"I have no idea who you're talking about," the barman shrugs Elisa's question off for the seventh time this evening. Every single time she got the same answer.
There's a boy who's around my age that rents one of your rooms above the bar. who is he, she asked him every time. And he never gave her an answer that satisfied her.
I have no idea who you're talking about.
This is a lie, obviously. Elisa has seen the assassin. Has followed him here. She never saw him kill again because she left before she saw anything bloody. She knew that if she stayed, she'd imagine Mor.
It's been a week since Mor disappeared. A long week full of searches in the hope that Mor hadn't fallen victim to the boy.
The boy. He reminds her of herself. Actually, of what she would've become if she stayed at the commission. She doesn't know if he ever feels bad about killing, it isn't notable if he did.
After a year of having pretty much a normal life and being happy, because that she was; happy, she's forced to face the commission once again. The place she wished never to hear its name again. The place she wanted to forget.
She can't. She won't. And most certainly not now.
Elisa doesn't order another drink to persuade the bar owner to give her an answer. Instead she hops off the bar chair.
The man doesn't notice her. In fact, he hasn't the whole time only when she ordered drinks. She's fed up with him. So now her eyes stay on him while she walks calmly behind the bar to then disappear through the door to the private part of the bar.
Perhaps she could stay here until the bar owner returns. She might couldn't do anything in the bar so he would tell her the boy's name, but here she can make him.
But that'd be a waste of time. If the assassin is indeed one of the commission's, then he gave up a false name. Just like Elisa has been doing for a year. She has not heard the name Elisa on someone's lips for so long. It's almost something she misses. But it also reminds her of her assassin life, which she does want to forget.
Plus, she doesn't need the name of the assassin to face him.
The private space behind the bar is a tiny room. It concludes a single bed, a closet, a table and only one chair. It's rather sad, Elisa thinks. The man probably lives here, needing the money of the apartments' rent above.
Clothes are laying on the ground, and everything smells strongly. Elisa forces herself to look around closely, needing to find . . . something. The spare key.
Where does this man keep them?
With a sharp eye she turns around, now watching the door that she came through. A smirk comes on her face when spotting the key hanging on a rack on the door.
Easy, she thinks while taking the metal piece in her hand. It feels cold, making her shiver a little. But the first part is always easy. Now she must face the assassin. In his room.
The third room. The room that has a view over the street. The room that has a view that makes sure you see it when someone comes to you.
Good thing he isn't here. Not yet.
Elisa watched him leave, and only then did she enter the bar.
Now she's so close to meeting him. To asking him what he did with Mor.
Did she really die?
Did her blood really wash away on the street? Underneath Elisa's very feet maybe.
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Bloodshed // FIVE HARGREEVESFanfiction
"Hate me for as long as you want," he whispers. "And then admit that you love me. Even if it's only for a second, admit that you love me." Elisa has been a murderer her entire life, starting with killing her parents at just two years old. By acciden...