Prologue:

He'd died content, at least, the blade that had cleanly severed his head from his body giving him no chance to awaken. The blood soaked coverlets revealed no sign of a struggle, or another person—save for the fact that someone had cut his head off, that was.

"Agent Go?" The detective said to her, "I understand that this is an unusual case…but why the FBI involvement?"

"Need to know." Sheila said, quietly. The detective looked unhappy, but backed off. Not that they had much to tell, but the last thing she wanted was a media circus over this. Seven people in the last year, killed. A sword. No prints, hair, or any DNA evidence. Little sign of struggle except in one place—and that had been the worst, where the target and his two bodyguards had been carved up, messily.

"They're looking for prints." Agent Dulles said. Sheila shook her head.

"They won't find any."

"You certain? Everyone messes up."

"Sometimes, but not this time. This is a pro." Sheila said. "Oh, we'll keep looking, and maybe we'll get lucky, but no. Not in this room, at least. "

"Some crazy? Like the ones you and-" Sheila's glare quelled him. "Sorry." She sighed.

"Don't be—I shouldn't bite your head off for my history with my brothers. But no…not crazy. We know that these were all criminal types—all organized crime. It's not a vigilante, I'd bet my house on it, because most vigilantes feel the need to make a statement. It's not a lone vendetta, because the cases aren't related, save for the criminal link.."

"A hit man?"

"Yeah, that'd be my bet, but normally there is buzz about that." Sheila paused, "but nobody, none of our sources knows anything." She sighed, "And it's getting very, very sticky—sooner or later this is going to come out to the media and make us look horrible."

"Agent Go?" That came from another Agent. "We have something."

"What?" Sheila asked.

"Well… you know that just beyond this house is a sorority?"

"They saw something?"

"No. One of their fan club members," The agent grinned, pointing to the apartment building, it's windows overlooking both the mafia chieftan's house and the sorority pool, "did."

"Oohhh…." Sheila said.

"We're debriefing him, and assuring him that his good citizenship will protect him from being arrested for videotaping naked sunbathing girls."

"You are?"

"Nobody said anything about not telling them."

"Nasty—let's see." Sheila said, pointing to the recordable DVD disk in the agent's hand.

When they got to the van, the agent plugged the disk in. There was a period of fast forwarding, beyond the bathing, busty, beauties, as they got to the end of the day.

"Mitchell was coming back early—he had to be out four AM tomorrow to meet his…uncle."

"Uncle?"

"Giotti."

"In trouble?"

"No—we think they were talking about expanding their prostitution operations."

"Go on…"

"So, there was only a very small window of time, and look at this…"

The camera view ducked for a moment, as a darker shadow leaped onto the ledge, and vanished into the house via a window. At maximum resolution, the figure was lithe, and female, moving with surety on the slippery tiles.

"She was fast…" Sheila said.

"Yep—we have people going over it now, but whoever was there knew exactly how to blow through the security…" He paused, "But we found one thing, when we examined that shelf."

"Oh?"

"A ton of bird crap, some feathers…and a single human hair. We're analyzing it now." Sheila felt the smile coming on, and fought it. For all they knew that could be a blown hair, or the hair from a roof worker or…

But she had a feeling this case was finally getting a break. This killer didn't mess up…but against bad luck…or good luck for them, there was no defense.

The elegant house was done in a way that spoke to riches—old riches, with nothing overly gaudy or standing out, rather combining to form a beautiful whole. The older Asian man walking down the hall, two large men in dark suits following him and a single young woman in an expensive dress walking by him paused, as a figure dressed in a dark full body suit of flexible armor, almost a second skin, paused before him.

"Is the disharmony afflicting our house ended?" he asked. The figure's green eyes looked out from the gap in her mask and a voice, slightly muffled came.

"Yes." She said.

"Unmask."

"Yes sir." And moments later, the girl was standing, revealed to be the same age as the girl standing by him. Vibrant red hair, held back in a bun gave way to a cascade of scarlet as Kim undid it and shook it out.

"You and Yori have done wonderful work for us, Kim Possible."

"Thank you, Tono-Sama." Kim said, bowing deeply, as did Yori. The two looked at each other and smiled.

"Now, go. Make yourself presentable, as we have visitors coming soon, and I would not want to leave them without proper attendants and guards."

"Yes sir." She said, and bowing again, left the room, never turning her back on him.

"Go with her, Yori, and Debrief her."

"Hai."

Tono smiled as the girl left the room. His greatest weapons, sheathed in such pleasing forms. One day he would have to consider marrying them off to loyal members of the Yakuza… Once they were tied by bonds of family, their loyalty would be assured…

End prologue.