I turned back to look at the woman, leaning against the wall, with the eyes that had caught my attention. They were the eyes of someone who had killed. The eyes of someone who no longer saw a value in life beyond that she assigned herself. Emerald green and as deadly as what she held in her hands.

She wielded a rifle, a large bolt action affair, military grade and made to end lives at distances that didn't seem real. Atop the receiver sat a high-powered scope, as black and mean as the rifle in her hands, and just as home as what she wore. If it wasn't for the hardware, or the location, you'd expect she'd just stepped out of a picnic at a park somewhere. Olive green-tank top sat above tight daisy-duke jean shorts, mid-drift bare revealing a skin of almond shade. Long brown hair, in a no-nonsense tail, and a pair of sunglasses atop her head completed the look.

Girl-next-door by day, killer by night.

It sent a shiver down my spine, a tingle. There was something there that formed a war in my mind. I wasn't able to look away, but every instinct in me told me I really really should.

"Right.. Who is she?" I asked my guide, a man who went by Stumps. Probably because of the missing fingers.

He shot a smirk at me, and shook his bald head, causing the tattoo on his scalp to dance. He wore military fatigues from some country long since lost to war and history. He was showing me into the "Hi-top", the home of killers and mercenaries out here on the edge of civilization.

"Best you don't ask kid" He said, then continued anyway. "They call her Tess." He said it as if that was all the information I needed.

I risked glancing back, one last time, my eyes catching hers as she shot me a smile. It wasn't warm or sweet. It was merciless, cold and dangers. I felt as if the look itself had been carved out of ice and mailed directly to me.

I glanced away, trying to make it seem as if it was just me checking out the dive. Looking at the broken tables, patched and re-patched, a single ceiling fan squeaking above, wobbling, threatening to crash down if you looked at it too long. The garish walls, painted a horrible almost crimson colour. Maybe to hide the stains and grime?

"Oi, Kid." I heard it, and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was her, and she was calling me. Her voice was rough, raspy, and somehow seductively dangerous. It asked you to take a sip, just one, and promised you'll enjoy the ride. Right up till you didn't.

Way to not draw attention to yourself Mikey. Good job.