"That is my kill," Ashe kept her gun raised and her back leg stiff as Amélie held a small knife to their victim's throat, previously hidden beneath the coat in her arms — it'd been a cold night. "Let me have him."
"Non. Unfair to bring a gun to a knife fight, do you not think?" Amélie kept the tip of the blade against the man's throat, drawing the slightest amount of blood as he begged for their mercy. What a silly word, mercy.
Ashe seethed, "What does Talon have to do with Alexandre Dubois?" her accent giving the rather french name a country twang. The gun remained lifted, barrel inching towards the Widowmaker's head.
"Oh, tsk. This've nothing to do with Talon, merely a personal.. matter." Amélie clicked her tongue, seeing the white haired woman didn't plan to let up any time soon. "What has the Deadlock got with Dubois?" She tilted her head ever so slightly to the left, exposing fresh blood from her earlier fight with Dubois' security personnel.
The gang leader laughed from the back of her throat, an anger filled expression as she locked eyes with the pale assassin. "His people stole our guns, I'm teachin' him a lesson." Her glare flickered down to the greying man and back to Amélie, harsh.
"You stole them first! We were stealing them back—!" The man tried to argue but was hit on the head with the butt of the assassin's knife, shutting him up.
The Widowmaker laughed at Ashe, "A lesson? By killing him?" she clicked her tongue again, disapprovingly, "I don't think so." The blade of the knife sliced cleanly across the man's throat, yet as quickly as she'd done it, her ears started to ring.
Ashe had pulled the trigger as Amélie pulled the blade; blood splattered on the wall and floor and pooled from his neck. "Precisely." She said it with a rich accent, eyes looking away from the overkill and back to Amélie who'd been in the line of mess.
The assassin dropped the man's head and he fell slump against her before toppling to his side, landing with a thud on the wooden floors. "Je n'aime pas partager. I don't like to share." She looked down at him without much emotion, if any. "How unfortunate."
"Thought I was gonna let you take what's mine?" Ashe scoffed, her gun raised to Amélie now, an attitude on her face.
Amélie scoffed, "You've brought a gun to a knife fight." She repeated herself from before, smiling unamused at the woman before her. "You don't want to do that." The Widowmaker daunted, holding her knife to her side now.
The shorter laughed, a laugh that sounded like a dying bird, "I think I do." Ashe grinned crookedly, "I think I wanna kill ya."
In a blink, Amélie had throw the knife. It cut the top of the gang leader's hand, between her thumb and first finger. Immediately, she'd dropped her gun and yelped.
"Fuckin' Christ!" She shouted, holding her bleeding hand with the other. Both women were defenceless now, the knife being discarded on the floor some feet away from where the gun lay. "My shootin' hand, really!?" The country twang was more predominant with her rage.
The pale woman smiled and stepped away from the body at her feet. "I warned you, oui?" She launched a venom mine in Ashe's direction, it exploding on contact with the woman. When the smoke cleared, she'd vanished into thin air.
Ashe was left stunned, the smell of metal and blood filling her nostrils as shock wore off. "Hell," she'd scoffed. That was it.
