Stock take sucked hard for most people, extended hours, too much head work. But Tara didn’t have the inclination to go home and she liked keeping her brain busy. The night was warm so she was sporting a light blue tank that highlighted her ice blue eyes superbly; her almost white hair was pulled into pig tails as had her head down in a book recording information.

Slender figure bent forward right elbow leaning on the counter she held her head up with that hand. She may not mind doing it but it was tiring and she was at the tale end of it now. She wore leather like it was a second skin and her boots were slightly heeled. Sitting at the small of her back was a weapon, only firearm on the place that was loaded, only one ready to fire, the fact that it was exposed along with what they call the ‘advertising spot’ of her back, didn’t bother her even with her back to the door, shop had been closed for hours she wasn’t expecting anyone. The light was dim, certain customers she had occasionally preferred the dim lights and it didn’t harm her any so she might as well.

With a heavy sigh she flipped the book closed, finished finally and she stretched her arms a little just to get the kinks from leaning on them for so long out. The shop was relatively small; she kept the larger area for storage. But it had a range of weaponry and ammunition that meant that a person would almost definitely find what they wanted. Tara of course was familiar with them all; she took pride in being able to be customer friendly and informative.

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*She paused outside the building, checking the sign. Ammunitions Anonymous, this was the place D had sent her. Tara's family had proven loyal to the Devereux on several occasions, Tara herself being no exception. It was for that loyalty and the girl's natural talents that Bacia was here. She'd looked around the building, it was clean. Course, that didn't change the fact the Devereux family and their associates had been under surveillance for some time. That kinda crap had almost gotten one of them killed. From the story D told her, it was like something out of one of those dimestore romances. Only reading Bacia did was of the newspaper, and then, only on occasion. She opened the door, and entered the shop, with only the light tinkle of a bell to signify her presence.*

Tara, you here?

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She’d been given the heads up on the problems in town, although she’d heard that most of that had been sorted out already. She attended whatever meetings Uncle Ray called and got whatever information she needed and kept up to date with it.
The bell indicated someone had come in and she had ducked out of sight of the shop door to slip the book away before she would grab her jacket and the pouch of money she’d have to run into the bank in the morning. Frowning a little at the intrusive sound the voice following it was unfamiliar but they knew her it seemed which only served to deepen her expression.
“Shops closed, we open at ten tomorrow.” She called as she grabbed her jacket and slipped it on making her way to the front of the shop again.

The woman standing in her shop seemed vaguely familiar…shed seen her around but they hadn’t met. Shrugging her shoulders to make the black leather jacket fall into place correctly she didn’t take her eyes off the woman as she reached out and took hold of the money pouch that was nearby on the counter.
“I’m sure I can help you then.” She finished up what she had started to say, the implication was clear…the woman shouldn’t be here.

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*At this, Bacia chuckled.* Yeah, Tara. I'm sure people coming to buy guns in the middle of the night always call you by your first name. *As Tara took the money off the counter, Bacia shook her head slowly from side to side.* I also would have took the money before I said anything. Probably would have just headed out the door, too. However, I didn't, which means I'm here for another reason.

*Bacia took the opportunity to watch Tara closely. She wasn't scared. Not that she should be, Bacia didn't look outwardly threatening, which could be a real asset in certain situations.* I'm with the Devereux family, Tara. I'm sure you've heard about all the buildup in town, that something real big's gonna happen. I'm here making sure we got New Orleans' finest ready to go take the battle back home to the Vincettis and the Syndicate. Course, *one side of her mouth curled into a bit of a smirk* if you'd rather stay here and do inventory, that's fine too.

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Tilting her to the side as she looked this woman over, there were a few people who could have walked through that door and she’d have been nervous…this woman was not one of them. Point, most wouldn’t have called out to her, nor would they have left the money where she had carelessly left it. She’d have to be more careful on that next time. Nodding a little as the woman made sense she waited until she’d finished her introduction before speaking again.
“Alright then, you have a name friend of the Devereux’s?”

She was listening and she moved over to the counter, pulling self up onto it and swiveled around to leg now on the customers side, but she stayed seated looking the woman over. No she didn’t look scary but she’d been around enough dangerous people to see the signs, a kind of movement that they had that normal people didn’t have.
Grinning at the mention of her natural talents, she’d worked hard to be good at what she did but why give that away, just listen, let the newcomer do all the hard work.

It was hard not to smile at the last statement, she tended to allow her expression show easily unless it was required otherwise, eyes glittering at the idea of a bit of something to liven up her day. Personally she had had little problem with the others that were mentioned…but they were the enemy of the family she’d grown up with and on a certain level she felt that they were an extended family of hers. They’d certainly looked out for her.
“Speak your piece I’m listening.”

