nefarious /nɪˈfɛːrɪəs/; an action or activity wicked or criminal.
"Wait wait wait...are you telling me you think y/n l/n, the mathletic captain, is behind the 7/23 assassination plot?"
"uh, yeah?"
Sent to uncover the unsolved case of the 5/15 ass...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Word count: 2K.
WARNINGS: Gore, very vague mention of self harm (character does not experience it in anyway), profanity
Please keep in mind the character's views may not necessarily match yours. All events based fictitiously.
If you are a previous reader and at any time see details that may be a spoiler, please refrain from commenting about it.
[Present Day]
"What are you, fifteen?" The wicked, uptight sneer comes from your enemy's lips – or rather, your target's. She seems to have the upper-hand in the fight, her own katana pressed dangerously close to your throat. With your katana discarded to the cold pavement, she has you pinned against the wall of a rundown gym. Her lips curve into a smirk as she thinks she's won the fight.
She thinks she has.
What the blonde has failed to notice, is that despite your weapon lying lifeless on the ground, you still have the shiv tucked into the back of your waist. Scoffing to yourself, your gaze trails back to the look of false triumph that frames your enemy's face. Rookie.
"Fifteen?" You echo, with every syllable your throat teases her katana. "If that's what you think, you can go back and say a fifteen-year old," Pausing, your hand slides behind your pressed body to grip the shiv. "Did this."
You act so swiftly, with that natural speed of doing it so often, that the poor girl has no time to react. The shiv scrapes through her middle, ripping it right open and blood gushes out almost instantly. You pull the shiv back, wiping her blood off of it with your hands.
The victim staggers around, mumbling incoherently at the intense pain that floods through her body. Her palms press against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding but the work is impossible. "That's..." She huffs, seemingly struggling to form a sentence. "That's a smart move..." She eyes her blood on your hands.
You can't help it, you laugh. "You think assassins don't know the quickest way to get rid of blood? God, you are as dumb as you look." It was a stereotype, racism even, but at the time you believed the remark solely true.
The blonde haired, blue eyed beauty fell to her knees as tears started to escape her eyes, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm sorry...please? Can't you...give me more time...?"
This time, you can't help but feel a slight bit of pity, maybe you should've aimed for the side. Then she might've had a chance of survival. You slide the shiv back into its hidden spot behind your back and walk over to retrieve your forgotten katana.
"Princess," You stick the katana into the ground, leaning on it in an almost sweet manner. "You've already had a chance from your supplier. You're a double crossing snake and I'm just doing my job." With that, you slide the weapon back into its holder on your back.
