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IT'S A WONDER HOW SHE HASN'T DIED YET.
HIS breathing is loud, and very, very scary. Michiko has managed to get out of the tangled cord situation, but now she's scrambling about rusted metal and more cords while outside, the storm hits. There are several scrapes on her legs and fingers, and a gash on her calf which seems to be bleeding enough to be concerning.
A gunshot rings out and she lets out an unworldly yelp.
"Stop moving!" The man hisses. In the wavering light of the torches, the glimpses black stripes across his head become even more stark against the buzzed blond. She notices a purple bandana tied to a belt loop, and she freaks out.
Ah hell to the fuck no, she thinks. Although his thug-ish vibe doesn't deter her from checking him out, she figures that it's probably not the best time to do so. She's been in tough, life threatening situations- it's just part of her job- but as a specialist in conning and assassination, confrontation against brawlers like this is not on her to-do list. Michiko may be strong, but even her big ego is shrinking under the sleek and bulging muscles evident underneath the muscle top he's wearing. Plus, the purple bandana is his gang colour: he's part of the notorious 210.
She spots some concrete debris and darts underneath, hoping that there aren't any creepy crawlies ready to climb into her butthole. Another gunshot rings out, but it's not aimed anywhere in her direction. That's a good sign that he has no clue on where she is.
"Come out so I can kill you," he spits.
Wow. Such a charming man.
He walks past her hiding spot as she sits extremely still and quiet, her presence dimming. Her deadly skills as an assassin really works wonders in situations where she's gotta run away and hide.
She holds her breath he enters her vision, back turned. If he swivels on the spot right now, she'd be a sitting duck, cornered among concrete lumps. Something catches her eye. It's hard to make out considering the only source of light, as he stands among shadows, is his torch.
Michiko's eyes zero in onto markings on his neck; trained assassin eyes readily seeing in the dark. She manages to pick out the shape of symbols although she can't see exactly what they are.
Lady Luck must be laughing at her, because he steps out into a patch of dull light cast from the sky. The numbers 009 peek out.
Oh god, he's a Code. And part of the Zero series, too; out of the 99 Zeroes from 000 to 099, seventy four of them have a useful Trait. Plus he's a 210. Led by the famous Code 117 dubbed 'Purple Ace', the 210 are known for their specialisation in brawling and fighting, managing to subdue over twelve minor gangs within a week.
In short, her death is practically set in stone now.
Michiko has only been in contact with five Codes in her lifetime; two of them were allies, and the third one being able to secrete coffee beans only at midnight. The remaining two were drunk at the time she met them and she even managed to snag a shag. Safe to say, she's not too experienced in being on the receiving end of a hostile Code.
She begins in attempting to decipher what his Trait is in hopes of being able to counteract, or at least, mitigate it. It's definitely not real life aim-bot, because honestly, even she has better aim than him and she doesn't use guns that often.
Michiko's lucky that she hasn't taken off her bag for a few days, otherwise she'd be stuck with a madman with no weapon. She quietly unzips the bag, trying her best not to rattle the empty tin cans. The gash on her leg begins to stain the ground beneath her, but it doesn't really hurt if she doesn't look at it.
Ah. Got it. She takes out a handgun very slowly, trying her best to remain silent.
The tin cans rattle and she swears loudly.
"Found you," his teeth glint in the stark light. Michiko cocks and fires a shot at him, and this time it's his turn to swear and duck out of the way. She scrambles to her feet, torchlight flicking back on and swinging as she stumbles through the rooms of the building.
Michiko sprints as fast as she can, tripping over debris and cords every now and then— apparently, so does Stripey, because their swearing is harmonising. The rattling sound of tin cans really add a nice beatbox to the a capella too.
"Ughm," she grunts as she stumbles outside the building and the onslaught of rain immediately smacks her into the shape of a wet cat.
A bullet grazes her arm and she winces but whips around and fires a shot straight back.
"You bitch!" She yells before he can. Stripey's face creases into a confused and disgusted scowl. He moves his legs a shoulder width apart, taking a solid stance and aiming his gun straight between her eyebrows, completely uncaring of the gun pointed back at him.
The sounds of wheels and rain smacking harshly down onto the metal cuts through their standoff, and Stripey's scowl creases to the point she'd declare him a pug, or one of those Victorian artworks in which the cat or the horse is painted really shittily and looks more like someone's really bad photoshop editing.
A shuttle bus pulls up with one or two holes and a broken left mirror. All the windows are tinted heavily which causes any figures to be reduced to simple, indiscernible fleeting movements. She deadpans at the interruption, facial expression eerily similar to Sir Stripey's.
Lightning illuminates their faces for a split second, and not long after, a painfully loud thunderclap claps their cheeks. Michiko wants to die.
Then she finds herself wishing for the opposite, because a familiar and tall, broad shouldered man steps out of the shuttle, wearing a muscle tee, cargo pants, combat boots and an AK-47 strapped to his back. Olive hair peeks out from under the cap, his stern eyes focusing on the two figures drenched in the rain. A purple bandana is wrapped around his left bicep.
"Stand down, Mad dog." The rain howls, but his voice carries over any thunder.
Stripey- no, Mad dog- gives a harsh growl but doesn't offer anymore resistance in the presence of the new person. He reluctantly points his gun down, and Michiko warily does the same.
The newcomer's gaze swivels onto her and her breath hitches, partly because he's super hot as usual and partly because she hasn't seen him in a good few years. Her mouth drops open as her eyes scrutinise every fibre of his being.
Ushijima Wakatoshi takes off his cap stares back in surprise.
"It's been a while, Michiko."
- -
Big dick ushiwaka has arrived
Rightio guys I realise that I'm physically incapable of writing anything else other than slowburn so :)))
Don't worry she'll meet EVERYONE when the time comes and don't worry she'll have a chance to whore herself out to our favs
