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Description
Our story begins with a small man, about 5' 2'', on his way to the royal chambers. He walks with a skip in his step, almost so quickly as to throw his purple top hat off of his bald head. He smoothes the wrinkles of his purple velvet coat as he reaches a door of steel, with no obvious handle, but a keypad at its side. Quickly he presses the access code into the keypad beside the royal door. Although it is an 18-digit code, he completes this task in a matter of seconds, never faltering or hesitating, as he goes through this process every day.
     The doors slide open to reveal a large, nearly barren room colored a color that could only be described as "metallic". Metallic, stretching from the floor and blanketing all the 50 feet up to the magnificent dome ceiling. Magnificent, but rarely noticed, due to the monotony of the color.
     Our character walks the 20 foot length of black carpet, in large, the only break in color to be seen. He approaches the queen, the last surviving member of the royal family, on her lone throne, quietly, not wanting to disturb her majesty from what appears to be deep thought.
     He stands, impatiently, quickly tapping his leg, but not wanting to call the queen's attention abruptly, but not wanting to wait. He looks to the queen for any sign that she may be soon looking toward him, but nothing. He stops tapping... He just looks. His mouth opens in a sort of surprise with himself, and he gives his head a queer little tilt. He realizes, not for the first time, that her beauty awes him. Of course, her beauty was unsurpassed, as the legend goes, and as truth was told. Oddly, though, each time he sees her he realizes that there is more to the appearance of his dear queen.
     Her beautifully pale face, long and slender with her cheekbones set high in her face, but, of course, not too high.  The black paint around her black, glassy eyes, forming what looks to be an artist's rendering of the Great Black Sun. Her crown of the bleached bones of her late husband's greatest enemies resting on her coal black hair, smooth as a raven's feathers. Her lip makeup ever so slightly over-intricate, covering her lips with a black blanket and then proceeding to curl upward at the corners. She wears a long black dress of the finest, softest synthetic material money can buy. It covers the length of her towering 7 foot body, from her ankles to the bottom of her neck. Such a magnificent queen, he thinks, still standing and admiring.
     The queen looks up and calls, "Artemis, I didn't even notice you here." By this, our friend is startled, for he was still gazing at the queen at the time.
     "Forgive me if I left you waiting, dear servant.", says the queen in a voice both powerful and loving at the same time.
     "No, not at all, your majesty. I just walked in not a minute ago.", he lies, "What is it you would have me do on this fine day?"
     "I have another assasination planned for you."
     "Really my queen? That makes the fourth this month. Why so many?"
     "I fear an uprising from the peasants."
     "But why would they ever want to do that?", Artemis asks, but realizes he already knows the answer.
     "You and I and everyone in the palace knows that everyone not in the palace is unhappy. They are wallowing in their own filth and practically screaming for a reform in the government. If only they had the intelligence to realize that it won't work."
     "I understand completely, your highness. Who is it I will be dispensing of on this venture?"
     "You know the procedure.", she says, with a slight hint of playfulness in her voice and a smile on her face.
     "Of course, my dear queen.", he says as he quickly turns and skips out of the door, his purple coat flowing behind him.

     He walks until he finds a palace guard, easily recognizable in their suits of the royal black and white. "Do you have my information?", Artemis asks the guard and instantly the guard draws a thin strip of paper from his suit pocket and hands it to Artemis.
     Artemis gazes at the paper for a long second, this paper only having a number: 10235. But this is nothing new to Artemis, having done this many times before. He concentrates on the number, closes his eyes and sees a man. Not just a man, a man sitting at a table with his children, eating dnner and happily chatting. Then this image fades and is replaced by another. The same man, but this time yelling. He is in front of a crowd of other peasants. It looks as though they are rallying. Suddenly, Artemis understands why he must kill this man.
     He pockets the piece of paper and happily skips towards the front entrance to the palace.