Warning: Blood, death, violence, swearing. Oh, and happy homosexuality.
The first rays of sunlight slipped through the slatted blinds on the window, burning into her open eyes in a most uncomfortable manner. Slim, aristocratic fingers flexed, and she slowly sat up, abandoning the attempt at sleep like she had the night before and the night before that. Hazel eyes darted over the pile of things beside her, a few items tossed aside after being dug from her pockets the night before. She was on the floor; beds didn’t suit her, not anymore.
She picked up an almost-empty pack of cigarettes, and tugged one out. The pack was dropped into her lap, forgotten, and she lit the stick in her mouth. The first inhale didn’t make her cough. Smoking hadn’t done that in years.
Briefly, she wondered if the pain in her chest was the result of that. Her lungs could be rotted, and just hanging there useless in her chest.
Then she exhaled, and knew the sheer foolishness of that thought. It didn’t hurt enough…
Turning over, the man followed the line of warm skin to the soft throat of his guest. Nuzzling for a moment, he lay there enjoying the feeling of a warm body pressed up against his. His bedmate murmured a soft sound of protest and brought an arm up to wrap around his bared waist.
Chuckling low in his throat, he reached up and combed through long golden tresses with his dark fingers and the body next to him arched as his other hand came up to scratch lightly down a toned scarred back.
By the time his lover had twisted around to face him, the murmurs had hitched and progressed into gasps. Perfect white teeth pinned thin pink lips and those shining honey-brown eyes blinked wide awake.
For a moment, he marveled at the contrast his dark chocolate hand on creamy pale skin created. And then his guest sucked in a breath that caused the muscles under his palm to tense and stand out in sharp relief. Long legs, whip-cord hard and as war-torn as his own, wrapped around his hips and surged up.
Groaning, he leaned forward, one hand sliding down to cup that fine ass as the other reached up to support his weight alongside soft sunshine hair.
“Goddamnit, Blondie,” he growled. “You’re addictive.”
His guest smirked up at him and hummed. “Shut up and fuck me already,” he purred in reply.
“Hey, fucking watch where you’re going, bitch! I almost ran you over!” a furious man yelled out his car window.
She just blinked at him, and looked at her feet, where she’d dropped her half-smoked cigarette. Damn. And that had been her last one.
“You listening to me?” the man demanded, climbing out of his car.
Dark eyes flicked upward, then dragged down along the man’s body. She smiled softly. “Ah, sorry,” she said, conveniently letting her original accent surface. “Don’t s’pose you know where I can get some nice chips ‘round here, do ya? Bit out of my bloody depth in this city… Hey, I’ll buy ya some chips too, you want? If ya can help a lady out?”
His eyes narrowed, and a smirk touched his mouth. He was actually pretty decent looking. But she supposed that was the way most rapists worked. “How about you and I go eat some ‘chips’ back at my place, sweet heart?”
“You have chips? You got fish too?” she asked, perking in that ditzy-airhead manner. “Sure!”
“Sure, fish too,” he said, jerking his head to indicate the car. “Follow me to my magic carpet.”
She beamed. “Thanks, mister! You’re really nice!”
She pretended not to notice the calculating gleam…
“Hey Tiger!” the blond called from the kitchen. “Where did you stash the cereal this time?”
Rubbing a towel through his close-cropped hair, Svorak emerged from the bathroom in a billow of steam. “Above the stove,” he yelled back, padding out into the hall. “And leave the green box alone!”
Bright laughter was his only reply. “I mean it,” the dark man said, winding the towel up in his hands as he turned the corner to the kitchen.
Christoph was leaning back against the counter, gloriously nude from golden crown to tapping toes; one long line of taut skin and muscle. He almost missed the way the tease hid the small green container behind a lean hip.
And then the bastard had the audacity to flutter his eyelashes at Svorak and grin. “Didn’t touch a thing,” the taller male vowed.
“Uh huh,” Svorak deadpanned, snapping the towel out and catching his lover across the thigh. He grinned as the pale man yelped and jumped away.
“Nice place, mister,” she whispered, smirking when there was no reply. She stretched up, the paintbrush in her hand sliding red along the wall in a complicated symbol. Behind her, the corpse of her attacker was cooling on the linoleum, but she didn’t care. She’d got what she needed.
Drawing in a slow breath, she exhaled as she drew a tight swirl, finishing and stepping back. Her eyes flickered over the series of symbols circling the room, painted in the blood of a rapist high on the walls. Then she stepped over to the center, and knelt. Her voice echoed out on the walls of the room.
