Justice sank into the worn leather chair behind her cluttered desk, the soft glow of the dim lamp casting long shadows across the scattered photographs and case files. The steam from her half-finished cup of coffee curled upward, mingling with the stale air of the precinct office. Her eyes, heavy from a sleepless night, traced the outlines of faces and notes as caffeine was her only shield against exhaustion.
Her gaze paused on one photo in particular, and with a slow deliberate motion, she set her coffee aside. Leaning forward, she studied the image with renewed focus.
"Huh. What do we have here?" she murmured.
The file was marked #254915.
Suspect: Y/n L/n
Street Name: "El Narco"
Crimes: Conspiracy, armed robbery, grand theft auto
Description: Tall male, birthmark on right hand, typically wears a mask during crimes—limiting available details.
Known Haunts: Nameless Bar, Tuna Saloon
Justice's eyes flicked to the adjacent file, #254916.
Criminal: Andrew Graham, aka "Weasel"
Crimes: Murder, armed robbery, assault, grand theft auto
Description: Short, thin, blond hair, missing teeth—unmasked, careless about hiding his identity.
She began jotting down notes, sketching the faint lines of Y/n's masked visage, the sparse details haunting her mind. The images lingered longer than they should, the blue eyes behind the mask imprinting themselves deeper.
Finished, Justice grabbed her coat and headed out, the chill of early evening biting at her skin. Her car rolled silently to the Tuna Saloon, where she waited, eyes scanning for any hint of movement. But the night was still, and the cold air seemed to swallow the whispers of the streets. Yet her thoughts remained fixated—not on duty, but on the enigmatic face of a man she was supposed to chase.
Bored and restless, she drove on to the Nameless Bar. The area was a scar on the city: abandoned houses, peeling paint, heaps of discarded trash. The bar itself sat nestled in a narrow alley, infamous as a refuge for every lowlife and hardened criminal alike.
Justice parked and waited, the faint glow of the neon sign reflecting in her eyes. Again, she pulled out the profile photo, studying the birthmark, the mask, the mystery. Her eyes lifted and caught movement—a tall figure crossing the alley, the distinct mark on his hand unmistakable.
Her heart quickened.
Before she could react, a shadow lunged—a masked assailant pressed a blade against the man's throat. Justice tensed, breath caught in her chest. Then the masked figure pulled off his hood. It was Weasel.
Relief flooded her; no harm would come tonight.
The two men disappeared into the bar's depths. Justice hesitated, then followed.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted—music throbbed in the air, guitar strings vibrating with raw energy. Two enormous guards, mirror images of one another, stood sentinel beside a table cluttered with weapons. A warning sign loomed above:
"No guns. No fights. No cops. Violators will be kicked out, beaten, or worse."
Silently, Justice removed her badge and placed it atop a rusted pipe near the entrance. She approached the guards, steeling herself.
"What's your business here?" growled one.
"Making an offer to Y/n L/n," Justice replied evenly.
"Place any weapons or belongings on the table," the other barked.
She complied, laying down her sidearm. The guards frisked her thoroughly, metal detector humming over her body. Nothing was found.
"You're clear. Head inside, and don't cause trouble."
She stepped past them, the murmur of the crowd and the mellow strum of guitar strings drawing her attention. At the bar sat Y/n, a figure cloaked in shadows and secrets, cradling a brilliant red guitar.
He rose, took the instrument, and approached the microphone with a practiced grace. His fingers danced over the strings, coaxing a haunting melody into the smoky air:
"Tengo el alma enamorada
Nomas de pensar corazón
De soñarme noche a noche
Dueño de tu amor."
Justice's breath caught. His blue eyes locked onto hers, vibrant and alive, pulling her deeper into the song's spell.
"Tengo el alma enamorada
muy enamorada, mi bien
Si me das toda tu vida
yo te la doy también."
His pace quickened, each chord a practiced stroke of emotion. Despite herself, Justice found a rare moment of peace in the music—though the hunt was far from over, and the man who held her attention was still a suspect she had to bring in.
YOU ARE READING
Helltaker one shots
AcciónSo reading the title it's pretty obvious what it's about and if you have requested just leave a comment or in this case request ask and if it's a lemon or fluff ask anyway enjoy the book. Also I don't own helltaker like Lmao
