“A proposition, eh?” Lysandra inquired. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling for a person to seek her out for her services in public but for a man who appeared in the window of a multi-storied home it made her feel uneasy. “And what would this entail?”
With a snap of his fingers a file appeared, floating in the air in front of Lysandra. She picked it up and flicked through it. Within contained pages of details about one man, Tybalt Newmont, a high ranking member within the Merchant Alliance and one with as many allies as enemies.
In the Merchant Alliance money means everything. Those who have a position on the council are only the most affluent members in society with plenty who would wish them dead. Lysandra kept her eyes upon the man, watching his every move looking for even the slightest tell or sign of some ulterior motive.
“Why should I take this mission? What’s in it for me?” Crow pressed his index finger against her lips and cooed, “Hush, darling. All will be known in due course. For now all you need to know is to kill this man and you will be paid handsomely in gold.” Lysandra swatted his hand away. “How much are we talking?” “Five thousand gold.”
Five thousand. Her heart began to race, that could keep her alive for years, maybe even find a nice place to settle in, she wouldn’t have to worry about another man’s life in her hands for a long, long time. “I’ll take it.”
“My, so eager are we? You haven’t even heard all the details yet.” Lysandra looked puzzled, “Isn’t this file all the details?” Crow’s eye twitched, “Yes, but how are you expecting to get so close to a man so rich, he will have bodyguards galore.” Crow placed his face in his palm, “Honestly, I’m starting to question your legitimacy.”
“Well then, are you going to give me a way in?” Crow interjected immediately, “Not yet. How am I to know you won’t just run away with the details and sell it to the highest bidder? No, if I’m going to trust you I need you to take part in a binding vow.”
Lysandra froze. A binding vow, the most sacred of promises, both parties must willingly agree to take part and if broken then the person who breaks it will enact divine punishment upon themself. She stood there for moments, her mind racing. After countless quick-thinking decisions Lysandra voiced her answer, “Fine. I’ll take your stupid vow.”
Crow smiled. “Good. Now take my hand.” He outstretched his hand and Lysandra intertwined her palm with his. Crow then began to chant words unknown to her and as the words were spoken the air around them began to grow heavy and their arms burned as black liquid slithered up her arm, forming and deforming several times. It slowed down as a shape became discernible and it singed onto her arm. The form itself was a creature with small bird-like legs and wings splayed out on either side of the body, the head was turned sideways, showcasing a beak and one beady eye.
“So?” She waited expectantly, tapping her foot. Crow walked towards the window he entered through and stepped onto the windowsill, “Meet me tomorrow at the cafe on the corner just outside the Merchant’s Court. Then you will have your details.” Before she could retort, the male human jumped. Without thinking Lysandra rushed to the window, her heart rate rising once again and her mind racing through thoughts of his well-being. All she could see were the lights from the lampposts as they flickered, and a few men and women scattered about unable to walk straight as they tried to have conversations, laughing uncontrollably.
Lysandra sat on the chaise lounge and took a deep breath. Every time she tried to clear her mind of today’s events the images of the dead bodies invaded, the leftover pain from her arm wasn’t helping either. She prayed to the Gods she hadn’t made a massive mistake in taking this bounty.
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The city streets of Neveh were bustling with the sounds of shop keepers peddling their wares and heavy footsteps of men and women clad in suits and armour walked past paying no attention to their surroundings. The sun was set high in the sky as Lysandra sat down at an outdoor table right where Crow had wished to meet.
She yawned, waiting for him to appear as the minutes began to feel like hours. It became harder for her to distract herself with the sights of the Merchant’s Court as the foot traffic became lighter the further into the day it became. When the sky had melted into the dusk and the street lights began to turn on Lysandra stood up when a familiar voice rang out in her ear.
“Going somewhere?” The voice observed. “Finally,” Lysandra sighed sitting back in her seat “it took you forever to appear. For a second I thought I had gotten the place wrong.” The lean, elegant man took a seat and stared ominously at the table, most notably the teacups strewn about. “I’m sorry about the mess. It was a long time and I needed a drink… or a few.”
