The warehouse was just one among hundreds of look-alikes. No one would suspect that this one common warehouse was a stronghold for the Black Dogs. It was a solid cover, hiding in plain sight like that – Vivian did the same with Cataclysm. This was only one of many warehouses owned and run by the Black Dogs of course, but Neo's contacts had traced the shipment of guns to this particular place.

Vivian cradled a M16 rifle in her hands, gently caressing the lock, stock, and barrel. A fine gun was a work of bloody art, capable of killing either a bum or a ruler with equal impunity. With the advent of firearms, mankind had altered it's very nature.

Ophilia looked less comfortable with her own rifle, being more used to the older, flimsier weapons her father so often supplied. Up until now, Vivian corrected mentally. The other woman eyed the weapon with some scrutiny, seeming uneasy with the glamour and sleek beauty of something so modern. Apparently, she didn't see the similarities between herself and these beautiful weapons of death. Both were sleek, beautiful, and – most importantly of all – deadly. She was as much as masterpiece as the weapon she held.

Vivian slung the rifle over her shoulder, letting it hand down her back, patting both her Eagles in their concealed holders. "I assume we won't be doing this my usual way?"

Ophilia simply shook her head and drew a silencer from a small pouch she'd brought with her. She flicked a second one to Vivian before screwing hers onto the barrel of her rifle. Vivian attached hers with some reluctance; she liked it when guns blazed.

But this was Ophilia's rodeo – she was only along for the ride. It was a strangely sobering fact that her counterpart was an even more adept killer than herself and an even more sobering was that this all somehow reminded her of more than a few early dates the two of them had gone on. Ophilia had always led the way; she'd had so much more experience in the world of love. A wild grin crept onto her face and she suddenly found herself not minding the silent approach as much.

"Back doors?" Ophilia asked with a professional edge, letting her rifle hang off her shoulder and drawing out the small, silenced pistol that was her namesake.

Vivian giggled without thinking, then cleared her throat when Ophilia raised an eyebrow at her. She shook her head – pushing childish thoughts of butts from her mind – and motioned to the fire escape that hung off one side of the building's roof. The warehouses along this dock had been designed so that, in case of fire, the workers could escape to the roof with ease. The Black Dogs had left this as it was, perhaps to maintain appearances or perhaps because they thought it was a good idea. Either way, the only way in was up.

Ophilia wasted no time moving to the suspended ladder that lead up to the roof. It was raised up, locked together to keep the base of the ladder well above arm's length. She stared at it for a moment, as if thinking of the best way to bring it down, then shrugged and drew something from a different pouch on her belt. The item unfolded, revealing itself as a small, four pronged hook. With a quick hand, Ophilia began unwinding a thin, concealed rope from around her waist, attaching it to the end of the hook.

"A grappling hook? Sometimes the oldies never die," Vivian whispered, giving a sharp grin. Ophilia returned a small smile, then tossed the hook up, latching onto the lowest rung of the ladder. She gave it one experimental tug, making sure the claw was secure, before hauling herself up arm over arm. Vivian waited patiently down below, admiring the view.

"Viv? What are you waiting for?" Ophilia said in a hushed tone once she'd gotten past the ladder's first rung. She shifted her bottom half slightly to get a better position, entirely missing the muted wolf-whistle Vivian made below.

"Oh, nothing unpleasant," Vivian responded, barely resisting the urge to laugh. She pulled herself up – it was harder than Ophilia made it look – and recovered the hook from below herself. She tossed it up to Ophilia, who caught it deftly and rolled it up over her arm. She didn't return it to her pack, however.

This portion of the fire escape was just one long ladder scaling up the side of the building, where it ended in a small level outcropping before turning into slanting stairs. The opening to reach the outcropping, however, was sealed off from above. Again, Ophilia had a solution that was straight out of some spy movie.

"Wait here," she muttered down to Vivian, uncoiling the rope once more. Like Vivian had much choice – would she climb back down again?

