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Siona sighed as she stretched her back. Her body ached from the workout she had just given herself. She was determined to keep in tip top shape, it made her pictures look that much more interesting. Sexy. She lived the life of a hypocrite, wearing white while her soul was so black. Her favourite costume at the moment was a white bra, panties, with this thin silk gown that did absolutely nothing to cover her mouth watering body.

And of course, the killer heels.

She was currently dating one of her fathers crew. He was young, just 18 to her 21 years, but he was interesting. Smarter than the rest, he was more curious than hormonal. She seemed to like that, it turned her on. She would call him to her, ask him to kneel. He would, his eyes hungry and his heart pumping. Her gown would slither around his neck, the very thought of what he was about to receive would make him almost die with happiness.

She would watch him, watch his lust undo her clothing in his mind. And she would stand there, towering over him as she smiled down at him. He heels would stroke the side of his face lovingly, and she would tell him to kiss them.

And he would.

She had total power over men. She liked to call those heels her "screw me" heels. They were silver, long, high, sexy incarnate. Nothing could stop a man from staring at those heels. She liked to wear them in front of men she wanted to convince or control: businessmen, police officers. All would stare, and when she told them to kneel, they would obediently obey.

And she would undress them, slowly, make them lie spread eagled on the bed. She would drape her gown over them softly, make them moan with anticipation. She would caress their skin gently, make them gasp for breath.

But first she would make them kneel and kiss her screw me heels.

The corset she wore tug slightly as she set up the camera, and she curled a hand around it. Pressing the button, she moved into position, and 10 seconds later the camera flashed.

Her disciple would not be dissapointed.

Psycho analysists cackled with glee when they saw Siona's file. A woman born from coupling of Salazar Kithe and his ensign Teya.

They pondered her curious case, using information gained from spies and the Knights to see what they could determine. She was, they thought, showing off, letting others see her so they would be blinded by her blatant sexuality. Observers would be so focused on her body that they wouldn't have time to focus on the woman beneath. A woman that must obviously be troubled by what she had to do.

They had a collection of pictures of her, intercepted from various houses around Bretonia where she had stayed. She would take her pictures, send them to someone, and then move on.

A strange life for the daughter of a terrorist.

She never seemed to work, obviously recieving money from Salazar. Every move she made was shrouded in a veil of mystery, and anyone daring to poke their nose into her past was abruptly murdered. She seemed to have no quarrels about killing people, but seemed to have a strange sense of conscience whenever she came across a family.

Perhaps she regretted her family, perhaps she resented her father.

And Teya. Teya was found murdered by Serena a while after Serena joined Salazar's crew. Apparently she disliked the thought of Salazar sleeping with another, but Serena's story is not one for this file.

Perhaps however, the murder of her mother brought her to resent her father, resent the fact he would allow his new girlfriend to kill the woman she loved, that Salazar should have loved. Perhaps this created a gap between them.

Unfourtenatly, as said, the very thought of getting concrete evidence or even good information on Siona is difficult at best, she has learnt from her father how to keep quiet, how to stay under the radar.

She was however involved in the murder of the 1200 refugees on the colony ship Darwin. This could indicate that she is still close to her father, perhaps she will continue the family business with him. The pictures we got of her holobroadcast showed her perching on a thin stool, not wearing very much.

Evidence:


This blatant show off of her body is possibly a defence mechanism, designed to protect herself from any close scrutinisation, as said above.

Perhaps one day I will get to meet this interesting woman... I wish I could understand her.

-Greg Harrison: Pyschoanalysist.

"You know what I want." She whispered, her voice softly carrying across the room. She sat by the window of the penthouse apartment and smiled as the corset tug gently across her chest.


He gasped, his breath coming sharply in the silence of the room. Each twitch of his foot made her frown.

"Now now... what did I say?"

Her voice was so soft... it seemed to float across, land on his skin. It burnt. His foot stopped moving.

The blindfold tugged at the sides of his face, his senses completely cut off. Ropes tied each of his wrists and ankles to a corner of the bed, his body spread out.

"I... I can't..." he gasped. She smiled sympathetically, and marvelled at his restraint. Not many managed more than a minute. The only noise apart from her hushed voice was the vibrations thrumming through the room. From the bed.

"Come now minister... surely a small piece of information like that is nothing compared to what I can give you..."

He gasped again. His throat was hoarse, and his muscles were tense now from what she was doing to him. She smiled at it, lips curling and eyes narrowing. Life was so enjoyable. The minister struggled for a second more, and then gave in.

"They do not know where he is... Please... please..."

His begging voice was so cute. She giggled softly, and then moved to the bed. Every good deed deserved a reward.

