The first thing that Minho noticed was a blinding light that lit up the whole street like a beacon. The target wasn't the type to throw house parties, and Minho realised that he was right when the mansion remained completely silent and still. The next thing he noticed was the drapes that filled the windows, made of some sort of colourful and sheer material, vivid like someone had sewn a handful of foil-wrapped sweets amongst the folds. Minho focused on one set of drapes as they twitched and shuffled, ripples of motion that spread like a drop of water on a still pond. These hung before a pair of full-length French windows that led out onto an ornate balcony, desolate save for a single wooden deck chair. A face peeked out around the corner of the fabric, the body a black shadow behind the cover. Minho was sure that they were invisible in the night's inky darkness, and stared unabashedly back at the person in the window frame. He threw a fleeting glance at Jiyeon, who was similarly crouching down behind the rooftop ledge. She was entirely focused on the scene before them; undoubtedly she had caught sight of the young man as he shuffled around behind the drapes. Minho frowned slightly, his wrinkled brow unseen in their pocket of darkness.

The figure in the window finally drew back the colourful drapes and stood there for a moment, gazing absently into the distance, seemingly past the point where Minho had concealed himself. This was the first time they'd visited at this hour, so it was their first time seeing the target in his bedroom. Minho spotted a desk piled with books and papers that must have been as wide as the king-sized bed opposite. The room must have been huge, because Minho could only see the edges of the desk and bed. A tall office chair obscured much of the rest of the room, with even more folders and what seemed to be a couple of laptops stacked precariously onto the raised seat. Minho was too far away to see anything else in particular detail, but he didn't need night-vision to examine the man's entire profile; every feature was startlingly sharp in the mansion's blinding glare. Again Minho looked sideways at his partner; whether she noticed or not was unknown as his eyes darted to the target, still motionless at the glass doors.

The man appeared as he did in the photos, like a fictional character had come to life, his breath a gift from his creator. Layers of coppery clumps jutted out from around his head and suggested a recent arousal, the ends bristly and protruding wildly from every angle visible. Sprawling bed sheets spilled onto the floor in faint outlines, a rough sketch of mountainous marshmallow lumps. Half-lidded eyes and faint shadows were set in a gentle brow, which at this point of the night was creased and folded as he fought the drowsiness. Two strips of chestnut brown met at the bridge of the forehead; drawn together almost symmetrically like they'd been designed and traced on with a delicate hand. His pale skin almost emitted a sickly translucence that was the canvas for the lines of his eyebrows, giving his expression a sort of relaxed, half-frown. The nose was arched just enough to give it shape but perhaps kneaded slightly to maintain the symmetry. Under the cover of his nose, the mouth curved downwards, which if reversed may have dimpled as if under the end of a paintbrush. The lips themselves were full but unusually straight, as if the painter had flicked his brush along the top and bottom edges to remove any lurking feminity within their plump shape. Clearly though, the sculptor must have decided against this when it came to his turn, tapering the point of his chin so that instead of jutting out aggressively, instead it curved and softened like the end of an ice cream cone. In addition with the high cheekbones and delicate V-line, his heart-shaped face exuded a kind of childlike innocence. If he didn't already know, Minho would have thought that he was the elder of the two, and estimated that he was at least a couple of inches taller too. That being said, there was certainly nothing childish about his body and although he didn't sport a six-pack, his stomach was flat and well toned. The guy certainly seemed to have no shame either, covered only in a pair of baggy sweat pants, and those were slipping down his hips to reveal the flaming red of his boxer waistband peeking out. Although his body didn't overflow with masculinity, the muscle and sinew in his arms and shoulders were obvious as he stretched luxuriously. Minho even wondered if he stood there, just waiting for someone to appreciate his body. Again the agent turned to his partner, who Minho thought was too entirely absorbed in her assignment to return his gaze. Again his forehead wrinkled in concern, but Minho just ignored the whispers of jealousy and returned his attention to the gaudy house before him.

