Leeson covered his face with a hat as he led the short pudgy man into the FBI's rented apartment. "The target's favorite restaurant is the Italian eatery two buildings over across the street."

Cupid – wearing red bellbottoms, white shoes, a red checkered shirt and a red tie spotted with little white hearts – all of it left over from the 1970s, blatantly turned to look at the building. "Rocky's Pizza?"

Leeson grabbed him and steered him around in a three hundred sixty degree turn. "Don't look!"

"Why not, sir? The place is a little run down, but it appears to have a vintage romantic aspect about it. They should fix that awning – its about to fall down. Should we let them know, sir?"

"It's a mafia meeting place!" Leeson snarled, entering the apartment hallway and locking the door behind him. He shooed Cupid up the stairs.

They found the apartment empty.

Leeson shut the door behind him, locking it three times, as Cupid stared at the window where a sniper's rifle had been set up.

"You know I've never shot anyone from an upstairs window, like a sniper, before," Cupid admitted. "I would prefer my crossbow."

"Well – if I had a choice, we'd put your magic in bullets and I could do the shooting myself," Leeson retorted.

"Oh. It wouldn't be the same, sir!" The words tumbled out of Cupid's mouth before he could stop them. "You have to be romantic in order for the magic to work."

"Cut the mumbo jumbo, Cupid. Do your job – and maybe we'll work something out where you can have a nice garden at a mental facility to run around in."

Cupid frowned. "You're not very romantic, are you? She rejected you because you had no sense of humor. That's important in a relationship, you know... sir."

Leeson growled and picked up a radio. "Bait, this is Base. Come in."

"Bait to Base," Valosse replied. "Next time, let me come up with the names. All others are in position."

Leeson looked at Cupid, who'd opened the window and was adjusting his bow. "We are a go here."

"Target is on schedule," Frank reported.

A taxi cab pulled up to the corner of the block, Frank at the wheel. In the backseat was Slanetti.

"Don't take the shot until I say so," Leeson hissed.

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Cupid stretched his bow. The heart pointed arrow was ready to fire.

"Magic arrows," Leeson muttered.

"Target is off," Frank reported from the taxi cab.

The cab made a turn and moved down another street.

Slanetti passed the apartment's window overlooking the street.

"Now!" Leeson ordered.

Cupid paused, took aim and fired.

The arrow whistled.

Leeson cringed.

Slanetti turned, listening to the noise, and was hit full in the chest. He crumpled to the ground, inhaling a cloud of pink dust as the arrow dissipated.

Leeson pulled Cupid away from the window. "Don't let him see you!" Crouched on the floor beneath the window, Leeson looked at Cupid. "What's next?"

"Well – he'll fall in love with whomever comes around the corner next."

"Base!" Valosse cried. "There is a civilian in the perimeter!"

"What?!"

Valosse raced to the edge of the alleyway. "It's a bag lady!"

"How'd we miss her during the preliminary sweep?" Leeson bellowed. "Continue with the op! Shots away and target has been hit."

Valosse raced to the end of the street. "Ma'am! Ma'am!"

The bag lady shuffled on without comment,

"Ma'aaaaam!" Valosse tumbled on her stiletto heel, catching it in the bumpy sidewalk. She hit the ground, just as the bag lady turned the corner.

Slanetti scrambled to his feet. "Oh! Oh my lady! My starry eyed princess – may I help you push your cart?"

"Buzz off!" she snarled, slamming him in the gut, shuffling past him and down the street.

Valosse kept her head in the gutter. "He's in love with the bag lady...."

"WHAT?!" Leeson bellowed again.

"Get me to my feet," Valosse muttered. "I think I twisted an ankle."

"I'm on my way," Frank answered.

"Drive slow. I've got my face in the gutter. I'd forgotten how much I hate heels," Valosse snarled.