She lay on the couch and contemplated what needed doing.

So the Bretonians didn't know where Salazar was. They had searched of course, sent all sorts of ships to try and find his shipyard, to try and cripple him. What they didn't know was that the Phoenix shipyards were protected to multi-phasic shields. They changed their frequency so quickly that sensors couldn't establish a lock on it. The only way to see it was with your eyes, and in space, that can be difficult.

And also, the Bretonians trusted their technology too much.

She sighed, and prepared to leave the apartment. She could only stay in one place for so long before they found her, so she moved on. The few important things to her were packed into a bag, and her long legs carried her out of the door, towards her ship. The Yacht floated softly above the landing pad, and she walked onto it with her head held high.

"Steven" she called.

"Yes milady?"

"Lift off, take us to Cambridge please."

The yacht lifted from the pad with a roar, and Siona sat back in one of the many comfortable chairs. This would be interesting. She rested her hand on her face slightly, lost in thought, staring out the window at the passing clouds.

Her breath came in short gasps as she stood in the middle of the dark room. In her left hand was her legendary short axe, and in the other rested the short scimitar.

Her eyes flashed in the light, and the man facing her smiled as he prepared to move in again.

With a feral cry she launched herself at him, doing acrobatic flips and twirls as his sword flicked at places her legs had been milliseconds before. Harry span, his sword whistling through the air, and collided with her scimitar with a shower of sparks as she blocked it.

She chuckled lightly, and her axe flew towards his head. He pulled his head backwards, missing the deadly blade by almost nothing, before relaunching his attack.

Their bodies pressed close to each other as both her blades collided with is, their eyes locked as they fought for dominance. Her top had ripped, and as his eyes flicked to the tear, revealing far too much flesh, she pushed forwards, knocking him off balance.

She laughed openly, and tore the top off, leaving her dressed as much as he was, wearing tight shorts.

He chuckled as he knew he would be distracted, but again launched himself forwards. They parried and fought again, twisting and whirling in the dim light of the cargo bay of the Immortal Hunter. Finally, she dropped her blades and nodded.

He fell to his knees.

"My lady, did I perform adequately?" he asked.

She nodded, and tilted his head upwards, kissing him.

"You performed excellently my love. Come, we have things to do."

Then the alarms sounded, and the Phoenix shipyards were attacked.

Harry and Siona sat side by side in the Sabre, floating silently in Tau 31. Ahead of them, the Kusari destroyer patrol powered silently and proudly by, their scanners not picking up the fighter resting close to them. Harry squeezed a trigger, and the afterburner fired once, pushing them to right next to the Destroyer. They floated until the hangar bay was visible, and then another squeeze of the trigger pushed them to right next to it. The door was close of course, but there was a outcrop which the Sabre could hide behind.

Silently, the two occupants of the Sabre began to put on their spacesuits.

5 minutes later, the two of them were floating towards an airlock on the side of the Destroyer, leaving the Sabre anchored out of sight. As Harry used a small computer to hack the lock, Siona peered inside, seeing a deserted corridor. The door gave a silent hiss, and the two of them were inside.

After the pressure had equalized, the two of them shed their suits, and prowled inside the ship, constantly looking, constantly alert. Slowly they moved down the corridor, Harry carrying a large blaster in his right hand, Siona with her scimitar unsheathed, her axe still on the back of her belt.

Finally, after about 3 minutes of walking, they reached their destination, a computer terminal on the side of the corridor.

Harry sprang into action, connecting his computer and running several hacks, bypassing firewalls and downloading information. Construction plans, tactics, fleet locations, everything. 30 seconds later it was done, and the two of them were returning the way they came.

"Hey... HEY! Who are you?" came the voice from behind them. Instantly Harry spun and let off a shot, felling the soldier who had spotted them, a second later they heard more voices yelling, and Siona grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him into a room off the corridor.

Together they unsheathed their blades, letting them glimmer slightly in the light filtering through the window. It seemed to be some sort of research room, and Siona silently admired the elegance of the construction. She liked this ship...

She was jerked out of her reverie by the door opening, and both her and Harry leapt forwards, blades flashing.

Siona's brilliant eyes were the last thing many of them saw.

Soon afterwards, Harry and Siona reached the airlock and had donned their spcesuits. Not caring about keeping secret anymore, Harry shot the glass three times, until it shattered silently in the emptiness of space. The two of them slid through the gap, and a short push later returned them to their sabre.

Harry artfully piloted the Sabre away from the Destroyer patrol, seconds before giant spotlights started searching the space around them. Siona smiled and powered up a terminal in the Sabre, starting to view the files. These would be useful in their ideas for expansion, and she thought that perhaps she would have the engineers build her a ship... she liked how they looked.

