouldn't cause them to take the weapon or worse, use it. He wanted to say something but curbed his tongue, deciding that the intelligence from the scout would be worth some extra speed. And, it seemed, it was going to be a rush job, as he slowly remembered the involvement of Wasp and Shark. He hadn't been listening very accurately, too busy focusing on his own piece of the puzzle. He was sure his stealth would come in later, but for now he just needed to be quick.
Georgie could feel his time coming as the feed of the room was brought through, but waited patiently as Ghost performed some of her visual trickery to divulge information about the weapon. "He's so freaked out!" Ghost proclaimed to them with glee. Smiles grinned back, pleased that they had found some common ground, which was pleasure in 'freaking' other people out. He found it immensely interesting when Wasp let out several bursting giggles, only just after explaining that she wasn't sure what Ghost had met, an interesting display of human behaviour.
Ghost quickly because distressed, however, announcing that her hologram had been disbanded by the weapon, which she had described as a small silver disk. Such a simple object, to do so much damage? Georgie hoped he would be able to understand it enough to disable it. Ghost's mention of a hefty paycheck gave him a little bit of an incentive booster. He could always use new equipment, and food. Oh, how he longed for a doughnut and a good cup of coffee.
Georgie's pulse was a firm pressure in his temples as his blood raced in excitement. Ghost counted down as if they were about to begin a race which, Georgie supposed, they were. A very dangerous race, possibly ending in death.
"Lookin’ forward to seeing what you can do, helmet head." The remark was pleasing to Georgie, as she was interested in his abilities, and the playful nickname denoted him a member of the group. He nodded back at her before turning to the door, which Ghost had just opened. He let out a little sigh, disappointed that the mission wasn't being done 'the right way', but he supposed there had to be a way for the others to be included.
Georgie turned on his camouflage to get the edge he needed, the precious seconds in which he had to grab the weapon, while his eyes quickly surveyed every corner of the room. A bookshelf, a filing cabinet, a man, a desk, a silver disk. There was his target who was, very unfortunately, staring straight at them. Georgie had to run like high hell if he wanted to grab the weapon before the man, who was incredibly plain looking, he noted, grabbed at it. Georgie once against snorted in frustration at the lack of tact in this operation's plan. Brute force was not his strong suit.
His legs carried him like a strange lizard, gliding over the floor with incredible speed. He stayed in a straight line of motion in order to reduce distortion, but he still expected himself to appear as some sort of strange half-formed specter. He could barely contain his amusement as he watched the man, wide-eyed and alert, reach for the disk with such an astonishing slowness. It amazed Georgie, how people could live like that, to be so weak and vulnerable. His cyborg pieces had certainly been the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, besides, of course, his blessed birth.
The disk was scooped up and brought to Georgie's helmet, inspecting it from every possible angle. It was extremely small and almost weightless, causing Georgie to doubt if he could even identify a way to disable it. a blue button evidently activated the item, but otherwise it seemed seamless, and Ghost had specifically ordered him not to break it. Wait. There was a small slit on the back side, so small that he had to zoom in to notice it. The specially pointed tip of his pinkie barely fit into the crack, causing the disk to split neatly into three parts, two the outer shell, and one a filamented inside. An absurd thought compared the device to a combination of a Jammie Dodger and an Oreo, but was quickly dismissed as he examined the contents. He wasn't exactly sure how 'deactivated' Ghost wanted the object, but he was fairly certain it wouldn't work now until it was put back together. The wiry filaments of the inside was pressed in to a clear card-like object, the wires themselves an iridescent, beautiful shimmer. He had never seen something so intricate before, and he was a cyborg.
His speed reduced, as he waited for the other two to complete their tasks. He could have easily taken the man out himself, but he did what he was expected to, and nothing less. He would be what they expected him to be until further notice.

_________________

Exhaling gently, Shark thought to himself for a split second before he did anything else. It wasn't an act of hesitation by any means. In fact, he highly doubted that anyone else would have even realized that he did it.

Nevertheless, he had paused to collect himself for the time being.

Going on a mission that involved this type of group combat wasn't something that he was going to be used to by any means.

Regardless of his thoughts, though, he thought that he was going to enjoy this, especially considering that it had already been figured out as to how he was going to work together with Wasp.

Looking back with a nod, he felt it was now the time to act. Having a singular target was certainly going to help him for sure.

Reaching about for a moment to get his bearings fully, he was soon enough sneaking through those doors quite silently. It was something that even his own mother, who of course had the same love for assassinating targets that he did, had taught him from a young age.

As a result, he had the same ability to sneak past that single opening without any noise that a shark moving through water would have when sneaking up on their prey.

One of the problems with doors was the fact that they could be noisy. Pocket doors and regular swinging doors were both a problem when one wanted to be where they weren't supposed to be.

That was perhaps why he had devoted so much time to this one field of what might be called study for someone in his line if work.

That was, of course, if one wished to refer to what it was that he did as a profession.

Moments after he passed through the threshold, though, he felt his heart rate suddenly quicken. Many of his internal organs were electronically controlled, and he could certainly feel it the moment that he was suddenly given the privilege of having each cell ready to go about inhaling more blood and oxygen. It felt positively exhilarating, and it gave him the wherewithal to leap across the remaining floor space with maneuvers that were surely superhuman.

As a result, it hadn't taken very long for him to have his hands on the individual inside, apparently holding back the delicate flesh of the neck so that Wasp, presuming she had followed along, might be able to stab at it.

If this was what teamwork was like, then he had certainly wanted to be on a team much more frequently than he had in the past.

Keeping things going with people as skilled as this could have given him the reasons that he had needed to be competitive all over again, but there were apparently more important things for him to focus on at the moment.

Should the target have offered any resistance at all, he would have easily been able to subdue him further, but to be perfectly honest Shark hadn't really wanted to do that. It would have ruined his fun entirely, and it wouldn't have given Wasp the position that she had needed.

Nevertheless, in the case such resistance had been offered then he most assuredly wouldn't have had to kill the other individual anyway. It may have been enough just to temporarily incapacitate him.

Without any real hesitation, Shark once more reflected on what it was that was going on. It would have done his mother so proud for her to see him like this.

Ghost watched the team get to work, quite pleased with them. Everybody had done their job perfectly, it appeared, and a job well done with a job that made Ghost happy. Her part here was done, but... she wanted to have a chat.

She held her hand up to Wasp, signifying her to wait until she put the man to sleep. She walked over to the druglord, grabbing his chin and looking him in the eyes. "I like my nanomachines. I don't like people destroying them. You're going to regret that." She said, giving him a small slap, a taste of things to come for him.

"Money? Do you want money? I'll give you money! Come on, how much do you want!" The druglord suddenly started to babble, looking scared out of his mind.

"Aww, look at that. He's begging." Ghost giggled, the white dots that signified eyes on her face plate suddenly turning red. And using her voice modifier to create the most unsettling voice she could, she game him a simple order. "Shut the hell up."

To her pleasure, it worked.