Minho's hand travelled up to the set of glasses positioned on his hair, almost as if it crept up with no conscious thought. The glasses resting on Minho's head may not have looked out of place in a high school laboratory with their clear lenses and black arms, however anyone observant enough may have wondered how they managed to stay in place, amidst the jarring and bumpy rooftop travel. These glasses were another piece of the latest surveillance technology, and almost guaranteed to be exclusive to the assassins of the academy. Fitted with a retina high-definition screen and camera the glasses offered night vision, thermal imaging and x-ray scans as its primary functions - all with facial and environment analysis. Like a lot of the technology commissioned by the academy, the glasses came a jaw-dropping price - at least Minho thought they would - and it would be incredibly risky if someone smart enough figured out the design. Therefore, Minho's glasses were unique to him as other sets were unique to their owners. The ones that he wore now would not fit any other person and nor could they be used properly by anyone else. A passer-by may try them on, but they would find them to be much like a normal pair of glasses - or indeed sunglasses - and it was highly unlikely that they would fit anyway. Minho brought them down to rest on his face, and activated the heat-pressure pad on the side of the frame with a brush of a finger. After the internal camera did a hidden DNA scan of his eyes, numerous figures and blips of data flashed across the glassy interface of the lenses. The glass surface darkened to the shade of sunglasses and he adjusted them accordingly to bypass the extortionate amounts of light emitted by the house. Zooming in on the mansion Minho noted the guards that stood vigil at the gates, patrolled all around the sides and inside the compound. They were mostly lightly armed, but a few packed some of the heavy duty stuff with several gun holsters and a fully kitted out utility belt. Minho wondered if they had been commissioned by the Korean military, but he quickly dismissed this idea when all the equipment coming up blank, lacking the usual insignia or logo that identified their commanding force. The guards were child's play though, compared to the digital keypad at the front door and the surveillance cameras at each corner of the walls encircling the mansion. Not that Minho thought they couldn't overcome them easily either.

An issue for another day. Minho returned the glasses to their former position on the top of his head.

His gaze turned to the girl on his left again, like a flower thirsting for the sun. The creases circling his eyes relaxed, a small testimony to the emotions that shone through his expression, hidden as they were. Minho had not thought that he could cherish anything in this world, not against the academy training that sought to beat out any sort of emotional development. Yet against every gruelling trial and brutal mission, Minho found himself very much confused about the girl beside him. Over the past seven months that she had not been by his side, Minho was unable to stop the cycle of feelings that had - and were continuing - to consume him. Protectiveness was one, hope was another. But the strongest had been the fear. Fear that he would have never seen her again, fear of not knowing what had happened to her. Even now it was still there, lurking in the back of his mind. But this time Minho recognised this as a different kind of fear from before, one even more powerful as he saw her gazing intensely at the target in the window.

"We've stayed here long enough now."

Jiyeon drew back from the side. Stood up and glanced down at Minho. Under the mask he forced his face to relax, so that she wouldn't wonder about the frown lines around his eyes. Inevitably it was in vain when she darted away into the night, back they way they had come. Minho only threw one last look back at the mansion before pursuing her intensely, a shadow chasing a ghost into the blackness of the night.
 

He lay on the bed, finally still but discontent. Jiyeon's words kept ringing in his ears, engulfing his mind and forcing a clenched fist around the bed sheets.

"Get some sleep, Cobalt. Perhaps you'll be more reasonable in the morning."

Minho turned restlessly onto his back and threw an arm across his eyes. He exhaled frustratedly, a portentous whistle through the nose.

"You know that it would not be the first time for me. It is unlikely to be the last time either."

The thought of her having had any past... experience sickened Minho.

Her eyes were molten silver and carefully devoid of emotion, but Minho detected a glint of cool defiance.

At least it didn't seem like she had changed during the months Minho hadn't seen her. Altaïr's voice echoed in his mind as he thought back to the chance discovery of the two elder assassins.

"Ashen hasn't been seen since the fire."

A fleeting glance flashed between the two men. Ezio's usual cheeky grin was gone, replaced by a moody demeanour that hung over him like a grey shroud. His next words held even less warmth as he spoke to Minho.

"You gotta know what could happen if you lead her on a merry chase. What you guys find out... just try not to blow the mission up in your faces."

Minho closed his eyes, forced himself to loosen his body and drifted into oblivion - his mind now only contained by a single thought.

This is it. Our final mission.