CARMEN, riverdale.

crossfire | ✔️

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— CROSSFIRE

       CARMEN GRITS HER TEETH, glaring at the man before her. Robin took his place beside her, alarmed. He tugged her back gently, reflexively moving in front of her.

       "Dad," She suggested, looking on emotionlessly. "We... He's — He shouldn't be here."

       "I know," Robin tossed sharply over his shoulder, his professional gaze no longer intended to play nice. His glance had reduced to molten charcoals, a replica of his daughter's whiskey orbs. "Go to my office, you'll know it when you see it. I had it the year you were born."

      The teenager nodded, squeezing his arm before striding past the archway and into the dark passage that led upward to his office, the glass pane he had been behind a few moments ago.

       She followed her instincts, venturing to the familiar dark wooden door and entered the large study, her eyes landing on the said drawer on the left. "I had it the year you were born..." She murmured under her breath.

       She crouched down to the third drawer, grabbing the knob to turn five times to the right and entered her birth year, the safe opening smoothly. Two firearms, mags, documents, cash, and a large knife greets her.

       Without hesitation, Carmen grabbed the large knife. Like her father, Carmen happened to prefer a blade rather than a gun.

       She knows she barely had any training, but she knows enough just from watching her father fight with a knife. Carmen shut the safe, locking the codes and snuck across the room to kneel and hide underneath her Robin's desk.

       Carmen tried to ignore the pounding of her blood through her body as she curled herself in tighter to seem smaller as gunshots and a few other noises rang through the compound.

       She listened well, she really did... until one yell caught her attention —

       Code Empire... which meant the compound had been compromised. "How the hell did they get past us?" She hissed under her breath. Of course, the compound just had to be infiltrated.

       The teen clenched her fists tighter as she heard the doorknob twist, and click softly, followed by the loud footsteps of solidified boots. Then came the taunting, though she wasn't sure what to make of it. Flashes of the Budapest plagued her mind and Carmen bit down on her lip, leaning her head back on the mahogany surface underneath the table.

       The footsteps seemed to parade around the office, as if searching, and the moment the spinning chair was pushed back, Carmen let out a battle cry, emerging from her hideout.

       It seemed to have done its job by startling the intruder for a split second — still Maslow. Carmen grabbed his gun-wielding wrist and elbowed him below the chin, making his head snap back. Then, she punched him in a gut and slammed his wrist down on the edge of the table though he recovers enough to backhand her.

       The gun in his hold clattered to the floor and Carmen scrambled for it, but Maslow kicked it away, pushing the teen through the coffee table. Her body shatters through the glass as Carmen quickly crawled away in time for his boot to come down where her head would have been.

       Maslow closed in, slamming her against the wall with his hands around her neck, bashing her head back into it. Carmen choked, black spots swimming in her vision as she clawed at his hands.

       His hands wounded tighter, scowling. One of Carmen's hands frantically felt around for something — anything, until she found a cord. She grabbed it tightly, before punching him in the gut again. When he keeled over, Carmen elbowed his hands down, quickly wounding the cord around her fists and wrapped it around his neck.