"Alrighty. Playtime's over kids, time to go home. Put him to sleep, Wasp. Somebody put him in the trunk, then we're out." She walked over to Smiles, taking the bits of the device from him. She looked it over, amazed at the make of it. It was incredibly intricate, yet so small. Whoever had made it was skilled at their craft, that much was sure.

"Okay, you did a good job. Don't spend that bonus all in one place, you hear?" She joked, walking off.

---

"Hello." Ghost said to Iris, suddenly getting in the back of the get away car. While using getaway vehicles found at the mission site was fairy common, they rarely had to hold more than one assassin them, So Ghost had to wonder how it would go.

She had to admit, the mental image of a card full of cyber killers was HIGHLY amusing to her, though. "Good job, you saved us a lot of time." She complimented, putting on her seat belt. Safety first. Oddly enough, she didn't take off he helmet, so she looked a bit out of place in the otherwise average car.

"When the other ones get here, we'll head out."

Wasp shadowed behind Shark, intrigued by how slick the experienced assassin moved, and even more amazed at the wonders of biotechnology combined with physical ability when Shark leaped towards the target with incredible precision. It took Wasp a bit more effort to pace towards the location, her panels of specialised armour buzzing in eager response to any sign of Wasp’s endurance slowing down. As she pushed on through the increasingly heated-up room, it was quick to see that today’s mission was terribly one-sided. H.E.A.R.T had taken over, with Smiles managing to secure the oddly shaped instrument, and Shark already pulling back the helpless target’s neck. “Well, that was easy,” Wasp slowed down as she approached Shark, folding her arms in approval before stretching the back of her glove. Her technology tensed upon contact, needle slickly sharpened to the point of no return. She wanted to be extra sure this guy was in for a real treat. “You’ll need a whole lotta smokes - the strong stuff - after this one, druggie-”

Just as she raised her hand, a raised palm from Ghost signalled in return to pause her fun. Though telling from the strong intent covering Ghost’s face, she had her own fun to be had. Ghost’s raised palm soon met an end to the targets face, coupled with the powerful line; “you’re going to regret that.”

“Oh ****, nobody be messin’ with the Ghosterrr,” Wasp retorted before a surprised gasp of initial contact.

Thinking about it, Wasp had no reason to be startled. This mission could not have gotten any stranger; from random additional team mates, to a forceful un-assassin-like tactic to get to this point... It was surely a mission to remember. As Ghost’s ‘eyes’ changed colour to crimson, and her voice altered, the words that soon sounded scared Wasp, even though the words weren’t even being directed at her. ‘Shut the hell up’. Wasp shuddered her shoulders with a confused smile as the druglord fell silent.

Without further complaint, Wasp looked down upon the hopeless target, wryly muttered “I’ve got some morphine in ‘ere just for you to get hooked on~” as she pressed into the open skin, and down the figure’s head flopped. His mind turned to a land of cloudy dreams, vivid hallucinations for rainbows and in long-term effect, horrible bowel movements. A favourite way to mess with people according to Wasp. What worse was there in the world than being unable to leave the bathroom?

“Smiles and Shark, you two want to share carrying the weight? Just to get back to Ghost and Iris faster; she’s already taken off.” Wasp admittedly wasn’t great at carrying heavy objects, or even much hand-on physical work in general, so left the remaining task up to the two of them, who seemed to suit more athletic fighting styles. Unsure of if one of them could handle the weight on their own, it was for the best to just ask both of them. Wasp raised an arm, ushering them to the path that Ghost had just walked through, watching the team from behind as they exited the scene. All went quiet for a solemn moment, the sounds of footsteps echoing through the halls being the only signs of life. Thankfully, the team emerged victorious for now; it was enough for Wasp to give herself an internal pat on the back. The faint smell of bloodshed lingered on the air, a scent that to most assassins, including Wasp, was a very pleasing one indeed. For being able to breathe after a mission signified another day worth living... And a uni paper to write. Sigh. If only Wasp could write ‘MYSELF’ under the prime sources of pioneering biotechnology, but some things were unfortunately better kept secret.

“What’s up, punks!” A relived sigh pushed from Wasp as she fell into the side back seat, beside the girls. Leaning forward to look at Iris, she smiled gratefully as she added to Ghost’s statement, “Yeah, mate, good work. Same goes to all of you.” She eyed each member before continuing, “Honestly, I’m shocked that random strangers could co-operate so well together. So yeah. We all deserve a drink for this one.”

And without further ado, Wasp reached into her pocket, pulled out the expensive looking guard-sunnies, and slid them with purpose onto her face. This was the true reward to her. “Let’s roll,” she dramatically stated like a cliché movie agent, staring out the window despite nothing being there but an empty wall and shadows. She was tickled herself at the idea of being in a car full of murderers - er - ‘professional members of the H.E.A.R.T organisation’; this part of the mission seemed to potentially be the cruisey part, but who knew what these people were like without the looming feeling of their lives being on the line?

_________________

Everything went smoothly, the target being completely neutralized and the disk being acquired. A surprising lack of killing was in this so-called assassin job, it seemed. The mission was mostly complete, excluding the getaway, and Georgie couldn't help but feel uneasy. What was all this? Why four assassins to do a single, relatively simple, job? It just didn't add up, and his hand that held the strange disk prickled in apprehension, despite everything going so smoothly. Ghost had mentioned that it was some sort of weapon, enough to bring down a top assassin, with apparently only the click of a button. While yes, Georgie had volunteered himself for this task, and it had cured his boredom, Georgie's sense of self-preservation was still active and running. A little fishing boy was still buried, perhaps, underneath the wiring, syntax, and overwhelming urge to dominate other living creatures. His emotion were dreary and bleak, quite unlike his normal murderously positive attitude. He watched with a detached sense of interest as Ghost became a denizen of Hell, bring out an insurmountable fear into the target. Admirable.
Ghost then turned to the rest of the assassins and barked some orders before approaching Georgie and collecting the disk, admiring it as he had just a few moments prior. Georgie almost wanted to snatch it back, to keep her from breaking it, but he resisted the mild urges. This device truly was a thing of beauty, power, and mystery. The dreaded prickling was gone, but there was still a grimace under his smiling helmet. Georgie sent a quick prayer that his horrendous mood would be gone soon. He always preferred to be in a neutral state, which made it much easier for him to manipulate his body and tone into whatever he pleased, although joviality was always nice every now and then. The pleasure of his own company would soon be cure enough for his negativity, and the hefty promise of sums from Ghost was enough to life anyone's spirits. He would likely spend it on food and drink, assassin gear, possibly a prostitute if the mood came over him. A man of few wants, he was. It wasn't a religious or moral philosophy that brought him to this point of view of having so few possessions, but simply a choice that he made along the road. A single blue backpack was all he had ever needed to get by.
Ghost's light show was finished, the target subdued. Wasp's chirping comment was a thrill to Georgie. It seemed that already the girl had been sucked under the standard hierarchy, her words appealing to Ghost, the 'boss'. An interesting behaviour of people, to praise those with power when they aren't willing to take it themselves. She certainly wasn't a fool, and neither was Georgie. A joke or two, a favour here and there, could get someone far in life.
Wasp stopped her excited jabbering and injected the man with morphine, reducing him to a deluded sack of meat, before turning to Wasp and Shark, requesting that they bring him to the getaway car. Georgie blinked. This car was to fit five assassins and a hostage? They would be travelling together, it seemed. No assassin would be used to leaving a job in such a manner. Georgie certainly wasn't, all of his missions up until now being singular or a duo, but he couldn't help but let the image of an old Sienna mini-van flood his mind, causing him to chuckle. Soccer practice was such a long time ago. The thought of wet grass and high socks had such a nostalgic quality.
Georgie left his inner musings and turned to his lifting partner, Shark. While Georgie's body was mostly made for stealth and quick maneuvers, he could still lift more than the average human because of the strength difference between a cybernetic body and a flesh one. The human body, Georgie mused, was so frail without constant training. He had true power at his disposal most of the time, without having to even lift a single weight. "Do you have a particular end you wish to lift?" Georgie joked to Shark, taking a poke at the drug lord, who was beginning to slide comically out of his chair. Georgie didn't stop the druggie as he fell out of the chair entirely, crumpling to the ground and causing the chair to go rolling back, hitting the wall behind it with a soft thump. "Poor thing," he hummed, "he just needed a wee nap." Ghost and Wasp had already exited the room, leaving himself, Shark, and their object in need of lifting. Georgie turned towards Shark expectantly. They had better get a move on before any more nobodies came along to spoil their fun. The kills would be entertaining, but the secrecy of their mission gave Georgie reason to not want them to be spotted. He didn't want to lose his bonus, after all.