“I didn’t take you for a tea kind of person.” “I’m not” Lysandra responded, “they were filled with coffee. Black. I love the taste.” In actuality, she had needed them to keep her nerves in check and to stop herself from falling asleep. The bags under her eyes were a testament to the minimal amount of time she spent in bed. Crow hummed an acknowledgement and pulled out a scroll.
“This” he shook it in his hand, “is the plan you have long awaited my dear.” He set it upon the table and spread it out. It contained images of multiple floors to a building. “In here you will find a detailed account of Tybalt Newmont’s personal residence, from basement to private quarters.”
Over a few minutes Lysandra scanned her eyes over every minute detail, from entrances to hidden compartments to guard routes, committing it to memory. Meanwhile, Crow stared intently at Lysandra, sipping coffee from a teacup he acquired. The way his dark pupils lingered suggested to Lysandra he was doing more than analysing her physical capabilities.
“Are you going to ask me out or are you going to continue to stare?” Crow blinked furiously as his face began to take on a red shade. Coughing, he responded “What makes you think I would want to be seen with you around?” “If you really didn’t want people to see me why suggest such a public and popular place.” She gestured to their surrounds, the sun setting further down on the horizon as less people began to traverse past.
“Touché” he retorts, downing the last of his drink and placing it back on the teacup. “Well, now you know the details I wish you a great mission.” He stood up and began to leave but as he does he turns back around. “One last word of advice, don’t fuck it up. Or we will find you.” He flashed a toothy grin and waved goodbye, disappearing into the crowd as quickly as he appeared.
Rather than answering her questions, Lysandra ended up with more than she hoped for. She pushed her curious nature aside and focused back on the map, figuring out when and where was best to strike her target.
Hours passed and every shop in the square had closed. She probably wouldn’t have budged if she wasn’t kicked from her table as the staff began to close for the night. With one final decision she steeled herself as she prepared for her attack the next night.
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Lysandra was peering from a sky roof into a room lavished with a plethora of flowers, the only light being emitted from the waxing crescent moon shining high above her. She remained attached to the glass watching every move taken by the armoured men patrolling, guns in hand as they moved rhythmically across the room making sure no place was left unturned.
Once she understood their movements she knew there was no way for her to move by with no notice. With steeled resolve, she took her place on the glass and carved a human sized hole onto it. As the circle was closed she jumped onto it and fell through landing gracefully like a feline onto a flowerbed, squishing the vibrant flowers under her boots.
The guards swerved towards the noise and raised their guns, placing their index fingers upon the trigger. The flash lights from their shoulders blinded Lysandra causing her to panic. She somersaulted off of the flowerbed and hid behind a pillar as bullets flew past narrowly missing her. Lysandra’s mind buzzed, she didn’t want to fight these poor guards, it wasn’t their fault they picked the wrong man to work for, but for her goal, for the money and her sister, she would do anything.
The sound of the gunfire quieted down and was replaced by metal hitting the concrete floor. Taking that as her cue, Lysandra came out from the pillar, pulling out the daggers hidden in her boots and rushed towards the nearest guard, sliding as she got closer and slashing his ankle.
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The man fell to the floor, dropping his gun. As he was reaching for it the bounty hunter drove a dagger into his skull, his outreached hand hitting the ground. She retrieved the dagger and picked up the assault rifle moving towards cover behind a flowerbed.
Once again, bullets began to fly past, hitting the wall behind her. Looking up at the glass roof she noticed in the reflection the location of the second guard. When his firing slowed down she jumped out of cover and pulled on the trigger. Nothing. Looking down, Lysandra noticed there was no magazine loaded, they were scattered on the floor next to the dead guard.
As this happened, bullets rang out narrowly missing her head. As she dove back to the flowerbed a sharp sting emitted from her left arm. Assessing the pain, blood trickled down her arm, splattering on the floor. With a quick glance, it became apparent that the wound was a surface one with no sight of the bullet lodged into her arm. Lysandra slithered across the length of the flowerbed waiting for the sound of gunfire to diminish.
As it did she ran towards the second guard, repeating the sliding manoeuvre from before, finishing him off with a stab in the back. As he coughed up blood for the remainder of his short life, she walked over to his gun and picked it up, checking the magazine was in place. She took the gun strap and slung the gun around her torso, placing it on her back.
