“So,” Kirika asked, “where do we start?”
“We start,” Chloe said, “by picking our first target.”
“No, we don’t,” Mireille said. “We start by making sure we’re in a position where we can pick our first target.”
“What do you mean?” asked the swarthy young woman. “We’ve asserted our independence from Soldats, right? That means we can start making moves.”
“In theory, I suppose you’re correct,” the Corsican admitted. “But your suggestion is hardly practical. We need to take care of several basics: a secure base of operations, a steady source of income, and an overall idea of what we’re actually trying to accomplish, preferably stated in non-metaphorical terms to limit misinterpretation.”
“Fine. So which do we do first?”
“I suggest we start with the income question,” Mireille suggested. “After all, that’s going to be what determines where we can set up our base.”
“But why is that a question at all?” Kirika asked. “I mean, we’re assassins, after all. Why couldn’t we keep doing that?”
“I’m not saying we couldn’t,” Mireille replied, “but you have to keep in mind that our new status as arbiters of good and evil might be compromised if we do professional jobs on the side. After all, most of our potential employers would likely come from the same group of people we’re here to rid the world of.”
“So?” Chloe asked. “We just kill the employers once we get their money.” This prompted a burst of laughter from the Corsican, which did not amuse the adolescent assassin. “What’s so funny?”
“You don’t know much about running a business, do you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“She means that we can’t simply kill off our employers, because that makes it less likely that other people will employ us,” Kirika tried to explain. “Chloe, you have to understand that most assassins are contract killers; for them, questions of good and evil come in a distant second to paying the bills.”
“Exactly. Noir — and I’m talking about the Professional Noir here, not the True one — was and is essentially a small business. If we’re to remain professional assassins, it may mean having to delay our more metaphysical ambitions until later.”
“Still,” Kirika said, “it’s one of the few skills that all three of us have, and it does pay well when your reputation is good.”
“And Noir’s is near the top,” Mireille said, allowing a modicum of pride to slip through her words. “But, as I’ve already said, if we do choose to remain in the profession, it could make things trickier.”
“Well, if you don’t want to—” Chloe began before being cut off.
“I didn’t say that,” the blonde clarified. “I only want to make sure you two know what you’re getting into, that’s all.”
“So what is your opinion?”
“It’s roughly the same as Kirika’s. The three of us have spent our entire lives learning how to kill people, and those skills don’t translate well into other careers. I think our best course of action is to start over, if you will. Form a new team, one that we can disassociate from Noir’s activities.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Kirika responded.
“Agreed,” said her wine-haired friend.
“Alright, we can work out the specifics of that later. Now about the new base of operations; I don’t think that we need to decide where at this point so much as when.”
“What do you mean?”
“We could discuss various candidate locations for hours, but that won’t do us any good if Soldats finds it immediately because they’re still watching us. I think we should stay mobile — it’s not that hard, what with the internet and all: I get most of my jobs via e-mail anyway. This setup wouldn’t be permanent, of course: living in hotels can wear a person out, and the emotional benefit of having a place to call ‘home’ is immeasurable to people who travel as frequently as we do. But, as I’ve said, I don’t intend to play dictator. What do you think?”
“You make a reasonable argument,” Kirika said.
“And you’re starting to sound like the second person in a Socratic dialogue,” Chloe retorted. “But as for me, I don’t really care where we stay or when we get there, so long as we fulfill our destiny.”
“Which brings me to my final point,” Mireille said. “How the hell do we go about deciding who will face the wrath of Noir? There are probably thousands of worthy candidates out there, and we’re only human — at least, I think we’re human.”
“You’re not certain?” Chloe asked.
“Look, right now, I don’t want to assume anything. For all we know, the Grand Retour could have transformed us into demons or angels or some other metaphysical bullshit like that. Not that I think that anything like that has happened, mind you.”
“So why bring it up?”
“Let’s just say I wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be the case. But we’re getting sidetracked. How do we decide on our ‘official’ targets? Do we try to systematically remove them? If so, do we start at the top and work our way down? Or, perhaps we should start small and work up. We could also choose our targets to serve as messages to others — as a warning to reform.”
“I don’t think we need to do that,” Chloe said. “I think we’ll be able to choose our targets by instinct — we’ll just know who we have to take down next.”
“And if our instinct is wrong?” Mireille asked.
“As far as I can tell, that’s the whole point behind the ‘collective will’ idea,” the swarthy girl responded. “It serves to keep our baser impulses and influences in check.”
“Well, I hardly think that we should rely solely on instinct,” Kirika added, “but I do think we should make our decisions on a case-by-case basis. If we do things systematically, that creates a pattern our targets can exploit. But, to be honest, I really think we need to look at Althena’s research; perhaps we can at least learn how past Noirs made their decisions.”
“Very well,” Mireille said. “I suppose we can adjourn this little meeting for now. Unless you have anything else to say?”
“Not really,” Chloe responded.
“How about you, Kirika?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Very well; then if you’ll excuse me, I need to get in touch with my landlady to let her know that I’m moving out.” The Corsican rose once again and headed to the kitchen.
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(Posted Wed, 28 Mar 2007 06:10)
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