“Vacuus, vacua, sanguis raptorem. Inanis, inanis. Decerpere obstant. Sequi.”
The blood seemed to sink into the walls, and her eyes – black, black eyes, like some sort of demonic possession – faded to their normal almost-human color. Something pressed to the back of her head.
“Kon ichi wa!” a deep male voice chirped sweetly. “Sayonara de.” There was the muted ping of a silenced gunshot, and the woman crumbled to the floor.
He chuckled, and stepped over to a red fuel can, leaning down to pick it up… until he heard a sound behind him. Brown eyes widened, and he turned slowly… to see her sitting back up.
Raising an arm to shade his eyes, Svorak squinted out into the parking lot. “Blond bimbo can’t even decide whether he wants pancakes or sushi,” he mutters darkly. “Well the bitch will just have to live without either.”
Sliding a pair of shades over blue eyes, the mercenary grunted and stalked over to the heavy silver car, the plastic bag holding a few boxes of fish cakes swinging at his side.
Motion to his left had him tensing as he thumbed the locks on the key fob. He tossed the bag in and turned to see two teens dashing through the parking lot: a small female with red hair and a male in a grey hoodie carrying a gym bag.
The two of them darted past him in a blur of colour and panting gasps. Though the wheezing seemed to be more from the boy than the girl because he was chanting as he ran: “Shit shit shit shit shit shit.”
Watching them disappear around a corner, Svorak blinked and shrugged.
When the entire storefront exploded in a blast of heat, glass, and flying shrapnel, Svorak was less amused.
Shinji Isoto, the most sought after paid assassin, known as simply ‘Shinigami-sama’, paled even further as the pretty brunette before him stumbled to her feet. “Sh-shimatta,” he stammered.
“I hate men,” she muttered, the English accent gone by habit. She glared at him. “They just add up in the body count.”
“W-wait! Wait wait wait,” he yelped, stumbling backwards and dropping the gas can. “Um- um, I can help you out! I can-”
“I don’t need your help,” she snarled furiously, patting her pocket and drawing out a cigarette pack. She tipped it over, but nothing fell out. “Damn. Empty.”
“I can get you more,” Shinji offered, gulping as he edged closer to the window.
She rolled her shoulders in a shrug, and blinked. Her fingers lifted, gingerly touching the hole in her forehead. “Damn. Well, at least it’s small. Still, now I’m going to have to hide in the sewers for months. Thanks a lot, dick.”
His fingers brushed the sill, and his legs untensed, shifting his weight downward. And he grinned in the cockiest manner he could. “You’re welcome!” he chirped. Her head snapped up, eyes widening in surprise… as Shinji dove out the window.
The phone barely had a chance to ring before the line picked up. “Hello! Mimi’s Delivery Service for erotica!”
Svorak snorted. “You got into the chocolate didn’t you?”
Rubbing a hand over his face, the dark-skinned merc leaned back against some civilian’s car and sighed. “Hey, I’m going to be late. Someone blew up the store.”
“Yeah.” Svorak glanced over the crowd of uniforms and stressed faces. “It was pretty busy too. I wasn’t inside, so I wasn’t in the blast, but I’m still going to be kept here until they take my statement.”
“Anyone we know?” The light tapping of a keyboard drifted over the line.
Humming softly, he frowned. “A small female redhead and a teenage boy?”
He couldn’t help it, both his eyebrows swept up at that tone. “What do you mean, ‘ooooo’?”
Christoph tutted him. “You really ought to keep an eye on the job board, you know?”
“We’re on fucking vacation, Goldie,” the merc grumbled. “Don’t want to think about work.”
“And this is the result; you nearly get taken out by something you should have known was going to happen.”
Svorak’s mouth opened… and shut. “Goddamnit.” An amused chuckle emanated from the phone. “Alright, so who was it?”
“New pair,” Christoph replied smugly. “A Ruby and a Wolf. Girl calls the shots, the guy does the fireworks.”
“Huh,” Svorak slid his eyes over to the smoking building. “Why the hell would someone want to blow up a grocery store?”
All he got was the verbal equivalent of a shrug. “Posting didn’t say.”
“Bah,” Svorak swung around and propped both elbows on the hood of the car. “Don’t wait up for me then. Fuck, and I bought frozen food too.”
“Yeah, and now–” the grumbling man cut himself off as another motion in his peripheral had his head swinging around. “Hey, hey, hey… What’s up with today?”
“Now what?” his blond lover laughed.
“Someone just jumped out a window…”