_________________

This wasn't a part that Shark was honestly used to. He didn't usually try to capture and torture people. Generally he usually preferred to keep things neat and clean, and finish the job quickly enough. As a result, this all seemed pretty unusual to him and he sort of had his plate full simply not trying to go over and finish the job.

Regardless, it hadn't taken nearly any time for Wasp to get the job done, and Shark certainly was intrigued by her armor even as his motions intrigued her. At least, he had assumed so judging by the way that she had offered her own gesture.

His gestures seemed to indicate that he was sharing some approval of her actions as well on top of the fact that she had shared some for his.

Admittedly, he wasn't entirely sure what was going on with the whole Ghost thing, but at this point that wasn't really what he was concerned about.

"I'd be happy to carry some of it. It doesn't matter anyway. I prepared a nice getaway vehicle like I said."

At that point he actually appreciated her cliche, considering that it was mentioned before that this had basically become like the plot of some sort of movie anyway. They had a vehicle and if she was going to say let's roll, he didn't mind that one bit.

Georgie didn't have to worry either, since he was soon carrying his weight along, quite literally actually as he moved the individual that they had come here to get. It shouldn't have been too difficult to reach the bottom levels once more, considering the relative ease that it had taken getting here, and once they were there they could let the vehicle do the work for them.

Ironically the one thing that he had lamented was the fact that Ghost looked so out of place in the vehicle. Presuming that Georgie wouldn't have had any problems either it wouldn't have been difficult for them all to meet up near the open vehicle.

Shark had wished he had stolen a more attractive car. This one wasn't the coolest looking thing around, and that had hurt just slightly. He did have a reputation as a cyborg assassin to protect, after all, and he had wanted to do his job in style.

He knew only all too well that the helmet would have certainly looked better in another class of motor vehicle.

Iris knew that the job was all finished - she could see it, plain as day, through the security feed. But still she was on edge. She could tell her coworkers felt the same way from the way they were walking as they returned to the van, glancing around as if expecting a surprise assault from some hidden character. Another assassin, perhaps. That mission had just been far too easy.

Fortunately, Iris knew how organizations like H.E.A.R.T. managed their forces. She thought it was very likely that this mission would not be the team's last, but rather a warm-up in preparation for things to come. It was the same deal in the police, when a small group of detectives was brought together for an especially tough case. They would always invest more to confirm that the detectives were comfortable working together before tackling the more difficult parts of the case.

Iris was pulled from her thoughts by the voice of Ghost ringing distantly through her real ears with a greeting, marking her arrival in the vehicle. Iris couldn't help but blink a couple of times as her vision returned to her body. She was used to the stinging, of course, but switching in between two-dimensional and three-dimensional vision always disoriented her.

"Thanks for the compliment, G." Iris stuffed her hands into her hoodie's pockets, smiling despite Ghost being unable to see it under her ski mask. "Glad to know I was at least a little bit helpful."

By the time Wasp jumped into the vehicle, though, Iris' mind was back on the subject of business. Normally, she'd make a sarcastic remark about the shades, and maybe note that she definitely shouldn't be drinking at her age, but all she said was a distracted "Sure." She was far too busy giving the mysterious device a look.

This was clearly the other reason she was called in - an on-site examination of the weapon, and a hypothesis as to what it was, what it did, and what countermeasures could be taken against it. She knew more than enough about tech - she tinkered with her eyes when off the job, and had designed all of the prosthetics' upgrades herself.

But even she had to admit that, without any specialized tools, it would be practically impossible to determine the device's mysterious energy wave. Her first guess was an EMP, but she could dismiss that from surveillance footage alone - had it been an EMP, the security cameras would have gone offline as soon as they were exposed. Besides, cyborg parts were designed very specifically so that EMPs couldn't harm them, as plenty of military folk used cyborg prosthetic to stay in service after having lost limbs. This device, on the other hand, was specifically targeting cybernetics.

The plot thickens. If she had a pipe and some tobacco, Iris would probably be blowing smoke rings as she thought. A three-pipe problem, indeed! (She was fond of making witty references to books, movies, and video games from humanity's earlier days. A trait inherited from her father, bless him...)

Iris hopped into the front passenger seat - her eyes would be useful up front, and Smiles would need some room for his unconscious body. "So, could we make this quick? I have a sinking feeling I'm gonna be called away on more IRL biz soon." It wasn't just a feeling - she usually got called in on the assassin cases because of her experience in dealing with them in the past. Of course, the police and H.E.A.R.T. each had their own definitions for her "dealings". All the police knew was that her father was put comatose by an assassin attack.

_________________

Vindico needed an upgrade. Watching the current, unorthodox, H.E.A.R.T group in action, she was impressed by their array of technology and skills. Mildly jealous, in fact. She was familiar with their code names and had a basic knowledge of their abilities, but seeing them all in action was something else entirely. It was 'just a simple mission', though, she admitted, the team managed it with text-book proficiency. H.E.A.R.T seldom sent so many out, many one or two, three at an absolute push, any more than that was highly irregular. Not only that, this was not a typical, straight-forward mission, Vindico suspected this team would be working together for some time, and this data-gathering was simply the first step in a much grander plan. It was possible that the very existence of H.E.A.R.T was balancing on a knife's edge.

