Misha, a young gun for hire, entered the near empty bar. Because of most of the attacks on supernaturals, the bartenders were wary of all kinds of the unusuals. She was used to it though, the way people stared in wonder at her cat ears. The children who would swipe at her cat tail. Meif'wa's being a peaceful species, it was funny to see one carrying around two guns. She didn't care though; she was sent here for a job, and needed to earn some extra cash. She sat and stared at the news station the bar tender had on. Almost everyone was watching it. She shrugged and waited. It wasn't everyday that a client wanted a dead or alive job and offered extra for the alive aspect. So she sat, and waited.

"Death lingers around you," Dan smirked, appearing all of a sudden appearing sat beside her. The woman was an odd sight especially these days, with the recent problem of supernaturals their kind was highly shunned. Nevertheless Dan himself could walk freely in the form of a human, whereas it seemed this girl didn't have the luxury.

"I know alot about Death," He chuckled, ironically as he was Death itself. "Who are you here to kill?"

"Huh?" She looked confused up at this human. He didn't seem like the others. She closed her eyes and smirked. He's hiding something, she thought, decidedly not looking at him again while she answer. "No details till I meet the client. Safest way to keep their identities secrete," she stirred the drink before her, not ever taking a sip. "Stupid that I keep doing this," she mumbled to herself, hoping the man wouldn't hear her. He might be the client but she couldn't be too sure these days. "Nice weather, huh?" She said lamely to try to shift the direction of the conversation.

Dan continued to smirk at the woman, almost fascinated by her.
"Tell me," He started, already knowing the answer to his question. "Have you taken a life before?" The mundane beginnings would surely open up the darkest recesses of her mind. After all, he took a special interest in death and those who dealt it.

"I find the weather lacking blood." Now a cruel smile formed. Was this man insane?

He sure seemed to be. She let a small glance at him, hoping to see what was behind those eyes of his. How could he so causally talk about death like this. This was surely a person who's dealt with something like it before, but he went about it so calmly, so sadistic that it seemed he wasn't just any human. She could feel it now, he wasn't human. "I think you may already know the answer to your first question," before she could say anymore, a person with a hood on walked over to them.

"I was told there would only be one of you," he growled. He seemed slightly panicked.

"There is only one of us. I was just striking up conversation with this fine gentleman here," she replied, clearly telling that this man was the client. He shifted from foot to foot. He seemed so uneasy in this place.

"Could we.... discuss details in a less crowded area?" He didn't seem at all comfortable with the fact that he was doing this. Misha turned to the gentleman sitting beside her. She wanted to see what he would do now that her client was here.

"Oh, I do apologise." Dan smirked most sarcastically, his eyes darting between the two of them. "I'll be gone then." It was then he played his trick. Through an illusion of magic it looked like he got up and left them, walking out of earshot for good. In reality though he was very much still sat beside them, albeit masked in the shadows.

There in silence he waited, eager to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"That man was. . . strange," the client said as he turned back to face her. She nodded, agreeing with him completely. The man was off to her, but none the less, she sat and waited.

"So, details?" She asked, waiting for the client to tell her anything.

"Here," he slipped a paper in her hands. "He lives here. Like I said, I'll pay you extra if you bring him to me alive," he enunciated this last word, so as to show how much he wanted this man alive.

"A little torture for yourself? Not the first time a client has asked me for this," she looked at the paper, to see where exactly to go. "Our next meeting place and time?" It was so simple, so natural, that she asked the questions with almost no emotion.

"It's on the back. Please have him there as soon as possible; I'll be waiting every night from 6 pm to 12:30 am. If he's not there by next week, I will assume you died, failed, or gave up. See you then, uh," he stammered, he didn't know her name, and she just smirked. This mere boy had no idea what he was getting in to.

"Misha. Just call me Misha," she said, waving him off before looking once more at the address. She knew exactly where it was, she even knew the entire layout of the house. After all, who could forget their childhood home. She wondered who lived there now. Taking one last sip, she left a tip and walked out, heading for her next destination.

Strange. Dan smirked in the shadows, this not being the first time he had been called such a thing. Silently though he listened throughout the conversation, intrigued by it's topic. They wanted the target alive? Well that was boring. As the aspect of Death he felt it his duty to ensure otherwise.

