Faded White; Tainted Black

V: Battle of Ruthlessness

AND... ACTION!

Heya guys. After weeks of inconsiderate absence, here I am finally uploading the fifth chapter. I would be lying if I say I am not tearing up right now.

Anyway, fret not ladies and gentlemen, I was unable to upload NOT because of an infernal writer's block; but because of my so-called "occupance" and my undeniable laziness. Yes. I am actually busy this summer. I have a summer job. Whoop whoop! Fifty points to Slytherin! Plus, I am also slaving over graphics for our campus paper.

Anyway, for those who have been wondering why this book doesn't have a cover yet, well... I actually have an idea already. However, I can not commence it still because my computer lies broken amidst all my struggles to type this up. Yes. I know. Ridiculous. I am using my cell to finish this. Haha. #awardwinningdedication.

Okay. So, my rant is suppose to be shorter than this chapter... it seems I have to finish now.

By the way, I strongly encourage comments and votes. Yes children. Votes and comments. I need to hear from you. May it be flames or constructive criticisms... I would love to hear them. And please hit that lovely star button if you like what you're reading.

Special shout out to my good friend Angel Segovia. Thankie for the undying support! XOXO
-twistedlittleminds
♥♥♥

Static.

Charice may not know much about electronic devices, but she does know one thing- the communicator shouldn't have let out a sound like that. Dr. Ruiz made sure of it. From the looks of it, the 7th division is in for something really bad.

Annihilation.

She wordlessly slides off the stool.

"Riz?" The half-Russian looks up to her.

Sea blue clashes with caramel.

"Pardon me... but I must go. The 7th division..."

Phrases. She could only form phrases. It's enough to signal Rigel that there's something big going on.

"I understand. I'll be calling the main house."

"Thank you."

Charice St. Clair hurries out of the warehouse- dark brown ponytail swishing violently behind her. She makes a grab for her cello case before heading out through the opened gate.

Rigel, on the other hand, jumps off the high stool. She shuffles for her phone from one of the side pockets of her camouflage pants.

"Ciao, Giovanni. Is the boss free? No? Then please tell him this- the ene
my has already made their first move. The 7th division will be wiped out."

Abruptly, she shuts her phone. She didn't wait for Giovanni to answer.

Rigel's pale deft hands skim and grab the different parts of Dolce then puts them together. It's a process that seem too natural to her.

After accomplishing the task, she burries the assembled pistol into the side gunholster of her belt.

She snatches her phone again to search in the contacts. Seeing the seemingly prominent name- MONICA, she presses it then waits through the series of rings for her answer.

"Heya!" A slightly accented voice picks up. It rises amidst the blaring sound of rock music from the car's speakers.

"Monica, what is that hellish screaming?" Rigel rubs her nose bridge. If there's one thing she couldn't see eye to eye with Monica, it would be her taste for music.