***

Siona smiled as she stood upon Phoenix, looking down at where her new destroyer was taking shape. She would sit at the helm of it, and terrorise the Taus, dominating all those foolish enough to get in her way, and she would do it in the name of her father, the deadly, vengeful genius Salazar Kithe.

Siona smiled as she sat in the command chair of the 'Anguish. One leg tucked around underneath her, she looked like a child about to play with her new toy. Except she was a vicious, ruthless killer. Her new ship, made by her fathers engineers, was finally ready to be launched.

She had had the design edited slightly. Her bridge only had two seats: The command chair, which also had the pilots controls connected, and a second chair, just in front of the command chair, which had communications, weapons and other essential systems routed to it.

If anyone other than Siona or Harry sat in those seats, they would be electrocuted. Small DNA comparison sensors checked everyone who tried to pilot the vessel. Siona smiled, not even her father could fly this ship.

She loved how lithe it was, small and elegant, like her. Perhaps a little clich?d that she was following her father's idea of naming the ship similar to the owner. Immortal Hunter to him, Elegant Anguish to her. Then again, was she really anguished? She was more a killer...

She forgot it. The ship had been named, and the Elegant Anguish she would remain. She shivered slightly, her emotions roaring through her.

She had left her revealing outfits on Phoenix, while she commanded the 'Anguish, she would be deadly, Dex Angelicus. Her black jumpsuit clung to her body, and she smiled. It made her feel in control, it made her feel ready for anything.

The time had come for the Kithe family to spread further afield, and she would start with Liberty. Harry sat below her, his eyes alert, he ready to die for her, and she lovingly caressed his cheek briefly, receiving a smile from him in return, before she sat in her command chair.

With a roar, the engines powered up, and the 'Anguish headed to Liberty.

"Come on... stupid computer"

Siona tapped her heel impatiently as the computer attempted to crack open the communication she had picked up. It was to Austin Goodmen, that much she could see, but the sender and the content remained annoyingly encrypted, despite her best efforts.

Decryption Failed

Popped up on the screen, and Siona gave a curse and slammed her fist against the bulkhead. She wondered where Austin was going... She wondered what he was going to do. Thinking about the information he could provide about the Bretonian fleets almost made her drool. Shield harmonies to the Dunkirks, allowing the Anguish to fire direct hits against the reactor cores instantly, fleet movements to prevent any of the Kithe ships from being spotted, locations of important military members...

Yes, Austin Goodmen was a very tasty morsel, and Siona Kithe was a very persistent hunter.

She brought up a list of every base in the area with a flick of her wrist, debating them slowly. It was possible he had gone to Liberty or Rheinland... it would take far too long to search them all. She created a shortlist of bases that would not mind a Bretonian fugitive being on them, and then cut out of those any base that was an enemy of Bretonia. Austin would not sit in a Kusari bar sipping ale.

Her list created, she typed a command into the cloaked Elegant Anguish, and it set a course for Trafalgar base. Even if she had to search every base in Sirius, she would find that man.

The night seemed to swallow her up as she moved from shadow to shadow. Her fingers closed lightly over the handles of her blades, each finger tensing as she slithered between buildings and around obstacles.

Her target yawned slightly as he reached up to close the curtains that covered his bedroom window. Below, guards patrolled the grounds, and his wife quietly murmered from the bed. He yawned and turned around and went to bed.

He felt safe.

Little did he know, a single woman would tonight slowly murder every person inside the house.

The gates posed little problem. There was a grove of elm trees nearby which provided her with a tall stick to vault over the electrified defenses. The two guards beyond didn't see her as she threw herself behind some rose bushes. A second later she was at a side door, one hand pulling out a set of lockpicks from a back pocket.

'A keyhole?!' She thought, marvelling at the stupidity that rich people often had. They liked how they looked, she supposed.

A few minutes of clicking against the internal cylinders and the push rod slid round. The door popped open with a silent sigh. She moved within, pressing the door closed behind her, she would find another way out.

She started with the kitchen, where two servants were preparing some sort of meal for themselves. She threw her straight blade like a spear at the woman, sending it slicing into the spine, causing instant death.

The male she spun over her leg, throwing him to the ground, and then straddled him, holding her axe to his throat.

"Ah.. ah... hush" she whispered as he opened his mouth to scream. His eyes screamed for his mouth as he looked up at her.

"Yo...You?" he spluttered. "The BBC said you were dead! You haven't been seen for months!"

She smiled at him, and the smile made his hair stand on end and his blood chill.

