Mercenary Scum: Fem OC X Male Reader Insert!

Chapter 1: Death of Morals

(Featuring the character Dreadshot, with permission from fellow author darkprince171 .)

- Menagerie, 12:52 AM -

The Beowolf ran, running from the village it had once attacked so viciously. Now the deed was being returned to it tenfold. It's leg exploded as it fell off, a sniper's round shattering it into pieces. It crawled as fast as it could on three legs before a firm boot pressed down onto it's head, it whimpered as the young male pressed his pistol against it's head and fired multiple times. Never stopping. Once that was done he blew on his smoking gun barrel before holstering it. He grabbed a small radio on his utility belt and held it up to his mouth.

(Y/N): "Good shot Dread, pile of useless ash isn't gonna come back with help anytime soon."

Dreadshot: "I'm glad I could help! It's boring being on the bleachers."

(Y/N): "You'll get your time to shine."

He chuckled, tampering with the frequency so his fellow team members could hear it too.

(Y/N): "Mercenaries! What's the situation on your fronts?"

He called into the handheld device.

Oliver Scar: "Nothing's come here without getting blown to bits since the last assault I'm all clear."

Another crackle from the channels, (Y/N) smacked the radio a few times. Muttering curses to himself as the crackling ceased.

Flannery Coal: "Copy, not a flippin' thing here either."

Dreadshot tuned in a few seconds later.

Dreadshot: "Nothing around for miles, they must have given up. I think the village owes us."

(Y/N): "All right, that's it for the night. C'mon everyone, let's head back to rally point."

He was tuckered out from hours of fighting, he needed some rest. Surely the villagers could understand if he and his team needed to leave now... but that would slice the payment in half.

(Y/N): "I'll think about it..."

(Y/N) gave one last check up on his surroundings, though in the distance he saw a humanoid figure sitting atop the mountainous reaches. He squinted his eyes, giving a grumble when he saw what looked like trouble. Not giving the Apathy Grimm a second glance. He placed on his headphones, tuning up his rock tunes to the highest in order to prevent that damn thing from screeching. He was tired as fuck, Apathy weren't a pleasant thing to deal with. He knew that out of every single employee under his father's jurisdiction.

- A Few Minutes Later -

(Y/N): "Listen up here townfolk, I know you called the four of us here all the way to the Appalachians in order to deal with this lil' Grimm problem."

Village Elder: "Yes, you've taken care of it have you not? We heard lots of gunshots all the way from here."

Flannery: "Not all of us fight with a gun, if you would be so kind as to not discriminate against us?"

He tipped his Gatsby hat towards them and chuckled to himself. Though tension soon began to develop, as (Y/N) did not want the village elder to try and draw out the conversation for as long as he can.

(Y/N): "Listen here, we did the job and all but now we're looking for payment. I recall you hired us for... 1000 Lien an hour. No?"

Village Elder: "Yes, you would like that money now right?"

(Y/N): "Not just that. I figure we fired off a few dozen bullets dealing with these things eh Dreadshot?"

She leaned on her sniper rifle a bit, nodding towards her leader.