A/N: Yes, I know that the last thing I should be doing is starting yet another story... but this is the only thing that helped me get over my damned writer's block. Besides I think the idea has some merit... plus I've been watching way to many transporter/assassin movies. 0.o Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Warning: This story is Slash, yaoi, gay! You know all the lovely things in life. You don't dig? Don't read.

Big Thanks to Esquirella for being my beloved beta.

Chapter One

Noah sighed impatiently as his laptop booted up, the black screen coming to life to reveal his active desktop. He wasn't at all surprised to hear the electronic voice blare out 'you've got mail', an annoying feature and one he planned to get rid of eventually. He wasted no time in entering his account and looking over the new messages. Seeing the one he had been waiting for, he clicked quickly scanning through the paragraphs to find the correct one. But a moment later he found what he was looking for and quickly copied and pasted the six sentences in yet another program that immediately began coding the words and letters to change what was once a study on global warming into something entirely different.

Hello CAT, we have another game for you to play. Simple mission, minimum killing with low risk of discovery. Our goal: Secure the duffel bag, kill off the carrier and bring said bag to the buyer. Interested? You know where to reach me.

"Yea, you bastard, I know where," he muttered to himself as he entered the proper and secure web address.

A search engine immediately popped up giving anyone else the impression that the site was no longer there – he knew better. Entering his password he pressed ‘search’ and wasn't at all surprised to see the screen go black before a small message box popped up in the center of it.

'Hello, CAT, ready for your mouse?'

'New toys are always fun,' he replied. 'How much is the tag?'

'10 million.'

Noah paused at this. Usually a missions this simple paid less than half that amount – which was why he rarely bothered with them. Something was wrong here, there had to be. There was no way a carrier job could be worth 6 mil. A brief paranoid thought entered his head and he wondered for a moment if the buyer wasn't trying to set him up. It seemed like a probable scenario but then so did every other job he had done. Risks like these were ones people in his profession were forced to take; thrust into the unknown and be hopefully rewarded. He knew the ins and outs of his life and lifestyle. He knew how to sort the difficult cases from the easy ones and he knew to trust in his instincts above all else. In this life, with this job, it was survival of the fittest and he was damned sure fit and hardly stupid.

'Too simple. Find another transporter.'

'15 million dollars.'

'Find another transporter.'

'30 million. Half now, half when you've completed the mission.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, running his hand through his short brown locks in agitation. His blue eyes stared intently at the last message on the screen. 30 million dollars. It was a ridiculous amount and one even he couldn't scoff at. With this amount of money plus the cash he had saved up over the past seven years he could take a break from this for awhile, maybe be done with it. The possibilities were endless and despite his own vigilance, this was something he just couldn't refuse.

'... Location?'

'Smart man. I'm sending the files to you now.'

The printer started up and quickly spat out the necessary documents. When it was finished the face of a robust Asian man lay atop the stack. Noah quickly picked the papers up and began sorting through them.

'The man on top is Jiro Hayashi. He is the carrier. He is your main target. Eliminate him and any possible surrounding nuisances before retrieving the bag.'

'I thought you said minimum killing?'

'I did say 'possible'.'

'Point taken. Now about the bag...'

'You are NOT, under any circumstances, to open the bag, nor is there to be any damage to the bag. Simply pick it up and drop it at the address indicated. Buyer’s orders.'

"You had better not be fucking me, you bastard," he growled to the monitor, once again ignoring the creeping feeling in the back of his neck.

'Fine. Make the first transfer. I WILL be checking my account status before the job.'

'Of course.'

Turning off his computer Noah leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles, a thoughtful gesture on his part. He had been doing this now for over seven years, killing people for a living and transporting bags and their contents from one person to another. Honestly, he could barely even remember the beginning of it all and in truth didn't even want to. If he could have gone back to the beginning he would have kicked his own ass for being so stupid as to choose this life.