Ophilia spun the grappling hook around a few times before lobbing it off to one side of the ladder. It hooked onto the lip of the warehouse's roof and suddenly Vivian understood why some ladders like this had a half-circular cage around them. The Black Dogs, however, hadn't deemed it as a worthy addition.

After a few more experimental tugs, Ophilia let go of the ladder and swung off into open air. She planted her feet against the wall and began climbing the last several feet to the roof, pulling herself up the lip of the wall without even a grunt of effort. Silent as a misty night, Ophilia crept over to the hangover, kneeling down to examine the blockage.

She started humming to herself and pulled a lock-picking kit from a third and final pouch. In under a minute, she was pulling the latch open, offering Vivian a helping hand.

"Such a gentleman," Vivian said jokingly, playfully fanning herself as she let Ophilia pull her up the last few rungs onto the roof.

Ophilia smirked and winked, but maintained her stoic, silent demeanor. She turned, reaching into her overcoat and pulled out that silly little pea-shooter again. Vivian wanted to chew her Eagles in frustration – she had a silenced rifle, so why rely on those things? They used tiny little 9mm rounds that were like shooting balls of cotton next to the 5.56 rounds her M16 would pump out. They wouldn't even pierce basic body armor!

But Ophilia continued on, ignorant to Vivian's plight. The gang boss simply contained herself and crept up the stairs. The door into the warehouse was at the very peak of the structure, connected to a small raised section, almost like a miniature watchtower at the center of the building. Ophilia stopped by the door, waiting for Vivian to catch up, before shouldering the door open and sweeping the room with military precision. After making certain the room was clear, she lowered her weapon, sneering in what Vivian assumed was disgust.

"No guards," she said bluntly, barely remembering to keep quiet. "Sloppy. Sloppy and stupid."

Vivian moved to her side, looking around the room curiously. She held her rifle more seriously now, ready to snap it up and fire at a moment's notice. "Why wouldn't they have any guards? That's just... silly."

Ophilia raised her eyes, scanning the room more thoroughly. She clicked her tongue as if she'd noticed something Vivian hadn't and stepped behind some crates stacked in the corner of the room. Several seconds later she returned, shaking her head. "Let me guess," she whispered in an annoyed tone. "There were a few security cameras mixed in with your stolen gear?"

Vivian thought back to her list, nodding slightly. "Yeah, a few. Basic shit, nothing too phenomenal."

Ophilia jabbed her thumbs back over her shoulder at the crates. "They're in the middle of setting them up. There's a cup of coffee over there; still warm." She moved beside the trapdoor leading down into the warehouse. "Idiots."

Vivian felt her muscles tense in excitement as she stared at the trap door expectantly. A firefight would be a fine way to start this evening. But no one showed up to play.

Ophilia crouched down, putting her ear to the trapdoor and closing her eyes. After a second, she pulled the door open, snapping her pistol into the open space, right where a person's head would be if they were climbing out. No one was there to eat her bullet. Carefully, she swung herself down, climbing the small ladder onto the catwalk below.

Vivian followed, disappointed. She had really wanted to show off for Ophilia.

The catwalk they stood on overlooked the warehouse's main chamber, which was separated into a maze-like pattern by a large number of roofless partitions, probably built of some flimsy plaster. Vivian considered them with a glance – a bullet would go clean through those. They weren't any cover at all.

Ophilia scanned the lower chamber with a critical eye, probably seeing more than Vivian could ever hope to notice. Then, without any noise, she turned to Vivian and pointed further down the catwalk to a observation deck that was attached to the roof of the structure. While there was a door between the two intruders and the rooms beyond, Vivian could clearly see the corners of a window facing out to the side, as well as some light bleeding from the glass.

The two began to creep closer – Ophilia moving with the slow, sinuous grace of a prowling cat. Vivian, meanwhile, felt like a lead brick with metal pipes for legs. She hated this sneaking posture; it made her knees ache. However, Vivian managed to both keep quiet and also keep her rifle firmly trained on the door, just in case bad luck should frown on some unsuspecting idiot and had him decide to go for a stroll just then.

