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Being the largest member of the crow family, intelligent and playful at times, the raven holds itself in its own category.
It's evocative, a paradox, and a lure for those meeting with death. "Ill-omen" is what the people say it's associated with. At the scenes of death, there sits and crowing a black raven.
Some say the bird could care less about its surroundings and even consider it coincidental that the bird enjoys the company of death. They victimize the raven, saying it's a creature that's been made out of the human species' own fears and insecurities.
What some may not know is that although the bird is distinct from its peers, it is also incredibly great at assimilating with a crowd, so great that even they themselves forget that they're a fake. A clone of the world, the black seed out of the white.
On a quiet and eerie night, this particular raven looks at herself in the mirror and raises a brow at her appearance. She tears her eyes away from the mirror and dries her hands off of the towel residing by the sink. She glances at herself once more taking in note the certain uniqueness of her features. Her eyes scan her face and move down to her neck where lies a necklace, that was once way too large for her, but she has now grown into.
"Ms. Deveraux," The raven turns her head at the sound of her name and hums in response. "He's ready for you."
She nods and gives the young man a cue to leave the bathroom. She walks out of the bathroom and closes the door behind her. She continues her trail into the elevator and stands straight as she waits for it to reach the lower level.
When the doors finally open, she's met with darkness and a settling cooling temperature. Uncomfortable, but something she's gotten used to. She approaches a door and invites herself in.
It isn't a pretty sight to say the least. Groans leaves from her victim's lips and blood spills from his eyes. The woman isn't phased by his whimpering and the bloody mess he's created. If anything, she's starting to find it a tad bit annoying.
She goes to the corner of the small room and drags a chair out. She faces the back of the chair towards her and sits on it, directly across young Marcus Franco.
She searches his eyes for something, anything that she can recognize, anything that can tame the monster ready to spill out of her, but there's nothing.
"Hello." She greets her guest of the night and smiles delicately at his scorned face that is turned up in a scowl.
The right side of young Franco's face was dripping with blood. His right eye forced shut due to a blade striking across it and half of his lip's falling off. "Okay, I guess not everyone was taught manners when they were younger." She murmurs under her breath.
"Let me out, now." Franco wobbles out from his lips, even more blood dripping from his mouth with every word he speaks. The woman doesn't say anything and removes herself from her chair and uses her hands to smooth out any creases that may have adorned her black pantsuit.
She pushes the chair into the right position and sits on with one leg crossing the other, a gun now in her right hand. "Now sir, I wouldn't recommend a move like making demands... considering the position you're in, right now." She calls.
"I'm t-telling you." Marcus sputters out. "I suggest you let me go now, and you're going to be in for a world of pain."
The woman just looks at him and lets out a tired sigh. She ignores his baseless threats and begins to cock her hand gun. A shout leaves from Marcus's lips and she stops her movements and glares at the disheveled man.
"I'm not killing you yet, calm down." She spits out harshly. "Please," Marcus pleads. "Whatever it is you want, I'll give it to you. Just let me go, please." He whimper again.
"Marcus, I don't like repeating myself, I said calm down."
"What do you want, huh!? Money, I can get you all the money you want! I promise!"
"I have money." She replies to him. "Then what do you want?" Marcus cries, his tears streaking down his face and past the blood that coats his skin. "Well, I wanted your father, but since he decided to go six feet under, I've decided to settle this with you instead."
"Settle what?"
"An old vendetta between your family and mine, of course." She grins. Slowly, Marcus raises his head and his eyes locks with his capturer as realization dawns on him.
It was amazing what fear could do to a person. While it is something that your mind experiences, the body is always prepared for a strong physical reaction. At this moment in time, all of the blood that is flowing towards Marcus's heart is now flowing towards his arms and legs, preparing him to fight, but unfortunately for him, his body hasn't realized it's bound underneath heavy chains.
"Alexandria." The name flows through his lips like honey dripping off of a marble counter.
"Marcus," Alexandria gives him a small nod. "I'm glad we didn't need to drag this introduction out any longer."
