One of the things that disturbed Vicente the most was the various tasks he had to take on in order to make sure that he achieved his kill. Whenever he was assigned to take a hit on someone, he always did a lot of background checking and planning. It was necessary. It wasn’t some thug that you hired off the streets. Yeah, they could get the job done, but the problem with them was that they always left a massacre in their wake. Evidence was left behind, witnesses saw them, it was always just an all out mess and one that made the much more experienced assassin snicker at the thought of. They were such amateurs and they nearly always got caught. Those that didn’t were just lucky and simply awaited for the noose to tighten around their necks.

They could not keep up their innocence. They never could.

Vicente, on the other hand, knew what he was doing. He knew that when he was assigned to take out the wife of a business man who “lost” a shipment of the mafia’s “product”, that a point needed to be made. Vicente was assigned the task of making sure that this man’s wife was also “lost”.

Vicente accepted the task without thinking. Man, woman, child, it was all a matter of money and so long as he was paid, he made sure the job was done.

But she was a particularly striking woman. Long blonde hair, youthful face with the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. Seemed almost a shame to take that spark out of her eyes. But letting her live was not an option. Therefore…it’d be a quick kill. He could grant her that much.

Sitting back in his seat at the back of the theatre, Vicente listened as Beethoven’s 7th Symphony seemed to flutter and shake the entire building.

The orchestra down at the front indeed played masterfully, but the true beauty of it was lost on the assassin. He never had a taste for this type of music. He learned about it, he studied it, and now could sit there and talk about it with the best of them. As a matter of fact, he even looked the part in a nice, charcoal gray suit and tie, with his long hair neatly tied back into a ponytail, but it was all an act. Nothing more.

Looking at the stage, he saw his target, the young blonde woman playing the violin on stage. All he had to do was slip into the back and wait for her to exit. He’d make it nice and quick…

Krisz was humming Beethoven. He liked humming Beethoven. And it was much easier to do without a body.
The best thing about being a ghost? No worries about tickets. He could get into any theater, or auditorium, or to any Broadway show he wanted to. And he was having the time of his life. He just couldn't get enough.
Music was his favorite. You could get lost in music. Well, in the case of some modern noise that was scary and uncomfortable, but classical music was just an ocean of perfect sound to get lost in. Krisz loved it. Loved every note. He could feel them like raindrops on his invisible skin.
Also, the people. People were so different in these places. So... nice and polite. Even the gruff looking gentleman in the suit, he looked somehow... peaceful. Cheerful, even, listening to the music.
Krisz floated closer. Second best thing about being a ghost?
Making friends with interesting people is much more fun.

"Beautiful, huh" he commented, floating around in the sound "Exceptional and priceless. Makes you fall in love..."

Vicente was a chameleon.

Not in the literal sense. He couldn’t just change colors or something. No, the fact of the matter was that Vicente knew how to blend and he knew how to assimilate. Despite is gruff and obviously terrifying demeanor, there was one thing that the man knew how to do and that was to be exactly what everyone expected him to be. In a setting like this, it was pivotal that the man did not stick out like the sore thumb. The last thing he needed was to be easily identifiable.

So the man blended. His smiled along with the appropriate parts of the music, he looked as if he could feel the music itself course through his body, though he felt nothing at all. The man was skillful and had a cover that none could penetrate. No one would pick him out of a crowd…

>> "Beautiful, huh…”

Vicente arched a brow as he looked about. Where…did that voice come from? He looked to his left and saw that there was only a couple of old women who were sitting there. One shot him a quick glance but quickly went back to enjoying the music.

He shook his head. Maybe he was hearing things. It was probably just some fool behind him but a glance behind showed another woman and her young son who looked fast asleep in his cushioned chair. He was snoring softly so it obviously could not have been him. But…then who was it?

He turned back to the orchestra. He’d had to get up soon to hunt that woman d-

>> “Exceptional and priceless. Makes you fall in love..."

He slightly jumped as the voice echoed again.

“Sshhh!” the old bat to his lift snarled in his direction.

“Wasn’t me,” he answered.

If he were not on a case right now, he’d make sure that that woman took back her obviously rude commentary. How dare she shush him! Who did she think she was? She knew nothing of this man’s dangerous occupation or nature but still, Vicente always felt that he just exuded this aura that repelled people. Unfortunately seemed as if this old woman simple had no idea what she was thinking and could not pick up on it.

