Bullets. + Brashton

: un :

"Memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces."

― Richard Kadrey, Kill the Dead

Bryana Holly.

The pads of her boots rub against the tiled floor as she saunters towards the warehouse's main entrance. The door opens freely before her and she starts walking inside, the hallow walls plastered around her surroundings making her grow even more anxious every second she takes a good step onto the ground.

She lets out a sigh of exasperation when she remembers the events that had happened on the crack of dawn this morning - Nicholas ringing her until she woke up to the intense noises her phone was making and the loud berate she got from him when she finally answered the call. She's sure they just need her for a purpose.

She turns around a corner and allows the mirrors hanging on the walls capture her reflection. She casts a glance towards the glass and sees herself covered in all-black clothing, the long wavy ends of her blonde hair in contrast with the crimson coating her lips. With that, it makes her think how much time she has spent to get used to the leather she's been wearing, or maybe how she's started to pull triggers twice as much as she had before.

She is, in fact, a professional killer. And she knows very well that she's not destined to change because she was born to be like this.

She doesn't want to change, not even for one bit.

"What did you call me for?" Bryana asks to no one in particular the moment she steps inside the room. She's obviously still irritated at Nicholas's constant pestering and she's not at all in the mood of greeting someone with an overly-exaggerated smile in the middle of morning.

"Well, hello to you too," says the broad man seated on a wooden chair across the room. There's a pistol held loosely in his grasp where his fingers are absentmindedly rubbing against the smooth surface and a large shawl that's thrown over his slumped shoulders. Marcus looks up from the piece of bronze resting in his hands and captures Bryana's eyes.

"I thought Nicholas asked for me," Bryana counters as she looks around in hopes of finding the tall brunette who has been hollering at her through the phone this morning.

"I thought so too," Marcus answers all of a sudden and Bryana quickly averts her eyes to the man who has a grin playing on his lips. It sends shivers run up her spine as the anxiety starts kicking in and the desire of wanting to know what he meant by that wraps her mind in fogs of steam that lead her to complete nothingness, thus, making her vision seem blurry.

"What are you saying?" the blonde questions a little too quickly, voice shaky and uncertain.

"What I'm saying is that, Nicholas has been threatened to foresee any consequences that may occur once you encounter your next casualty." Marcus grits his teeth; the words escaping his mouth are bold as some are quite unspoken. He trails his eyes over the slender shape of Bryana's body and gives her a look of derision - something that the blonde couldn't read which only caused her mind's obstruction.

Bryana heaves out a sigh of defeat and asks a little too despondently, "does that mean I have to kill him, or whoever my victim may be?"

Marcus nods, seeming utterly responsive. "I'm afraid so, Holly."

Bryana emits another sigh, this time of exasperation and throws her hand into the air, signaling her conspicuous defeat. The thought of being sent into another establishment to finally be able to nudge a gun in front of someone above suspicion thrills her, to say the least, but Bryana has also endured more than enough cases already that she's somewhat lost track of time of all the people she has executed.

And it's not like she's complaining, though. She never complains. She would just get a hold of one of the many opportunities in putting an end to someone's life in replacement of something they've all once desired.

And she thinks that maybe, she could probably get something great out of the crimes she has been committing for the past seven years of her life. Despite all the failed arresting attempts of cops and the abrupt escapes of her victims whom had failed miserably, she still has the furtherance of a successful murder that Nicholas is expected to foresee, now that she's being sent into the disused apartment near the city of Brooklyn to once again do what she's ought to do in this mad, mad world.

She just has to kill, kill, and kill.