Drowning (Kaz Brekker)

i - The Nameless Girl

KAZ BREKKER ALWAYS THOUGHT HE WAS ONE OF A KIND. He always thought no one could match his ruthlessness, his sheer lack of emotions, his thirst for revenge and determination to get it. He thought no one could be half as dangerous as Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel.

Until he met Asra.

Dirtyhands met his match with Asra. The Bastard of the Barrel paled in comparison to the Butcher. In his years watching the girl move through the world, watching the trail of blood she left behind, Kaz realised maybe he wasn't alone in his unholy being, maybe there was someone else willing to do what he does.

But first, Kaz thought this girl before him was undeniably cocky. That would get her killed here in the Barrel. He wondered how she'd made it this long.

She was filthy, yet playing at power. She wore what once might have been a suit, simple and subtle and red, but it had since been dirtied by this dirty city like the rest of her. Her hair was a mousey brown, cut bluntly around her face. There were scabs on her knuckles, bloody and bruised as she propped up her chin. Her lip was broken, twisting upwards into a smirk as she surveyed him. Her eyes, grey and shining in the room's dim light, flicked up and down his body and then across his room, every inch of it and him succumbed to her gaze. Kaz didn't like that.

"You've got my attention," he said. "What do you want with it?"

To say she had his attention wasn't completely true. She'd come into his club, stood by the bar watching a minute, not ordering a single drink or spending a single kruge, just waiting. Kas hadn't paid her much mind, this unremarkable and dirty girl, until she stood and punched a man square in the jaw.

Chaos had issued, as to be expected, and the bouncers had surged towards her. The man was about to leave when she punched him, so they didn't have to go far to reach her. She was almost tiny compared to them. But she wasn't fazed in the slightest as she bent, grabbed something from the man's pocket and tossed it to Kaz across the room, just quick enough before a bouncer grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back.

Kaz caught what turned out to be a small pouch, filled to the brim with kruge. Kaz knew every bet that went on his club, every man that won and lost them. That man had been losing, badly. He should've left with pockets lighter than air, not a heavy bag of kruge.

"He was gonna rob you." The girl had called. She gave a small, almost mocking bow. "You're welcome."

Kaz had stood, gripping his cane in one hand and the kruge in the other, and made his way over. She'd smiled at him, looking up slightly.

Kaz stared down at her, waiting. Goodwill didn't exist in the Barrel, not without an expected reward. She must have wanted something in return. He was right.

"Talky, aren't you?" She said, laughing slightly. She huffed, blowing a strand of hair from her face. "I'd like to talk to you, Mr Brekker, about a job."

Kaz raised a brow. "I've got enough men." He said curtly. And he had no place for a ratty little girl who laughed at him, even if she could throw the occasional good punch.

She hummed, looking down. Then her foot shot out behind her, into the bouncer's knee. It went out under him and sent him tumbling with a cry. He dragged her down, hands still locked around her wrists. But she let herself fall, rolling over him as he fell and in a second, she was stood at Kaz's side with her hands laced behind her back, rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Maybe, but they can't do what I can do."

Kaz looked from her, smirking slightly by his side, to the bouncer, lay on the floor cradling his knee.