Eyes of the Midari

Part 3

          Aria

Aria had honestly spent the day depressed and pissed off. She had sluggishly staggered home last night, covered in blood and bile. She nearly threw up again changing her clothes. She lay on her plush couch as she cleaned her guns over and over again. She shined them until she could see her own furrowed brow in the reflection. She continued to wipe furiously as she stared at the piece of paper on her coffee table.

She couldn't go back there, but then again, she could only kill and torture so many men. Every lead she had on where he might be has been a dead end. Shen's words last night still haunted her mind.

"He's probably someone else's whore."

Aria squeezed the rag in her hand until she felt her nails biting through. She would find him. She would do whatever and kill whoever she had to. Even if that meant going back to that dreadful place. She sighed as she leaned back and squinted at the chandelier above her head. She never understood his choice of style. He designed this entire flat for the two of them. Paid a complete month's worth of rent, but that month was almost up. She stared at the dark green bed across the room, perfectly made. Aria hadn't slept in it once since he went missing. Every night she slept on this couch and stared at the empty bed.

She threw her pistol against the arm of the couch. It landed on the feather pillow, but Aria still gasped at her actions.

She rushed to it and cradled it like a newborn babe, "Oh I'm sorry my baby I didn't mean it," I glance back at the bed, "mommy is just frustrated."
She noticed the flat became washed in a warm glow from the large windows. She glanced outside and saw the sun was setting. It was time. Aria stalked toward her bathroom which was connected to a walk-in closet. He always did love to spoil her. He had one agreement though, keep the guns hidden. The landlord liked to be nosey. Aria pulled one of the coat hangers down and a small piece of the wall popped open. Strewn across the wall was her favorite sniper, she named it Onyx. The next were her twin pistols, she called them Gemini, and then her katana laid across the top. She didn't need a name. A few knives hung at the bottom, and she opted for those for tonight. Walking into the Den with a sniper strapped to her back probably wasn't the best idea. No matter how badly she wanted to put a bullet in between the Bane's eyes.

She tossed the knives on the bathroom sink and proceeded to shed her cozy sweater. Sweaters don't stop bullets as cool as that would be. She turned to grab her red wrap, but she caught a glimpse of her back in the mirror. Her eyes snagged over the various gashes, cuts, and burn marks embedded into her flesh. Least she forgot the giant black dragon slithering up the entirety of her spine. She had tried everything in her power, but alas, the black-market ink wouldn't budge. She shook her head as she wrapped her red mesh around her quickly. She layered her long leather jacket over it and decided to leave her hair in the low ponytail she had it. Aria slid the four throwing knives into her bodice, the jacket covered them perfectly. She walked back into the living room and tugged on her blood-caked boots from the night before.

She sighed as she struggled between opening the door and the gleam of her pistol calling her on the couch.

She caved and strutted over to the lone handgun, she brought it to her lips and kissed the barrel, "You'll be the death of me Reaper, but mommy can't leave you."

She tucked her into a holster in her leggings and cringed as her heels echoed through the barren flat. She turned back as she opened the door, it won't be empty for much longer.

"I'm coming for you."

Aria welcomed the humidity as the blazing sun set on the slums. She prowled through the streets with her head held high. She knew people whispered and gasped as she passed. She had grown used to it over the years. Once a Dragon's Bane, always a threat. Always a fear in someone's mind. Remnants of the Midiari funeral still lay strewn across the streets. She kicked a candle out of her way; frivolous if you asked her. She veered off into the deepest parts of the alleyways. Despite the sun still setting these parts were always dark. Like an eternal night encased in brick. Aria could make out a few makeshift shelters scattered along the path. The homeless often resorted to staying back here. It was handy because the cops never came this far back, but risky because it was so dark you could be choking on your own blood and not even know it.