(Scene 1) The Snow Palace - The Throne Room

Her naturally narrow and almond shaped eyes (thanks to her pure Chinese heritage) turned into slits and she pursed her lips, her fingers playing with her dark, jet black hair. Why she did so was a mystery to anyone who had ever witnessed it, because her hair was much to short to be twirled. But no one ever said anything.

“Corvus,” she said, quite softly, yet the power and malice which was conveyed was unmistakable. “Is this a joke?”

The tall, burly man named Corvus did not move from his position on the hard ice floor. “I never joke, Empress,” he said seriously to the ground, while studiously ignoring the pain gathering where his left knee met the ice. He focused instead on the numbing cold he felt through his palm.

She did not look at him.

“They infiltrated her ammunitions factory?” she murmured to herself – there was a soft whirring as she rewound the hologram in slow motion.

He listened to the shouts from the holograph and for a moment, the recorded arguments took his mind away from his position on the floor. But not for long… He hated the Snow Palace. Hated it. It was ruthless. Cold. Just like the Empress. Although he would never tell her that; nor would he tell her that he liked her when she hadn’t had to shoulder the burden of the world. Those childhood memories evaporated almost before they could play in his mind’s eye. And he shivered at the harshness in her voice.

“Unacceptable.”

He did not raise his eyes from the blue, reflective surface, where the skin of his hand had practically become one with the floor.

“Corvus.”

“Yes, Empress?”

“Send out the Princess. Tell her to find these mercenaries and bring them back to me. While she’s doing that, summon the Queen. I need to have a word with her so you might as well notify her now. With the way she's organized, it'll be a week before I actually get to speak with her.”

Corvus cleared his throat. "Don't you want to speak to her now?"

The Empress smirked. "No. Not really. With the way she's running her factory, there's bound to be more of these mercenaries. We'll use the incompetents as bait. And then I'll get to handpick the best of the best... besides, I think the Princess is getting bored these days, violence makes her happy. Free victims! That's like, three birds with one stone..." There was a pause. "What are you still waiting for? Go!"

Corvus stood up quickly, the skin from his palm tore away from his hands, leaving them raw and bleeding, so he stuffed them into his robes and left without another word.

A few hours later...

The Princess returned, her robes just as white as when she had left. She glanced shiftily from side to side as she entered the room, and then stared at the Empress, who stared wordlessly back. They did this often. They were so attune to each other's thoughts that they didn't even need the telepathic communication devices that much of the population had implanted in their heads.

The Empress smiled briefly, and nodded and the Princess spun on her heel, turning to leave. She twirled a little, like a small child, before she passed through the force-field and ran down the hall, quickly disappearing around the corner and out of sight.

The Empress surveyed the captured mercenaries with thinly veiled interest.

And said nothing.

They would crack under the silence.

Most people did.

Trev's heart was beating frantically, like a hummingbird's wing flitting inside her chest cavity. Part of her knew she should be nervous - the Empress' eyes seemed to be drilling holes into her - but the exhilaration of the night's previous events hadn't quite left her, and she felt nothing but lighthearted excitement.

She had no need to fear, she told herself. She wasn't working against the Empress. She wasn't working for anybody. She was a rabble-rouser, and by her very definition she needed no reason for stirring up havoc.

"So," she said, her voice chipper and bright. "It's great to see you, Empress. Lovely palace you've got here. I love what you've done with the place."

She felt an elbow dig into her ribs. I do the talking! Alistair was telling her. We've discussed this! She rolled her eyes and started playing with her short, wispy red hair.

"Why are we here?" Alistair asked, his voice that of the most innocent cherubim.

A few minutes lapsed in silence, and the Empress cocked her head quizically, yawning lazily like a cat. She was only mildly impressed with their patience, which was to say, very much so.

"I feel that, if you were truly intelligent enough to break into the Queen's ammunitions factory, you would not be asking me such an obvious question. I am very disappointed that you even assumed I would take my time to answer that seriously."

" Oh, well, I am terribly sorry to dissapoint you," he wasnt " now I'm going to ask again. What do you want from us? Unless you've got the money, we dont got the time. Got it?"

Alistair surveyed the scene. There were no flaws of the surrounding for him to use to his advantage. The one thing an assasin must be able to do is to use his surroundings to his advantage. In this case however, his surroundings were airtight, and pretty damn cold. He stared at the empress, his confidence wavering slightly.

No way out, he thought, always the escape artist. Thought this time, there looked to be no visible escape, although he doubted the empress meant to dispose of them; if she did, she would have to deal with an assasins guild. Not fun. He loosened up. Though his gaze was still unwavering.

