[Mars, 148 years after first contact]
A cacophony of oozing liquid echoed across the silent chamber, breaking the perfect stillness with each repetitious drop. It was a cold, damp room, built beneath the surface of Mars when humanity first began to claim the planet. Since then, it was a perfect location for smuggling goods and people, so long as the authorities had forgotten its existence.
If there were, of course, any authorities to speak of.
High above the wet drainage sat a skinny human, her body lying perfectly still on top of a broken fan blade.
She was Sonera.
A splatter of blood was stuck to her pale cheek, still moist from its previous owner. There was, of course, no life remaining in the body it originated from. Sonera saw to that. Beneath the calm assassin rested the body of her victim, whose corpse still contained a shard of rusted metal.
"Her dress," Sonera spoke with an emotionless tone. "Do I need it?"
A voice replied from a small chip deep inside her ear. Its masculine tone was almost jovial, perfectly collected amidst Sonera's preformance. He had confidence in her.
"They're only expecting one girl. Just don't go showing your face to the wrong people; they might catch on."
"She wore white," Sonera replied, her eyes shifting downwards towards the dead girl, whose blonde hair shimmered in the light coming from above. "They might expect that."
The man she spoke to released a deep sigh. "Just...try to smile and they'll overlook it."
"No."
"It was a comfort girl, right?"
"Who?"
Another sigh came from the man. "The one you just killed, Sonera. Eyes up."
Sonera shrugged. Her mind was elsewhere.
"I believe so."
"Alright then, it's looking good. Try to stay focused, I know you're not the sloppy kind, but you're getting lost in your own head."
"I'll be fine, Three." Sonera smiled, her expression briefly changing before returning to its previous state.
Sonera balanced her way across the rusted ceiling with ease before leaping down onto the floor of the chamber, her bare feet scraping against the floor.
"Oh, and clean the blood off you." Three's fingers could be heard tapping against his ear-chip. "Not really ladylike to have that splattered all over you."
"Yes." Sonera nodded, wiping her cheek with a nakpin she had stolen before tossing it aside. "Good luck on your end, Three."
"Hah," the man chuckled on the other side of the intercom, his voice garbled by static. "Listen, Four will be taking the comms if you have anything else, I've got to get to work."
Sonera wasn't happy to hear that. But she pressed on.
Sloshing her way through the wet drainage, the frail girl stared down at her feet, tilting her head with an animistic curiosity before moving on. Sonera had always been observant, even when she was merely a child. Since then, she hadn't grown a whole lot, making her perfectly unassuming. What she had gained in that time was a sense of cunning, allowing her to identify the nature of the tunnel she had begun to traverse.
The old ruins of Mars were used quite often, as seen by the sticky particulate of its trailing water being unable to settle properly. But more importantly, Sonera could effectively discern that no form of heavy equipment had been brought in for ages, meaning her prey was under-equipped. At most, a few combat frames had been dragged through, and she was more than confident handling those.
Mars wasn't always known for its illegal activities. It was once recognized as the beacon of humanity's colonial expeditions. But after the dominance of Tesselation, weapons-smuggling became one of many commonplaces on the Martian market. The true measure of fame, for the longest time, had actually been the formation of the family. It was they who waged war beneath and above ground, tossing aside the corporations and governments of old in exchange for a more feudal way of living.
Sonera and her team belonged to Russia's newly ascendant Bravta. And Three was the only part she liked about it. If it wasn't for him, she would still be just another pricey comfort girl who could dance.
"State your business," a rough voice came booming through the other side of the tunnel.
Sonera knew the guards of the Al Zein were rather fidgety, due to their recent history of brazen warfare. But as long as she remained calm and unassuming, her ruse would work. It helped being the silent type.
A light flashed onto her body, causing her left finger to twitch for a brief second. In response to the inspection, Sonera raised a small jeweled necklace, a token stolen from her previous victim. Having finally recognized the girl as an invited guest, the man lowered his rifle, gesturing for Sonera to hurry along.
"They sent you alone?" The man scoffed, checking that his service rifle was still loaded. "Wearing that?"
Sonera didn't respond, as if waiting for her cue. She stepped closer to the man, looking up at him with her cold gaze. In her experience, it was smarter to let others speak first, a minimum of two times.
"Orange eyes, huh, like Mars. Never mind, I get why they wanted you." The man nodded, waiting for a response from Sonera. "You can talk, you know. God, these girls keep getting younger and younger."
"That rifle isn't getting any younger," Sonera quipped, changing her tone in an instant. "You get that from Earth?"
"Hah! You're funny," the man laughed. "But I wouldn't do that around the buyer, he's got an ego."
Sonera never cared for social life, but she did know the basics by heart. If a man were confined to wearing concealing helmet gear, like the one she just insulted, then his personal pride was bound to be flexible. She would even go as far as to think they were amenable.
Sonera gave a thumbs up before wiping the smirk off her face. "I understand."
For the briefest of moments, Sonera felt pity for the tunnel worker. He was clearly a pawn in the operation. And his chances of surviving the rest of her family were approximately zero. Or at the very least, the young girl had grown a habit of sympathizing with the more gentle of soldiers. Killing them was no fun.
"Come along now," the man opened a rusty door as he spoke, leading Sonera out of the tunnels and into a dusty basement. "There's a lift past a few more of the boys. They won't check you."
Sonera stepped forward, calmly, allowing each armed guard to glance at her with a curious gaze. They all seemed like fine gentlemen for what it was worth. Gullible and most certainly in love with her appearance, yes, but still reasonable. One of them even bothered to point Sonera in the right direction with a nod, their face completely obscured by black goggles and a mask.
"Mind the bump on the start-up, damn thing's getting old."
Another guard spoke from within the lift, offering Sonera a hand so that her heels wouldn't trip on the incline. "Don't tell the boss that."
"The boss?" Sonera pretended to be clueless, her eyes widening with childlike curiosity.
"They don't even tell you these things? Man. Being a comfort girl must suck. Well, he's pretty gentle, I wouldn't worry about it."
"Who said it'd be the boss taking her?" the first guard chuckled, tilting his rifle as he spoke. "I hear his new girlfriend has a thing for uh...her type."
"Nice save, idiot."
"I wasn't gonna say young ones. That just sounds weird."
Sonera wanted to chuckle. She grew up alongside child soldiers with a sense of humor. In her experience, they were ironically the most humane when it came to dealing with girls. It was the fellow woman she had to watch out for.
Not that Sonera ever allowed anyone to swing first.
It wasn't a long wait inside the rusty tube. After a minute or so of random shuddering, the sliding door opened to reveal a well-groomed lawn glimmering in the starry night. She was officially within the belly of the beast.
"Alright, Sonera, it's me." Four whispered over the intercomm, her feminine voice indicating she was the only other girl on the team. "We're in position."
"Is she here?" Sonera tried to hide her growl.
Four's hand could be heard slapping against her faceplate. "Don't worry about that, focus on the index."
"She stole it from us."
"We don't know that yet. They could have caught her; she was family."
Sonera clenched her fist as she strolled across the lawn, ignoring the guard who tried to give her a hand. "Venra is a traitor."
"Just shut up and listen. Worry about your ex later."
"She's not my ex."
Sonera's brief solo stint came to an end when a pair of black-suited butlers approached her. Their faces weren't all that remarkable, and their voices even less so as they directed the assassin with a gloved hand.
"This way, please. He's expecting you."