Ptolema's neck ached as she sat up on her bed. Her hand massaged The back of her neck to dull the aching. The pillow she bought, less than a week ago, is now as flat as the floor. Her eyes opened to the sunlight struggling to enter her room through the old brown shutters that hover over the window. Ptolema stripped from her night clothes and changed into a new assassin outfit. It cost her three gold chiops from the nearest wardrobe store. She bought it out of the pay from Mister Fiduh's payment last week. Ptolema had to kill three guards that guarded Uri's council garden for Fiduh's task. Easy task= Easy money.

"Ptolema, are you ready to lose today?!" Riker yelled from the other side of the door. His fists beat upon the wooden frame like thunder and lightning. Ptolema hoped the wood would not break under Riker's strength. He might not be smart, but he was strong for a man his age.

"I'm not even done changing!" She yelled back. Ptolema slipped her mask onto her face. Sweat automatically beaded up on her forehead. The mask is mostly made of cotton and hirauvi silk. Hirauvi is a strong and almost untearable material, but it is also very thick, making it hot for Ptolema's face.

She slipped her boots on over a pair of socks with all the Northern constellations on them. Inside her socks were deadly hair accessories and the tiniest knife in the world. The socks are so thick, that the keenest of sight would not be able to find a single weapon in her sock if he or she tried. Underneath her socks Ptolema wore stockings, so the accessories and the weapon won't slice into her skin. She braided her hair into two dutch braids, then tied some more deadly hair accessories into the top of the braid. After Ptolema restocked all of her weapon compartments, she walked out of room to find Riker standing with his back to the wall beside her door. His brown neatly-cut hair covered his honey eyes. He grabbed Ptolema's hand once she locked her door.

"Please," Riker pleaded, "let me see you without a mask. It's been almost four years now, and I've never seen your entire face at once." She stared into his eyes. They were filled with curiosity as he searched him ask for any sign of humanness. Nothing. Just a mask. He let go of her hand gently.

"My identity is what has kept me alive all these years. I suggest you try one," her voice echoed through the phantom hallway. The doors seemed to awaken at her very own breath, while she strolled down to the guild hall for a drink. Riker followed her like a lost puppy.

Ptolema paid the bartender two bronze chiops for the Berry-Wine. Riker did the same.

"Can you just leave me alone!" Ptolema yelled while giving Riker a pounding to the jaw. A loud snap zoomed around everyone's ears as Riker's jaw fractured itself on the ground. He groaned (which was painful) as he tried to stand up without passing out. His hand wobbled as he wiped the thick dark-red blood that dripped from his mouth. Ptolema took the drink she paid for, and left the guild hall to go outside. She has sixty-eight hours to eliminate two new targets. She smiled at the thought of more blood but wanted to puke at the thought of having to hold the heads up again.

Ptolema already knew enough knowledge about the Uri council, that the task should only take thirty hours at the most. She counted the weapons on her body: Eighty-seven. Her braids even consisted of two kukri daggers hidden in them. They're dull but will kill if needed. Gunn would be the easy target, so he will be killed second if plans go the way Ptolema plans them to be. Carmoc on the hand lives in the "Uri Council Residential Village." The richest village in all of Tredefoque. She was not born in this country, but she gets the best pay compared to her birth country. The village where Carmoc lives is lined with a wall that is guarded, not too heavy, but heavy enough for pro killers to have to actually work to get by them.

Ptolema sketched her plans out on a dry piece of parchment that she stole from a pon-shop three days ago. She was not the best artist in the world, but it would do well for the purpose she needs it for. Her hands spread out the paper on her knee. Everything was just a bunch of scribbles to other people, but to her, they were coded words (another lesson from her assassin teacher). Ptolema decided to go kill Carmoc tomorrow. Today, she is going to see Kolo. She threw her drink from the guild into the nearest bucket-like object she could find.

The town is roaming with people. Ptolema hates interacting with people, so she jumped on the house roofs all the way to her training facility. It was not far, but jumping on all of the roofs made her lose her breath. Kolo would be waiting. He would punish her with his whip for not coming last week. She deserved it though, for saying she would try to come once a week. It was the price to pay for leaving. Ptolema gathered all of the confidence she could get and jumped off the last roof onto the ground. Her heart pounded in her chest for it to be released so it would not have to bear whatever consequence Kolo might throw at it. She walked through the door of the old apartment building, down the hall, and into the kitchen. Ptolema opened the greenest tile on the floor, and slid down into the tunnel underneath the floor, after closing the tile back.

Yelling echoed through the dark tunnel. Ptolema jumped at every sound that sounded suspicious. The darkness did not help the fact that she hates fighting Kolo's stupid guards without any firelight. Crunch. A rock broke underneath a foot. The only person who's foot would be strong enough to do that was Kolo's. A cold hand grabbed Ptolema by the neck and dragged her down the rest of the hall. He came to get her himself!