As it turned out, they reached the door without incident. Vivian was getting seriously surly about this; she wanted someone or something to shoot.

Ophilia tried the handle – it was unlocked – and ducked in with that same shoulder-rush motion she'd used on the last door.

It was an empty hallway with several doors. Vivian huffed under her breath. She was getting really tired of all these suspenseful moments, with no action. It was like foreplay without the sex.

While Vivian lamented the lack of violence, Ophilia slipped further into the room, her pistol snapping from one door to the next as she got close to them, just in case she had to say hello, but with bullets. When no one decided to greet them, the mobster stopped at one of the doors and listened.

Almost right away, Ophilia turned and motioned Vivian into a nearby door with a frantic wave.

Vivian hesitated for only a half-second – if she pretended to be shocked or confused, maybe they could actually shoot someone – but her desire to seem competent to Ophilia won out and she rushed to a door as quietly as she could, opened it, and slipped inside.

It was a closet. There were mop buckets and everything. She almost laughed out loud – of any room they could've ducked into, of course they'd wind up in the fuckin' closet!

Ophilia darted in behind her, shutting the door quietly behind her. In the brief second of light before the darkness closed in, Vivian could see Ophilia putting a finger to her lips for silence, as if she needed any reminding. She went to grumble, but nearly swallowed her tongue at the sound of movement on the other side of the door. Perhaps these sneaky moments were exciting, in their own way.

The door across the hall had been opened, and Vivian could hear footsteps, as well as a slightly muffled conversation. "... told you, we had all the tools we needed up there." The first voice sounded older, slightly gravelly. "I swear, if my fucking coffee's gone cold..."

"Quit bitchin'," said a second, younger voice. "So I was wrong. Fuck off."

The footsteps retreated down the hall, towards the door Vivian and Ophilia had just entered. With the sound of the door closing, silence reigned again. Ophilia still waited several more seconds before opening the closet door, peering out cautiously. She ducked out, leaving Vivian to laugh silently into her hand. Now they were coming out of the closet!

Vivian caught up with Ophilia as she pressed her ear to the door for the second time. Rather than motion for her to run away, this time Ophilia responded with a series of complicated hand signs. Vivian raised her eyebrow and made her own sign – a corkscrew gesture towards her temple.

Ophilia rolled her eyes dramatically, but gave a small smile. She followed up with a simpler gesture: she drew her thumb across her throat. Now this was more like it! Slowly, Ophilia pushed open the door.

The room was a makeshift security center. One man had been left behind, watching several screens with his back to the pair of women. His bad luck. Vivian raised her rifle to fire, but much to her chagrin, Ophilia pushed it back down, putting that same damn finger to her lips. She was lucky they were so luscious.

Vivian watched her creep forward slowly like the shadow of death, holstering her pistol and drawing something else from inside her suit. She gripped a pair of short wooden sticks in each hand and, at first, Vivian was genuinely confused. However, it only took a second for her to recognize the garrote wire for what it was when Ophilia snapped it taught moments before looping it over the man's head and around his neck. She'd never seen one of those used before, so the excitement was doubled.

The guard tried to fight it, but it was impossible. He flailed back, trying to reach Ophilia, but the angle was too awkward. Vivian felt a rush of adrenaline as she watched the man die. It was a normal feeling for her; a reminder that she was better at surviving than the people around her. After all, she wasn't the one being strangled to death, was she now?

Ophilia stayed where she was, holding the wire tightly around the man's throat, even after he fell unconscious. Suffocation was a very slow death, even if you weren't awake for most of it. "Now we wait," she whispered into the silence, sounding utterly passionless. Vivian didn't understand how she could seem so empty when she killed someone, but so full of emotion every other moment throughout the day.

Not bothering to pursue that line of thinking, Vivian flopped into a chair beside the dying man, eyeing him speculatively. Spotting what she'd been searching for, she reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a cigarette box. When she opened it, she found exactly what she'd hoped for: several hand-rolled joints. "Score," she whispered, smelling the rollies to make sure they weren't tobacco.

