Oh? Had she underestimated him? Maybe there was more brain in there than she had thought. She'd have to let Father know about that, as well. Her expression shifted a little. The forced nervousness slipped away, and in its place settled a warmth and softness that definitely didn't fit the situation at all.

"Well, honestly, it was more for you than it was for me. Typically men of your stature and temperament feel most at ease when I seem frightened, or meek. My apologies, for I had not assumed you would be this observant."

The melting cup of shaved ice in her hands still was rediscovered, and she lifted the little plastic spoon to take a bite. Mmm! Strawberry!

She met his eyes again, unwavering and entirely too sweet. "You will, and I know you could, but that's hardly anything to be scared of. When my time has come I will welcome it with open arms."

She turned and started walking off, depositing her treat in the trash along the way. "And yet, I don't think you will. Killing me gains you nothing." Her small pink phone came out, decorated with glittery star stickers and unicorns. She texted the driver and less than a second later the sleek black car was pulling around the corner.

"Are you coming, Mr. Samurai?"

He continued staring through half lidded eyes at her as she peeled away the facade. Creepy. "Do not feel the need to do me any favors." He replied to her explanation.

She was sweet as pie as she explained that he understood perfectly that he was going to kill her dad... and that she had no fear of death. He didn't like that. Even he feared death. Granted, he was not at all afraid that he would die; he was too much of a bad ass. But when death came for it he would struggle until his last breath.

She did not seem to feel the same, and that was unsettling. He put his sword away. Her car pulled up. "Raijin." He got in.

He had someone to kill, and he really needed to take a nap, so time was of the essence.

The driver pulled up to the curb and helpfully scurried out to open the back door for them, hardly even sparing the tall man with the sword a second glance. It wasn't his job to care who the young estranged daughter of his employer spent her time with. He just drove her places.

"Thank you!" Eisley climbed in carefully and scooted all the way over to where her backpack was. Which was pink, with a large plastic unicorn on it. She liked it because it reminded her of Mr. Unicorn, who used to live in her old worn-down backpack.

Once Raijin was inside, the door was closed by the driver and he scurried back in. As the car pulled away Eisley zipped open her bag and dug out a little planner (which was also unicorn themed, of course)

"Rai...jin" She scribbled it down in her notes, now that she had a name to go with a face. There was a very childish doodle of the man in the suit he had been wearing when she first glimpsed him, beside the blank space that had been waiting for a name. A whole page dedicated to him of facts and assumptions. She crossed out a few that had proven wrong, scratched in a few that were more correct, and then snapped the book shut and tucked it away again.

She sat back in her seat with a smile on her face, hands clasped in her lap, and watched the scenery pass.

He settled into the car, giving the driver the deliquent eye as he did, though the man didn't seem interested. The girl slid over to a small unicorn backpack, and he watched her for a moment before muttering. "What a mess." Great. He was about ot be stuck in a car with a girl who was openly planning her father's death, all while scribbling in her unicorn notebook.

He didn't bother looking at what she was writing. She was unsettling as @#$^, and he would much rather forget she existed. He leaned back in his seat, kicking his feet up and rolling down the window in order to pick a booger and flick it out into the wind.

"How long is this ride going to be? Why are you fine with me acing your father?"

He didn't look at her while he talked. Didn't want to. She was probably going to look unreasonably sweet about it and that was just #$%^ed. He wondered if the driver knew. He had ears, right? Maybe he was in on it?

She didn't hear the first thing he'd said because her head had been turned and the door had been open still. Eisley glanced at the man when he spoke again, now that she could hear him better.

"Not very long. Father doesn't like to live in the heart of the city. He doesn't like "dirty, unsuccessful slobs", or traffic." After poorly mimicking Garik's deeper voice, she looked back out the window and smiled.

Why was she okay with Garik dying? "He's never been much of a father to me in the short time I've known him, and while I am thankful for the education he paid for he's honestly a waste of the gift of life he was given." She didn't owe him an explanation, but he somewhat surprised her by asking in the first place. Her ex-father was selfish, mean, cavorted with demons, and a liar to boot. He had ties all over the city with just about every unscrupulous character. It was rather fitting that he'd get taken out by one of them in the end, wasn't it?