It seemed Vindico had chosen a good time to make her intentions known. She could have been a multi-billionaire, hacking her way through banks, taking money from all the rich, poor sods who did not deserve it, leaving false trails, leading all the authorities on wild, pointless chases tracking down people who didn't exist. That would have been too easy, fun for a time, but ultimately pointless. H.E.A.R.T was another matter, having followed their exploits for some time before making her presence known, she knew she could make a difference working for them, that her existence might actually be worth living. It was a case of live for something or die for nothing. Always when she had killed before, it was personal - not that any of her targets knew of her existence, nevertheless - this time it was the same, killing bad people for the greater good. H.E.A.R.T did good work, and she wanted to be a part of that.

However, she did not expect to working with so many others. Her talents were at their most useful when she worked alone, or perhaps, she was simply more comfortable doing things by herself, since fundamentally, she was a loner. H.E.A.R.T had given her the brief for her first mission, which she suspected, arrived shortly before the rest of the 'team' got theirs so she had time to get into position. Vindico was simply to observe the mission, to protect it from a distance and make sure the group escaped the warehouse, with the package, and weren't pursued by any potential bogey's. It appeared H.E.A.R.T wanted to make certain nobody suspected them in the theft.

Vindico was cognizant of everything going on inside the warehouse as she 'eavesdropped' in on the constant chatter of the team. H.E.A.R.T had, of course, given her access to the communications but she had, as yet, not made them aware that she was ensuring their safety from outside. She didn't even think they knew of her existence which is the way she would prefer it - though it was entirely possible and feasible that they did. Right now she watched as the team assembled inside their getaway vehicle.

Ghost knew. Ghost knew deep in her robotic and nanomachine filled heart one truth.

She was going to get into SO much trouble for choosing this particular way of escape. However, the sight of a bunch of cyborgs and a knocked out body in the small car made it ALL worth it. IF she hadn't already lost her composure so much on the mission already, she would definitely be losing it now, laughing like a maniac. Well, she guess it wouldn't be LIKE one, it would be one. She pushed the thought out of her mind, giving Shark the order to head off. She shifted, lowering her head so it simply look like she was wearing a hoodie to anybody who happened to look inside.

"...Anybody want to stop for burgers?" She asked, one last joke for the night.

---

At this point, Vindico would receive a call. "The mission is over. You did a good job. Head back." A voice said, sounding like a woman in her late forties.


One week later

The members of H.E.A.R.T who were on the mission had not heard a single thing about it until today. And technically, the only thing they had heard about it was they were going to be told more of it.

They had been gathered all into a slightly larger than normal briefing room, all of them instructed to come into their civilian clothing. The room was completely empty, with plain white walls and cement flooring, which was slightly raised at one end of the room to form what could be called a stage, if one was feeling generous.

Of course, despite being large than normal, the room was still rather cramp, having each member of the team, including Vindico...but besides Ghost, oddly enough, who was without a trace.

On the stage was a woman, with short chin length brown hair and glasses, wearing a business suit. She appeared to be in her late forties, and she looked at the team with a hint of amusement. Something about this was funny to her, but no one would be able to tell.

"Hello, beloved members of H.E.A.R.T. We are proud to tell you your mission was a great success, and we thank you for your part in helping the group grow, and removing evil from the world." She started, reciting the usual "good job" opening line of a mission debriefing .

She then laughed, shaking her head. "Now that that lame as hell line it out of the way, good job. The members that were meant to be there did great, and those that weren't meant to be there did good enough we've decided we don't care." She said, giving Georgie a glance and a small smirk.

"Now, you all might be wondering why you're here! And why you're in your civilian clothing. Well, that's simple. As some of you most likely guess, this mission was half experiment. To see how a team would work. And, to be blunt, it worked well. So well, infact, that we've deemed it of enough worth to continue it. So, congrats, you all are going to be seeing a LOT more of each other! I can tell you're all very thrilled and excited about it." She explained, placing her hands behind her back and judging the various reactions.

"Don't kill each other, even if you hate each other. We have to pay for that. We will dock you pay." She added. "As to why you're here in civilian wear." She paused at this point, almost unbelieving what she was about to say this. "Get to know each other! Become...friends, I guess. That makes you a better team, after all. At the very least, get to know each other, enough that it'll help on missions."

She took a breath, heading to the second part of the debriefing. "As for the results of the mission.... Perfect. We're still not entirely sure how the device works, but we're getting there. But, what IS important is that we found out where the target received the device. Once we work out some minor details... well, I'm sure you all are clever enough to guess your next mission. Anyways, that's all. Wait untill we call you for your next mission, get to know each other in the meantime." She said, leaving the room without another word.


"They're going to kill each other." Was the only thing she could think.

“... Now that you mention it, I am kinda peckish. Look, there’s a Maccas right there!” She pressed her face against the window childishly as they drove past a McDonalds restaurant, chuckling in half disappointment as they zoomed back to H.E.A.R.T for the retrieval of the body, now weighting the boot of their getaway car. Sinking back into the comfortable, expensive looking plush backseat, Wasp thought of how thankful she was for not having to die on her own bloody birthday.

---

“Honey, I’m home~” Wasp took slow steps into her apartment, eager to rip off her biotechnological gear from her hands and limbs as she flopped into her couch. She tossed away the hair tie binding her braid, allowing tense hair to ease messily about her narrow face. She stretched an arm to open the lid of her paper thin, modern laptop that was sitting on the coffee table beside her, spending the next few moments flicking through her emails and school notes. “Ugh, gutter people,” Wasp frowned, instantly deleting the correspondence of the few people who wanted to buy her handmade drugs. “17 year old Veloce would’ve been more than happy to do that ****, but I’ve gotten tired of voluntarily polluting my mind. Now I just kill people for a similar satisfaction, and a daily tobacco sets me right, haha... Isn’t that right, dear Minty?”

It was then she drew her attention to her giant Flemish rabbit waddling in her direction. The adorable snow white, genetically modified baby had jellyfish DNA injected into its embryo thanks to Wasp; seeing the tattooed deviant as its mother, Wasp took careful measures to bunny-proof her house and make her apartment cleaner than usual just to let the animal roam free when she was away on long missions. This was ultimately a funny thought to Wasp, as she was so apathetic towards most people but took all the care in the world for her single simple mutant creation. It whiffled its nose as Wasp pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, sitting upright to open her apartment window as she puffed her way through the late hours of the night. Eventually lifting up the pet into her lap, Wasp turned on her bionic lenses to a UV light filter, observing the rightfully named Minty’s ‘minty-coloured’ glow as night shrouded the dim apartment. Stroking its fur for comfort, Wasp turned back to the laptop and dictated her essay on biotechnology, her words appearing on the computer’s screen before her. The rabbit playfully nibbled on her finger, and instantly, Wasp pulled it away from her teeth. “You have no idea where that’s been, love.”

---

Wasp, early to the meeting, sat in a front row chair of H.E.A.R.T’s briefing room, glancing about as the other team members from the previous mission filed in. Her face seemed a lot less tenacious now, especially considering she had just recently handed in the latest uni report for her degree, and had all the time in the world to focus on earning some cash. She nodded at the familiar faces, and even to Vindico, assuming she were just there for supervision, though pursed her lips in amusement as they came to the organisation donned in their civilian clothing. “You guys look a lot less scarier without your ominous black suits of death and dangerous weapons,” she expressed to no one in particular, crossing her legs which wore cuffed dark blue jeans. A plain grey shirt topped with her usual baggy cat-eared hoodie hung onto her torso, the sleeves pulled up to peek at her watercolour fish-and-flower tattoos down her left arm. The organisation really was ordering stranger and curiouser asks out of her, weren’t they? Although they informed to dress casually, she couldn’t help but store a few tubes of drugs and a pack of cigarettes into her jacket pockets. You know, just in case.