Oh, dear, Trev thought. This is getting messy. She felt the excitement fading away from her, only to realize that she was in a precarious situation that she probably couldn't get out of by smiling, with Alistair, who looked like he was going to be rude and cause trouble. And she was cold. She hated being cold.

"Listen, we promise we're not working for the Queen. If you think about it, it's probably to your benefit that we go around causing trouble for her, anyway, so I don't even see why we're here. Can we please leave? Or at least can you turn up the heat? I didn't bring my winter jacket."

Alistair laughed, knowing Trev was being genuine in her requests. The heat probably wasnt getting turned up. There was no heat.

" I concur. Its the very least you could do for your esteemed prisoners," he was just being an ass now, though his tone of voice relayed immense contempt.

The cold stare slowly turned into a smile, which then turned into ruthless laughter devoid of any actual joy. When the laughter petered away, she held up a finger to silence their impertinent requests and began to speak.

"First off, regardless of whether you have the time or not, you are MAKING time for me. Because, in case you haven't noticed, you're PRISONERS..." Her voice trailed away ominously, as she noticed the almost imperceptible movement of his eyes. She smiled with satisfaction. She personally designed her entire palace. And so she was the only one who knew the escape routes, even for "esteemed" escape artists like the two rogues standing before her would find it impossible. A fact which no doubt frustrated them, him especially; she could see it in the tensing of his muscles.

"Secondly," she continued, abruptly begining to speak again. "I have no interest in making others feel comfortable. The world clearly revolves around me, and I feel quite at ease. It's the perfect room temperature." She said, attempting an amiable smile. Of course, what she wasn't going to tell them was that the ice was supposed to make them bitterly uncomfortable. An attack on two fronts. Then she thought. How I love the Art of War.

"Finally, I am surprised at how terribly ignorant you are. The Queendom is a part of MY EMPIRE, thus if your attack was aimed at the Queen, it is, by extension an attack on myself. Your attack was a fruitless attempt, of course, make no mistake of it. But it was still very irritating.

HOWEVER, setting all that aside, I would like to know how much it would cost me to hire your services?"

A warm feeling filled Trev once again, and a smile began to spread slowly across her face. Excellent.

"You've made an excellent choice, Empress. We're very good. Since you have such stellar taste, the only payment we should really need is the pleasure of your wonderful company..."

Alistair unabashedly grabbed her by the back of her head and covered her mouth with his other hand. She turned her head to look at him, and her eyes narrowed. He would pay for that later.

"We want a loft," he answered. "A nice loft. Uptown. And free reign in your city."

Trev's face brightened considerably. Half her face still covered by Alistair's gargantuan hand, she turned expectantly to the Empress.

The Empress pursed her lips thoughtfully. "The Loft will be an easy affair to arrange. However, I am afraid I cannot give you free reign in MY city. However, I would grant you free reign in the Queendom and Kingdom, that is... if your skills are indeed worth so much..." She grinned, in greedy anticipation, and there was a soft shiiiing as long diamond nails were unsheathed from her fingers. A split second lapsed, which was generous of her, before she leapt at them, twirling in the air, a whirlwind of white robes and shiny metal.

Her tornado kick certainly wouldn't catch them unawares, it was a well-known technique after all, but none had perfected as she had. Her was lethal, if it connected right -- and that, she thought, as she gazed mercilessly into their eyes, would be up to them.

Let us see how long they will last... And then I will decide how much they deserve to be paid, she thought to herself.

Alistair saw the kik and readily bend tover backwards, bringing Trev to the ground with him. He narrowly avoided the first blow, the second caught him on the thigh and knocked him to the ground.

Alistair recovered abruptly, withdrawing a retractable scythe from a small pouch on his lower back. With a flick of the wrist it was at full length.

" Oh, no no no. Bad idea." Alistair hissed, pushing Trev away, and charged towards the empress, the scythe in front of him.

" Die." he raised the scythe, preparing to bring it down upon the head of the Icy Empress. He put half effort into the blow, if she was worth his time, he was worth her money. She wants a fight, she is getting one, he thought.

She stared in amusement at the scythe, amazed at his weapon choice. The only time she ever saw a scythe used usefully, was in the fields, in the hands of a farmer. She saw the blade of the weapon come towards her head in a sad attempt at a beheading -- sad because she could see the extravagant attack come from a mile away. Silly choice, she thought, but then again, am I supposed to be disappointed that he's not taking me seriously, or am I supposed to be happy that he's smart?

She leapt backwards, and it wooshed over her head ineffectually and its blade point buried itself deep in the ice.

She smiled and waited.

