Rain drummed rhythmically against the windows as Kieran strode down the hall. Every few minutes, lightning flashed across the deep gray sky, illuminating the gloomy interior of the building. A peal of thunder shook the walls, and Kieran shivered involuntarily as a particularly vicious sheet of rain lashed against the tall windows.

He entered the lounge to find it nearly empty, a fire raging in the marble hearth. In here, the velvet curtains were drawn taut across the windows, obscuring the weather outside from view. Skye was sprawled across the sofa closest to the fireplace, studying a sheaf of papers intently with a pen between her lips. She glanced up briefly as Kieran passed by. "Going to see the boss?"

He sighed, leaning against the arm of the couch. "Unfortunately."

Skye flipped her papers upside down as he drew closer. They worked for the same employer, but it was made quite clear that they were not to share the details of their assignments with anyone - even their fellow assassins. "Didn't you just get back?"

"I did." His most recent job had been painfully uneventful; someone had put a hit out on a poor fisherman in a tiny coastal town a few hours away. It was easy enough to make it look like the man had drowned at sea, but where was the fun in that?

"Better not keep him waiting." Skye had returned her attention to the papers before her, scribbling something in the margins with her pen. Kieran took that as his cue to leave and slipped out of the lounge quietly.

The office sat down a short hallway leading out of the lounge. It looked fairly unassuming from afar, but Kieran had been inside enough times to know better. He rapped his knuckles gently against the thick wooden door before nudging it open with his shoulder.

Massive bookcases lined the walls of the small office, piled high with stacks of paper and cardboard boxes. A huge desk of dark wood sat in the center of the room, accompanied by a plush leather chair, and a fake fireplace was installed in the far wall. It was dimly lit inside, the only light coming from a few lamps scattered across the room.

Fields was seated behind the large desk, his hands clasped together before him. He was dressed in one of his usual suits; Kieran didn't think he'd ever seen him wear anything else.

"Good morning," Kieran said hesitantly. There was an odd expression on Fields's face that made him uneasy. The other man sat up as he spoke, eyeing him for a moment before he slid open one of the desk's many drawers.

"You just came back from Falkirk?" When Kieran nodded, he tapped a finger against his lips thoughtfully. Kieran almost thought that he was about to ask him how the job had gone, but that would be ridiculous; he had never done so before.

Fields pulled something from the drawer and slid it across the desk to Kieran: a folder. The dossiers that contained their targets' information usually rested in regular manila folders, but this one was made of a sleek black material, a symbol Kieran didn't recognize stamped into the front. "If it were up to me, I wouldn't have picked someone fresh off a job, but I suppose it's not my decision."

Kieran frowned. It was Fields's responsibility to choose which assassin was best suited to a particular job. He knew all of them the best; Kieran had no idea who would have chosen him for a job if not Fields.

He reached for the folder, but Fields cleared his throat abruptly. "It was requested that you read through it in private."

Kieran stared at him. "So you don't know what it says?"

Fields just scowled at him. "Get to work."

Kieran left the office in a daze, the folder clutched protectively to his chest. If the assignment hadn't come from Fields, then who had sent it? He poked his head briefly into the lounge, but Skye was still stretched out across one of the couches. He crept back into the hallway silently and headed for the dormitory wing.