As the woman’s speech commenced, Wasp couldn’t help but dose of at the monotony of it. Spacing out between the speaker’s words, her concentration soon snapped back at the sound of ‘experiment’, followed by ‘friends’. She turned to the rest of the crew, wondering what they thought of it. Perhaps, she reconsidered, the mission wasn’t as straightforward as it initially seemed. What had made H.E.A.R.T suddenly decide for this new ‘strategy’ in teamwork?

_________________

Georgie sat in an alley, staring absentmindedly at the brick wall in front of him. The burger he was currently eating had the mild taste of sawdust. The taste was unsatisfying, but the eating was fulfilling. He could have stayed in the fast food restaurant, but bright lights had always bothered him. Even following his father around the small grocery store in his home town had irritated his senses, making him squint and grab his father's pant leg for guidance. His eyesight had been checked, but they found no physical abnormalities.
Finishing his burger, Georgie carefully folded the wrapper and placed the empty, crinkling wrappings into the metal waste bin just beside him. The smell of the alley was not particularly unpleasant, when not focussed upon.
A ringing noise brought Georgie's attention to his green backpack. His cell phone was ringing. The only person that had Georgie's number was H.E.A.R.T, so it was easy to know who was calling. A short rummage in the front pouch of his backpack, and he retrieved the ringing device. "This is Smiles," he said cheerfully, excited to have another job. The 'group activity' of last week was already forgotten as just another day.
The phone on the other line gave Georgie details of location on where he would receive his orders. The request that he should wear his civilian clothes intrigued him. Was it perhaps a test? Georgie looked down at himself, examining his dirt covered hoodie in distaste. He could certainly use some new clothes. Perhaps semi-casual would be presentable. The screen of his phone displayed the time. He compared it to the time that the message had specified. He had enough time to do a bit of shopping. He sat up with a grunt, pulling his backpack around one shoulder. He was still a little tipsy from a beer he had had earlier in the day. He wasn't an avid drinker, but went to bars off and on, usually to pick up women and watch hockey games. He was a personal fan of the Winnipeg Jets, and made occasional bets on their win for the thrill.
He tottered out of the alley, securing his backpack and running a hand through his sandy, somehow clean hair.
"Please," a voice from behind Georgie caused him to spin around fiercely, face contorted into a horrible snarl, hands in a position to lay down a beating. His guard was lowered when he saw that it was simply a homeless man, who had been across from him almost the entire time he had been in the alley. He had simply thought the pile of rags to be another fixture of garbage. "Please," the man continued, now sitting up and gazing at Georgie through wiry, unkempt hair and beard, "can you spare any money?" He had the voice of a man who had long given up, but still continued because it was simply his way of life.
Georgie stared at the man for a few moments. He had preferred it when he thought the man had been a garbage pile. Perhaps he could scare the man a little, build up his own self confidence. He reached in to a side pouch of his bag, retrieving a foldable knife. He unfolded the blade and held it lovingly, pressing the blade gently under his fingernails to be rid of any dirt that had accumulated there. "You see," he began with a sharp intake of breath, "I really shouldn't talk to strangers. My dad says they're dangerous, y'know?" He took a step forward, admiring his newly cleaned nails. "You never know who a person could be. They could be a kidnapper, a molester, a... murderer." Georgie took another step forward, eyes glinting with a fierce madness. He was now towering over the man, who cowered against the brick wall behind him. Georgie's foot shot out, giving the homeless man a firm kick in the ribs. The man, naturally let out a sharp squeal of pain. Georgie let out a delighted sigh, placing his foot on the man's own foot, this time slowly increasing the pressure. The man attempted to move Georgie's foot, tears in his, but didn't have the strength.
"My donation," Georgie hissed, bending down to look at the man's face, with a wicked grin on his own. He held his blade to the man's throat, as obscured by beard as it was. Georgie stared into the man's eyes for a pleasurable amount of the time. This control over another man's life, his absolute power, felt so very erotic. His entire body shivered with a perverse pleasure as he finished his statement. "...is your life. Since you asked so awfully nicely." Georgie stepped off of the man, folding his knife back up. It wasn't through empathy that Georgie had saved the man. It had been a simple decision, like whether to get chocolate or vanilla.
As Georgie left down the alley, backpack swinging, a song from home came to mind. His lips parted to quietly him the tune that had so invaded his brain. "And I gazed on the harbour, on a gray foggy day..."

---

Georgie entered the H.E.A.R.T. building, eyes scanning his surroundings carefully. He had decided against buying clothes and instead had washed his regular clothes at a 24 hour laundromat. He wore a blue knitted toque, a dark green tee shirt, and plain jeans.
He found the regular briefing room and entered, feeling suddenly apprehensive about wearing his civilian clothes. It felt so wrong. What was all this?
Georgie's fears were confirmed when he found two faces in the briefing room instead of one. Memories of the five-man kidnapping session of a week ago came flooding back. Was this related? Was this punishment for him having joined the mission on his own accord? He let nothing sway him outwardly, instead calmly choosing a chair at the table and relaxing, or at least attempting to.
People continued to file in, until the room was a sea of faces. Some tingled Georgie's memory, while one received no recognition. As he remembered the mission, he remembered Ghost. She was his prime target. A favour from her would have high worth. Unfortunately, it didn't appear that she was here. Georgie prevented himself from gritting his teeth in annoyance. Normally with his helmet, it was much easier to present himself in a proper manner, but now he would have to focus.
The briefing began, and Georgie could barely believe what he was hearing. Was this an elementary school? Would they be singing kumbaya and playing name games in a circle? He considered leaving. He could find another job. With his 'skills' it wouldn't be hard. Yet something kept him in his seat. This was something interesting. Exciting. He let out laugh, clapping once in an amused manner. "This is like a staff party!" He announced, eyes twinkling, "shall we introduce ourselves, have some cake?" There was no cake, but the joke was clear to those in the room. This was not normal. They themselves were not normal. Georgie leaned back in his chair, rubbing his nose lightly. "I'm Smiles, or George, if you prefer. I'm much prettier without the helmet, don't you think?" He decided to wholeheartedly embrace this freak show, wherever it would lead them. Just as long as he could remember everyone's bloody names.

_________________

"The mission is over. You did a good job. Head back."

Vindico watched the getaway car getaway from half a mile away, when it veered out of sight she still hung from the derelict building by three appendages as she scanned the warehouse for any signs of pursuit. There were none. The place was dead, as if no one had even been there and guards were all but oblivious that uninvited people had even entered the premises. Sooner or later though, they might realise a car was missing, but by that time it would be far to late to anything worthwhile about it.