As the girl began moving Dan also went to follow in the shadows. His movements would be unseen and unheard by the innocent eye. He doubted there were any angels around to sense him. The streets continued for a while as people looked oddly upon the girl. It was obvious they saw her with suspicion.

Dan didn't care about this though, he was intrigued to see the target and what she would do with them.

She rushed down the busy streets. It was late at night but that didn't make her feel any better. She couldn't help that she felt watched. Finally, she made it to the 4 acres of land she used to call home. Climbing one of the many trees that plotted the land, she jumped from tree to tree. Soon, she made it to one in front of the house. She climbed to the top, like she used to when she would sneak out as a teenager. Looking over, she saw her bedroom window. Walls and floors were decorated pink, and the room looked like one used for a little girl. She peeked in, and saw nothing. The room was dark aside from a lone nightlight in the corner of the room. Misha slid in the room, gingerly trying to be as silent as possible. A slight turn of the door knob made her leap into the closet. She watched as a cloaked man entered the room. She watched and waited. Now wasn't the time. She needed to wait for his guard to be down. He sat on the bed, the light turned on. Picking up the doll on the bed, he gently stroked it's hair, fixing it's bow and dress. He sighed, setting it down. "You'll come home soon," he smiled as he stood, his back to Misha. She leapt from the closet, aiming to knock him to the ground. He turned, knocking her from the air, and laughed. "A small kitty tried to get the jump on me? How adorable," he laughed, putting his hand to his side. She jumped up, rage fueled by her insult. Jumping around the room in random patterns, she managed to confuse him enough to tackle him. They rolled for a minute, before knocking down a vase. The loud crash wasn't what made them stop though, it was the small voice after wards.

"Dad? What's going on?" A boy stood in the doorway, holding a small bear. He rubbed his eyes, looking at the girl and his father. "Is that a cat?" He asked bluntly, staring at the tail the hung from her back.

"Meif'wa. I'm a Meif'wa," she growled, before turning back to the man. "And your father invited me over to talk about business. I accidentally knocked over a vase with my. . .my tail," she lied. If she lied to his son maybe he would have no choice but to follow her. The boy did nothing but nodded and left, walking back towards his room.

"Did you just lie to my son?" The man accused, looking offended.

"What was I suppose to do? Tell him I'm here to take his father?" She said, crossing her arms.

"What? I thought you were here to kill me," he said. He seemed to be reevaluating the situation. She didn't know quiet how to respond.

The man's voice was rather charming, and his words seemed to spark a primal urge within her. 'Kill him. End him' the words seemed to echo in her mind, and the more she thought about it, the more appealing it seemed. End his life, his misery. Think about what the other man has in store, surely killing him would be the best option. "Who are you?" The other one asked, bewildered.

"Heh," she scoffed to herself. "I remember you now. You're from the bar. The strange one who asked about my job. And," it dawned on her then. This man was seducing her. He wanted her to kill, to unleash the merciless killer inside her. "You want him to die, don't you? I may be an angel of death, but I can tell when someone's trying to get something out of me," this seemed to only make the man chuckle. She knew then, that that was exactly what he wanted. Nothing more or less. She turned to the young gentleman before her, confused and afraid. "And I can see now, in a way, that death is the most peaceful thing to bring upon people. Maybe even angelic," she was unsure what brought this half out, but she knew. She always knew what was inside her. The part of her that always liked the killing. And she knew that once it came out, it would take a lot of self-control to get it back. 'But what's a little fun gonna hurt? I mean, we could always clean up.' It wouldn't stop nagging, and eventually, she gave in. "Time to have a little fun," she giggled as she jumped towards the man, knocking him to the ground, she opened up her hidden blades. Brining it close to his face, she smiled. Then swiftly drove the knife into his chest. Once, twice, three times and she did not stop, at least, not until that same small voice cried out.

"D-daddy? Daddy!" He ran towards his father's lifeless body, as Misha stepped away. His voice rang in her head. "Think of how beautiful it is to take a life..." It was beautiful, and yet, it was horrific. The beauty of the light leaving their eyes, the display of torture, and the power that you did it. Yet, you did it, and there's no going back, resetting, no giving it back. It was terrifyingly beautiful. And she saw that now more than ever. She was curious as to why, though, why one man could make her do something horrific, and then show her the beauty in it. She needed answers, and he seemed the only way to get it. She turned to him, but knew she didn't need to say anything for him to understand. She knew he did.