Powerless

Well That's No Fun

Cole's P.O.V.

I'm crouching on the rooftop, watching the clouds travel across the moon, waiting. I pull my jacket tighter around me, shivering in the late January weather. My combat boots thud as I start to pace around the top of the building. Glancing down at the sidewalk, I spot a shadowy figure moving through the snow in front of the Target's hotel. Through the binoculars, they look young, a few years under me. I glare at her as I recognize my partner in crime, Lucia. She has her short brown hair in a mini ponytail, her tan trench-coat worn over a purple buisness suit trailing in the snow. She looks up at me grinning, her silver throwing knives glinting in the faint moonlight. I wave her off, signaling to get into the building. She rolls her eyes and saunters towards the entrance, making sure her blades were securely tucked into her heeled boots. Sometimes I wondered if it was easier to work alone, but we've been together since we met in the orphanage five years ago. I shake my head, clearing my  thoughts. Positioning my dark red Wind Runner, I check the scope. I see a glint from the third floor window as Lucia gets into position. I grin now, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, fueling my hatred for the jackasses who fucked with my family. I was so ready to do this. I saw another flash and focused on the two big Target's who had taken Lucia's place in the window. I shot three bullets, timing each one perfectly. As Lucia shuffles through the room, I check my phone. New reports from Mark and Nick back at the Underground. I sigh and put down my phone, trying to focus on the mission. A minute later it buzzes and I glare at it as I pick it up.

"Knives to Outlaw, do you copy." She says.

"This is Outlaw, I copy. Last step? Or more info?" I ask.

There's a pause, then she says "Last step. Give me 2 minutes."

I shut the phone and aim at the Target's chest, right at his heart. The man is scared senseless. I snarl and think "You have no right to be scared". I look at my watch. With 10 seconds to spare, Lucia slips out of the hotel and into the alleyway. I pull the trigger.

Lucia's P.O.V

I creep down the alleyway, positioning my knives as I prepare for the plan. I glance to the roof, seeing Cole. I flash a grin and he seems annoyed. He waves me into the building. I roll my eyes ; of course he's trying to boss me around. I saunter into the building, flashing a realistically fake I.D at the guard. As I enter the elevator, I slip my phone out of my pocket and check the room number of the Target. Navigating past maids and families with rowdy kids, I make it to the room. I feel the surge of adrenaline running through my veins as I smile devilishly. I knock on the door. The Target opens it, greeting me as one of his colleagues negotiators. Oh, the poor man. He has know idea what's about to happen to him. I move to the window as he starts talking, partially taking one of my knives out and flashing it at Cole. I then turn around and throw it right at the Target's sleeve, instantly pinning him to the wall. He's surprised, but glares at me and whistles. I smirk, and move from in front of the window. Two guards emerge from the next room, strolling towards me, cracking their various bones. I flash my knife again. Three shots ring out, two hitting the guards and one hitting the Target's thigh. I walk into the other room, rummaging through the documents sitting around. I can hear the Target whimpering from the bullet wound. I snicker and found what I was looking for. Going back to the main room, I glanced over at the Target. He looked so pitiful. I laughed and took out my phone.

"Knives to Outlaw, do you copy." I say.

"This is Outlaw, I copy. Last step? Or more info?" He asks.

I glance around and say "Last step. Give me 2 minutes."

I hope around the room collecting whatever valuables are lying around, careful not to leave any fingerprints on anything. I find a couple knives, much to my delight, and sashay out of the room. Nobody questions me and I get out of the hotel and slip back into the shadows.