Tapping her earpiece to switch off her communications, the assassin crept down the side of the building to return to base.

* * *

Her apartment was practically bare, but still, somehow managed to be an absolute mess. No carpets, badly removed wallpaper, damp marks and mold in every corner. Not even a single shade for the lights, some of which flickered badly. Just the way she liked it. Her bedroom exemplified all of the neglect, plus the luxury of a well-worn mattress, which stank, had several springs sticking from it and was boldly decorated with an abundance of unidentifiable stains; and a single pathetic, crumpled pillow.

But the secret room, well, that was another matter entirely. It was immaculate, not even a single spec of dust marred its pristine metallic sheen. A very sophisticated computer sat against the far wall, custom built by herself, of course, which had the latest of everything - scavenged or stolen. The cramp room also housed a medical array or syringes and pouches all neatly arranged to provide Vindico will the nutrients she needed on a daily basis, she simply had to plug herself in. Lastly, a shower was built into the corner.

Presently, Vindico had just hacked her way into her parents security system, her father was mowing the lawn and her mother was making brunch (they never ate breakfast or lunch). Today was always the day her father did the household chores in preparation for his wife's afternoon book club. Despite the fact they had all but given up on their estranged daughter, Vindico was grateful that they had, at least, tried to be 'proper' parents to her and were heart-broken when she had abandoned them. Still, she wanted them to be safe, and checked up on them on a daily basis to ensure that they were. She would never abandon them completely.

She watched her mothers sad face concentrating on the blender when a blue flash pinged from the corner of her desktop. It was H.E.A.R.T, tapping her earpiece, she listened to the message. She sat, quietly contemplating, they had not messaged her for an entire week and she was beginning to suspect they had forgotten about her. The message pleased and irritated her. Hesitantly, the muscular woman stood and looked around for her stuff. She was essentially dressed but threw her feet into a pair of 'dead mans boots' and chucked a well-worn biker jacket over her hunched shoulders.

Normally she wouldn't braid her hair (currently a bright crimson) if she was venturing out as a civilian, but it was windy outside, and she absolutely hated her hair blowing every which way but where. Looking in the mirror, she traced the outline of the dragon tattooed to the side of her skull with a chipped, black-varnished fingernail, her face betraying the very fist hint of emotion that day; a sort of timid half-smile that quickly vanished.

Some time later Vindico - Deborah, since she was a civilian now - parked her silent-motor bike behind the H.E.A.R.T head office and strolled sedately to the appointed meeting room. As she entered the building, several staff looked quizzically at her, one even side-stepping out of her way with exaggerated deliberateness as they passed in the corridor, as if making a point that she was somehow hostile or unfriendly, both of which may or may not have been accurate summations. Deborah didn't even bother rolling her eyes at the pathetic man.

Finding the room, she slipped silently in but did not sit in any of the chairs, instead she headed straight for the corner farthest away from the people in the room like a misbehaved school-child, put her back to the wall, crossed her arms and closed her eyes. Of course, she had picked up every detail of the room, even the tiniest of nuances did not escape her split-second attention.

"... I can tell you're all very thrilled and excited about it." This almost - almost - made Deborah smile. Soon enough, the lady with glasses exited the room, leaving H.E.A.R.T's newest recruit somewhat perplexed. This was their mission? To become friends? What need had she for friends? She briefly contemplated leaving, that was what her head told her to do. However, her heart was with H.E.A.R.T, she had sought them out, signed up to be an operative and she would be damned if she would back out now.

Mentally sighing, Deborah opened her eyes.

Of course the mission had felt far too easy to Shark as well, but he wasn't going to really say anything about it. He felt comfortable behind the controls of the getaway car, and he figured that was all that really mattered at the moment.

Something had certainly been up, though, and it was certainly weird. The fact that they were all together also made him think as well, just as it had done to Iris, though there was no way that he could have known that Iris was thinking the same thing at all. Rather, he had just assumed his thoughts were his and his alone.

When so many skilled individuals were brought together, something pretty big had to be in the works. They wouldn't have all been put together merely because of this operation.

A single assassin could have probably done what they did. There wouldn't have been a reason to send them all out like this unless someone wanted to see how they worked together.

Shark knew very well that he didn't quite understand what was going on up top. The highest levels of the H.E.A.R.T. organization were a complete mystery to him.

Naturally that concerned him more than any outside enemy would have. He didn't know exactly who it was that was watching them, and that thought had actually made him more than just a little uncomfortable to say the very least for sure.

As soon as Ghost had given him the command to go off, he drove, knowing that if he kept everything cool no one would have ever thought anything was weird about all of them moving about. Indeed, the fact that someone actually waved to the tinted vehicle as it pulled out onto a main road.

Whoever it was had no idea who they were, and Shark waved back, confident that he had for sure concealed their identity. Eventually he was able to find some place to dispose of the vehicle comfortably.

Having allowed everyone to get out of it before he did, Shark soon pushed the accelerator down as hard as he could before opening the door and bailing out of it. A few short moments later was all that it had taken for the aforementioned electric car to falter off of a cliff and soar down crashing into the water below.

He had made his way out from there.

For a while after that he went on living as though he weren't an undercover assassin, and he hadn't heard anything about it until maybe a week later.

It was then that he had received orders to come in for some sort of a new briefing. Well, Shark didn't really look forward to a meeting.

Naturally, he considered this the lame part of his work. Doing the killing was the excellent part, and this was just the same aspect of it all.

To make matters worse it had seemed almost as like this entire room was just too small for the amount of people in it.

Had it just been him, or was their team continuing to grow? That made everything even all the more suspicious to him.

When he had heard the part about this being a good job or whatever it was, he thought to himself that it was too easy and figured that it was an experiment even before the individual that was lecturing them ultimately told him that he was.

Since some of the team's members seemed kind of unstable, he honestly hadn't really wanted to be everyone's friend. He wouldn't have minded Wasp, though, since he had come to trust her.

Some of the others, though, just didn't exactly seem like hang out material.

The one good part was, though, that he was sort of allowed to kill anyone he didn't like from the way that he saw it. The worst that they could have done was docked him pay for a while. It was a small price to get some of the more annoying members of the team out of the way.

One thing had surprised him about the girl that he supposed was Wasp, however, and he looked over toward her once they were given the opportunity to speak relatively freely.

"Wait a moment, you smoke?"

That seemed like a foolish idea to him, since he figured that you had to do everything that you could have in order to stay in top shape to be an assassin.

The nature of Rana’s connection with H.E.A.R.T. meant that having her face visible was a risky move. It was the usual story of keeping the work life separate from the family life, only work life involved aiding in the murders of others. Still, if it was trust they wanted, it was trust they would get.

During her winding, paranoia-induced route to the H.E.A.R.T. HQ that particular day, Rana had stashed her usual clothes in a duffel bag, and changed back into them before she entered the conference room. Today, she wore a slightly more yellow-tinted dress shirt (partially tucked in, and rather crinkled), a pair of brown khakis, and her loafers. Being in the room in that clothing was weird - she had always associated being there with her baggy clothing and ski mask, and now she felt naked and exposed without them. The difference between the two styles of garb was so incredibly vast that she doubted that any of them would’ve recognized her if she hadn’t set her eye color to the memorably vivid orange that was Iris’ only distinguishable feature.