Kolo threw her, by the neck, into the center of the sparring room. All of his students looked at her with amusement.

"I'll give ya a choice today," Kolo snarled, "You come work for me again, or the sparring punishment again." He laughed as Ptolema held her neck and coughed out tons of blood onto the floor.

"Sp-ar-ring!" Ptolema croaked. Her voice echoed in everyone's ears with joy. She would make them regret laughing, smiling, and living.

"If ya defeat all of 'em," Kolo laughed, "then you get a week off. But ya leave one out, ya come two times next week. Deal?"

Ptolema has defeated many people at once before so she answered, "Deal!" The coughing and the blood stopped as she stood up in a ready position. Eight students smiled with glee, while one ran out of the room crying. Kolo went after the boy. Everyone knew what would come of him now.

Ptolema took this chance to kick the closest boy near her in the head. Foolish move to look the other way for so long. His neck cracked under the pressure that Ptolema kicked him at. After everyone heard the crack of the boy's neck, and him not breathing on the floor, the students' eyes widened and their arms shook with fear. Blood started to make a pool around the boy's head. Ptolema did not have any time to feel bad for these students, not when Kolo would kill her with a whip if she lost the deal.

"Y'all still want to fight?" Ptolema laughed out as evil as she could possibly sound.

Two students' breathing shortened until they both passed out. Weak.

Only five more left. Ptolema could take them on easily if they're fairly new to their training. She waited for them to charge first, which they did. The first shortest, but bulky, boy tried for a kick while the second average height boy went for a punch to Ptolema's jaw. She knew she was stronger then both of them combined - considering the speed at which they threw their attacks at. She grabbed the short boy's fist, stepped on top of the other boy's foot, and smashed his fist into the his face while he stood stunned at Ptolema.

After the average height boy fell to the ground, she punched the other boy's nose into his head. Blood poured onto his face as he fell to the floor without breathing. Ptolema lifted her foot from the boy on the floor and kicked the his leg into the ground. He screamed as another crack came from the sparring room. The rest of the students stood stunned at Ptolema's performance on their two peers.

"Tell me how old you all are?" Ptolema asked over the boy's scream.

"Around twenty," a dark-skinned boy mumbled over the screaming boy on the floor. His blue eyes never met Ptolema's.

"I'm eighteen. Now tell me who your best fighters were, or are?" Ptolema chuckled.

"You killed them. All three of our best fighters," another student with burnt skin answered. The student had grey eyes and white/silver hair, it made him look older than the rest of the students. He smiled at Ptolema (more like at Ptolema's mask). He had straight-white teeth that clashed with his burnt skin.

"What is your name?" Ptolema asked pointing at the boy. He had an unusual auror that filled the room with something that was not air.

"Irik, mam. You must be the famous Ptolema!" Irik had to calm his voice. Once he knew who he was talking to, his hands shook rapidly.

"Well, anyways, one isn't dead yet. But, I'll take him out of his misery, I guess," Ptolema answered while bending down to the average height boy who lied on the floor. He stopped screaming a few seconds ago. Ptolema pulled a knife out of her sleeve and aimed it at the heart of the boy. He did not even open his eyes.

"Ptolema!" Kolo yelled, "We'll kill 'im lat'r, now he's the model of the death that my students might endure! So let 'im live, for righ' now, and come wi' me so ya can train!"

The rest of the students' terrified looks made Ptolema laugh as she ran past them to meet Kolo upstairs, where he was standing. His brown skin shined in the firelight that burned beside him. Ptolema stopped five feet away from him so she had room to bow.

"I see, that ya've been trainin' with Hicop too, I presume?" Kolo guessed, considering how Ptolema fought. Ptolema hid her clenched hand from him. If Kolo saw, he would definitely know that she trained with Hicop more than a few times. She nodded her head slightly. "I'm glad, he's a great person to train with. I like that he teaches his students do not have mercy."

Ptolema would give mercy to anyone who needed it, but she could not risk it anymore. Not in this dire time. Kolo walked to the bow and arrow training room. Ptolema loves to shoot bow and arrows, so she had to hold back her cheerfulness as she followed him into the room. Loads of different kinds of bows lined the left side wall, while multiple kinds of arrows lined the right side wall. Kolo pointed to the bows and told Ptolema to pick one. She chooses the black compound bow. Kolo told her the same for the arrows. She chooses the new mechanical broadhead arrow tip. Kolo smiled, knowing it was the deadliest arrowhead. Ptolema always tried for the deadly ones.

"Shoot the center of all the targets twice. One time with your right hand, the second time with your left hand," Kolo instructed Ptolema.

She glared at him. He knew she was right hand dominant. Ptolema stepped seventy feet away from the back wall (where the targets were).

She loaded her bow with an arrow and aimed.

