The Indian woman was in an unusual situation, to say the least. She was wearing a snow-white blouse with a large knotted bow at the collar, which ende... just above her breasts. The blouse was tucked into a grey wool skirt that stopped a few inches above her knees, along with a pair of polished black leather strap-on heels maybe three inches high. The look was definitely retro, like it was in the spirit of the clothes a woman in an office would have worn circa 1960. It was by no means. You are stuck with me assassin. You better get used to it. Tsyr Ker stops and closes her eyes remembering her meditation and begins to calm her body and mind. You are in my head. Good girl. ‘How?’ she asks after a moment of silence. I guess you weren’t told much about the process were you? The assassin sits on the cold floor, crossing her legs and settles a frown across her face and doesn’t give an answer, closing off any thoughts. I didn’t think so, the voice says. The process is similar to. More

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