"Yes... we had... plans. I was bored, so you're lucky enough to entertain me... aren't you privileged?"

He nodded slightly, too petrified to do anything more.

"Mmmm..." she whispered, just his admission an aphrodisiac to her twisted mind. "What's your name?"

It took him three tries.

"G...Ga...Gabe..."

She looked down at him.

"Gabe what?"

Somehow he knew she was not asking for his last name.

"Gabe... your majesty? Your highness?"

She smirked.

"Mistress will do fine."

He gulped.

"Gabe Mistress."

She smiled, and started to move her body, rubbing slowly against him.

"Well Gabe, for tonight... tonight your name is Austin."

He looked confused.

"Yes Mistress... as you say..."

He thought he could play along... he thought if he did what she said, he might live through the night.

He was wrong.

"Die" she breathed. And almost lovingly she pressed the axe into the flesh of his neck, slowly cutting into him. He struggled, shuddered and twisted as blood poured from the wound until finally falling still.

Siona Kithe smiled.

"And that is what I will do to him when I catch him... but possibly with less clothes involved..."

She looked around the kitchen, and then left the room.

4 hours later, 3 guards found the entire household of the head judge of Planet Leeds murdered, except for one. He himself was found naked, his genitalia were sliced off, and were on the ground nearby. In his bed was the blood of a prostitute who had been taken to a nearby hospital. She had apparently been stabbed into her uterus. His wife was still out for the evening at a business party.

And on the ground was a small piece of paper, with lipstick marks where someone had kissed it. The head investigator of the local constabulary slowly bent down and with shaking hands picked it up, read it, and the cursed.

Within, it read:

Dear gentlemen,

By now you will be seeing just what your head judge got up to when his wife was away. Despicable. I have cured him and his whore of their sin.

Lust.

Chastity.

She will never screw again.

Lots of love,

Siona.

The head investigator looked around, and closed his eyes briefly. The bitch was back.

The man screamed as he struggled against the bonds. He was loosing strength, rapidly. A small trickle of water sliding down his face quenched his thirst, but he was approaching his fourth week without food. He could feel his body shutting down, and it was painful. He lurched against the bonds in futile again, his body racking in pain. He knew he didn't have long left.


She had been looking for a long time now, seeing who truly deserved it. She reveled in her power, and felt good about what she was doing. Truly, she was helping people see the error of their ways. Soon, terror would strike into the hearts of everyone guilty of these sins, and they would fear retribution. Her retribution.

She giggled lightly, enjoying the hypocrisy of her actions. It wasn't as if she actually gave a damn about the people, or what they did. It just seemed a bit more interesting a way to spread fear than just shooting someone. She liked subtlety. It suited her.

Finally, the target had been chosen. His gluttony was obvious, barely able to move in and out of his home, he was a man who not only deserved this, he needed it. She would show him temperance, she would show him restraint. He had gone over the top in his gluttony, and her punishment for him would be just as exaggerated.

He entered his house. It would be the last time he ever did so again. Siona moved like a wraith, springing from cover to cover, until finally the window was before her. Sliding a blade silently out of it's sheath, her lithe form slipped into the open window, and within 30 seconds, the deadly weapon was pressed against the soft sheen covering the mans neck.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she placed a single elegant finger upon his lips.

"No... no. No need to speak. No need to beg. There is nothing you can do or say to stop this retribution from falling upon you. Now, you will stand up, and do exactly as I say, or you will loose a finger. After that, I take your hands. Do you understand me?"

He nodded. A small nod. He was painfully aware of the scimitar resting against his beating jugular vein.

She led him to a warehouse via the back roads, and as she tied him to the wall and set a pipe to drop water across his face, she pulled out her blade one more time.

"I'll leave a little message to the authorities I think..."


They had received an anonymous tip. They got a lot of them these days, with Bretonia in such a mess, nobody wanted to ruin any possibly black market opportunities they could get. Not that the BBC had a lot of money to offer as a reward. Nonetheless, they had dispatched a cameraman with the orders to see if there was anything interesting, and to call the BPA once he had some good footage.

The cameraman had thrown up as he entered the warehouse.

Blazoned, red against the mans white shirt, dry after many weeks, was a word carved into the mans skin. Drops of blood had slithered down towards his shoes, leaving small trails behind them. The scars themselves looked as if they had been re-cut every few days, to make sure they were fresh and raw for their discovery.

The word read 'Gluttony'. The man tied to the wall was incredibly fat, but his clothes seemed loose, almost as if he had lost a lot of weight in a short amount of time.

The second murder had been performed. The stage was set for the third.