The driver didn't say a word. He was barely even listening. After years of driving around with shady characters in the back, he'd grown used to just ignoring whatever it was currently being talked about. Probably better for him, that way.

"Sounds like a man I will like to kill. Is he much of a fighter?" His expression shifted to somewhat hopeful at the expression, though maintaining that air of low investment. Even so, he kept one eye on the young woman as she mocked his target, and then watched the traffic zoom by out the window.

She started saying her life story or something. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he started thinking about what he would do when he got to this place. He assumed he wasn't going to be allowed to just waltz in... So that's what he would do. Walk in, kill anyone who got in the way.

He didn't like making plans, and was confident no one there would be good enough to kill him.

"You do not care that it might look bad, you pulling in with the man who will kill your father? Let me remind you again, if this is a trap, you, and everyone involved will die."

"He likes to think of himself as being one," She muttered distractedly, before reminding herself that it was rude to pay attention to other things when someone was talking to you. "He's trained in something... I don't know what though. He had a bunch of different colored belts in a case on his office wall."

She shifted a little so that she could face him, hands still clasped neatly in her lap.

"I've never seen him actually fight anyone, though. He likes to keep people on hand to do that for him. You'll probably encounter at least five or so before you get to him." She smiled cheerfully as if they were discussing good weather that aligned with her plans.

Did he respond with a threat and a question? Sounded like a question to her.

"A trap? Hm... Not for you, and I hardly doubt anyone would give me a second look, actually. My father busses me around quite often to get me out of his hair. I've encountered many concerning characters in cars like this." It was one of the things she both liked and hated. Kind of a coin toss as to whether you got trapped in a car with a kind, but slightly suspicious person, or a super shady character who leered at you the whole time and made concerning remarks.

"Besides, I'm a widow in mourning, and I have no connections to any of the unscrupulous people he brings home. I'm sure if the story were to even reach the media they'd just love to run some fanciful tale of what a tragic character I am. Rich Criminals dying are a dime a dozen here anyway. Hardly even newsworthy nowadays. Though... if grandfather were to get involved... maybe."

Annnnd just like that, she lost him. He was a fake belt martial artist. Maybe he did BJJ? He'd met some decent practitioners of that belt-based school. Still, he wasn't keeping his hopes up. "Mm... Are any of his guards dangerous?" If he had deep pockets, maybe he'd hired some quality mercenaries.

How far away was this place. He honestly didn't know the city very well, so as far as he knew they were taking him out to the wilderness to shoot him. Gods help them if they tried. Still, he had a feeling he could take her words at face value. She was too insane to lie to him about this.

He did blink a few times when she mentioned she was a widow in mourning. "You are twelve." It was a blunt statement. It wasn't like the young getting married was unheard of back home. The way she said it, though, was rather telling. "Have you killed before?" He glanced out the window as he asked. He wasn't sure the answer this time. She might have. She might not have. Usually he could tell after studying someone for a while, but this girl. It honestly seemed like that typical change in one's soul that taking another life was a catalyst for would not take place for her. In short, he had the feeling killing one person... a thousand people, none at all... It would make no difference to her.

That, to him, was greatly unsettling.

The rest of what she said wasn't important to him. Something about rich criminals dying all of the time and her grandfather, who he didn't give the barest @#$^ about, whoever he was.

"Tell your driver to hurry."

"I don't doubt it! They really scared me silly when I first moved in. He likes to hire people who he knows can "do the job" and all that. Haha."

She blinked curiously at him at the comment about her age, but it wasn't taken as an insult. "Sure feels like it!" She didn't comment any further, until his remark about whether she had killed someone or not. The faces of eleven people, even the barest glimpse, rolled through her head. She'd decided weeks ago that she'd commit every one of them to memory forever. Names and all. A constant reminder of what her mission now was.

Eisley smiled a bit wider, with just a little tinge of sadness at the corners. "That's a very personal question."

