Okay, This is how this story starts:

A figure stood by a light pole trying to read the scribbled down phone number on an old pizza parlor coupon. They were shadowed by the obvious night and shivered inside their long gray trench coat that gave scant cover from the winter air. They made their way to a telephone booth that had newspapers on the floor and a fowl smell permeating all around it, making it frustrating to even think about placing a call. Sadly enough, they currently did not possess a cell phone, so the ancient disgusting booth was their best bet for this task.They slipped a quarter or two into the change slot, and dialed seven numbers. They had to call....

They had to call the informant and arrange the rendezvous for the pick-up. The package bulged uncomfortable under their jacket, heavy in the folds of the cloth.

"Hello?" The voice was gruff and abrupt.

There was a tingle of static on the lip of the worn black receiver as they held it to their ear. "The western bridge." came the electric response. There was no time to protest, as the line went dead.

Muttering under their breath about how the western bridge was clear on the other side of the city, the figure moved on. The night was filled with silence as he traveled, by foot, from point A to point B.

Cursing once more, the figure tripped on a broken bottle. The sudden movement flung their hood back to reveal...

A scarred young face, one that had seen many troubles in thier life.
He was a young man still, with intelligent green eyes and mousy brown that he cursed the way it toppled his head.
He had scars from broken glass from an event in his childhood long ago.
In fact, it was that past event that led to this kind of job in the first place.
The pieces of broken bottle glass lightly scathed his leg, leaving blood stream down his pant leg.

And still, he traveled to the western bridge, where he awaited his customer to pick up a package with scandalous contents.

Finally, a helicopter painted in white descended form the sky, and inside it seated a....

Finally, a helicopter painted in white descended from the sky, and inside it seated a neatly dressed woman. Though she was sitting, the man could tell that she was of an impressive height. He could not help but turn his head, intent on hiding his disfigured face. "People as beautiful as her should never see the likes of me." echoed in his mind.

He waited until the helicopter landed, before he traveled the short stretch that separated them. "I trust you have the package?" Her voice was like honey, cutting through the dark night with barely a whisper.

The man nodded, retrieving it from the folds of his long coat. "Do you have my payment?"

A smile played on her lips as she held out a suitcase to him.

He stood there for moments, looking down at the suitcase and avoiding eye contact with her.

Finally, he managed to swap the package and the suitcase with her, and he began to turn on his way back to the headquarters.

But her voice stopped him with a "Wait!".

He turned around and she was directly a foot behind him.

"What?" He unintentionally harshly questioned.

She smiled in response before saying,"You must of went through alot to get this to me, but I have one more favor to ask."


"What do you acquire, Madam?" He questioned formally.

The finely dress woman combed back some of her hair that was blown by the night wind with her fingers.
"Please...please tell me your name."

His eyes widened. No one before in his work bothered to ask, they all just called him 'messenger' or 'sir'.

"Why...do you need to know?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm curious about you." The smile played on her lips, highlighting her attractive figure.

"I'm sorry, but I do not think that people like you should know people like me." He gave a small nod with his head, and began to stalk off once more.

Her hand on his arm stopped him. "Please," she whispered, her breath playing softly against his ear, "tell me your name." He physically flinched at the touch, and took a moment to respond.

"My name is Edward." He turned to look into her eyes, his own flecked with sadness. "And yours?"

She smiled at him, and walked back to the helicopter. "Wait! That's hardly fair!"

"Life's not fair." she paused before adding, "Edward."

He walked, troubled, all the way back to headquarters. The entire journey all he could think about was...

All he could think about was her smile.

How beautiful it was, but something about made her look as if she harbored something dark and mysterious inside her.

Her eyes were contradictory, for all he could see from hers were a clear blue sky.

Her hair, a honey-color was flowing tresses that she held back with a white headband, matching her white finely-tailored blouse and fashionable black skirt.
Her entire was accented in silver jewelry.

A average-looking black car with tinted windows pulled up, and Edward knew what this meant.

The driver's window rolled down and revealed..

The driver's window rolled down and revealed his ex-wife.

"What do you want?" His gruff voice rumbled manically. That was the last thing that he wanted; to see her when he had this other woman on his mind.