Alistair yanked the blade out of the ice with little hesitation. He leaped at her again, hoevever this time, before reaching the empress he fell to the ground, sliding past her. He stood up.

" I dont believe we have been properly aquainted, dear." He said evenly, bringing the blade of the scythe to her throat, keeping a good distance away as to avoid a kick " My name , is alistair, her name is Trev. So, a loft, free reighn, and a profit. I for one, believe that to be a completely reasonable offer. As opposed to, you know, killing you on the spot. I'm not one for messy situations."

"Mmm. Touche. I like your unorthodox maneouvre. For a second, I almost believed that you slipped," she said, her tone that of grudging admiration. "But I really have to disagree with the killing part. That's just not going to happen."

She pushed the blade of the scythe away from her throat with her armored hand, her diamond nails sliding across the metal with a shiver-inducing shriek. She spun on her heel without letting go of the blade, and twisted. She dug her toes into the ice and slid forward so quickly her robes billowed out behind her with a loud crack like a gunshot -- her eyes narrowed as her nails were primed to puncture his heart.

" Well." he said evenly " Its a deal, then?"

Trev couldn't breathe. Fighting wasn't her thing. She could barely keep track of the lightning movements. Too many blades moving too fast set her on edge. Thankfully, Alistair had pushed her out of the way; true, he had basically thrown her to the side, but she knew he was being considerate, and appreciated the gesture nonetheless. He knew her well. She could get almost anything they needed with her intelligence and smile, but fighting and business were best left to him.

She wished he would hurry up. It was all fine and dandy for him to be gallivanting around battling empresses like some deranged, hormone-crazed lion on crack, but she was cold and wanted to go home.

Then, with some rather beautiful, dance-like movements, Alistair and the Empress were face-to-face. The Empress' knife-like nails were rather too close to him for Trev's liking, though. She bristled. She'd better get her goddamn hands away from him right now.

Hurry up, Ali!

The Empress glanced at the shivering redhead out of the corner of her eye and snickered with glee. "I don't think you've shown me enough yet. So far your worth stands at a one hundred square foot farmhouse, which I am quite positive you will not settle for. So why don't you hurry it up and show me all your playing cards so your little girlfriend won't freeze to death, hm?"

Although she ended the speech in a question, she had no intention of waiting for an answer. She was having fun, and she did not want to end this so soon, since it was the closest she's had to a challenge in ages.

She tore the scythe away from his hand and spun towards him, laughing joyously, the peals of mirth cascading off the high vaulted cieling and amplified by the silent ice. "Show me your real sword, Alistair!" she taunted as she moved; her movements a white blur of motion. The white fabric billowed around her, masking her outstretched hand as it flew for his face.

" A farmhouse hm?" he said, feighning thoughtfulness " I'll take it too."

" As for blades. Heh, I have many, many blades." he sighed, squatting and sidestepping the rather dizzying and childish attack " but I wanna have some fun too." a feral grin crossed his face and he got down on all fours.

Alistair chuckled before charging at the empress in a rather animalistic fashion, making a point of growling at her. Once he was close enough he made a grand leap, looking similar to a frog, and landed squarely on the empresses shoulders.

" Prepare yourself, M'lady." he warned before kicking off into a rather graceful backflip off of her shoulders, landing on all fours again. He had that same grin, his eyes fixated on the back of her head, which in his mind, had an enormous bullseye on it.

The battlefield was a little more open than Allistair would have preferred, else this match would be rather one-sided. Alistair reched into the pouch on his lower back, drawing a small dagger. He placed it in his mouth and bit hard, so not to loose it.


" Have at me then." he mumbled throgh the cold steel. He glanced around momentarily, looking for his scythe. Too far. Damn, he thought, hoping the battle would bring them closer to the scythe.

He looked at Trev again, she looked scared. Go figure, he thought, exasperated.

As soon as his tremendous weight left her body she did a flip up and spun to face him. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "How many blades do you have exactly? 'Cause I think more than one would be just grossly impractical."

She watched him warily, noticing the way he kept scanning the room, as if he were looking for somekind of footing that would help him overpower her -- or perhaps, he was searching for a hiding place. This last thought made her smile. Although she preferred fighting in an open area such as the room they were in, she was just as adept at fighting her way out of tight corners and clutter. She knew that this was a skill that only very few could boast of. She prided herself in being a very well-rounded, multi-talented person.

She waited patiently for him to make the next move, wondering idly if he had noticed the white snowflake etched into his skin. It can't be too long before he feels the cold... she thought, grinning viciously.