Ophilia raised an eyebrow at her from behind the man, making Vivian giggle and shrug. "What? He's not gonna be smoking 'em, is he?" She slipped a joint out from the rest, sliding the others into her own carrying case, putting that back inside her jacket with a sense of triumph. She placed the extra blunt on her lips drawing out her lighter.

Just as Vivian was about to sit back and kick her feet up, one of the screens changed. What was previously static flickered, changing to a shot of two men, putting the finishing touches on the completed security camera, one of them angrily sipping his lukewarm coffee. Vivian noticed right away that the quality of camera she purchased was leagues above what the Dogs were previously working with; you just needed to compare the screens.

The two men walked off-screen just as Vivian lit her blunt. With a wild grin, she spun around in her chair so she faced towards the door and shouldered her rifle, using the back of the chair as a rest and aiming at the entrance the two men would surely take. Ophilia, being far more practical, unwrapped her garrote from the unconscious guard's neck and moved beside the door. This meant that when someone walked through, she would have a clear shot at them – probably without them even knowing she was there. She drew her pistol, looked over to Vivian, then put some distance between herself and the door, probably to avoid any stray bullets.

It felt like forever to Vivian, but not a minute later, she heard the outer door close and the voices approaching. "... just sayin', you need to lighten up, man." It was that second voice – the younger one. As the door opened and they spotted her, Vivian almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

Ophilia snapped her pistol up the second a shot was clear, shooting the older man cleanly in the side of the head. His grey matter splattered all over the younger guy, who was all Vivian's. And she did this her way, rattling off a triple-burst shot, controlling the rifle's kickback with moderate skill. With the almost gentle retort of the silencer, the bullets all hit home: stomach, chest, eye. He didn't even have time to realize what was happening.

Ophilia moved quickly the moment the shots were fired, catching the man she'd shot and pushing his corpse inside the room. She dragged Vivian's victim in with a sharp tug, kicking the door closed behind her. With a calm, collected air, she walked back to the unconscious man and unceremoniously blew his brains out. She began digging over the bodies while Vivian took a long drag from her blunt, trembling from head to toe. While she recovered herself, Ophilia placed a second shot into the heads of the two other bodies, just to be certain, then looked over to Vivian.

"Now what?" Vivian asked, spinning her whole chair around so she was facing the security screens. She blew out a long drag of smoke and Ophilia waved her hand in front of her face, trying to dispel it.

Cameras were everywhere in the warehouse, both outside and inside. Vivian would have respected their caution, if they hadn't tripped so spectacularly at the finish line. Vivian even noticed that Ophilia had found a dark spot in their security to mask their approach. It was a real shame they were all so grossly incompetent, or this might have actually been a challenge. As it was, Vivian was enjoying herself to the fullest.

Then again... Vivian thought to herself, looking over her shoulder at Ophilia, who was checking the bodies for ammunition and side arms. Without her, would Vivian have really gotten in so easily? She would've kicked in the front door and ran face-first into this security. It would've been an absolute catastrophe.

As that fact settled into place, Ophilia made her way across the room, passing Vivian a small pistol and a spare clip. She leaned over the screens, then almost instantly pointed to one of them with her own spare pistol, taken from one of the corpses. "Here," she whispered, "room two-fourty-eight. That's where they have your guns."

"How can you tell?" Vivian sat up a little straighter, rolling the blunt on her lips. Ophilia smirked, tapping the bottom of the screen with the barrel of the pistol. It had the words Room 248: Armory written across the bottom. "Oh, that's just fuckin' lazy, right there!" Vivian emoted, nearly tossing her arms up. "I mean, come on!"

"Makes it easier for us though," Ophilia responded before stepping back, drawing and pointing her silenced pistol at the screens. One by one, she shot them out, until there was nothing but sparks, broken glass, and smoke. "Give me a stupid enemy any day."

"But it's not nearly as fun," Vivian quipped, hopping back out of the chair and laughing. She checked the safety on the pistol and stashed it in the back of her pants, under her coat.