But…back to the matter at him. If he didn’t say that…then…who did? He eyed his neighbors warily…

>>“Wasn’t me,”

"Of course it wasn't you, you are more of the silent admirer type." the voice observed, politely moving closer to his ears to let the other people listen to the harmony "But you have to admit, the music is exceptional."

Krisz was always right about music.

"And the lady is too. I saw you watching her. A friend of yours? Oh, maybe someone out of your reach. She is a treasure, she really is. What a tragedy. I feel for you."

Krisz was always wrong about women.

>> "Of course it wasn't you, you are more of the silent admirer type…But you have to admit, the music is exceptional."

Vicente did not jump this time, but he was still startled nonetheless. Glaring around him, he still could not identify where the hell that voice was coming from! No one around him seemed to be talking, nobody had a cell phone out, or a radio, but even then, the voice was directed towards him! But…how in the hell…?

“Sssssh!! Will you please shut up!” the old woman hissed at the assassin.

Vicente snarled as he eyed her and shot her a look of daggers. No one spoke to him like that. He was about to tell her such when that irritating voice persisted on…

>> "And the lady is too. I saw you watching her. A friend of yours? Oh, maybe someone out of your reach. She is a treasure, she really is. What a tragedy. I feel for you."

He waved his hand at the invisible air, swearing the voice sounded directly next to him.

Teeth bared, Vicente had about enough of this. He needed to start making his move anyways. Standing from his seat, the man excused himself as he slipped past another person and out into the aisle. He adjusted the coat of his suit and made for the lobby doors, trying to both look casual and hurry. He still could not pinpoint whatever was the cause of that voice. Was he indeed going crazy? No…no…that could not be it.

That voice though…he was sure he heard it…

The thought plagued him as he stepped out into the lobby and made a beeline for the nearest men’s restroom. His gear would be there so he could be ready to help that beautiful cello player slip free of this mortal coil…

>>“Sssssh!! Will you please shut up!”

Krisz ignored the request. Obviously, she was not tolking to him. He was just a ghost. A very persistent one.

The big guy in the suit seemed uncomfortable, and left the hall to walk towards a men's room. Oh boy.

"Look, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings" he said once they were outside (Yes. They. Of course he followed. Duh.) "I know how hard it can be to see someone so close and not talk to them. Believe me. I have written tons of that stuff... All right, so not tons, but one or two. I am good with emotions. And stories. Please don't cry."

He would have hated to make such a huge guy cry.

Vicente shook his head as he stepped in the direction of the men’s room. He was still slightly irritated that he was driven out of his chair by such a stupid event. So someone was talking in the auditorium pretty loud, that was it. That didn’t mean it had to always be a mutant or some nefarious scheme, did it? Sometimes overhearing someone talk is simply that, hearing someone talk. It was probably just some guy irritated with having to spend the night at the orchestra.

Not that he could blame him. The orchestra was definitely not his idea of a fine evening.

But as Vicente headed for the restroom, just as he had talked himself down that he was not actually going crazy, that strange voice returned…

>> "Look, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings…I know how hard it can be to see someone so close and not talk to them. Believe me. I have written tons of that stuff... All right, so not tons, but one or two. I am good with emotions. And stories. Please don't cry."

Snarling, Vicente spun around as he started out at the empty lobby. His left eye began to twitch as he looked about, his teeth bared trying to figure just where the hell was that voice coming from? He began to check his collar and phone just in case someone had slipped a small microphone in his clothes or his phone was accidentally on. But none of it was true. No…this was something else…

Vicente, eyes wild with suspicion, growled under his breath as he darted his eyes over the scene.

“Is…someone here…with me?” he asked in a very tense voice as he peered about. He was tired of games…

>>“Is…someone here…with me?”

"Indeed there is" the voice agreed "Don't worry I am not going to hurt you. I am just a ghost. Well, I guess, you could call me a ghost, anyway. Don't be alarmed. You are perfectly sane."

He found out he needed to say those kinda things to keep people calm. Random voices in the air tended to cause a lot of alarm and panic. Nobody wanted that.

"It is kind of hard to explain. I'll just let you believe I am a ghost who means no harm. Maybe I can even help you, who knows? Do you want to talk about something? I have a lot of time, and you are obviously not going back in there."