"I think you're a little too cocky for your own good," she giggled mischievously. "You've already made one costly mistake... Make another, and you'll find that all the blades in the world are actually hiding beneath your skin..." she paused for dramatic effect. "You know... they say greed kills from within..."

" That it does," he groweled " Why just look around. It appears you are destined to die an early death."

Alistair stood idle, not wanting to make the first move. He woundered if the Empress had noticed the eye etched into her skin by his boot. she would soon feel the burn. And not from the exess amounts of excersise, he assumed, that she was not used to.

He felf a prick of cold on his collarbone, This place is getting to me, he thought.

"It that really all you've got?" she goaded, watching with satisfaction as she saw the uneasiness slowly appear on his face. "It's getting to you, isn't it?" She nodded contentedly. "Things is, you should know.... I am always right. And I don't think I will die today; or if by some odd chance that I do, it will not be by your hand."

" There is no other hand I would have you die from...If you were to die..." he smirked. Alistaor stood up out of exasperation " Listen, are you gonna, you know, hire us? Or not." he sighed " or is more stalemate absolutely necessary? Hm?"

"Oh, this is no stalemate," she laughed. "Don't you feel the icy cold making it's way through your veins?" She paused to let the information sink in and licked her claws seductively. "Judging by the surprise on your face, I guess you didn't notice... And I will not hire you if this is all you've got. So make your move, because this is no stalemate."

" I see..." he said realizing the threat.

He took a deep breath, carefully took up his fighting stance and placed the dagger back in his mouth. Alistair sprinted towards the empress and slid again, this time between her legs, purposefully leaving a small cut on her ankle with the dagger as somewhat of a mockery. Still in a slide he got up on his knees with one hand on the ground, grabbing the scythe as he slid by.

He stood up abruptly, now a great distance from the queen. Enough to regain his composure. He was chilled to the bone, now.

" B-bring it." he studdered unwillingly. So... cold, he thought, holding his scythe up in front of him and dropping his head as to rest for a little while before the empress might get to him.

She grinned and savoured the moment. But she did not take long; it was far from over. So he was tired now... that was nothing compared to what he would be feeling when she was finished with him.

She leapt, and in the blink of an eye, closed the distance between them. She saw the faint flicker of surprise flit across his face as her hand clamped on his wrist. She twisted and the scythe fell to the ground with a clatter. Her knee connected with his ribs once, and as he doubled over- she planted a hand on his back, flipped and landed behind him.

Alistair smiled and licked the salty red liquid from the corner of his mouth. The saltiness of his own blood amused him, for it was not his own blood he was used to. A sly grin crossed his face as he coughed profusely, drawaing more blood.

He was breathing heavily now, his eyes glazed over, and a dagger cutting the corners of his mouth. And frankly, he was surprised he had held onto it, and, in a way it was bittersweet. No more oranges for me... he thought.

Alistair laughed aloud, though it came out as more of a raspy chuckle. Why might such a thought cross his mind at a time like this?

...ADRENALINE! The thought perked him up immidiately. WIth a newfound vigor he reached around to his lower back pouch and drew a small needle filled with a clear liquid. Alistair brought it around to his shoulder and injected himself with the seemingly life-giving substance.

" Get off of me," he growled, propping himself up on his arms and sweeping both legs under the Empress, tripping her. He immidiately turned around and slammed the heel of both hands on the sides of her nek, leaving more eye shaped markings. He dared not hesitate to put them on her face and legs as well, with great speed of course, before picking up his scythe and once more distancing himself from the Empress.

" Fun times." he gasped.

((last one was me... just on angela's account... fail...))

"Interesting," she said softly, wincing slightly from the blows. She felt her skin drying rapidly, and as she turned her head slightly, realized that as she moved, she opened gashes which bled profusely, despite the superficiality of the wounds -- it still hurt, and it was ruining her beautiful white robes. She touched her bleeding neck gingerly... as stared at the red coating her slender fingers. She held back a grin, for any emotion that would contort her face, would simply open up the marks he left on her cheeks.

She snorted with derision in her mind, playing back the last few moments. She saw it coming, and now she regretted letting him connect with those blows. She did not foresee this ailment, and what a cheap trick it was. With experience, she had rightfully assumed that men did not like being beaten by women, especially not at their own game... so she thought that letting him feel like he had a little bit of an upper hand might prolong the fight. She frowned ever so slightly. Well, she accomplished that -- now he just won't be getting anymore free shots in. The cheater.

She leapt forward at him, just as he was backing up. The unnatural adrenaline might have sharpened his mind, but his body was still fighting exhaustion, even if he wasn't aware of it -- so stony faced, she flew up, taking advantage of this temporary, drug induced clumsiness, throwing a magnificent double jump front kick, and she heard the satisfying snap and thud of her heels breaking his collarbone, then slamming into his face.