"None of this is fun, Vivian." Ophilia turned to look at her with an utterly blank stare. "This is business." Vivian nearly made a rather harsh comment about that, but bit her tongue. She didn't want to spend the rest of this raid arguing with Ophilia about the finer points of murder. She did, however, decide to call that expression Ophilia's professional face from then on.

With just a little exploration, they found that the rest of the observation deck was empty. This late at night, not many bangers would willingly waste their time at this dump of a warehouse, and those that were forced to be here were being very, very lazy. These weren't mercenaries, or even trained guards; these were common gangsters; men and women who would rather be spending their night getting high on their drug of choice or partying the moonlight away. But to Vivian's eye, there was no party like the party she was about to bring down on this place. The anticipation was killing her.

Back out on the catwalk, Vivian and Ophilia were once again in the dark, high above the rest of the warehouse. Ophilia motioned for silence again, and Vivian rolled her eyes behind her glasses. The two continued to creep down the catwalk, heading for a staircase at the far side, built flush against the wall, that lead down to the ground floor.

Just before the staircase however, there was another guard. She was leaning on the railing, overlooking the whole warehouse with a cigarette burning in her lip. Vivian almost chuckled at how the smell of nicotine made Ophilia twitch. A sub-machine gun was hanging off her arm on a strap and the cherry burning on her lips was illuminating her face in the dim lighting of the catwalk.

She started to turn – maybe because she heard a noise or maybe because she was patrolling – and Ophilia shot her square in the face. There was no hesitation or ceremony; her hand snapped up with precision and planted a bullet in the guard, right next to the bridge of her nose, just under her left eye. Blood, bits of bone, and what Vivian assumed was spinal fluid splattered onto the stairs behind her as she fell backwards, her cigarette landing on her stomach when the dust finally settled.

Ophilia walked over and scooped the smoke up, taking a good, long drag before blowing out the smoke and flicking it back onto the dead body. "Menthol. Ew."

Vivian stared at her, then the corpse. She'd killed people plenty of times before – old and young; bangers and not; men and woman and everything in between. She'd used shanks, guns, knives – even a sword that one time. But Ophilia was something different. Vivian had assumed that she'd had some training, but this was more than the teachings of some random mobster or mercenary.

Very little was known about Ophilia – or rather, the Silencer – because, she supposed, anyone who got a good look at her abilities would come down with a very serious case of the dead shortly after. It's damn inconvenient, trying to confirm or deny rumors when you're a corpse. So people speculated, guessing she was a trained spy or made some deal with the devil or something, when reality was probably much simpler.

Vivian scooped up the sub-machine gun from where it'd clattered to the walkway, hanging it over her chest as they walked towards the stairs. "Where did you learn all this, Mel?" She found herself asking in a soft whisper. She was fascinated by the walking mystery that was her lover.

"Turkey," Ophilia replied quickly, but offered nothing else. She pointed silently, ignoring the meat of the question.

Down on the ground floor, a few 'corridors' away, four Black Dogs were playing a game of cards amid an intersection. They must have been so focused on their game that they'd missed Ophilia's heartless extermination of their friend. Vivian could just barely make out what looked like a large pile of cash in the center of the table they were playing on. Each of them were staring intently at their hands, occasionally lowering them to take a swig of beer or soda, whichever they were drinking.

Vivian grinned, feeling her blood pound in her ears, calling for more bloodshed. "A challenge," she whispered to Ophilia, shouldering the machine gun, but the other woman shook her head.

"An obstacle. We won't be drawing their attention, if we do this right."

Vivian pouted, but gave a small nod. Ophilia was probably right. This place wasn't very defensible, and if there were any Dogs down there they couldn't see, they'd be Swiss cheese in no time. On home ground, it was doable, but here in the belly of the beast, it was suicide.

The two reached the bottom of the stairs, taking a longer route around to give the gamblers a wide berth. Vivian was forced to admit defeat as they moved deeper and deeper into the warehouse; she heard voices here and there, behind walls and down corridors. More than once, Ophilia stopped her from walking out in front of a patrol, letting them walk past without an ounce of harm. Clearly, the mobster had seen far more then Vivian had imagined in that brief glimpse off the catwalk.