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If you're referring to naming the Devereux family, I could go down the list: Lilith, Uncle Ray, D, Victor Vincent..*She made a circular motion with her hand indicating she had several more names..*

Me, I'm Bacia, Bacia Than. Bacia means 'family death ruined the home' and Than means 'brilliant death'. The first is what I got, and the second's what I'm giving. *Now, she was smiling. She took a great deal of pride in her work, and it showed.* I'm here on behalf of the big guy himself, D. He thinks you'd be perfect for this little gang of assassins he's building up. With your martial arts, gunplay, and that bo you carry around, you can fight back and defend no matter what gets thrown at you, and that's what we need. *Bacia brushed a lock of hair away from her face, and paused for a moment.* Course, it's a fucking guarantee some if not all of us won't be coming back. Me, I got nothing to lose. You might. Anything that stands in your way of wiping out as many of the enemy as you can before they take your ass down? I only ask because once a Suicide King, always a Suicide King. Only way out is when the Reaper comes to carry what's left of you into the beyond. *Bacia smirked again. For some reason, she was really enjoyig herself.* Me, I hope there's not enough to fill a thimble.

*From within her trench, she witdrew a cigarette and lighter, lighting up right there in the shop. Still watching Tara, she took a long drag from the cigarrette.* If you've got any questions, now's the time to ask.

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She hadn’t meant to name the Devereux Family she knew them already, but then she guessed it didn’t hurt. Bacia…now that’s what she’d been after, this woman’s name…although the definitions were interesting, sounded a whole lot better than her own names definition, "Tower or Hillside.
She looked down at her knees in front of her as she listened, looking up at the mention of D. Yeah she knew D, he was one of the ones who had the potential to make her nervous…although he had to work at it, she’d known him too long now to be worried by him on a regular day. Raising an eyebrow as the woman listed her own skills to her. Nodding a little, yes yes she knew what she could do, didn’t need it listed to her.

Tara was a quiet one, one for listening or doing, not much for talking it through and the warning that it pretty much a life-risker was unnecessary but she let it go, of course, every time you took a weapon or even just yourself into a battle there was a high percentage that it wouldn’t be you walking away from it. Add numbers and personal grudges to that and the chances got even higher. Smiling there was a shine in her eyes at the thought of it. She didn’t want to sit on her butt and count bullets all her life, her Daddy had died despite taking the safe option of just running the shop, nah, if she were going to go she wanted it to be with a bang.
She’d seen some of the people working for the Devereux’s, hell she knew some of them, yeah they were crazy, but that just meant they wouldn’t tell her off for being, well she called it spontaneous, others called it reckless.
The strange thing was, as the woman pulled the cigarette out she frowned and pointed at the no smoking sign above the counter behind her…she didn’t mind being shot at but she didn’t want the woman smoking in her shop.

“Where’s D, why’s he sending you to run his errands?” This did sound like the kind of gig D would be into but she wanted to know why he hadn’t come to ask her himself.

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*With a brief nod, Bacia dropped the cigarrette, grinding it out beneath her booted heel. There was a bit of irony. Death by bullets, peachy keen. Death by secondhand smoke, hell no. She had no doubt Tara knew what she was doing, otherwise she wouldn't be wasting her time here jawjacking. The girl seemed a bit timid, though, watching her knees and whatnot. Course, even a mouse could turn into a lion in the right situation, Bacia herself was proof of that fact.*

D's busy tying up some *cleared her throat* loose ends. Since you're so close the Devereux family, undoubtedly you've seen Gillian Prescott about? *Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Bacia continued.* The other day, D tracked her and her priest boyfriend all over New Orleans and back to his apartment. *Bacia's smirk turned into a grin, it had been -such- a good story.* Needless to say, they both thought they were getting killed. Given the choice of throw in with us or die, the priest chose throw in. Gave some overly dramatic speech about taking out D if she died, too. *Bacia's hand came up to her face in an attempt to stifle laughter.* It's just so -damn- funny. But, mainly, he's making sure all the ducks are in a row so nothng -pops up- and makes more problems. He told me to tell you he apologized for not being able to make the meet hisself. Don't know why he said that, because he doesn't apologize to nobody anymore. *She put the cigarette pack and lighter back.* That's not true. I bet he'd apologize to Devi, but that's it..

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No she wasn’t the extroverted type unless caught up in the moment, Bacia seemed the exude enough confidence for the two of them right now. She appreciated that the woman put the cigarette, the notion of having to clean up the butt later didn’t bother he too much if it mean the woman didn’t smoke. That alone, from someone who obviously had no trouble pulling the trigger earnt some respect from Tara.