Her hazel eyes instantly became possessive. "You haven't been by recently." Her short red hair danced in the growing breeze. "Have you been seeing someone else?"

Edward didn't know how to react to that. There was no way that she could know he had been on a job... no, it must just be a woman's intuition, or some other such nonsense. "I don't see you because we broke up. I don't need you anymore." He turned away and left without another word, ignoring her futile pleas.

No, this other woman was on his mind. He had almost come to terms that he would never hear from her again. He was at the office now, and sat in his comfortable chair in front of his large desk. He placed his hat on the desk, and suddenly the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Well?"

The voice on the other side was harsh, ragged by age and countless cigarettes. "Didja deliver it? I put too much on the line this time for you to be screwin' up like you always do!"

Edward slumped back into his chair, feeling more tired than he had ever been, and rubbed his temples. The receiver remained tucked by his ear, forgotten. After the rendezvous with the unattainable woman and the run-in with Gloria, all he wanted now was a bottle of whisky and to hit the sack.

"Ey! You there? If you're dead or sommat, I ain't gonna bail your sorry ass out this time!"

Edward sighed tiredly before replying, "Yes I delivered it just fine. I went to the phone like you said, got the rendezvous point and met up with the lady."

There was a silence on the other end. Edward knew something had gone wrong. Though he had never actually met the man in person, he knew Mack (it had to be a code name) was never a quiet man. He was always animated, never letting a conversation go silent until now. Finally the worrying pause was broken, "A lady you said?"

Edward thought about his instructions. He couldn't have made a mistake could he? He did as he was instructed. He went to the phone booth next to that seedy chinese restaurant in the bad part of town. He then went to the Western Bridge as the person on the phone had said. There he met the beautiful lady in the helicopter... No, Edward was sure. Nothing had gone wrong.

"Ey! I asked you a question!"

He shook his head and replied firmly, "Yes, it was a lady that came in from a helicopter."

The man on the other side began cursing. "Didn't I tell you some kid was going to pick up the package? Didja even listen for the code phrase before runnin' off to give the package to some random person?"

Edward froze, receiver in hand. All thoughts of booze and a warm bed vanished as Mack's stream of curses continued, but he could barely hear them. Before his eyes swam the image of a lovely face, her red lips quirked.

"... AGAIN ya manage to blow the operation to pieces, wasting my goddamned time, you idiot knuckle-headed..."

He slammed the receiver down, breathing heavily. The consequences would come later, but for now, he could not banish her image from his mind. He had screwed up, that much was certain, but...

A woman in a white helicopter. Her fingers ran through her tousled hair as she handed him--

His green eyes widened. Throwing the heavy suitcase onto his desk with a grunt, Edward fumbled at the clasps. The case sprang open to reveal...

The case sprang open to reveal a slim black cell phone, and stacks of paper to make up the weight.

He hesistated before picking the phone out of the case. He noticed that there was a text message, so he fumbled with it until he could open it.

hey cutie. thnx 4 the pckg!

come by the 32nd cafe 4 ur reward

Edward let out the breath that he didn't know that he been holding. He reflected that this could have gotten really badly. He pocketed the phone, grabbed his jacket, and left his office, carefully locking the door behind him.

He didn't look at the papers that were in the briefcase.

As he walked, he took out the cell phone once more, and looked at the screen. He tried to pull up the number that the text had come from, but it was listed as private. Instead, he sent a reply back, when?.

He walked, aimlessly for a couple of minutes, before settling on going back to his apartment. Just as he was grabbing his key, he felt the phone vibrate.

Quickly, he pulled it out. On the screen it said...

"now."

Well, there were no questions there. Feeling faintly apprehensive and mostly confused, Edward jammed his hat back onto his head and went outside.

32nd street was lively and lighted, even at this time of night; it was an unsuitable background for the dark, trenchcoated man that stalked through it.

Edward's eyes slid to the Cafe, half-hoping to see a white headband and long, blonde tresses. What he did see was two enormous men, dressed in black, lounging at a table. One was reading a newspaper; the other sat with his arms folded. But once that man caught Edward's eye, a slow, wolfish smile spread across his savage features.