>> "Indeed there is…Don't worry I am not going to hurt you. I am just a ghost. Well, I guess, you could call me a ghost, anyway. Don't be alarmed. You are perfectly sane."

Sane? Heh! That was an interesting choice of words. The assassin growled as he looked about for this so-called “ghost”. Was it possible that it was little more than a spirit that escaped from Mictantecuhtli’s realm? Vicente assumed it was possible because he had been contacting the spirits lately and he had just finished having his spiritual cleansing a few days prior. Maybe one of the more mischievous spirits managed to latch itself onto him and pierce into the mortal realm?

If that were the case than Vicente knew he was in for a rather irritating time. Spirits like that tended to be hard to get rid of. He shook his head as he made to walk into the restroom to collect his gear. Thankfully such spirits rather interfered with the actions of mortal men.

They simply sufficed themselves with annoying them…

>> "It is kind of hard to explain. I'll just let you believe I am a ghost who means no harm. Maybe I can even help you, who knows? Do you want to talk about something? I have a lot of time, and you are obviously not going back in there."

“Spirit,” Vicente snapped as he paused at the door. “I have no time to deal with your playful nature. Return to Mictantecuhtli’s realm or bond yourself to another mortal. Do not force me to exorcise you back into the underworld! I am a Nahaul, I do have the power…”

It was an empty threat. He knew that, but hoped the spirit didn’t. Exorcising spirits back into the underworld was difficult work and normally required a lot of concentration and a lot of preparation as well as someone with priest blood in their veins. Vicente was more a warrior than a priest. But he hoped the spirit would not catch on.

With that he stormed into the men’s room and made a beeline for the last stall. It was there that he left his gear to complete his task for the night…

>>“Spirit. I have no time to deal with your playful nature. Return to Mictantecuhtli’s realm or bond yourself to another mortal. Do not force me to exorcise you back into the underworld! I am a Nahaul, I do have the power…”

Whoa.
That... was...
Cool.

"Awesome" Krisz buzzed as he followed the man into the bathroom "Does that mean you have magical powers? Nahual, that's Aztec for shapeshifter, right? I've read about them. Very cool stuff. Didn't know I'd find one in the States, though. And here you are! Very cool. Can you really send me to the underworld? I mean, any spirit? I'd love to see how that works. Also, who's Mish... what did you say there?..."

Once in the stall, the assassin reached before a toilet back cover and felt around until he felt that course texture of the travel-size bag. He pulled and pulled it free from the duct tape that kept it secure behind the toilet. In his hand, he unzipped the zipper and pulled out a small, black gun as well as a syringe with what looked like a most deadly fluid inside. He would rather the wife’s death was quick so he hoped to get close enough to use the cyanide filled syringe. Bu t just in case, a gun was always just as effective.

Slipping the gun into the back of his belt and shoving the cap-filled syringe into his coat pocket, the man stepped back out and spied that no one was around.

Excellent.

He was about to continue with his job when, of course…

>> "Awesome…Does that mean you have magical powers? Nahual, that's Aztec for shapeshifter, right? I've read about them. Very cool stuff. Didn't know I'd find one in the States, though. And here you are! Very cool. Can you really send me to the underworld? I mean, any spirit? I'd love to see how that works. Also, who's Mish... what did you say there?..."

He paused he looked about the room. That damned spirit did not take his warning seriously?! He actually snarled this time as he looked about the room.

But…it did not know of Mictantecuhtli’s realm? No. Then this spirit was not attached to him from his last venture into the spirit world. Then was it a regular spirit? Was a spirit at all? It was quite possible the creature could have been a mutant simply disguising himself as a ghost. The thought of that just made him angry because all it meant was that there was a possible witness.

“Shut up!!” he barked into the confines of the bathroom. “I do not have time for your games! Ghost, Spirit, Mutant, whatever the hell you are, leave me alone for I swear on the heads of your forefathers I will hunt you down and truly send you into the afterlife by any means necessary!”

Thank god no one was in the bathroom with him. Heh. That little rant there would have just made him look…crazy…

>>“Shut up!! I do not have time for your games! Ghost, Spirit, Mutant, whatever the hell you are, leave me alone for I swear on the heads of your forefathers I will hunt you down and truly send you into the afterlife by any means necessary!”