Tying up loose ends often means somebody was going to die and it sounded like someone had thought they would. Yeah she’d seen Gillian, but a boyfriend? A Priest…that was interesting, she’d never have suspected that. She didn’t bother to hide her laughter at the story, threatening D like that and surviving, that alone was impressive, but yes amusing, she’d like to meet this priest who apparently had balls of steel. And by the sounds of it she might just get the chance.

The fact that this little taskforce was being assembled made her wonder just how bad things had become, and where they were headed. Only one way to find out for sure…after D’s apologies had been expressed she smiled.
“Yeah count me in.” She jumped off the counter and stood in front of the woman.
“Can’t sit around here all my life.”
As for anything to lose? Nope, the shop was her life, as sad as that was, nothing standing in her way.

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*Bacia nodded.* Well good then, Tara. Welcome to the Suicide Kings. *Reaching into her trench again, she withdrew a playing card, slapping it down on the counter. The normal King of Spades had been altered so it looked like the King was stabbing himself in the head with his own sword.* That's the symbol right there, the 'calling card' so they say. Pretty, ain't it? *Bacia had a great deal of pride concerning her 'family'. The Devereux family only hired the best, and joining the 'Best of the Best' hit squad was just icing on the cake.* The word from D is that there's gonna be a meeting soon where you'll get to meet the rest of the Kings. Although, there might be more girls then guys there, which I personally find quite amusing. Devereux family always was about equality.. *She chuckled again, for she did have a tendency to find her own jokes funnier than anyone else did.* We're all together until death splits us apart.

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She looked at the card as it was slapped down on the counter, smirking at it. The pictures was strangely accurate, suited the name for sure. A squad of people stupid enough to put themselves deliberately in the way of almost certain death. Playing chicken with the reaper so to speak.
“Cute.” She commented…always one to let the words cascade forward…not.
Looking back at this woman she could see the pride, it was admirable. And well placed she thought, the Devereux’s were not to be messed with, and to be welcomed in by them, taken into their elite squad, yeah it was something to be proud of.

She nodded at the meeting, she wasn’t unused to those, probably either at the bar or Uncle Ray’s place as she had no doubt he was in on this if not a member himself. She turned and reached over the counter and under it, her feet leaving the ground for a moment as she grabbed her helmet from where she kept it, the movement might seem awkward for some, she’d done it many a time. A light laugh escaped her when Bacia mentioned the male/female ratio; she began to wander toward the door pulling her keys out of her jacket.
“Never send a man to do a woman’s job.” She offered up. After all look at nature, it was the women who bit the heads off their mates, or carried the most potent poison in their veins, nature dictated it not man.

“Make sure someone lets me know and I’ll be there.” For the meeting and her team mates, it was her way.

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I'll tell you myself Tara, or D will. *It was obvious that this meeting was drawing to a close. If Bacia had still been the type to make friends, she and Tara could have gotten along quite well. As it was, they were comrades, soldiers united against the foe, locked in mortal combat. Bacia shook her head slowly from side to side, must have been watching too many war movies lately. In a quick and fluid motion, she recovered the card, putting it back where she'd found it. Her business concluded for now, she headed toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob.* Nice meeting you, Tara. *With little more than a nod and a wave, she headed off into the night.*

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So now she knew what to expect next time she either saw D or this Bacia, the beginning of a war.
“Alright.” She smiled a little, her daddy had taught her to mindful of whom you trust, and always extend the kind of courtesy you’d like to receive. By joining this group she’d chosen to trust them, all of them…this woman a stranger to her, a priest who was pressured into joining, D…well it wasn’t hard to trust him, and whoever else had signed on. Narrowing her eyes as the woman picked the card up, was she meant to have picked that up?
Her daddy had also said, ”If someone tries to kill you, you try to kill them right back.” it was a simply philosophy really and one she’d taken on board…of course if she put herself in the position for them to do so, all but invited them to try, that didn’t change the rule now did it.?

“Same,” was her simple response to the pleasantries.
She had to lock the door and close the grate over and lock that too, so she was left watching this woman wander off. Silently wondering what kind of person she was, beyond the wiliness to pull the trigger. Tara did make friends on occasion, if people could get past her general quiet nature. So many were put off by that. She’d also been told it was the eyes, cool, focused and when she was pissed or busy, dangerous.

Locking up she picked her helmet up from where she’d had to rest it so she could lock up and made her way to the parking lot. She didn’t have her bike here today, she had the car. The helmet had been left here the other night when she’d forgotten it.