Her breathing became less shaky and she no longer felt her heart pounding in her chest as she checked her surroundings for any sign of immediate or incoming threats. From what she could hear there were no sounds of padded footsteps or heavy breathing as if a guard were coming to check on the situation.
Taking the short respite, she opened the zip on her pouch and muddled through the large amount of trinkets and items she had recently bought for her expeditions until she pulled out a roll of cotton and wrapped it on her upper arm, ripping the piece off with her teeth and holding it in place with a bobby pin she pulled out of her hair.
She moved towards the entrance of the greenhouse and opened the door slowly, hoping to make no sound. Reminding herself of the plan she focused on slipping past the guards circulating the building interior, hoping to make it to Tybalt’s office on the second floor without further needless bloodshed.
Descending the first flight of stairs led to a hallway lined with paintings and statues placed on pedestals. Too gaudy for Lysandra’s taste she paid them no mind as she sneaked past a set of guards, guns at the ready like tigers ready to pounce at the slightest noise. Hiding behind the artefacts and treasures she was able to disappear within the shadows, alerting no one of her presence.
Her mind wandered as she walked towards the next set of stairs. Why does this man need to die? and why at her hands? who is this man? She turned back to her original thought of Crow’s supposed capabilities, with the way he was repeatedly able to sneak up on Lysandra even with her heightened hearing thanks to her elvish heritage. These thoughts gnawed at her mind as she made it to the third floor.
This floor was grander than the last, the wallpaper a dark, rich red, the name of the colour unbeknownst to Lysandra. Ruby? Crimson? It was probably some underground name only posh idiots would want to use. The sound of hinges squeaking enveloped the air as a guard walked out of a room. Snapping Lysandra out of her coloured daze she rushed to the nearest large object, three low stools placed together, and crawled into the space underneath them, a tight fit for any person.
The guard whistled a tune familiar to Lysandra, the Merchant Alliance’s national anthem, as he strolled past unaware of the Bounty Hunter right at his feet, able to jump out and murder him in one fell swoop without a sound.
He turned the corner and Lysandra took that as her cue to resume her adventure to the next floor.
She had made it to the floor of Tybalt Nemont’s office, now the real challenge began. As Lysandra noted in her observation of the blueprint and was quite evident while looking at it in person, within the centre of the hall weren’t massive walls hiding a large room like the other floors, rather it was a gaping hole with fancy marble railings being the only safety feature. The hole looked down to a massive ballroom lined with tables and chairs, a massive space in the middle set for dancing and a raised platform opposite the entranceway with instruments set out.
The office she required was across the expanse but there were guards patrolling the balcony, looking not just forward and back but across the railing as well. Multiple plans flashed across her mind but none were as quiet and effective as removing the guards.
Enacting on her decision, she slithered across the walkway, staying close to the railing. The first guard she came across was facing the opposite way and fell quite easily and soundless as she grabbed the collar of his shirt and slit his throat. She propped him against the wall hoping he would be less obvious to any person that went by.
With no time to hesitate Lysandra tried her best to crouch run but completing this in boots without making a sound was proving to be her hardest challenge. Next time, Lysandra thought, I should make sure when I do a stealth mission I wear something comfier and quieter.
By the time she made it across the length of the balcony the second guard turned to face her directly. His eyes widened and his mouth began to open as Lysandra took her leg and swept his feet from underneath him causing him to grunt as he hit the floor. Before he could shout Lysandra stuck her dagger into his neck leaving him on the floor, sputtering as blood exited from his mouth and open knife wound.
A little past the dying body was a set of reddish-brown ornate doors. Beyond this should be the office of Lysandra’s target. As she took a deep breath in, clearing her mind, she brandished her newly acquired assault rifle and nudged one of the doors open with her shoulder.
The room resembled a usual office, there was a massive wooden desk in the middle, multiple stacks of paper neatly piled together on one side, quills and inks on the other. Both side walls were lined with bookshelves, from what Lysandra could tell there was a plethora of genres, from famous novels, to scholarly articles, and even textbooks about finance.