Room two-fourty-eight was relatively easy to find, since all the rooms were laid out in a pattern. Decode the pattern, follow the trail, and win the prize. Vivian was very good at things like that.

Ophilia took up a position beside the door, listening through the flimsy wall. She looked back to Vivian after a moment and made the throat-slicing gesture again. Vivian raised an eyebrow at her, wondering just how absolute the sign was this time.

However, Ophilia gave her a nod, as if reading her thoughts. Vivian was confident that, if someone was in there, they were shooting them full of holes right away. The room had been empty before, when they'd looked it over with the cameras, but if Ophilia was giving the sign to shoot then there was obviously someone inside now.

Ophilia reached and tried to turn the handle, but uttered a whispered curse – it was locked from the inside. They could shimmy over the divider, but there would be a major risk of being spotted. From the immobile view of the camera, they had no real idea of what the layout of the room really was. No, they'd need to go in the old-fashioned way.

Ophilia made sure Vivian understood and drew a two pairs of earplugs from her pocket. After putting hers in and letting Vivian do the same, she began counting down on her fingers. As the last finger fell, she shot the doorknob, kicking out with her foot not even a moment later.

Three Black Dogs were visible in the room, standing around a large crate – the bulk of Vivian's shipment. They were caught by surprise; a particular kind of emotion that seemed to follow Vivian around like a lost puppy.

Seeing three juicy targets, Vivian shouldered her rifle, flicking the fire setting from triple-burst to full-auto during the fluid motion. She sprayed the area the men were standing in with hushed rounds, not entirely sure if she was hitting her mark. Ophilia crouched under Vivian's rifle and slipped into the room, drawing her pistol again. Just as Vivian was about to wonder why she even bothered getting Ophilia a rifle, the mobster fired a shot at a fourth gangster Vivian hadn't seen, dropping him cleanly. He'd been aiming for her, while she'd been focusing on shooting the three in the center of the room.

One of the men beside the crate fell, but the other two scattered. As she took aim at one of the men, she noticed the weapon in his hands; a sleek, new KSG Bullpup Shotgun, fresh from her stash. "Oh shit," she muttered, diving behind a nearby crate. The walls behind her would be about as helpful as tissue paper against that shotgun. Just as she made it to cover, the banger she'd spied with her shotgun turned from his shelter and fired in her direction, sending fragments of wood everywhere. Ophilia was similarly pinned by the other man. Gunshots tore through the previously quiet warehouse; stealth had rightly failed.

Vivian took a long, deep breath, letting it out in a shuddering heave. "Oh... yeah..." She let the rifle fall and dangle at her side, drawing out her babies.

Vivian's Eagles were custom-modded to fit her needs, bearing all the bells and whistles any woman like Vivian could ever want. The extended clips meant more bullets for more man meat, while the glowing sights made it all the easier for Vivian to pinpoint her targets. She'd even had her gang's sign etched into the barrel of both, marking them as hers and hers alone.

She spun from cover, keeping low and peering down the sights of one Eagle. She'd caught the gangster that was firing at her off guard; he'd been aiming high and hadn't expected her to break cover down low. As always, her baby packed a punch, kicking back her hand violently. She had barely enough time to see blood splatter behind the man before she snapped her head, looking towards the other gangster who was harassing Ophilia. This one, having a second of warning, had taken cover behind a crate at the far wall. Certainly, he'd hoped Vivian would hesitate, in case the crate was full of guns and ammo.

Vivian snorted and shot the crate twice with her off-hand gun. Seriously, who did he think she was? Nothing inside exploded, but Vivian heard a grunt of pain right before the man slumped over, dead. Triumphant, Vivian snapped her head back to the first man who was on the ground screaming, holding his gut in agony; Vivian's shot had veered low, but entered just above his belly button and shredded it's way out the back, taking the man's lower spine with it. His legs were utterly useless now. Vivian mercifully shot him in the head with a manic grin.

