↳ 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹: 𝘃𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

𝘽𝙚𝙡𝙖 𝘿𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙪 ー 𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘵

⍜

[ any reader ]

Rumbling in the distance. Quad bikes and motorbikes ascend the uneven hills, flying over the peak with hollers that ring into the night. Crashing against the dirt and sand before winding down the sinuous tracks.

Gloved hands lower the binoculars.

A lone bike comes to life with a ferocious growl, skilfully weaving between slumbering homes. Throwing knife retrieved from inside the cloak, it's smoothly tossed into a back tyre. The telltale hiss of air escaping catching their attention.

They glare at the hooded figure pulling away and alter their course to follow. Oblivious to the chain stretched across the road being lifted into the air. It hugs their throats and flips them off their bikes. Thump after strangled moan, the figure lowers the stand and steadily climbs off the bike, striding towards them as they roll around in pain.

Two identical silhouettes step out and lower their hoods to take a better look at the choking men.

"Fresh meat." Daniela purrs.

"So much fear." Cassandra kicks a man onto his back and plants her boot on his chest.

"Mac, go!" One bellows. Daniela pins him to the wall with a firm hand around his throat, his feet dangling above the dirt.

Bela drops her hood. Gun raising to aim at the man stumbling to his feet and limping away, gasping for air still. A calculated shot sends him barrelling face down into the soil.

"The rest are yours." She steps over twisted legs to reach him.

Crowds separate in the popular parts of the village to let her through with ease, finding the sight of her dragging a body behind herself a familiar one.

Duke places a hand on his gut, a deep laugh emitted from it when the body thumps near his feet. "Always a delight. Another busy evening I see." He adjusts his glasses to peer at the transparent screen placed into his awaiting hand.

KILL CONFIRMED written in bold red beneath his picture.

A leather bag secured with twisted string is tossed into her manicured hand. He passes the screen back to the guard by his side, lowering the glasses held around his neck via a chain.

"Tell Lady Dimitrescu I give her my best."

"Sure."

The crowded bar erupts into louder commotion once she steps inside, basking in the cheers and pleased grins that greet her.

"There she is. Our prized bounty hunter."

"Evening Empress."

"Evening." She nods to the bartender, elbows draped over the mahogany surface while he prepares her usual drink.

"I heard there's another."

"There's hundreds of 'em, James. Thousands even." Charles rolls his eyes and takes another sip from his drink.

"Surely you've heard the rumours."

"You've had too much to drink."