Content Warning: Blood and Violence
"How much longer is this gonna take?" Soren peered through the scope of her rifle. Crouched on top of a roof, she could see Arkham Asylum nearby even in the dark.
Victor chuckled and glanced over to the rooftop opposite of him, the tiniest reflection from his partner's equipment catching his eye. "This guy is always late."
"Well, I'm—" She stopped at the sound of footsteps approaching behind her. "Hold that thought, I've got company."
"Look at that boys, she stayed in town." A man said.
Soren stood and spun around, her hand hovering over the pistol on her right thigh. She recognized the men in front of her, a group of six, as Torres' goons.
"I bet Torres would pay a pretty penny for you." Their leader, Otis, stepped toward Soren. "Now why don't you come with us quietly and no one has to get hurt."
Soren scoffed. "You're just afraid of getting your ass kicked."
Otis motioned to his men and they circled around her. Luckily for Soren, Torres' hired muscles were neither smart nor coordinated. One ran toward her, she stepped back and he went barreling into another of the men, and they both fell over the edge of the roof.
"Oh come on, I'm sure you can do better than that." Soren pulled her brass knuckle knife from the sheath on her left arm and gripped it with her right hand. Another man tried to punch her. She ducked, stabbed him in the gut, and punched him in the face. He stumbled to the ground.
She heard a few gunshots in the distance.
Another two came at her. She caught one of them by the arm and elbowed him in the face.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, her back facing him. She stabbed behind her into his thigh. Soren pushed the injured man into the other but he stepped out of the way and continued forward. She attempted to stab him, he caught the knife by the blade and gripped her by the hair, and not in a fun way.
"That's just rude." She said through gritted teeth. She reached across her body with her left hand and pulled the pistol from her thigh holster. Soren aimed the gun upwards and shot him, the bullet going through his chin into his skull. Blood splattered over her clothes and his body dropped.
"Look's like I'll have to kill you myself." Otis, being the only one left, pulled out his gun and start shooting at the female assassin.
She dodged every bullet and rushed toward him. She knocked the gun out of his hands, but he grabbed her by the wrists, forcing her weapons out of her hands. Otis tackled her, wrapping his hands around her throat.
Soren's head smacked against the concrete, blurring her vision as she struggled under his weight.
You've always been strong, Al Shaitan.
Soren managed to reach down to her left thigh and pull out one of her electric blue throwing knives. It became hard to breathe. His grip on her airways tightened. She slashed across his throat and poured down over her face and body. He grasped at his throat and slumped over.
Soren grunted and pushed Otis' body off of her. She laid there for a moment, catching her breath before Victor appeared in front of her.
"Oh, hey." She nodded at him. "I've got this handled."
"I know, I was watching," Victor smirked at her and offered her a hand. She took it and he pulled her up. He looked her up and down. "All that blood looks good on you. Really brings out your eyes."
The corner of Soren's mouth twitched upward. She looked down at her hands and started undoing her blood-covered gloves. "I take it you took care of our target?" She asked, remembering the gunshots she heard that hadn't come from her little scuffle.
"Of course, M'lady." Zsasz bowed. "What now?"
"Well, I was gonna let the police deal with Torres, but now," Soren glanced at the bodies surrounding them, a flash of anger in her eyes. "I'm gonna kill him."
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Ayman Torres needed to die.
That was the only thought running through Soren's mind as she approached the restaurant he ran his operation out of. The blood that soaked into her clothes and hair would give Carrie a run for her money.
Soren had ignored the problem for long enough, and now, it was getting in the way of her other jobs.
Clenching her fists, Soren pushed through the doors into the restaurant. It hadn't opened for the day yet, so everyone inside was part of Torres' crew. She scanned the room, assessing what kind of danger she could be in. Torres sat at a round table with three of his men, the table next to them occupied by four more.
"Well, well, well." Torres placed his glass on the table. "Looks like the rat came home."
Soren rolled her eyes and placed her hand on her hip. "Give it up, Stay Puft."