"Vivian!" Ophilia's shout made Vivian snap around, assuming there were more attackers. She didn't really expect to get slapped. The flash of pain on the side of her face staggered her more than it should have and Vivian brought her head back up to stare at her lover in amazement. "That was stupid, reckless, and dangerous!" Ophilia shouted to be heard over the earplugs. "You could've died! You shouldn't have—" She cut off with a curse, hearing cries of alarm from all around the warehouse. "Grab the goods. We're leaving."

Vivian put away her pistols and rubbed her cheek, grinning. Even Ophilia's admonishing tone hadn't killed her adrenaline high. "Of course, oh fearless leader." She slid her weapons off one by one as she went to the crate in the center of the room, putting the rifle, spare pistol, and sub-machine gun in with her other goodies. She barely contained her joy, drawing out a new rifle with various attachments and hefting it experimentally. She stocked up on ammunition, loaded the grenade launcher, slapped a fresh clip into the bottom, and chambered a bullet. She spun with that same wild look, taking her glasses off and pocketing them. "Lets give these stupid fucks a show, hm?"

She reached into her jacket, drawing out a frag grenade. Ophilia stopped mid-reload, giving her a shocked and curious look. Vivian shrugged, raising her voice just enough to be heard. "I've got five of 'em, but they aren't very quiet, ya know." She pulled the pin with her teeth and lobbed the grenade over the partition while Ophilia hurried to the crate to see what they were dealing with.

Vivian dug out two more grenades as the first one exploded, pulling the pins in a similar fashion before tossing them into the warehouse at random.

Sow chaos; that was Vivian's game. Chaos that you controlled made your enemies stupid and gullible. Fear could have a fine touch, or it could be a wild explosion. Vivian, obviously, preferred the latter.

Knowing she had a near-endless supply of ammunition at her disposal, Vivian finished off the current round of fireworks by firing the rifle's grenade launcher into the hall just outside the room, earning several screams of surprise and pain. She moved back to the box, grabbing another grenade and looking to her lover's confused expression.

"There's no way we can carry all this out, Viv," Ophilia said with a kind of bewildered certainty, pulling out her earplugs. Her eyes were a little wild as she stared at the man-sized crate of firearms and ammunition.

"Nope," Vivian responded, snapping the grenade launcher closed over it's fresh ammo.

"You knew!" Ophilia accused.

"Eeyup," Vivian shot back cheerily. "I'm here to deliver a message. You've done your part in getting me here; now let me do mine." She tossed the fully-equipped rifle to Ophilia giving her a wink. "You know how to kill like a stalking panther, Mel. Lemme show you how a rhino does it." Vivian finished the statement with a flash of white teeth. "Hold 'em off for me, would you?"

Ophilia , wide-eyed a moment earlier, snapped on her professional face the moment she heard Vivian's request. She set up by the door, putting her earplugs back in and started firing at any targets that presented themselves. The Black Dogs, however, were a little hesitant to get too close – there had been no real warning between the silence of the night and the explosions of Vivian's chaotic mess and their nerves were probably a little frayed.

The crate was packed with guns and Vivian needed to dig to try and find her goal. She was certain she'd seen a part of it when she'd been fishing out that first grenade. It was a singular weapon that she'd purchased, not precisely for use, but rather as a piece for her personal collection. It would look splendid beside her AMR.

A long, thick barrel found her fingers. Vivian traced around it, trailing her slowly hand up and down to make sure her guess was right. She almost squealed in joy when her fingers confirmed what she'd been thinking. She began digging frantically, ignoring the sounds of approaching feet and shouting, all in an effort to pull her newest baby from it's metallic and wooden womb.

She only had enough rounds to fire it for three minutes. She'd make due.

Vivian had always adored the redundancy of the name Minigun. It brought to mind an adorable little thing; something smaller than your average pistol firing dainty little bullets. And yet, everyone knew the reality; the M134 Minigun was a gun that was so big and heavy that it was virtually impossible to create a light, mobile version of the weapon. And yet this beautiful machine could fire over two-thousand bullets a minute, on it's lowest speed setting.