She hit the center of all the targets with her right hand. Now, to her left. Ptolema dreaded using her left hand around Kolo. Hicop only taught her the fighting with close up weapons and hands, not this. She loaded the bow with an arrow, switched hands and aimed. Ptolema checked her feet, her hands, her back, her breathing. She could do this if she tried. Her left hand let the arrow fly. It missed by two inches. Kolo held up one finger. It meant one bone. Ptolema only made seven out of the ten targets with her left hand.

Kolo took Ptolema's right hand and lifted her pinky finger. Crack. He lifted her middle finger. Crack. Finally, he took her pointer finger. Crack. Three fingers for three missed targets. Ptolema could feel blood in her mouth from biting her tongue so hard. She has only screamed, because of the pain that was inflicted, once in front of Kolo, and vowed to never do it again. She has not even cried in front of him yet.

"Now, take this as a lesson: ya're right eye dominant, so y'all have to move yar bow a little to the right because yar misses have all been too much to the right. Only use your left hand for the month, that is why I broke yar right hand, ain't it? Now, scram to ya little guild. I'll see ya in two weeks," Kolo let go of Ptolema and she groaned at the pain she felt when her hand hit her leg. Before Ptolema could start to scream, she ran out of the room with the bow still on her back, and the arrows strapped to her sack on her leg. They clinked together as she ran. While she ran outside, she saw Irik squatting with his hands violently grabbing his beautiful white/silver hair. Ptolema gulped her pain down and walked up to him cautiously. Irik quickly pulled his hands out of his hair once he saw Ptolema. She shoved her arm into his neck, hard enough that he ran into the back brick wall behind him. They stared into each other's eyes for minutes until Ptolema finally spoke, "What do you want with these mortals."

"I don't know what the hell you think you are doing!" Irik retorted back.

"I know your not human, so don't play dumb with me."

"How did you figure it out? And besides, I'm not a bad Poi anyways. I don't have any intentions of killing any mortal. The king is taking them all up and killing us, please... don't turn me in."

"Meet me tomorrow at the Gripp Bakery, then we'll talk."

"Let me see your han..."

"Don't touch it." Ptolema brought her arm down from Irik's neck to grab her hand. Pain shot through her entire arm as her left hand touched it. "I'm perfectly fine. I'll see you tomorrow, bye." Irik watched her as she left him.

She climbed with her left hand on top of the old house and started her way through the town and towards the guild. Ptolema ran as fast as she could on the roofs. She jumped off the last roof, that was closest to her guild and ran in. Riker set his beer on the table and went to see Ptolema. He looked at her hand that she was holding. She finally screamed as Riker gently took her hand to examine it. He yelled for a doctor to come. While the doctor hurried down the long halls, Riker laid Ptolema on the nearest table.

The doctor ran toward them with an ice bucket at the ready. Ptolema stuck her broken hand into the ice water, then screamed again. Riker wanted to take her mask off so she could breathe better, but every time he tried she would kick him in the stomach. The doctor took her hand out of the ice water to wrap in with clothe and put two metal rods on either side of her hand to steady the fingers during their recovery.

Ptolema screamed the entire time. Riker hated watching her scream. He hated it so much, that he wanted to kill Kolo for it. Riker trained himself, because of this exact reason. Looking at Ptolema like this made Riker happy that he chooses to train himself.

"I'm... I'm going to- to bed," Ptolema moaned.

"Let me help you," Riker said.

"Thank you, but no thanks," Ptolema said back.

"It wasn't a question."

"I don't need your..." before Ptolema could finish, Riker picked her up by the stomach and brought her down to her room through her kicks and punches. Riker set her down on her feet in front of her door. She was breathless from his shoulder jabbing into her stomach and screaming and punching so much within thirty seconds.

"I'm not thanking you, so scram," Ptolema informed Riker.

"I know, but I have something to tell you first."

"Look, I'm not taking my mask off, okay?"

"No, that's not it. I wanted to tell you that since your right hand is broken, that means you can't fight well. Well, what I'm saying is I can kill your two targets for you while you recover?"

"I can fight well with my left hand! If you do that you're just gonna brag about it for the rest of the week!"

"The last time this happened, I gave you the same offer and you refused. That time I let you go do it left-handed, don't you remember how that ended up?"

"You promised, never to speak of that again!"

"You're staying in your room until you recover, or I'll do the..."

"Okay, okay. You can kill them for me, as long as you don't..."

"I promise."

"This doesn't make us friends though," Ptolema told Riker before opening the door with her left hand and walking into her room. She locked the door twice before closing her window shutters and taking off her sweaty mask. Her boots had blood staining the bottom of them. She took off all of her clothes, so she could struggle to put on a nightgown with one hand. She thought taking off a body suit was hard with one hand-oh god no! Ptolema screamed through gritted teeth as she had to move her middle finger to get the strap over her hand. Once she had her nightgown on, she flopped onto the bed and fell fast asleep.