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CHAP4| #𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐀
"I WON'T BURT ANOTHER FRIEND."
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The wind was cold and rough. It felt suffocating. It was the night in which the empty streets of Yokohama were bathe with bloodied bodies of Port mafia guards. Why the hell did she always happen to get called on such situations like this?
The female stood on the roof, standing in utter darkness. her [haircolor] locks swayed alongside the wind. Gazing upon the Russian who was standing on top of the building, the moonlight making his demon like appearance look angelic. Waiting for him to signal the sign to fire.
A certain male with short hair that held reddish tinge. He was quite famous, following how she worked jobs with him, and he never really killed anyone. She felt sick just by looking at him carrying the body of a child whose parents she had just killed.
A blurring image of a tall, beautiful, elegant male avatar stood beside her. His long white hair reached beside his waist the long Yukata of his with details of gold lace. He held a vintage designed Sliver shot gun, which held beautiful crystal curves, which seemed like it was dipped in crystals.
He held the trigger close to his eyes, waiting for the signal to shoot towards the red head who had placed the kid down.
"Don't." She spoke, her avatar disappearing at her command. The last thing she desired was to have blood of Sakunosuke Oda on her hands.
Upon her command, her avatar vanished into small atoms: with the signal of Fydor, she left the scene.
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