Vivian toted the beauty from the crate, noticing that the Black Dogs had already done her job and assembled her little killing machine, as well as it's ammo dump, energy source, and tripod in inside the box. They probably had plans to mount it somewhere in the warehouse to shore up their defenses. She kissed the sleek metal shaft of the gun's barrel, trailing her hand almost sensually over it, and sighed as she held it close to her body. "I love you."

"Viv, quit making love to the damn gun and kill someone already!" Ophilia shouted without even turning around. She was firing rounds at a few Black Dogs who'd grown brave enough to take cover by the door and fire in. They'd learned pretty fast that the walls they were hiding behind weren't all that helpful against someone with good judgement, but they were persistent.

Vivian let out a playful giggle, drawing the ammunition stream from the crate. "Of course, darling." She lugged up the main gun, putting the strap around her shoulder, and climbed onto a nearby table for some height, connecting the gun to it's ammunition and power sources. She heard a bullet whiz past her head, followed by more gunshots and angry shouts from Ophilia. "You might want to get down though!" She shouted loudly, making sure Ophilia could hear her amid all the madness.

At this curious statement, Ophilia finally found a moment to look back at what Vivian was doing. When the mobster's eyes finally fell on Vivian's compensation cannon, she mouthed a foul word and dove flat onto her stomach.

The barrel spun, humming in Vivian's blocked hearing like a continual heartbeat. Her own heart pounded against her rib-cage, eager as she was for the climax. She'd dreamed of firing one of these her whole life, even if she hadn't known it yet. If this past month was to be believed, dreams came true in succession. Pretty soon, she'd likely meet aliens and finally find a copy of Polybius!

With a rattle, the ammunition fed into the chamber. As soon as that first bullet slipped past that rotating barrel, the minigun opened fire.

It was like holding onto a bucking stream of death. It was next to impossible to keep the stream straight, so Vivian simply leaned towards the spray and pray method of firing. Bullets tore through the flimsy walls like they were made of moist toilet paper, filling the air with flying plaster dust, fragments of cheap wood, and gallons of splattered blood. Screams were buried under the roar of her baby and Vivian found that she was laughing. She turned, dragging the line of murder along the wall, killing anyone who was dumb enough to be hiding outside. And three rooms over. Hell, anyone on this entire floor was about to have a very bad time.

She laughed louder – perhaps a little hysterically – and felt the familiar rush of pleasure that so often accompanied her latest fix. This felt even better than sex!

She let up on the trigger, but kept the barrel spinning. She realized then that she'd only been firing for about half a minute, despite it feeling like a small eternity. She hopped off the table, landing with a grunt and her legs almost buckling under the weight. Through adrenaline and sheer grit she managed to keep from collapsing, but her arms were trembling uncontrollably already. "Fuck, this thing is heavy," she complained. She'd need to set up the brace and tripod properly before she fired again. As she went to step, she realized just how aroused she'd actually become from firing the gun. "Fun though," she added with a manic grin, trying to keep from blushing.

Ophilia pushed herself up, fedora askew, and stared at Vivian wish huge, shocked eyes. There was a distant sound of a wall collapsing.

"We should keep moving," Vivian said, motioning with the barrel of her gun. "We've got some punks to clear out."

Her heart was still thudding in her chest, her breathing was still ragged, and her legs were shaking – that last one could've been the weight, though. In spire of all these things, Vivian was ready and waiting for more action.

Ophilia was silent, staring at her as if trying to decide what to do next about this whole situation. Vivian was confident that she'd get the next step put into place. She was the Silencer after all, a legend in her own right. With a quick swipe of her tongue, Vivian wet her dried lips and awaited Ophilia's decision amid the pleasant melodies of screams as well as the sweet and coppery scent of fresh blood.

Author's Note

This is the second half of what was once Chapter 6, along with the original title for the chapter as well.

Stick around for Chapter 8 to see the conclusion of the raid!