Russia, October 3 . . .

Nineteen days ago . . .

Wednesday . . .

6:01 P.M. . . .

A chilly breeze swept across Moscow’s Red Square as many tourist visited St. Basil’s Cathedral, GUM department store, the Historical Museum, and many other attractions. The clear western sky exploded with hues of orange and red as the sun started its descent. Twilight approached this part of the Light Side of the planet. A place where the sun existed, separating day from night. Dry Clouds didn’t pollute the air or obscure the heavens, all was as it should be. Darkness didn’t rule the land. Though, eventually even this part of the world would be covered if the Dry Clouds were not stopped. They spread about an inch every week.

Ten days before meeting the Pandora Project, Kimberly Griffin, a Closer known as the Phoenix, walked out of GUM department store. Before stepping out into early evening, she put on sunglasses, protecting her blue-green eyes. A native of the Dark Half of the planet, the sun’s light hurt her even near the twilight hours. Kim pulled back her blonde hair, tied it in a pony tail, buttoned up her long dark gray coat, and pulled on black gloves. She straightened a black knapsack slung over one shoulder.

Kim noticed a woman holding a little girl in her arms and grinned. She had fond memories of her mother, that was until Kim turned eighteen. Theresa Griffin left her and her father without a word, without a note, nearly twenty years ago. (It would not be until she meets Pandora that Kim discovers the truth about her mother.)

“Mothers should never abandon their daughters,” she thought, making her way out of Red Square.

The Phoenix hurried to Kalancheveskaya Street and to the rooftop of the Leningradskaya Hotel, making sure no one saw her. The sun plunged over the horizon, and darkness flooded the heavens. She removed her sunglasses and placed them in the pocket of her coat. Kim pulled on a knit mask to hide her identity, not that she expected anyone to see her. She inhaled deeply, filled her lungs with the brisk air, and exhaled. Her hot breath appeared as mist. “Winter will be here soon.” The air smelled clean, unlike Noir’s. It energized her and made her feel more alive.

The Phoenix waited for two hours near the ledge, kept to the shadows, and monitored the lit sidewalk below with binoculars. She glanced up at the cloudless night.

“Stars,” Kim thought. “They’re so bright. To think Noir’s sky once looked like this. A place where you could see the heavenly bodies.” She placed her knapsack near the ledge, moved to a different part of the roof, and pulled out a large case a Guild Prep/Cleanup Crew hid the day before. The Phoenix removed the sections of a M24 and put the sniper rifle together. She went to the ledge and peered down the block through the scope. Her target would leave the tea house within the hour. Many people went in and out of bars, eateries, and stores.

A cold wind swept through, whipping her long, dark gray coat. Kim glanced at her watch. “Time to go to work.” She placed a silencer on the rifle and knelt beside the ledge. The Phoenix peered through the scope, aiming at the entrance of the tea house. She removed a H.H.C. (Hand Held Computer) from her coat pocket, opened up the Closing File on the touchscreen with a pen stylus, and studied the picture of the Mark. “Voice said the target should be leaving about this time. All I have to do is wait.”

Minutes turned into an hour and soon a woman walked out of the tea house, along with four armed bodyguards. The Phoenix aimed for the woman’s heart, waiting for a clear shot as people walked up and down the sidewalk. A limo pulled up. One of the bodyguards moved to the vehicle and opened the back door. The Phoenix put her finger to the trigger, ready to pull it, when the target paused and turned. A little girl ran out of the tea house and took the woman’s hand. The child held a key chain of a pink bunny rabbit.

Kim looked up from the scope. “A little girl? Voice said nothing about the woman having a child. It should have been included in the Closing File.” She looked back through the scope, taking aim again.

The Phoenix placed her finger back on the trigger. The woman and the child walked forward to enter the limo and paused as the little girl knelt to tie her shoe. The child laid the key chain on the sidewalk, grabbed her laces, and tied them.

Kim’s hands trembled, holding the rifle. “What’s wrong with me? Take the shot.” She watched as the child laughed, then after finishing with her laces, picked up the pink bunny rabbit. The little girl looked up at her mother. The Phoenix berated herself, “This is your job, kill the woman. For Ares’ sake! It doesn’t matter if the child’s watching.” Her usual calm heart pounded with indecision. “I can’t let the thought of the child seeing her mother murdered effect me.”

Beneath the mask, sweat speckled Kim’s brow even in the cool air and ran down the sides of her eyes and nose. She aimed again. This time the Phoenix wouldn’t hesitate. A street vender approached, selling balloons.

“Pull the trigger! Who cares what happens to the little girl.” Kim looked up from the scope, thinking of her past. “Look how I turned out without a mother.” She shook her head to erase the feeling of abandonment, peered one last time into the scope, and with shaky resolve, pulled the trigger. A red balloon popped . . .