Ah, it's never been colder in Vancouver. For a certain risk addict, things are about to get a LOT colder...

Out here, it's the darkest night in winter. Offshore, much of the sea is frozen. The wind doesn't go easy on the city. And neither does the snow.

In its hallways, vents blow. Within them, coils are lit. They do what they can to murder tonight's cold devil. But some devils just don't know how to die...

Across a ceiling, a mirror is fixed. In it, there are reflections. There's a nude woman, with long blonde flowing hair, mounted atop a man in the buff. Tonight, the ragged couple sharpens its ragged edges...and makes sparks as it goes along.

She throws her hair around, and moans. She's in ecstasy.

Against the bed, he couldn't be happier. He's a Japanese capitalist, who's paid good money on this blonde beast. He's made her life a utopia on Earth. And THESE are the taxes she pays him, quid pro quo...

These are the interim chambers of Raza Omura. They have to be temporary. He moves around a lot...or, so he tells his long-nailed mistress.

On the dresser, a pair of armed brass knuckles rest. They're armed with tekko-kagi. It seems their owner knows a bit of tiger kung fu...

Across a chair, a pair of katanas sit. Both their silver-steel hilts are jeweled with a ruby. Every now and then, within their scabbards, their blades flicker. If his mistress custom-ordered them for herself, those would've been garnets...or something else.

In a closet, an armored vest hangs. It's clad with yellow fabric. From them, a pair of mechanical arms rest, coiled. Those arms are a lot more than just flexible...and yet, a lot less, at the same time...

Against the wall, a shield rests. It's got a design, of a sabre-tooth tiger, around its outer surface.

In another room, there's a cryonics freezer. Its thermostat is kept low...VERY low. With that said, one would wonder why Omura doesn't just leave its contents on the fire escape overnight...

On a shelf, a pair of daggers rest. Their scabbards and hilts are both bronze-steel. A winged geisha is engraved in each blade. Their handles are jeweled with sapphires. Every now and then, the sapphires flicker with blue light...

In a closet, sets of red, grey, and black battledress hang. Among them, armored vests, clad in crimson fabric, also hang. On the dresser, crimson shooting gloves rest. On the closet floors, black packs, stuffed with crimson parachutes, rest.

Across a stool, a scope lies. It's got a pair of cranes (i.e. birds) engraved on both ends. Beneath this stool, a pair of sabatons rest. They're both armed...with an even number of cybernetic talons.

All around the bed, the mattress shakes. Steam rises. It's been hours. They're STILL at it...

The mistress rears her body back. With her hand, she summons a syringe...

With it, she jabs herself in the heart. She wenches her eyes shut, and shouts, for most of this. Shit, this is painful. Alas, she must tolerate this, for the good of her own love life...

Beneath her, Omura's got both hands tied to the headboard. He opens his eyes, confused as to what's going on...

Next, his mistress looks at him angrily...with a blazing pair of eyes. They're the sorrowful eyes of a basilisk. And of course, we ALL know what a basilisk's eyes are good for...

Omura screams, super-loud...and shatters a lot of glass, in the process. In the closets, his armored vests shatter. His crimson battledress comes unraveled. His parachutes inflate themselves, and take up all the room in the closet.

The crane scope falls off the stool. On its own, one of the talon-armed sabatons falls over on its side; the other stays the way it is.

The dresser rattles, as do the shelves. Both of the daggers disintegrate. Against the wall, the sabre-tooth tiger shield cracks; one more bullet will shatter it.

Above them both, the mirror cracks. His mistress considers herself lucky it doesn't shatter, and rain glass down atop them...

With flaming eyes, his mistress maintains eye contact with her dying pimp. He stares, and screams. As he does, she can feel the life leaving his body, from between her thighs...

With that said, she squeezes her thighs together, snapping his bones, and speeding things along. What's even better, she muffles the screaming. All around her, everything rattles less. All slows...

From the ceiling, a sole fragment falls...like a heavy snowflake. Eyes still blazing, the mistress takes her finger, flicks it, and sends it away from the otherwise-safe-to-sleep-in bedding.

With her other hand, she summons a second syringe. She jabs it into her calf, shouts, and closes her eyes, as the counter-pain comes along. When she opens her eyes, they're normal again. Alas, only her pimp, this room, and that mirror up there see them.

In the mirror frame, there's a name carved. It reads, VIVARINI TECH.

Beneath the mistress, Omura's eyes are wide open...but not with life. His body has gone limp. With her nude body, his mistress takes it all in, as the cold, from outside, and his cryo-freezer, takes his corpse.

Sitting on a mess, his mistress feels like vomiting, as she stands, and starts to dress. At least she doesn't have to hunt around the room for her underwear. She NEVER wears any...

His crimson gloves have somehow survived the noise-quake. She dresses her hands with them, and takes up one of the katanas. She unsheathes it, addresses Omura's bedside, raises the blade over them, yells, and drives the blade through the left side of his chest, at all the speed she can flash. Alas, students of viper kung fu have slashed with faster strokes.

At long last, the Japanese, Mongolian, Alaskan, and British Columbian economies have been rid of one more greedy and conceited capitalist head. His body will rot...and in the economic sunspot that's left in his absence, his proteges will compete with one another to replace him. Even so, his mistress will sleep well...tomorrow night, considering how much of this one has been spent. His murder was in the making, long before this moment...

On a chair nearby, a book rests. It virtually has Omura's name all over its cover...and his mistress's signature on all of its pages.