A Message For The Birdie

Chapter 1

Everything was covered in darkness, stained by blood and dirt alleys carrying an eerie innocence. Yokohama's nightlife was just as wild as any other, gangs and homeless thugs wandering down the alleys in search of someone to torment with their problems, begging for some entertainment. The police were hardly bothered with patrolling the darker parts, not when they knew of the familiar organization meters away into the city, the five towers stretching stunningly in view. The Port Mafia. The hotspot of underground activity.

An observant gaze was focused on the people walking down the stress, the high building providing enough darkness to shield the figure from curious eyes. There was no time to waste, the familiar beeping on her wrist a cruel reminder of misfortune. Muscles slowly turned stiff from standing for a while, only adding to the strong aches and chronic fatigue. Her heartbeat felt slow and forced. Her breathing was heaving with her chest slowly rising and falling, warm air escaping her pricked lips.

Beads of sweat slowly began to appear on her forehead, knuckles turning white from the bruising hold on the briefcase by her side. Frantic eyes looked around, making sure to fully observe the approaching group. It was an empty street, one that many gangs used to trade information, the small graffiti in the corner of the alley creating the perfect opportunity to meet her. A single crane, the drawing constructed more like origami than a real bird. They knew she worked rarely outside the tall building, even rarer allowing anyone to spot her in the darkness. 

The wind grew wilder as the vision of the young woman blurred, her watchful eyes not moving from the targets. A small letter was pulled from the briefcase, the nicely decorated paper carrying the familiar letter P of the mafia. Her teeth gritted at the next part, hand shakily coming up to pluck a single feather from the enormous wings, quick to fold them once her heels hit the cold ground, slowly approaching them.

A buff of air left her mouth while watching it rise into the freezing air, already feeling her joints shiver from recklessly staying outside for too long. Her mind felt as numb as her muscles, fingers effortlessly pulling a bottle of ink from her briefcase, offering the letter and feather, the tip now covered in black, to the man. Her face had finally escaped from the shadows, allowing the small group to look at the infamous eyes of the mafia.

 A military coat in black reached to her knees, the buttons tightly holding the material around her waist to shield from the coldness. Beige stocking peaked to her ankles, a pair of booties keeping her toes from freezing. Mahagony hair messily filled the inside of the coat's black hood while dull eyes concentrated on the people in dark suits.

"I just have to sign this and he is going to give me one of the warehouses, correct? His demands on our territory were a bit high, but it is to be expected of the underworld's greatest power, is it not? We would be fools to ignore this deal when that man has this many talented, young people working for him." sharp gaze trailed her attire, not stopping his lips from stretching into a smirk at the young woman's expressionless face. With a curt nod, she stared at him, hands still holding onto the materials for their deal. "A silent one, aren't you, Messenger? It's not a bad thing, better a silent bird than a barking dog."

"Silent would be a bit too drastic of a description. Reserved is more like it."

"It is good. A lady of your position should know not to mess with the big dogs."

With a light sigh, she stood in her spot while watching him take the letter and feather. It was time to go home. Home. The place that had opened its doors for her and her condition, the kindness of the people working there still surprising her to this day. 

The sound of loud yells rang in her ears, the once mocking man now panicking as his hand stained quickly, the purpura already spreading to the rest of his body, affecting his system tactfully. Her wings spread widely once he tiredly dropped on the ground, his goons too frightened to react. They were scared, watching fearfully as burns spread on the body of their boss, the man that was the strongest in their group, defeated by a single feather. By the feather of a young woman. The one that now stood in front of them, eyes glowing darkly in the moonlight with wings gently fluttering to warm up.

"The message has been delivered, boss." her lips emotionlessly rolled each word to the small earpiece, gaze lowering at the snarky chuckle on the other end of the line. He was in a good mood. "What should I do with the rest?"

"Shoot them." her body flinched as the men pointed their own weapons at her, gazes quick to turn to her once she pulled out a gun, the shiny weapon causing their panic to rise. Threats slowly turned into begging and then sobbing as the armed with knives men started to run. They had no chance of winning, the fact that they went against the Port Mafia said enough. A predator never lost its prey. "Return back, Messenger. The task was dealt with flawlessly."

"Yes, boss." her finger pressed on the earpiece, inactivating it completely. Her wings slowly began to break down, similar to how paper could be twisted and turned, a soft whimper escaping her lips once the poisonous object glued itself once again to her skin, leaving the nicely cut holes in her coat and shirt empty and exposed to coldness. It always hurt to tuck them back inside. It hurt to keep them hidden, the poison causing her own body to bruise painfully.

A shaky sigh left her lips as she gripped onto the wall for balance, tired gaze focused on the approaching patrol of mafia members, the clean-up team. A series of greetings rang in her ears as they passed next to her to retrieve the bodies, dragging them slowly into the darkness of the alley without further tries to strike a conversation. Time was money. Yet two remained on her side, both of them older than her and clad in black from top to bottom, their headpieces and guns making their appearances even more intimidating.

"The scene is clear. No casualties and no witnesses. We will be escorting the Messenger back to headquarters." the silent one took a hold of her briefcase as they made their way towards the car, both keeping a sharp eye on her slow form, not daring to rush her steps.