Sorting through the files once more he found the addresses where the pick up and drop off would take place. He needed to scout them as soon as possible and search for the right time and place to attempt his deadly undertaking. Nothing could go wrong. He would not be surprised. He just wouldn't allow it. He was a professional and knew his business and the risks he took with his life and others’ while usually doing a good job to keep within the invisible boundaries he had set for himself. Rising from the chair he slipped on his shoes and a light jacket before making his way out of the apartment.

--

Jiro Hayashi stepped off the plane feeling as if someone had dropped the weight of the world on his shoulders … and in a way, someone had. He felt like cursing himself for agreeing to act as the carrier of an unknown package – but then when you have a gun pointed in your face you'll probably agree to just about anything.

Walking into the airport and over to the luggage claim he began to dot his sweaty brow with his already soggy handkerchief. He closed his eyes tightly when he saw the black duffel bag, the lime green dragon printed on the side laughing at his discomfort while letting him know this was indeed what he was seeking. He had a brief thought to leave it there and allow the authorities deal with whatever it was, but he knew they would come looking for him if he became so stupid as to even attempt such a thing.

Holding his breath he made his way over and gingerly picked the bag up, settling it over his shoulder in a way he hoped was casual as he had no wish to bring any attention to himself. Quickly he turned and began to make his way towards to the exit.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Jiro froze his breath catching in his throat as he turned around to face what he soon discovered was one of the sector’s security guards. "Yes?"

He was almost relieved to see his previously forgotten handkerchief thrust into his face.

"I believe you dropped this – on accident I hope. I'd hate to think you or anyone else would try to trash our facilities."

"N-no, of course not. Thank you!" Taking the handkerchief back and stuffing it in his pocket he nodded to the man before turning once more.

He paused just outside the front door to scan the awaiting vehicles for the proper car. Seeing his name written in Japanese being held beside a car he quickly made his way over to it completely ignoring the smirking American who held it. Settling himself into the back seat he placed the duffel bag gently beside him. Once the driver entered the vehicle he told him the appropriate address before resting his head back against the seat. The pull of the car as it took off was comforting to say the least. His problems were behind him and in a few more miles he would be home free.

He was jolted not so many moments later however when the car halted abruptly.

--

Noah stared at the man in the rear view mirror, his blue eyes cold and emotionless showing nothing but certain death in their depths. His body was surprisingly relaxed, considering what he was about to do. After so many years it just seemed routine. A brief view of his first kill flashed before him, and he remembered how he fought to pull the trigger and the guilt that followed – not to mention the projectile vomit. He had no problem with any of that now. The way he figured it, everybody had to die … at least he made it a bit more interesting.

"The way I see it," Noah started, seeing the man's beady eyes immediately snap towards him, "you can do it yourself or take a walk. Either way, I win and you die. You choose how."

Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a 9 millimeter gun and lazily cocked it before pulling out the chamber. Once again he raised his eyes to the mirror quirking his brow in question as he did so. He knew the man could see his face clearly so didn't bother turning around, merely raised the gun up high enough so the man could get a good look. "Well?"

"I-I…"

Noah knew he was being intentionally cruel by asking him to choose his fate but at least he gave the man a chance to actually be a man, right? It the fool reverted to blubbering instead of doing as asked he would soon find himself in a weakling’s position – no choice, no chance with his brains splattered against the back window.

"Choose now."

He wasn't very surprised to hear the click of the car door opening, what he didn't expect however was to see the fat man attempt to run for it. Sighing at people's stupidity he took a moment to place the silencer on the end of the gun before pulling the car door open and outstretching his arm. He took a brief second to aim at Jiro's back before firing. The man instantly fell to the ground. Still Noah took the time to walk over to his limp form, popping the chamber back into place as he went. He didn't blink as he rested the end of the gun against the man's head before firing and making sure he was really dead.

Taking a brief moment to look around to ensure no one could bear witness to his crime, he made his way back to the car. Checking the backseat to make sure the package was still there he drove the vehicle to a previously selected car deck before hefting the bag from the backseat and over his shoulder. He paused at the odd shape of whatever was in the duffel bag before shaking it off and ditching the car only to walk a story up to retrieve his own. Setting the bag in the passenger seat he got behind the wheel.