𝘼 𝙏𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘾𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙮
Missy "Candy" Davis. Trained by her adopted father before he was murder in an mysterious hit and run. Unable to cope with his death, she took up a job for ridding the world of evil people. From the grimy and dirty pol...
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She tilts her head, looking at herself in the mirror. She wasn't a narcissist, but as of lately she has been staring at her reflection. Missy didn't know what she was looking for. Obviously, she was looking over her face to see if she had cuts, scratches, bruises, and anything else that was unwanted. However, she would stare at herself longer, hoping to see the person she once was—was before she lost Jefferson.
As wonders cloud her mind, the anxiousness crept its way to her head. It reminded her of how she felt when she first killed a man. It was a small trip she took herself on; five months after Jefferson's funeral. On her way back to her Airbnb, a man decided to follow her. She remembers taking a turn into a narrow pathway between a closed bar and boarded up building. Missy was nervous, but she knew she had to defend herself, like Jefferson spent most of his life training her to do. The smell of the blood and cheap cologne surrounded her that night, her bloody hands were shaking, and the sick feeling that she couldn't keep down came out of her and onto the ground beside the man holding his neck; coughing up blood.
His eyes were full of regret. Maybe he regretted trying to attack her, or maybe he regretted following her down the dark alleyway. Missy felt sick but she knew she couldn't stay there, not after killing him. She remembers pulling her leather gloves off, shoving them in her pocket, walking away from the scene as if she did nothing wrong. If anyone noticed her that night; they could tell she looked distressed, and anxious. Good thing no one did, but the anxious feeling ate at her head.
Missy sighs and walks out the bathroom, fixing the navy blue long sleeve shirt she put on. After Mina left the room, Missy looked through the bag, pulling out the clothes that were given to her. She ended up settling for long sleeves and black skinny jeans that fit her a bit tightly, but she could still move in them. Not being able to properly fix her hair, she had to finger detangle her hair and put her hair in two flat twists. After she was ready, Missy left the room and went down the stairs where she could see everyone placing guns and other weapons on different foldable tables.
"This is interesting," she mumbles as she steps down from the last step. "Very interesting."
Missy eyes the tables. One of them had guns of different ranges, size, and ammunition. On the other table were different melee weapons. Missy was almost certain that this was unnecessary, especially since the Wade district seems to do a lot of business with Felix. However, the man believes that killing them is the only way to protect himself and the syndicate he has been building up. Him and his sister believed that they could surprise them by sending her out to kill them off. So, in order for her to go home, she needed to do this.
Missy reaches for the gun on the table, a decent sized matte black pistol, but a large hand stops her. Snatching her hand away, she looks over slowly, peeking up at the tall male. He stares at the table, glancing over it before looking over the other table.