As he fell backwards, she landed on his chest, effectively winding him. She blithely ignored the blood running freely down her neck and legs, and then her fist crashed into the ice floor right next to his face, shattering the scythe.

She stood as he groaned feebly, and stepped back. "I really dislike your petty little tricks. So I have decided that since you're already in this state, I will show you why you should never mess with me like that again."

She raised her hand and closed her eyes, and the water in his body slowly began to freeze. Slowly... because she did not actually want to kill him. But if she did, which was likely, it wasn't a huge loss. He hadn't proved to be worth much anyway.

Trev couldn't stand it anymore. At first she had been scared - her breathing had shallowed as fists and feet connected with soft tissue, and she had trembled from more than the cold. But now it was going too far.

She'd heard about the Empress' powers; she assumed that the rumours had been exaggerated, and she didn't know exactly what was true, but she did know that whatever the powers were able or unable to do, they could kill a healthy man. Alistair was probably the healthiest person she knew - not necessarily the sanest, but that was neither here nor there - and no part of her doubted that the Empress could end his life in an instant if she so desired. Alistair was the best and strongest fighter she knew - not just in his body but in his soul, as well - but even he couldn't go up against magic.

Magic. Even the thought gave Trev goosebumps. She may travel the world as a well-paid mercenary, meet all sorts of people and have adventures, but she was still a Ru-Och girl at heart, and magic to her was a synonym of evil.

This thought had been floating around at the back of her mind ever since they had entered the snow palace, but when she saw the Empress raise her hand and Alistair's muscles go taut, it ran to the forefront and began shrieking and beating at her frontal lobe. Do something! the thought screamed. Save him!

All right, that was it. She was bored, which led to impatience, and now that little ice witch was using magic on Alistair, and pure wrath prickled along his flesh until her very essence seemed to cry out with it.

The Empress was wrapped up in her magic - too much to notice what Trev was doing. Angrily, she got her Browning GP35 out from under her big wool sweater and stalked toward the other woman, pointing the handgun straight to her temple. "If you don't stop that in the next two seconds and walk away, I will shoot you in the head, so help me gods."

There was a long silence - but Alistair relaxed a little more and started to breathe, which was all that mattered. He still shivered, though. Her connection with him wasn't completely severed.

"Tell us whether you're hiring us or not. But if anything happens to him..." Her voice was quiet. She didn't know why she hadn't yet pulled the trigger, except that maybe Alistair would be mad at the loss of such a valuable contract.

She didn't really care anymore, to be frank. Alistair's life was more important than anything else. She waited for the Empress' response...

The Empress opened her eyes. She enjoyed her power a little too much, it seemed... she had all but totally forgotten about his girlfriend. She cursed inwardly, but outwardly, she lowered her hand. She smiled and ignored the new cut that opened up on her face. She could answer them now, but she didn't like the idea that she would be doing so because the girl had a gun at her head... because if she answered now, it would effectively mean that they had the upper hand in the negotiations, and that would just not do.

She let her hand drop fully to her side, and noticed the corresponding reaction, the girl immediately relaxed, as the Empress had predicted. With a bloody grin, she struck.

A split second later, the redhead froze, literrally.

The Empress smirked with satisfaction as she saw the redhead`s bright green eyes flicker towards the small, frosty white snowflake etched into the inside of her wrist like a tattoo.

"You must be wondering what I did to you," she said smugly. "Don`t worry, it`s not nearly as lethal as what I was about to do to him. You see... I have only encased you in a thin, but nigh unbreakable coat of ice. Where as Alistair here," she nudged him with her foot. "has tiny, microscopic icicles forming in every single cell in his body. So your timing was quite good, a second later and it would have been too late to save him."

She walked around them both, slowly and tauntingly, and giggled at their despair. "No worries, my dear mercenaries, you are hired. The loft will be ready for you both by tonight. In the meantime... I will have healers to fix the both of you, and then guards to guide you around." She giggled suddenly, and said in a low whisper, "That was soooo fun. Let`s do that again sometime, ok?"

She then turned and glided away gracefully. Disappearing around the corner and leaving footprints stained faintly with blood and a reigning sense of disbelief in her wake.

Alistair shivered profusely and swore at himself for losing.

Two men dressed in all white robes ran towards him and lifted Trev and himself into stretchers. He did not like the sense of vulnerability, but there were other things to think of other than his pride... like wether or not the tattoo thingy is permanent, because that, would suck. He did not want the empress to have that kind of power over him.