They say that killing someone takes a part of your soul. If that's true, my soul is destitute.
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Emilia had never been the type to rely on someone, so when she called Nat to help her with her mission, she knew something was wrong.
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She was on the roof of the building adjacent to her target, 42 year-old Georges Batroc, a French-Algerian mercenary. His main MO was arms deals, but he shifted to drug trades. She used to think that he was above drugs, but she wasnt surprised. Batroc hijacked a ship and fought Cap, and that alone put them mano a mano. Steve was one of her best friends, and she wished she could have been there to help.
Now I can, Steve.
She grabbed a hold of her ranged rifle and looked through the scope, shifting it around until she saw the front doors. They brutally swung open and she almost jumped from the noise. Luckily, she caught her footing and remained stagnant.
Come on, you pirate prick. Make this easy for us.
She lined him up in her sights and right before she could pull the trigger, someone came up behind her and forced her over the edge. Her rifle flew over the railing and she grabbed the side of the building as she descended. She saw a brief glimpse of black armor that disappeared almost instantly. She gripped her grappling hook and aimed it at her rifle, the cord wrapping around the barrel. She jerked the gun back and held it to her body as she scaled the building. She wrapped the gun strap over her shoulder and pushed herself off the building, landing on the concrete below.
She knew in her gut that someone was trying to kill her, and they damn near succeeded. As she ran away from the building she scaled, a shot went off. The bullet grazed her arm and she yelped. She wrapped her opposite hand around the wound and applied pressure. She looked over to her target area and realized that everyone had packed up and left.
Goddammit! she thought to herself as she ducked behind a generator to catch her breath.
She took her blood-soaked hand off of her arm and brought it up to her ear.
Nat, Ive been shot. It grazed my arm, but I cant identify the shooter. Standby, she says into the earpiece and Nat responds with a quick, Get to the rendezvous point, Em.