It was like Marcus was stuck with no words able to leave his mouth. He knew his fate now that he knew his captor. He wasn't leaving this building in one piece. His rage boiled over and he stood on his feet unsteadily and charged for Alexandria.
The chains tied around his hands and his feet drag as fast as he does and just when he reaches Alexandria, the chains stop him and his nose is just inches away from Alexandria's. She's looks at him, not backing down and literally unmoved by his actions and waits for the young man to come to his senses and he falls down onto his knees by Alexandria's heels.
He breaks down in sobs, his chests heaves in and out as he begs for her forgiveness. Alexandria stares straight ahead and it takes a second before she looks down at his blonde hair, now stained in blood.
"I'll do anything, please." He chokes out, his eyes locked with Alexandria, hoping that there's an inch of mercy within her, but he doesn't know that, that part of mercy died in her years ago.
All he was met with was darkness and a vengeance so cold that the sun wouldn't dare to come close. The woman's mind was made up already and it wasn't going to be changed. "Like I said Marcus, I wanted your father, not you,"
He doesn't say anything and listens to her to continue. "But blood is blood. And it's destined to be spilled." She follows after, finally cocking her gun, this time not being interrupted.
She then does something unexpected and Marcus recoils back when he's offered the weapon. He blinks hurriedly and is hesitant on what his next move should be. Was this a trick he asked himself a dozen times. Alexandria pushed it further in his direction and urged him to take the weapon from her hands.
"W-why are you—"
"We're going to play a classic, Mr. Franco." She doesn't let him finish his question once he takes the hand gun out of her hands. "What?" He inquires, although he already knows the name and curses himself for all of the times he joked with the game and now realized it would be the way he met his dear father.
"Russian roulette," She answers. "You get first turn."
Once again, Marcus shook with fear, the sweat and blood in his hands almost caused him to drop the gun, but he didn't dare, thinking it would anger the woman enough to just pick up the gun and finish the job herself.
Snot dripped from his nose and his fingers trembled as it clutched around the gun and he placed it to his temple. He shuts his eyes and lets out a whimper when he pulls the trigger but all he hears is a click, letting him to let out a large sigh.
He passes it back to Alexandria without making eye contact with her and she takes it willingly. "I hope you realize that you're nowhere near innocent as well,"
While Marcus's father had his fair share of crimes like fraud and embezzlement, the older man still had morals and respect for women. Something that his only son lacked. "Fourteen sexual assaults cases with your name on them. You sound like a favorite." Alexandria recounted her research.
"Please don't kill me." Marcus begins begging again. "Who knows who's going to die today, we still have to finish our game," Alexandria nudges him back with her red bottoms. Alexandria eyes her gun intriguingly, it was one of her favorite, something that got the job done and quick.
"You know," She lets out a sigh. "People don't really enjoy playing games with me." She looks at the man now, at least what's left of him.
"Why?"
Her pointer finger finally grazes the trigger and instead of pointing it at herself like how the game is supposed to continue, she points it at Marcus again. "Because I'm a cheater."
Marcus's eyes goes wide as she pulls the trigger. Again, and again, and again. Bullet after bullet empties out of her handgun and Marcus is left as nothing but a piece of flesh with no name attached to it.
The Franco empire was no more.
Alexandria flicks the empty handgun to the side of the room and stands up from her seat. The door behind her opens and a group of men are ushered in to clean up the mess.
Her heels smack against the cold floor while she walks out, takes the elevator back up to the top floor of her building, and into her office. There waits her assistant with a tablet in his hands.
"Forgive me, have I kept you waiting long?" She asks him and he shakes his head with a quickness, not daring to complain. "No, miss. I didn't mind."
She approaches her desk and takes a seat in her chair while ushering her employee to take the seat in front of her. "What's new?" She asks the young man. He pushes his glasses up closer to his face and faces the tablet towards her.
"You wanted to know who was the reason behind why it was so hard to capture Marcus Franco and who killed the men you brought with you. It looks like you've run into the person before." Alexandria leans in and looks at the photo sprawled against the screen. Black hair and striking blue eyes stare back at her. And a sense of familiarity floods into her senses.
"Years ago."