The men around Torres all exchanged glances, their fingers itching to reach for their guns if he gave the command.
Kill him, kill, him, kill him, kill him.
A familiar but unplaceable voice in the back of Soren's mind taunted her, urging her to kill.
"Look, sweetheart, no hard feelings, it's just business." Torres reached inside his jacket. "I'm going to have to kill you though."
Torres pulled a gun out, but before he could even aim it at Soren, she had her pistols, the white and black knights, aimed at him. Soren didn't hesitate to shoot, putting a bullet in the skull of all eight men, starting with Torres. Perks of being a highly trained international assassin.
"No hard feelings." Soren shrugged, walking over to Torres's body and unloading the remaining six rounds into him. "It's just business."
She holstered her guns and slipped her hand into one of the pockets on her pants, taking out a devil tarot card. She kissed the card, her lipstick leaving an imprint, and dropped it on Torres's body.
Finally free.
She heard the voice whisper but ignored it. Soren took one last look around and walked out, heading in the direction of her house. By now, the sun had risen and people were out walking the streets. Many of them stared at the blood-covered girl walking proudly down the street, but she didn't care. Even if the police tried to arrest her, she had contingencies in place to prevent serving time.
When she reached her house, she stepped in and closed the door behind her.
"Did you do it?" That familiar, smooth voice asked.
"Yes, Vic, I did." She looked over at him sitting on her couch, dressed in his typical suit and smiled. "What are you doing here?
Victor shrugged and leaned back, watching her as she took her boots off. "I thought you might want some company after the night you had."
She glanced at him and tilted her head. She didn't think Victor was much of the 'hanging out' type. "Yeah, that'd be nice actually."
Victor watched her as she started taking her weapons from their designated spots and placing them on the coffee table, he assumed, to be cleaned.
Soren peeled blood crusted shirt from her body, unaware of Victor's admiring eyes trained on her.
"You don't care much if people see you undressed, do you?" He asked, nodding his head toward the open curtains of the wide front window.
"My body is my tool to use. So, no, I don't care much." She took off her pants and gathered her clothes in a pile to be washed. "Why? Like what you see?"
"Always," Victor smirked.
Soren disappeared for a moment and came back wearing a black nightdress, she had washed most of the blood from her face. She flopped down on the couch next to Victor and sighed.
"I should shower but I'm exhausted." Soren kicked her feet up on the coffee table.
There were a few moments of silence before she spoke up again. "I remembered some stuff about my past."
"Oh yeah?" Victor raised his eyebrow. "Wanna talk about it?"
Soren told Victor about everything she had remembered, and about how a lot of it still didn't make sense but at least she was closer to finding out who she used to be.
"Sounds like you've been busy." He chuckled, adjusting his posture to get more comfortable.
"You have no idea." Soren paused and went to pour a drink for the two of them. She didn't know why, but she felt like she needed to tell him about Jim. "Can I tell you something?"
Victor nodded, taking in her appearance in a more vulnerable state, one he didn't get to see her in often. She handed him his drink and sat back down.
"I uh--" she cleared her throat, "I had sex with Detective Gordon."
Victor's eyes widened, a mix of jealousy and curiosity.
"And before you say it, no, I'm not dumb enough to fall in love with a cop or anything. Honestly, I don't even know if I'm capable of love." Soren took a sip of her whiskey.
"Same." Victor nodded. "So why'd you do it then?"
"Sexual tension and an opportunity for blackmail."
"That's my girl." He smiled proudly.
Soren's heart ached at his words, longing to be called his girl again. She forced the feeling down and sipped her whiskey again.
"I don't know much about you though, Vic." Soren turned to face him. "Tell me something."
Victor thought for a moment before deciding. "I'll show you something instead."
Soren opened her mouth to ask what but stopped when she noticed him pulling his shirt up to reveal his abdomen. Across his toned muscles, there were tally marks: scars. She traced her fingers along the scar tissue, not realizing how close their faces were to one another.
"I mark myself for every person I kill."
Soren retracted her hand and sat back. "I think, we're more alike than either of us know."