He jerked his head at Edward, who frowned.

This was not what he had been expecting. In vain, he hoped that maybe she was using the facilities, but he could tell by the fact that there were only two glasses at the table, that this was a false hope.

"Hello." He said cautiously, nodding at both men. The newspaper lowered to reveal similar hostile features. This wasn't going to end well.

"Hello! You must be Edward. I see you found the place all right," said the man with the newspaper. Obviously, bad cop and badder cop. "We're here for the package."

Edward knew he was stuck between a rock and a hard place as he answered, "There was a... misunderstanding. I no longer have it." No reason to sugarcoat it.

There was a moment of silence, and a glance exchanged between the two men. "Then, we'll have to thank you." They started to stand, muscles flexing. And then...

... gunshots erupted from behind Edward, who-- years of instinct taking over-- immediately flung himself out of the way. Rolling and coughing across the dusty floor, he glanced up to see one of the huge men take a bullet... but amazingly, he only snarled in pain and whipped out his own semi-automatic.

Screams and crashing glass filled the air, as well as the rapidfire of weaponry. Edward attempted to drag himself away, avoiding trampling feet, before hearing a primal roar above the ruckus: "DON'T LET THE RAT GET AWAY!!"

Not my day, definitely not my day... Edward crawled forward faster, hiding himself amongst the running feet and legs; he was unarmed, and didn't stand a chance against those giants of men. Two bullets pelted the ground on either side of him, sending dust flying into his face.

Ah, screw this. Throwing himself to his feet and stumbling at the impact, Edward began to dash as fast as he could.

Behind him he could hear the gunshots continue, between the unknown party and the men in black. He swerved and cursed as additional bullets went whistling by, meant for him. He was rounding the corner, lungs bursting, when an anonymous white towncar skidded to a halt, nearly running him over.

Edward gasped and dove aside, hitting the concrete by the car. One of the back doors flew open.

"Get in!!"

Sprawled on the ground, Edward's gaze snapped upwards, into the pale, unfamiliar face of a young woman.

She was scanning the chaotic scene before them, eyes round in terror. "Come on! She said to get in, if you want to live!!" Her soft voice was almost lost in the wind and commotion, dark curls whipping about her face wildly.

Edward hesitated. Three bullets ricocheted loudly off the car's exterior, and he...

Three bullets ricocheted loudly off the car's exterior, and he didn't waste another moment. The door slammed shut with him barely inside.

He turned to the young woman, more like an older teenager, and immediately started shouting. "Do you mind telling me what exactly is going ON?" His voice shook the interior of the car, almost as much as the impact of the bullets did. The driver seemed unfazed that all of this was occurring, and continued to drive at a steady pace.

She sighed, and looked deep into Edward's eyes. That is when he noticed his face was completely revealed. He braced himself to face her repulsion and disgust, but he was surprised. With a careful steady hand, she reached out and traced the contours of his face. After a moment or two, she spoke. Edward had to strain to hear.
"Don't you see? That package that you were supposed to deliver is what has caused all of this. Contained inside was an ancient book. My employer, the lady that you met earlier, has been searching to the end's of the Earth to obtain it. However, when we found out that Georges had it... He had to be stopped." Her emerald eyes gazed right into his, never straying on the scars. Like she accepted them, and it didn't matter.

Edward took a moment to digest the information. "So, those guys shooting at me wanted that book. But what is IN the book?"

Her hand paused at his question, then rose from his cheek, falling to her side. She turned to look out the window, where rolling hills and yellow farmland had replaced the dingy cityscape.

"That's the million dollar question. That's why you've been hunted like a dog, as well as anyone who's gotten their hands on it before." He watched the back of her dark tresses carefully, sensing a sudden, subtle guardedness in her voice.

She continued to gaze out the window, at things he couldn't see. "Noone knows what's in that book. And if Boss does... she doesn't seem inclined to share. All that matters is that it's in her hands."

For a long while there was silence, broken only by the rattle of the car across unfinished road. He was surprised to see the wide expanse of road and sky outside, of fields ripe with autumn harvest. It was hard to believe only minutes--hours?--ago, he was stumbling away from bullets and angry men in black. Where were they going? And what was all this about the woman in white being a "boss?" If she had the book now, what the hell'd he have to do with anything?