She sat rather still during the speech, sitting up straight and businesslike in her seat in stark contrast to the headphones pumping old rock tunes from the 2000s into her ears. She could easily guess what she was saying - get to know each other, ‘cause you’ll be working together a lot more.

Rana took off her headphones once the woman left, and slouched a bit more in her seat. Her eyes danced across the room, absorbing (and, of course, digitally recording) information from her allies' posture and expressions. When George spoke up, though, she couldn’t help but curse under her breath in Arabic. She had been hoping that they could avoid first names. Well, since nobody else had spoken up yet... May as well get her identity out of the way, prevent some confusion as to who the youngster was.

“I’m Iris... Well, I guess you can all call me Rana, since we seem to be using first names now.” She glanced around the room apprehensively, her eyes inevitably landing on the newcomer - the person that didn’t fit Ghost’s physique, despite Ghost being unaccounted for. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you're new. So, who are you?”

She was nearly sweating in apprehension. Her cards were nearly all on the table now. They knew her face, her first name... At this rate, they’d know her social security number and her father’s career by the end of the meeting.

This was going to be an interesting and very dangerous cooperation.

_________________

"...Friends? Seriously. Friends. You told them to become friends." A masculine voice asked, the woman who had told the team of their new "mission" sitting in a dark, cramped room, the only light being the glow of a computer screen and thin rays of light being let in in between the window blinds.

"Yea. I did. Because to be honest? It's hilarious." She answered, chuckling to herself. The groan she received in response only made her chuckle harder. "Hey, don't worry, I'll have her explain it better. We have important things to discuss don't we?" She said, a small grin forming on her face, thoughts of years-long goals and plans finally coming together.

"Hmm. That's right, we do. Do we know anything?"

"No manufacturer marks. No copyright details. No implication of where it was made. But, we have figured out what it does. It sends out an electromagnetic wave that tells nanomachines to self-destruct."

"Which would eventually cause the natural body and cybernetic body to become at odds with each other, without the guidance of the machines that allow them to work together." The man finished, understanding

"Correct. Those without heavy modifications would be fine, for the most part. So any civilians caught in the wave would be left with only a minor annoyance." She continued, getting up. "But, we know where he purchased it. I believe we'll have our new.... team, go out and get some more for our needs." She left the room, the computer shutting off.


---

Suddenly, the door the team was in was kicked open, and a woman striding into the room. She looked a lot like the woman who was just there, but lookeed a few years younger, and was much more energetic. She was wearing an outfit made out of mostly dark colors, comprised of a shirt with a skull design on it, a dark red jacket, and grey jeans topped off with heavy boots.

"Sup nerds." She said, pushing push everybody in the room to get to the front. As soon as she did, she spun around, flashing a huge grin at them all.

"I see my sister's already meet ya! What a ****ing, sorry about that. Once again I must fix her mistakes. What she MEANT was we need to learn to work together. Like a proper team. Because if we're terrible at it that would be bad? It doesn't ****ing matter if we like eachother. Hell, hate each other, if ya want! Well, don't hate me. Love me, because I'm great, and also the leader." She said, revealing herself finally.

"Sorry I'm late, by the way! I was off spooking some dudes. Get it. spooking dudes. My code name is ghost. I think you guys get it." She joked, giggling. Which was kind of creepy. "Anyways, I'm sure some of you are wondering! "why a team?" Well, I'm here to answer you! Because we get paid as a team. It's cheaper and price cuts are a ****ing. Also! Notice how we all know each other's face now? Yeah. This means it's harder to get away if any of us betray the group. And lastly...well, we're pretty damn good. Together? we're pretty damn GREAT. Probably."

She then took a breath, taking a look at each person in he room, letting her gaze linger on each for a few seconds. "We have quite the group of weirdos here, I see....This might be fun. As your leader, I'm giving you all your first order. Don't bore me." She said, a smile with a hint of cruelness forming. These won't people to her, no. These were toys to help her out. They have yet to prove themselves anything more to her.

Maybe one day they would, but she doubted it. If they did though, Ghost was more than excited to figure out how.

Wasp chuckled at Smiles’ comment, propping an elbow onto the table to rest her chin onto the back of her palm. “You guys are nuts. And that’s sayin’ something coming from me. Hey George, Rana... Punk kid,” Wasp tilted her head to the newest addition hanging against the wall, quickly sending a cheeky wink in her direction, “I’m Wasp, call me Wasp.” It wasn’t part of the contract to disclose her actual name, and so, enjoying her newfound identity in H.E.A.R.T, kept her name a secret for now. Besides, ‘Veloce’ didn’t bear the best connotations to Wasp’s memories. For all she cared, it was an ugly term, bestowed to her by shrouded parents to speed up what little there was of a childhood for her. Well, that wasn’t all true. Wasp still softly felt the deluded invincibility of a confused and irresponsible five year old girl sometimes.

Her attention shifted to Shark as he inquired about the cigarettes. Feeling for the packet, Wasp met his gaze with a sheepish smirk. “Ah, hey Sharky, yeah - it's the one drug I haven’t learned to take outta my system,” she explained, trusting the man enough now to reveal a little sliver of her personal life. Ever since she were a young teen, smokes had been the one behaviour that remained constant. The glue to her gears, the notion of going through withdrawal sent shivers down Wasp’s spine. For the last time such a foolish idea was tested on the woman, it surely made a lasting impression on the neighbours. Shouting, screaming, pushing and pleading, smells of burning, whimpers of yearning, trial and error, smile and terror-

Stop it, god damn. Why were other drugs so much easier to quit...?

As the doors bursted open, Wasp panned her head to the sound. ‘Ugh, another new guy?’ Wasp initially thought, growing tired of such surprises, until the woman started talking and the recognisable tone was undoubtedly Ghost’s, although her speech felt remarkably different. Listening to her talk, and offering a smile as the girl gazed towards her, Wasp wanted to take her words seriously, even laugh at the ‘spooking some dudes’ joke, but all that came from her face was a slightly parted mouth with a flicker of surprise and confusion. Wasn’t this very individual the person who claimed Wasp to be the ‘peppy’ sort? The serious leader who tried to act professional while on commission? To suddenly enter the room with jokes to crack and a joyful tone - it was mildly astonishing to Wasp. But then again, this lot was full of surprises.

“Don’t bore you? I doubt our group will have a hard time doing that,” she snorted, waving her hand, and with it, dismissing her initial train of thought. This guild of 'weirdoes' sure had potential to match their equally defining, uhm, unique personalities. “Are you saying, Ghost dear, that we were all put together because H.E.A.R.T can’t be bothered playing daycare for one child at a time anymore?” She teased, further reinforcing the whimsically silly idea of going through a ‘befriending’ program. Reclining into the back of her chair, she eyed all of the figures in one frame. “I guess we’re going to have to learn how to share with each other’s toys. One thing's for certain. You gotta sit real still for any of my antibiotics.” Her tone sarcastically mimicked a child's. It seemed that they were about to spend a whole lot more time with each other than anticipated.

