Bleeding Violet [Rewriting]

10

"Please, I'll pay them back!" The shout is hoarse and desperate, a bloody man pulling himself away from the cloaked figure that slowly stalks towards him. In the person's hand is a hunting knife, a knife that is coated in his blood. The figures head tilts at his words, and a small spark of hope worms its way into his chest. Maybe they will let me live. Taking his chance, he motions towards his desk, pointing at the framed picture that sits on top.

"It's my wife, she is sick!" He pleads, and the person slowly looks to the picture, raising a single brow. "I-I needed the money! I didn't have a choice, you have to understand!" The man explains, and the figure slowly turns back towards him, releasing a sharp mocking laugh. The man's eyes widen with fear as he shrinks away, his back hitting the wall. They are female. If I make it out, at least I can say that!

"It is funny how that suddenly makes stealing from minorities okay." Violet states in a low patronizing tone as she slips her blade back into her pocket. She pulls her gun forward and looks down at the man who sits in front of her. His face is swollen and bloody, and his once clean and crisp clothes are disheveled and torn. The white walls closing the two in together are coated in trails of blood, the scene triggering a painful memory for Violet.  "I honestly do not care why you did what you did. Your name was on a list, and I intend to check it off." She adds darkly, switching off the safety.

The man releases out a loud sob, scrambling off the floor, but Violet raises her gun and pulls the trigger. The loud shot echoes in the small room, and Violet sighs, standing still and waiting for a release that never comes. The woman quickly begins the process of cleaning all of her evidence. One Violet does not enjoy but knows is necessary. She has learned that forensic scientists are like hounds when given anything remotely out of place. The ability to trace a weapon down from a single clean wound or bullet is remarkable, and if Violet was not the one leaving the traces behind, she would love to do the work.

After the woman finds the slug and casing, she pockets them and makes her way out of the office. The building is silent as she walks down the stairs, the orange glow of the setting sun casting the area with a melancholy tone. Violet slows as she descends the last step, pausing in the soothing atmosphere, though she is quick to continue remembering that she is timed.

"Do you always leave a mess?"

Flinching, Violet quickly grabs a throwing knife from her pocket and thrusts it towards the voice. The woman's eyes widen at the sight of Nathaniel as he snatches her wrist, twisting her arm and spinning her around so her front is flush against his. The man's arms quickly snake around the woman's struggling form and hold her in a vice like grip. "I do not remember you being this sloppy." He whispers lowly in her ear, and Violet tenses, leaning as far away as she can from him.

"It is called a crime of passion for a reason." She snaps as she fights against the man's hold. Violet is not weak. She can easily escape the hold on her, but she is caught off guard. "Forgive me for putting a little too much passion." She adds smartly, and Nathaniel chuckles as he glances up at the building behind him, his eyes narrowing with an indecipherable gaze.

After a beat of silence, he shoves the woman away with her blade in his hand, tilting his head curiously. She is wearing a familiar uniform; her face covered, but her light brown eyes and the anger within them, on full display. "And what passion did the office man lack for you?" He questions sarcastically, watching as the woman's anger grows at his words. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I insinuate?" He mocks with an innocent smile plastered on his face.

"What the hell do you want?" Violet demands as she eyes her blade, cautious of the other's next move. "I thought I told you to leave me alone." She adds, and this time Nathaniel glares at her, taking a step closer. Violet tenses and lowers her hand to where her gun is holstered, the man watching her just as carefully and pausing.