𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝟖 | 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘂 ✓

𝟬𝟲

Don't think, just shoot.
The phrase has stayed with you for years now, always being the last thing you think of before you pull the trigger. It's always ringing through your head.

A gunshot, then two. Aimed right at the heart.
You sigh, tucking your gun back into its holster. You have to admit, you still find some missions particularly bothering than others. No, not the part where you load your magazine and fire, but the part where you have to get all close and touchy with men (Who are probably twice your age) to have them let their guard down even for a split second. In the end, it's all worth it for the rapidly increasing numbers in your bank account.

Already feeling tired, you grab your phone from your bag, letting Yaga know everything's done and ready for clean-up.

All that's left is to evacuate.

Mission over.

Down the hallway, then the fire exit stairs. Quicker than expected, you make your way out of the pristine, luxurious building through the glass double doors.

You stand in front of the building, right next to a lamp post. Roppongi is shining in all its glory tonight as such a popular nightlife destination. Cars are zooming by, neon signs trying to lead you elsewhere, and the occasional catcall from drunken men staring at you and your not so casual attire.

You wait until you spot the rather suspicious looking dark vehicle, knowing that it's one of the drivers coming to pick you up. It pulls over right next to you, and you go to check the license plate. You know, just for safety precautions before accidentally getting yourself kidnapped. Once you're sure everything's fine, you hop into the backseat and let the sweet aroma of Lavender scented Little Trees air freshener drive you into slumber.

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"Really now?" Satoru chuckles, sinking into his chair after he's shooed the other girl away from him. "Didn't expect someone looking as cute as you to be affiliated with such things."

"Didn't they teach you not to judge a book by it's cover?" You say disapprovingly, clicking your tongue.

He hums, "I'm not one to read the rulebook or abide by it anyways." his shoulders raise, shrugging. "Who's gonna make an attempt to stop my judgement anyway?"

"Boohoo." You fake pout, pouring yourself another shot of whatever's there. What in the everloving fuck are you doing?
"Maybe you need someone to get you to shape up." You remark playfully.

He eyes you carefully, the corners of his lips curling into a smile; a genuine one at that. His hand goes through his messy, tousled up hair as he rises from his seat.