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your pov
The dimly lit room was familiar, our safe haven from the chaos outside. It wasn't much—worn furniture, flickering neon lights, and scattered tools. But this place served as a purpose, a hideout when the Last Drop felt too exposed, or when boredom drove us to seek some kind of distraction. Tonight, though, it wasn't about boredom.
Vi was by the machine in the corner, fists wrapped, her punches ringing out with steady precision. The target meter climbed higher with every hit until it landed squarely on "1." She smirked but didn't make much of a scene—being at the top was a routine for her.
"Remind me again why we bother with this junk?" Mylo complained, holding a small, clunky pistol. It wasn't an actual weapon, but it packed enough of a punch to leave a mark. Despite it, he turned it over in his hands like it was to blame for all his missed shot's.
"Because Vander said to lay low," Vi shot back, wiping her hands on a rag before tossing it to the side. "And because enforcers don't bother coming down here. This is as good of a place as any to wait things out."
Claggor, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, added with a smirk, "What's the matter Mylo? You worried Powder's gonna beat you again?"
"Hey! Mylo snapped, his sharp with mock. "If she didn't keep fixing these things, I wouldn't keep missing!"
"Excuses, excuses," I chimed in, shaking my head at him.
Before anyone could respond, Powder popped up from behind Mylo, startling him so badly he nearly dropped the pistol. She grinned innocently as she connected a bunch of wires. With a flicker of her hand, the room came alive—vibrant neon lights casting electric hues across every surface.
The targets started moving, jerking in unpredictable patterns. Mylo took aim, firing off several shots in quick succession. Each one missed. He muttered something under his breath and narrowed his eyes, determined to hit at least one.
"You guys know I wouldn't take you on a job you couldn't handle, right?" Vi's voice cut through the commotion as she leaned against the machine, arms crossed, watching us.
"Are you kidding? Mylo scoffed, firing again and narrowly missing. "That was the best job we've ever done."
"Maybe just don't bring Powder next time," Mylo muttered, throwing a sideways glance at her.
Powder froze, her expression shifting into one of irritation. Without a word, she walked over to the nearest table, grabbed one of the small firearms, and began loading it.
"Uh, Powder?" Claggor whispered, quickly picking up the tension.
Powder ignored him. Taking aim at the moving targets, she squeezed the trigger. One by one, her shots hit dead center, each one precise. When she was done, she scoffed, set the pistol down, and walked past Mylo without sparing him a glance.