Behind the desk looking out a window was a man, his posture perfect as he looked down at a paper in his hand. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for that repor-” he dropped the paper as his eyes widened. Lysandra could now see his features clearly. His brown, curly hair complimenting the green eyes and tanned skin.
“Tybalt Newmont, I presume?” Lysandra asked. “Y-yes. And you are?” His voice wavered as he stared at the gun in her hand, not blinking. “Just the woman that is going to send you to the almighty Gods extra early. Say hi to them from me.” Lysandra raised the rifle so the sight that was attached was at level with her eyes.
Tybalt held out his shaking hands “W-wait! Please! Don’t do this. I have a family, a wife, kids.” Lysandra faltered. How many families had she destroyed in these past few days alone? Was it right for her to do this for the sake of her family? Destroy hundreds of families so she can help hers? It was wrong. Everything about this mission felt wrong. But the reward. How could she refuse money that is given so easily. All it required was this man’s death.
With one deep breath Lysandra placed her finger back on the trigger and closed her eyes. The sound of the gun firing rang out in the room. That was all she heard. She didn’t hear the usual sound of the drop of a body or even glass shattering. Opening her eyes she found herself staring at a bookshelf.
“Really? Now the Retributionists have hired bounty hunters to do their work for them?” A feminine voice appeared from behind. Lysandra turned around pointing her gun towards a female human, slightly shorter than herself with wavy, black hair flowing down her back and bangs that lead to bright blue eyes.
“Oh my. A gun. I’m scared.” The woman remarked in a sarcastic drawl. By her side was a massive sledge hammer held upside down. The long, intricate wooden handle travelled all the way to the woman’s chin and the head was bigger than the average sledge hammer. Upon closer inspection Lysandra noticed the woman’s arms were well defined and her hands were incredibly calloused.
“If you move I will shoot you.” Lysandra stated. She had to think fast. If this woman was as skilled as she looked this would get ugly, fast. Not only that but if she knew Lysandra was here then reinforcements won’t be too far behind. The woman cocked her head to the side and placed a finger on her chin.
“And what if I did this?” She moved her foot slightly forward, a smile creeping on her lips. “Do that again and there will be a hole in your skull.” Lysandra’s voice became less steady the more she spoke. “Well then.” She folded her arms. “I guess I’m stuck here which sucks because I’m supposed to meet with a friend tomorrow.” She looked towards Tybalt Newmont, “I hope I get paid overtime for this.” The stunned man nodded his head violently.
“Oh good then I don’t have to go easy on you.” As quick as she appeared the woman disappeared from Lysandra’s sight. Lysandra whipped her head around haphazardly looking for any sign of movement.
“Behind you.” Remarked the feminine voice in Lysandra’s ear. Looking behind, the woman now had her sledgehammer raised and she swung, the head crashing down into Lysandra’s torso, flinging her out of the room and into the railing.
Lysandra began to stand up and noticed it became harder for her to breathe. With one arm clutching her wounded torso she watched as the female human moved closer, the sledge hammer dragging behind her.
“You really picked the wrong fight.” She leaned in close, showcasing the mascara and dark red lipstick she wore. “Next time, I would pick my bounties better.” With both hands, the woman gripped her weapon and with the same movement as before, swung at Lysandra. Hoping to minimise the damage, Lysandra braced for impact but it was not enough as the momentum of the heavy object pushed her off balance and over the rails.
The fall was short but caused substantial damage to Lysandra’s back. She tried to lift herself up with her arms but was unable to. The other woman jumped down, falling gracefully and landing next to Lysandra. She approached again but there was no sign of her previous weapon.
Lysandra reached for her daggers and threw both. The woman dodged to the side and watched as they hit a pillar and clattered on the floor. “Wow. That was some great showmanship. You must show me how you faked being so good that THE Retributionists wanted you.” There was that name again. Retributionists. What does that name mean? Who were these people? Lysandra wanted to voice these questions but the woman reached into her pocket and sprinkled sparkling particles over Lysandra.
“Alas, all in due time.” Lysandra’s body began to feel heavy and her eyelids drooped as the sound of the woman’s voice slowly faded out. “See you soon” was the last thing she heard before darkness consumed her.