Disclaimer: I do not own Burn Notice

HOW IT BURNS

DONE

London

2006

She hated guns.

Other things plagued her mind though, as heavy as the weapon that rested cold and dead at her back, concealed by the leather coat that had been the only constant in her life for so many years.

Her heartbeat was steady as she followed the voices down the lengthy white corridor, the click of her heels echoing against the stark walls. The men at the end of the hall knew her, would hear her before she arrived, but she was counting on that. She was counting on the trust she had built over the last few weeks.

Without knocking, she flung the doors wide to reveal a group of four. As they turned from their game, she added an extra sway to her hips, her coat hanging open to reveal her low cut top, leather pants low on her hips to reveal a glimpse of her stomach.

They'd never know how she had sculpted the body they salivated over.

'Ah, Eloise, good to see you again,' Mark said, blue eyes wandering lower with every word. Yes, he was handsome, but the look did nothing to her, garnered no form of attraction to him. 'I must say, you certainly do know how to capture a man's heart.'

'We all know it's not your heart that you want me to capture.'

The group laughed, the unashamed grin on Mark's lips making her want to shudder. 'Can you blame me, a simple man?' he asked, his English accent a little thicker as he laughed.

'Not at all,' she answered, her accent as natural as his. She stepped behind him, running her fingers over his shoulders, feeling a little shiver run through his body. He grasped her hand, bringing it to his lips. She desperately wanted to roll her eyes even though she knew it would undermine her cover. Instead, she allowed him to nibble on the tips of her fingers, pretending that she enjoyed it as he intended. 'You better concentrate on your hand, not mine,' she said, glad that he glanced at his cards. She leant closer, her lips brushing the curve of his ear as she whispered, 'you can concentrate on me later.'

He smirked, eyes lingering on her for a moment before he looked back to the game. She leant against the back of his chair, looking over the other men in the group. She knew all of their names, all of their roles. She had learned everything about them, knew every detail of their life.

The men weren't overly old, all in their late twenties and early thirties. Despite their ages, each was a genius, their minds the reason she had forced herself into their lives.

She had earned their trust, and now she would destroy them.

It would be easy. Each night they sat with cards in hands and at eleven drinks would be served. They'd never think twice about her handling them, not when they believed that she was just as determined to cause destruction as they were.

She waited, watching the clock on the wall as it ticked slowly by. Every so often she would run her hands over Mark's shoulders, as she usually would. She knew that every minute that passed lulled him further into a sense of security, one that she had worked hard to create without crossing the boundaries she had set.

She would never get involved with her targets.

She would never get involved with anyone who was linked to her work, whether they worked for her side or not.

A knock sounded before the doors opened. The man wheeled a silver cart forward, his gaze averted from the men as he entered without a word. He poured the drinks with a steady hand born from years of practice, she guessed, his focus on the bottle in his hand.

She studied his face for the first time in all the weeks she had been in this room. He had strong features, but they weren't sharp or harsh, not with his pale blue eyes and soft lips that were made for a charming smile. His body didn't seem overly big either, though he had to be at least six feet.

She forced her gaze from him, wondering why her thoughts lingered. Once he'd poured the drinks, she walked over. 'I'll take it from here.' She flashed a smile, waiting for his eyes to dip over her body, becoming surprised when the pale blue remained locked with her green.

'Are you sure?' he asked, voice a little deep, rich with an English accent. How strange that it never sounded so good from Mark's tongue.

'Yes. They like a little feminine touch.' She brought a glass to her lips, making a perfect print on the side, the red lipstick clinging to the glass.

He nodded once before he offered a quick bow out of the room.

What a strange man.

She brushed her fingertips under her belt, into the little pouch that was hidden by the buckle. She quickly brushed the poison over the rims of the glasses before handing one to each of the four.

Colourless, tasteless and odourless. Yes poison was cliché, but it had always been effective. It had shaped her reputation in the intelligence community, making her one of the most feared operatives in the Northern world. Though she despised the title, she had become the Shadow Viper, her real name completely hidden from the world. There was only one operative that she had cause to fear and she only knew his name.

Michael Westen.

For all she knew, that was an alias.

She pushed her thoughts aside, watching as the men sipped at their drinks, oblivious to what they swallowed. She leant over Mark's chair, letting her hair fall over his shoulder, catching his attention.

'Ready to leave?' he asked, smirking.

She smiled as a slight sheen appeared on his brow, his hand reaching up to loosen his tie. She placed a light kiss to his temple, pulling away. 'Don't bother getting your coat,' she said, moving to stand beside the door.

He smiled at his comrades, laying his cards down before he stood up. He'd only taken one step towards the door before a glass hit the floor, the shatter snapping his attention back to the game.

He went to Cliff's side, lifting the blonde's head from the table. 'Cliff, what's gotten into you?' he asked, a snarl in his voice at the interruption. He patted the man's cheek, the sheen on his brow brighter. 'Cliff?'

Jason reached to Cliff's neck, his face paling after a long moment. 'Holy shit,' he breathed. 'He's dead.'

'What do you mean he's dead?'

Another crash sounded, a thump following as a second succumbed to the poison. Mark moved to check on Erik, but doubled over, landing hard on his hands as his stomach lurched.

'It's quite bracing, isn't it?' She asked, still leaning against the door as the Jason fell forward, head hitting the solid wood of the table with a crack. 'You got a weaker dosage, but it will take you soon.'

'You bitch,' Mark snarled. 'You'll pay for this Eloise.'

If I had a nickel…

She pouted, tilting her head to the side. 'I'm sorry, who's Eloise?'

His eyes widened, his mouth opening only to spill broken words. He dropped to the ground, all his dead weight landing solidly on the hard wood floor. As quickly as it had appeared, her smile dropped. They may have been truly evil bastards, but she didn't relish killing anyone. Though, she didn't feel regret over their deaths, wouldn't blink an eyelash if she had to do it again.

She turned on her heels, closing the door behind her as she walked back down the hall, around the corner. She threw smiles and blew kisses at all of the now jobless cronies she passed, acting as though nothing had changed, as though she would see them the next night as she always did.

They would never see her again.

Eloise Jefferson would disappear, kidnapped from the street, never to be seen again.

It was time for Alexia Salazar to go home.

He straightened his serving uniform, weapons concealed at his wrists as he ventured back down the corridor towards the four. Ahead, the door opened, revealing the woman, Eloise. She headed straight down the hall, stretching her arms languidly above her head as she rotated her wrists.

Over all the nights he'd been watching her with the men, he'd wondered about her. She had appeared so suddenly, worked her way into their routine, but there was nothing special about her. He'd looked over everything he could find on her only to discover one thing.

She was just a woman.

A clever one from what he could tell, but still just a woman.

He waited for her to turn the corner down the end of the corridor before he made his final approach to the door. He paused, steeling himself before he stepped through, not knowing that his job had already been done for him.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of How It Burns.

Although I do try to update every night, my current workload is going to prohibit me from doing so. As a result, this story will be update every Friday.

Please keep reading, and know that I love hearing from readers.

~ Ryuk In Person ~