Scene: Opera house.

Liam Scott stood in a narrow street. He drew on a cigarette. Wisps of smoke crawled deep into his lungs. He watched, from behind the corner, a car park at the curb. Scott threw the cigarette on the ground and stamped out its embers, twisting his ankle to grind the ashes into the cobblestone. An older couple left the car.

"We're late," the wife said.

She walked ahead briskly as the husband tried to sooth her. "The Prime Minister complimented the brooch you gifted me. I had to wear it."

"You didn't find it."

"I realized I had something more alluring." He pressed his lips against the back of her hand, eyes lifted up all coy. "You."

She slapped his hand. "A bee would be repulsed by the sweetness in your rancid mouth."

But the wife couldn't hide that quiver of her mouth and she didn't pull away when her husband put a hand on her waist.

"You-"

Scott snatched them into the street and threw the two over his shoulders. He heard a satisfying crack. He had no time to kill properly but judging from their age that toss might've taken care of them. Scott plucked a ticket from the woman and straightened his blazer. He sprinted to the opera house carrying the ticket like a person desperate to catch the last train home. Scott paused at the doors in front of the greeter, feigning exhaustion and when he straightened he laughed at his lateness.

"Almost missed the show, didn't I?"

"Not at all sir, you're just in time," she said, handing the ticket back.

"Thank you."

Scott was checked for weapons though not well. After all, those who bought these expensive tickets were important customers of the establishment. He bounded up the stairs and slipped into the bathroom where he would wait until the play was well under way. Scott sat on a white cushioned bench and took a small gun out of its holster strapped around his leg. His hand shook as he slipped two bullets into the barrel and hid a knife in his sleeve. What he was about to do... Scott could leave, he could just leave. He could flee to some distant country and start anew there. This was his last chance.

Scott closed his eyes.

He was a bright eyed fool that enthusiastically followed a golden cord into the black abyss until he abandoned the desire to see what great prize the end held. But today he saw that same glowing tether frayed, held firm by a single feeble strand. His impulse plucked the thread like a string and it snapped, disappearing into the darkness.

Scott stood and walked out.

He arrived at the third floor where the private booths were. He nodded at the two guards standing in front of the Prime Minister's room as he passed. Scott spun on his heel. He stabbed the closest guard in the heart and lunged at the second. He took her into a chokehold and snapped the woman's neck. He carefully laid the body down and readied his pistol, heart wavering.

Liam Scott burst into the room.

"Arwen!"