"I'm sorry, I can't shut up" Krisz hummer, circling him. Did he just... was that a gun? Uh-oh. "I mean, I literally can't, I'm sorry. I guess it just comes with lacking a body. I am really curious now, though. Who are you? You don't strike me as someone who's really into classical music. Is it the woman, then? You're clearly not a bodyguard, you just left her alone. This is getting more and more exciting. I dount you could hunt me down, unless you really have some magical powers, which I would like to see by the way, gotta love Mezoamerican magic. Seriously."

Krisz. Had no sense of danger. Whatsoever.

>> "I'm sorry, I can't shut up…I mean, I literally can't, I'm sorry. I guess it just comes with lacking a body. I am really curious now, though. Who are you? You don't strike me as someone who's really into classical music. Is it the woman, then? You're clearly not a bodyguard, you just left her alone. This is getting more and more exciting. I doubt you could hunt me down, unless you really have some magical powers, which I would like to see by the way, gotta love Mezoamerican magic. Seriously."

Vicente was getting more than irritated now! That damned spirit simply would not be silent! At this rate he was going to announce his presence even before he got close enough to the women to inject her with the cyanide. But he was still at a loss as to how to rid of himself of this pestering albatross! Be the owner of this voice a spirit, a ghost, a mutant, he didn’t know.

Judging by the language he was using, it was obvious that if this creature was a spirit, he was not from Mictantecuhtli’s realm. So that left him to wonder, what exactly was its origin? Yelling and threatening it were obviously not working. Maybe he if could learn exactly what it was, he could learn how to rid himself of it.

A contemptuously snarl under his breath and the assassin cracked his neck to the side warily. He really did not have the time to deal with this. Glancing at his watch he could already see that he was pressed for time. The concert would be over soon. He needed to be backstage, and now.

“Doesn’t matter, who I am,” he responded. “What matters is that I have a very important job to do tonight and if you keep distracting me, I will never get it done in time.” He said this with utmost authority, almost as if he were a government official trying to calm a rowdy citizen. “Besides…what I do…it’s top secret…much to dangerous for a spirit such as yourself to get involved in.”

Mentally he smirked. If the ghost wanted to pester…then he could at least be helpful…

>>“Doesn’t matter, who I am. What matters is that I have a very important job to do tonight and if you keep distracting me, I will never get it done in time. Besides…what I do…it’s top secret…much to dangerous for a spirit such as yourself to get involved in.”

"Hmmmmm" Krisz zoomed in circles around the scary guy. Being bodyless makes you brave. He liked that.

"You don't have to worry about me I'm fine. Really hard to hurt someone who's already dead."

Well, officially he was dead. Technically? Not so much. But the longer he could keep up the spirit appearance the less trouble he would get into. People had ways of fighting mutants. The worst that could happen to a ghost? Someone calling some lame-ass psychic or a ghost buster.... duh.

"Very important job, huh? And what would that be exactly? We have already established you are not a bodyguard. Are you a spy of some sort? Maybe a secret agent? Do you have to go meet someone? But then again, why would you be hiding out here if you were? Oh, are you going to kidnap her? Is she a target? She looks like a target. Typical damsel in distres..."

>> "Hmmmmm…You don't have to worry about me I'm fine. Really hard to hurt someone who's already dead."

Vicente said nothing in response. The truth was that the spirit was rather irritating and unfortunately the only thing he could do was try to persuade the ghost to either leave him alone or help him. He was running out of time, especially since he could already hear that the music was coming to an end. It was going to be sink or swim time for this little ghost.

He remained still, feeling the vibrations of the spirit’s voice drifting around his head.

>> "Very important job, huh? And what would that be exactly? We have already established you are not a bodyguard. Are you a spy of some sort? Maybe a secret agent? Do you have to go meet someone? But then again, why would you be hiding out here if you were? Oh, are you going to kidnap her? Is she a target? She looks like a target. Typical damsel in distres..."

God, if only that thing would shut up! But, seeing as there was really nothing that the assassin could stab, he would have to let the damn thing talk until he could get a word in edgewise.

Finally he just shook his head as voice seemed to quiet down enough for him to respond to it.

“Yes, I am an agent,” he said as confidently as he could. Vicente was good at lying. “Unfortunately that woman is wanted in connection with a possible terrorist pocket here in the U.S. I need to get to her and arrest her before she gets to her contact. We have a feeling that something…” he paused and sighed for affect, “extremely bad will happen to the city if I don’t get to her in time.”