She cupped her hands around her mouth and directed her attention at the driver.

"Mr. Driver! My father's friend would like you to go faster! Could you please? I'm sure he won't kill us both if you hurry!"

Although the driver made no comment, there was a noticeable increase in speed.

That statement placated the samurai somewhat. He nodded shortly, and tapped the sheathed sword he'd placed tip down between his legs against the floor of the seat. It was a position in which he could quickly draw it, but it didn't disrupt his comfort in lounging in the fairly spacious back seat.

He glanced to the side as she replied to his question with a simple statement. Was that a little bit of sadness there? Huh. It confirmed his suspicion that she was a killer. He wondered for just a moment what had happened to this girl to mess her up this badly. Eh, didn't matter in the long run. He was just riding along to kill her father.

Raijin wondered for a moment if she was going to want to watch. Creepy thought. They were moving faster toward their destination. Good. He was getting antsy in this vehicle, especially knowing that he was heading toward his sword. Everything felt off without it on his person.

It wasn't long before the car slowed and pulled up against the curb outside of Garik's lavish new york skyrise. His "mansion" just outside of the bustle of the heart of the city. His living quarters were on the fifth floor, just below the spa/pool room, and the rooftop garden.

The driver hustled out as soon as they were parked to try and get the door open for Raijin before he could himself, and was visibly sweating a bit under his brimmed hat. Maybe it was time for a career change? Probably.

"Bye, Mr. Samurai! It was nice to meet you!" She waved with a red crayon in her hand from her seat, with her book spread out on her lap to a new page.

The door closed again and the drivers ran back around to get in, both relieved that the scary man was out of his car, and irritated that he still needed to drive his boss's daughter around some more. "Where to next, Miss?"

Eisley hummed, watching the building as the car pulled away. "You know what I feel like right now? Cotton candy! Say, do you know any places with cotton candy, Mr. Driver?"

She started drawing again. A fresh face, with a blocky body, and a cap. She needed to switch to black from red, though.