_________________

Much like some of the other names, or pseudonyms, being thrown around, Shark didn't actually say his name. Rather, he used the same name fake name he used out on the field when introducing himself.

"Hey Punk Kid, Shark here. Maybe you could hit me up with some tunage?"

After all, it certainly did seem like it would be best to keep his name a secret for the time being. Despite the fact that they were, in theory, supposed to be friendly with one another, he felt that it was probably for the best to still hide behind a cover.

None of these individuals were all that trustworthy after all. At least, even if they seemed like they were, it probably wouldn't actually be all really that safe to consider them like perfect people.

They certainly seemed like the ones to shove something between your shoulders if they were having an off day.

Then, however, it was looking like Wasp had finally replied to him in turn.

Nevertheless, he didn't necessarily care for her response.

"Cigarettes don't sound like the best of an idea, knowing how assassins have to stay in top shape at all times." That being said, his words sounded more like advice or concern than criticism. Apparently, even over the top ridiculous killers had to have a sweet side.

"Of course, we'd hate to loose an agent for any reason." Well, at the end of the day it did actually appear like he had some sort of a sweet side. That would have been unexpected, and in a way it just made Shark look even more screwed up than he had before. Everyone had a good day it would seem. That must have included depraved people like himself as well.

At this point, he didn't even bat an eye when a new person elected to show up. Yes, these constant changes in behaviors would surely have driven home the idea that he was screwy beyond belief.

To be perfectly honest, though, he hadn't minded at all what anyone thought of his reactions to anything.

"Well, I never had realized that H.E.A.R.T was in the business of babysitting anyone."

The sentence had sounded even sillier after he had said it then when he had.

This all was surprising to him, but he was treating it like it was one big thing planned out purely for his amusement. When one considered it from a neutral point of view, then again, perhaps he treated everything like it was just one big thing that was sort of planned out for his amusement.

Maybe it was really just some sort of survival mechanism. The industry that he had elected to work in was, of course, not exactly without its stressful days.

Georgie ran several fingers through his hair, a small smile on his face. The first few years of his life had been tough, with his ineptness at properly identifying the emotional setting of a room. Eventually he learned to mimic the behaviour of his father, crying when he was crying, laughing when he was laughing. The mastery of these cues took him years to decipher, and even years after to perfect the facial expressions that accompanied them. A fake smile, Georgie found, was exceptionally noticeable. A crinkle under the eyes was a simple mask for sincerity. This false sincerity was a useful tool as he listened to drivellings of sarcasm, smoking, and roll call. None were as eager, apparently, to share their true names, or even bother to mention their assassin handle. One angsty punk abomination in the corner of the room noted this dryly, to Georgie's amusement. The amusement, however, soon fell into boredom. This friend-making was tedious, especially since no one else seemed to be that interested in engaging with their comrades. Which was, in this case, quite fair. Georgie's father had always warned him about strangers, after all.
The door burst open just as Georgie was considering peeling his own eyeballs. A tiny women strode with purpose into the room, visibly pleased with her own dramatic entrance. Her theatrical speech just scraped the threshold of obnoxious, and confirmed Georgie's suspicion that this woman was Ghost from the previous week. It was heavily apparent that this was a woman completely in love with herself. Georgie could appreciate that. She prattled on with lame jokes, pay cheques, and how amazing they all were at doing their job. His inner side frowned, a forgotten string in his mind being tugged in the most frustrating manner. The string lead to his memory, but in all of his travels he had forgotten what it connected to. He tugged relentlessly, refusing to let the thought go. Finally it gave way, and Georgie realized that Ghost reminded him of his father. How amusing. He stared back into the woman's eyes unabashedly as she scanned his face for a brief moment. She certainly looked nothing like his father, unless she were to grow a beard. Unlikely, but possible. Her first order and twisted expression spoke to Georgie's soul, pleasing him massively. He would have no problem working with this woman. The rest of the assassins seemed interesting enough.
Georgie remembered one key event from last week. The task he had been assigned was to deal with some sort of weapon, that had turned out to be a beautifully crafted disk object. His curiosity was engaged, and he leaned back in his chair to assume a more comfortable pose before speaking.
"So, that disk from last week. Can you tell us anything about it, or is that information too advanced for the class?" He grinned cheekily, eyes twinkling with hollow lights.

_________________

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you're new. So, who are you?”

Deoborah was not sure how to answer this question, though she was right in her mind in thinking the question was directed to her, since according to the others she was the 'new' member, at least the only member none of the others had actually met, which in their feeble minds likely donated her as the 'new' member. Who was she? Well, that was a very good question, a more prudent question would have been 'what is your name?' and even that would not have had an easy answer. There were no easy answers surrounding Vindico. The only answer Iris - Rana - received was a slight shift of the eyes.

When the door exploded open Vindico flicked her eyes back and watched, with no small amount of disdain and plenty of abject curiosity, another lady hurricane herself in into the room. The next moments were cringeworthy, this was a girl that epitomized everything that Vindico hated. Loud, brash, self-absorbed, self-obsessed and so full of herself it made Vindico want to vomit down the spectre's throat. She chastised herself for leaving her music in her bike, thinking this would be a relatively professional affair. A mistake she would not make again. Repeatedly smashing her face into shattered glass would be more fun for Vindico than hanging out with someone this goddamn offensive!

Wasp was next to speak and this was welcome relief. He made a few remarks about sharing toys and baby-sitting which all seemed like 'normal' behaviour to Vindico. Nobody was baby-sitting her and she was not sharing her toys with anyone... not yet, anyway. She didn;t even openly mind being called 'punk kid' as she had, after all, been called far, far worse. Some people even said it as if it were an insult, like calling a 'mosher' a '****ing mosher' thinking they would be offended. People were stupid. Vindico was well versed in this sort of behavior as she was often the victim of it, both physical and mental; she knew this was another sad facet of life. She hoped these people would be different though first impressions of two of them left her very much in doubt.

The tin of tuna sailed across the room and knocked Shark in the teeth, bouncing him up in the air before he collapsed in a cold heap on the floor with the tin bouncing soundly off his forehead - that was her immediate thought of 'hitting him up with some tunage' turned out to be. Of course, she understood and appreciated the lingo, but perhaps her all too literal mind often had a way of making mundane things bizarre. Nevertheless, she appreciated the attempt to engage her in... something, not that she would ever tell him so.

So far this circus had made a total mockery of Vindico's controlled and careful life, she had strode into this masquerade of clowns and mutants, eyes blinded with ignorance and completely unprepared. Now she was expected to actually socialize with actual people - something she had spent her entire life avoiding. The carefully constructed mechanism she had built in her brain just to cope with the world and it's inhabitants was in danger of shattering. Shattering hard. If that ever happened even Deborah herself could not predict the results, but as with most things, she would treat it as an experiment. Sure, she might lose her already strained sanity though at least she could have a laugh while doing so - silently, of course.