Far away, from the shadows, a cloaked figure watches a handful of smiling young adults enter a theater. They are the figure's targets. And, as their targets, it is their mission to ensure that they don't walk out of that theater alive. A flickering smile appears on their face. Unlike the other rebels, they had no sense of justice involved in the bloody work they carried out on a weekly basis. No, they merely did it for the thrill. For the rush of the chase. For the sweet rush of adrenaline that occured once a kill had been performed. To be honest, it was better than weed, if not just a little more illegal. But that only added to the fun of it, didn't it?

Luckily, they'd gotten an assignment without a partner for once, and therefore got to enjoy it just a little bit more than usual. It was odd, however, that they hadn't been briefed on who exactly they were supposed to be taking out. Perhaps these were mere innocents, and were targeted just to deal a blow to the palace's high and mighty demeanor of being better than the others. The figure grimaced. Apparently even they couldn't hang with the rebels without being brainwashed as well.

Oh well. It didn't matter in the long run, did it? Shedding the cloak, the figure slipped their knife into their suit, then stepped out of the alley to glower at the light. Fucking time zones made it feel like it should be early in the afternoon. After all, they'd flown quite a long way to get there, all the way from a base in Allens, and were still expected to do their best. With a wicked smile, the real Gilly Rodriguez entered the theater, looking all the world like a perfectly normal citizen. It was time to kill their targets.

Ten minutes later, Gilly walked out with blood splattered all over their suit, one dead target left behind, and another held as hostage over their shoulder.