"Say... Mr. driver... what's your name?"

~~~

The compound Garik resided in was multi-level and packed with security. He had offices on the second floor for meetings, and the first was reserved for storage and security quarters.

Two men would greet Raijin just inside the main entrance. He'd be required to walk through a metal detector and surrender any weapons on him before he could go any further.

The elevator up to different floors was also manned by a security guard. Two guards were stationed outside of the entrance of the elevator on the fifth floor, which needed a security access card to even get to. Another two men guarded him personally and typically lurked outside of whatever room he was in. Typically a few more people were in the building, including personal security, personal chefs, maids, and such.

Each security guard had been hired for various reasons. Some were just skilled in physical combat, some were more tactical. Some were ex-cons who had been hired when no one else would take them, due to past convictions. Each was dangerous in their own right.

"I honestly cannot say the same. You are creepy." He spoke to the young woman before the door was opened, and he was let out into the world. They were before a high rise building with some obvious custom architecture. This must be the place. He climbed out, giving the driver a long, tense look before wandering toward the entrance with his short sword in hand, still sheathed.

The first level housed a check in point for security, metal detectors and all. They had asked him to surrender his weapon. He refused in dramatic fashion, by unsheathing it, and dicing the closest person to shreds; mind you, the wakizashi was not a cleaving weapon. His kills came from rapid little slices to arteries. The first man fell back in shock as the second realized what was happening and pulled his gun. He was an excellent shot, even sporting some shotting competion trophies to his name. Unfortunately at this close of a range, there wasn't even a chance to get a shot out before his wrist was removed, and his throat opened in two neat motions.

Raijin continued inward, hardly breaking stride as he slid handed his sword around the metal detector and mosied through the next door. She he rounded the first corner, the elevator guard heard footsteps and chimed in. "Hey, I thought I heard a bit of a racket out there, you guys oka-KGHG." He was iterrupted by the Ronin rounding the corner and stabbing him directly in the abodmen. Powerful limbs grabbed at his attacker as he attempted to wrench his attacker away so that he could respond. Raijin simply twisted the blade in him, and applied twisting pressure as the man pushed him away. Stepping back a few paces, he watched as the his opponent fumbled for his weapon before his face paled, and he sagged to his knees before slumping over. A small cut sealed the deal.

It didn't matter how good these men were if they were this complacent. He cleaned his blade on his latest victim's clothes, noticed his security badge, and cut it free of him.

As for where to go first... Top floor. These folk always wanted to be on top. He scanned the badge, and pressed the button just as he heard the screams of a maid who had come across one of the bodies at the entrance. They would probably call that in. He had limited time. The rest of the place would be aware, too. He started to draw a glyph in the air.

As the elevator door opened to reveal his shield spell hanging there, a predictable hail of gunfire filled the box. With a flash, his crest shattered, and he followed it out out, ducked low and to the corner to avoid the incoming handgun fire. Pushing forward at an angle until he was before one of the men. With another step, his opponent was in between him and the other guard. A few slashes later he grabbed his dying opponent and shoved him at the other guy as he finished reloading.

He was knocked to the floor, where he dropped his gun, and pulled a knife.

A short struggle later, Rajin sported a cut on his chin, and a bloody short sword. That one had been decent, but he'd had less range.

He kicked the next door open, and ducked to the side as bullets ripped through the wall. This wasn't the best position... they were entrenched at this point. He sat against the wall a moment as he waited for their clips to run out, and eyed some cover inside of the room. A quick crest was drawn in the air, and the moved in, sending the crest toward one man as they both reloaded. There was a panicked sound as the man tried to take cover from the harmless shield, and the other man fired blindly at it. Raijin took the opportunity to roll from his own cover, and charge forward.

He leapt over a couch and came down on the man who had just taken out his crest, silencing him with a deep cut to the neck before grabbing his pistol and flinging it at the other man's face as he looked up from his cover. CLACK! It hit hard, and he dove in after. The man flipped him off, though, as he landed on him, and his sword clattered to the side. "Ksuh!"

What followed was a harrowing struggle for his sword that saw him cut in a few places, but ultimately ended with him digging his weapon into the man's chest from above.

He stood slowly, catching his breath, before hearing a slow clapping sound come out from behind him. "Excellent job! You are good at what you do, aren't you? Well, let me tell you, what ever they are paying you... I can pay you more. How about we talk before we make any decisions we regret, huh?"

Raijin stared through an open door at a middle aged business looking man with a cocky smile on his face, holding two glasses of scotch. He stepped into the room the man was relaxing in. His eyes immediately caught his sword hanging on the wall...

HANGING. Not even on a stand, it was practically hung like a picture frame. He stopped in his tracks. "I am not here for money..."

"Oh, c'mon! I've been in this situation enough times to know that it's always about money... how much did they fork out? Twenty K? Fifty? You could have a good gig, here. I could make you a wealthy man." Garik set one of the glasses on the table in front of him, and took a sip on his own drink. Raijin caught a bead of sweat forming on his temple. He smiled a bit as he walked over to his weapon on the wall, and lifted it up. "You are a fighter, are you not? You wanted this. It is mine. I will give it to you... If you can leave this room alive."

Garik's jaw clenched, as Raijin walked over silently, and placed the katana before him. Garik was a blackbelt in Tae Kwondo. He was not a swordsman, but he saw the writing on the wall. He took up the sword as Raijin walked back to the man's collection, and lifted a german bastard sword from the rack. It wasn't very sharp... a collector's piece. He turned to see the other man already coming at him with his Katana. In a smooth motion he used the strong of his sword to redirect the charging man's sword tip and send him stumbling into the wall.

Garik smacked into it, and turned to brandish his weapon once more before he found himself impaled before he could even gather his wits. "My weapon is a Muramasa! A WEAPON meant for killing, not a piece of art to be TACKED ON A WALL." Garik's wide eyes tried to comprehend what was happening as the samurai heaved the german weapon up with all of his might, and nailed him to the wall with it, leaving him to expire, hanging there.

He then picked up his weapon, and walked into the elevator. "Not even worth a tally mark." He said as the doors closed behind him.