◇°•》 Đeath ₩idow 《•°◇

𝙌𝙐𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙑𝙊𝙄𝙎 // 𝘚𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯

The impact sends Larke forward, but she twists on her heel, a shout barely escaping her lips as she sprints out to follow Rose. She gets a hallway or two down when she sees Rose, back turned towards Larke.

I see you, Larke thinks, immediately creeping up on the girl. She watches the shift in her jacket, knowing Rose's subconcious picked up on her presence.

Larke has less than a second to react, so instead of rationally thinking of one of her many fight-choreographed plans, she books it. She slams straight into Rose just as she turns.

The pair hits the floor, Rose grunting out at the rough landing. In response, she sends a kick in between Larke's legs, then trying to shove her off, arms flailing.

Larke, all senses of rationality finally leaving her, reaches and grabs a fistful of the curly hair beside her. The brunette curls inward and - still keeping a firm grip on Rose's hair - pushes her feet forward. She makes a painful contact with Rose's stomach, leaving the girl with only a howl of pain.

In retalliation, of course, Rose grabs a hold of Larke's calves and ducks her head down against the floor. She turns and uses the wall to turn her back to Larke within seconds, and braces herself. Larke almost loses her grip on the hair when a boot flies straight towards her, slamming into her face. The hit disorients her and her grip falters and gives an opening to Rose.

The Wilson sibling scrambles to stand, her head swimming with shock as she realizes she just kicked Larke in the face.

To strangers, it might not shock them as much to the girl's actions, but to Rose, it sends a chill down her spine. Why? Because she knows Larke is an assassin, and far better trained to mastermind a perfect killshot than she is.

So not a moment after getting on two feet, she twists quickly and attacks Larke again, sending a gaggle of kicks to the brunette. She doesn't care where she hits, not even when a blow (harder than all the rest) cracks into Larke's skull, an abuse that echoes down the hallway.

Larke didn't have time to get up and react with offense, which led to the blows from Rose, and abruptly a table slamming into her. Rose, as a final blow to stay down, slid to the table against the wall and decidedly forced it's weight onto Larke. The table broke immediately, heavy as it was, and left Larke to meet the heartless, icy ground.

And then Rose ran.

Away from the now bloody mess that came from Larke with fear pumping in her veins. She knew she wouldn't go back after this, that she'd always have to force eyes to the back of her head after this.

That whether Larke died of a cracked skull and bled out on the spot or she lived and didn't remember anything, Larke wasn't alone. She has Dick. She has Rachel. Gar. Jason.

Even Hank, who respected and cared for her more than he thought, seeing her as a little sister to watch out for. Which meant if she died now, those people would see her as Larke's murderer. And the guilt would weigh heavy on her she knew.

But fortunately and unfortunately for Rose, life wasn't ready to say a bittersweet goodbye to Larke Kingsman, and death definitely wasn't ready to give a warming welcome.

Rose, unbeknownst to Larke's fate yet, ran for her life. If she didn't kill Larke just then, then Larke would kill her. She'd created a loophole of a losing game.

And to make matters worse, the grey haired teen ran smack dab into the raven-haired girl who felt a disturbance in her just then. She didn't pinpoint how deep the aftermath would be, or that Rose inflicted it, but she knew something happened to Larke. That someone she considered family, was not able to connect her end of their bond.