Frustrated, Edward turned to ask her, but his questions melted away as they came. Instead, new questions bubbled up, private ones, about the woman now sitting next to him.

She looked only in her late teens, early twenties if even, but the quiet graveness about her added years to her age. She sat with her head bowed, gaze fixed on the twined hands in her lap-- he could still feel the sensation of cool fingers upon his face, and felt suddenly awkward. She hadn't looked at him with fear, nor revulsion, only a gentle sadness that he couldn't define.

She looked up abruptly; he started, embarrassed at having been caught staring. But she didn't seem to notice, for suddenly her hands were grasping one of his ripped, dusty sleeves, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Don't...... don't trust her. I know this whole thing must be so maddening to you.... but you have to believe me. She'll smile and stroke you the right way, wine and dine you, but..."

The words came tumbling out as if she'd withheld them for centuries, before she suddenly broke off, looking mortified. He could only stare blankly at her, as she bit her lip and looked away. "I-- sorry. It's... it's not in my place to say. But... you....... Edward, be careful."

His mind was reeling, from exhaustion over the past few days, and all the bizarre new things that swamped him. He didn't know how she knew his name. But she was still looking at him with those round eyes, and so he swallowed and said, "OK. I will."

She released his sleeve, looking as awkward as he felt. With no warning, the car gave a huge lurch and Edward smashed into the seat before him, before flying back with a thump as the car halted abruptly. Rubbing his head and muttering curses, he vaguely felt the woman climb halfway over the front seat, asking, "Alfonse, what's wrong? Why've we stopped?"

"Up ahead. Some trees have fallen onto the road." The voice was brisk, harding wasting a moment of his breath. Edward heard the car door open as Alfonse stepped outside. He felt the urge to go and aid the man, but the young woman was tugging on his sleeve once more. "What is it?"

It didn't take her very long to provide him with an answer. She said simply, "A trap." She looked deep into his eyes and said, "Please, Edward, you can't get hurt. I won't let you." Tears sparkled in her eyes, and Edward was moved. Who was this lady that felt so much.. compassion towards him? He was certain that he had never seen this young woman before, so why was she doing this for him?

They sat in silence, but as the minutes ticked by without the driver's return, Edward began to grow more and more uneasy. The woman beside him constantly glanced out the window, biting her lip; she'd told him not to go out, but it was clear that she was just as nervous as he was.

A trap, she had said... by who? And for whom? He was lost in thought when suddenly a gunshot split the air, sending Edward and the woman to their knees, ducking low behind the seats. There they waited, breath coming in small, shallow gasps, her eyes wide and frantic. But there were no further sounds.

Cautiously Edward poked his head up, peering out the window. Birds flocked away from a tree, cawing madly, but other than that, there was noone. Just miles and miles of road, sky, and field.

"I've gotta go out. We won't get anywhere like this, especially if that driver's up and gone. What if that was him just now?"

"Edward, wait--"

But the door closed upon her protest, and he took a few steps, shielding his eyes from the midday sun. It was hard not to feel anxious and exposed, what with that mysterious gunshot. He began to walk quickly, noticing a clump of fallen trees further down the road. So the driver had been right.

He was making his way around the fallen foliage, which blocked his view of the car up the road, when something cold and metal pressed against the back of his head. Edward froze.

He heard a click, then the cool, brisk voice of the driver. "Start walking."

In that moment, he knew that he was going to die. The metal froze his skin, slowed his reactions, and dulled his senses. Game Over was the only thought on his mind, so he moved without a sense of purpose. He should have listened to the young woman. He should have got her name.

He should have did a lot of things.

Instead, he let the driver lead him into an abandoned glass warehouse. Pieces of the sun crackled and broke under their boots as they walked inside. Edward wondered where that lady had got to.

Their footsteps echoed in the silent building as they walked up the metal stairs to a dimly lit office. He stood dumbly in front of the door for a few moments. The driver sighed, and reached out to knock on the door. There was no sound from within, but the driver opened the door, and pushed Edward inside.

Behind the desk was sitting...