Light shone through several glass windows, illuminating a long, dark oak, table which housed twenty or so people. Sitting upon a rather large chair, which had a small purple logo embedded within the wood, a well-built man slammed a piece of paper onto the table, causing the other visitors to shift their attention towards its contents.
The paper contained what seemed to be a quite detailed report featuring a certain small orange haired girl, the picture in question appeared to have been taken from the CTV footage of when she’d killed Derrick, bloody wounds dotted about her body.
The large figure at the end of the table jovially laughed out, “This is the girl who killed my son! Bring her to me as soon as possible, preferably alive. Some birds have murmured a few rumours that she may be colluding with those pesky lions, so keep an eye out.”
The picture was passed around the table, a few passing remarks here and there upon reading how the girl had managed to kill the young boy. Finally, the poster reached the hands of a certain elegantly dressed gentleman, his eyes widening upon reading the information.
“Boss. The one on the poster... I think I’ve met this lass before. She’s apart of Epsilon’s suicide squad. I bribed her into giving us information in advance about their operations so that we could mitigate damages and launch more effective attacks on some of their drug manufacturing factories. Thanks to her, we’ve been able to weaken those lions quite a bit in the past half a year.” the man stated, another familiar face that stood behind the well-dressed man grinned, putting his hand on an old bullet wound located on his torso.
“Is that so.” replied the older man, his fingers strumming against the table as he thought up of a plan.
“Bring her to me, we’ll have a little chat and I’ll see what I want to do from there.” he added, fingers tightly bound in a knot as he thought of a plan of action. The bodyguard’s grin had quickly disappeared. He’d gotten pretty used to the nonchalant midget that his boss was cooperating with. Knowing the big boss’s tendencies, he wouldn’t even be surprised if the orange haired girl was killed upon entering the meeting room. Her absence would be... less than ideal.
The man in the neat black suit hastily nodded his head in response, “I’ll arrange it for tomorrow. It seems as though Epsilon recently ordered another attack through the stinger squadron.”
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A series of vibrations followed by a few moments of silence occurred before a small figure slunk out of bed. Equipping some light clothes consisting of a black tank top and shorts, they prepared themselves before exiting the large room they had slept in, walking towards the area which they most frequented.
Stretching a few times to warm up, they started their daily workout routine which had been strictly followed for the past six months. A plethora of scars laid bare upon their skin, some fresh, some old. Circular wounds covered their right arm, causing pain any time they’d move it. Although, the difficulty of using their arm was more of an issue than any amount of pain they’d had to endure.
“Using my connects to tuxedo dude has made my job a lot easier, especially due to those badges he supplies me with. Even though I have to kill a few every time we get sent out, I can bolster my numbers to make my disappearances seem more realistic.”she pondered, her lips forming into a tight line.
Not even one of the people she’d met when they were brought here stood alive to this moment. Thus she’d became the most experienced person in the squadron, usually being sent on the most dangerous parts of them. It was almost as if Epsilon had actively wanted her dead. As if he was scared that she’d do something... something irrational for some reason.
Chloe had promised herself she’d endure her poor treatment as long as Y/n was safe. “Maybe Epsilon had done something to the him?” she frustratedly thought, before abandoning the notion. “He wouldn’t do something so stupid, right?“.
The only power he had on her was the young boy. So getting rid of him wouldn’t be beneficial to Epsilon.
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The heavy pit-patting of rain muffled the movement of a group of fifteen or so combatants. This time their target was an underground headquarters posing as a bar. Having swiftly moved towards the location for about twenty minutes or so, a voice sounded out to question the one leading them all.
“So, you are the one who has lasted the longest out of all of us, huh?” laid out a grainy voice. A short nod from the one in question answered the enquiry, before the group paused behind a large pillar for cover.
Six months having passed had resulted in every single person Chloe had seen when she first was joined the squadron had passed away now, the only reason she survived up until know was by using the advance information she gained from the suited dude and stealing a bit from Evelyn’s handbook by using the newbie that was occasionally paired up with her as a meat shield.
Epsilon had wanted the Stinger Squadron to steal some sensitive information from within the bar, so the location was bound to be heavily guarded. Inching closer to the flight of stone stairs which led to the bar, guarded by a heavy wooden door, a bloodied, seemingly deceased, body popped into view, sitting at the bottom of the stairs leaving a crimson trail on the previous steps.
The male body’s left eye had been stabbed; cranium cracked open like an egg. Other stab wounds dotted his body; it laid still. Suddenly, the body’s bloodshot right eye shot towards the small orange haired girl who stood a top of the wet stone staircase.
A hand was placed upon Chloe’s shoulder, pulling her back into reality. Looking down the staircase, no body was to be found, no traces of blood, only the dirty grime which had accumulated over years called itself home to the stairs.
The small girl signalled towards two larger males who held a large battering ram like object before she descended the staircase. Approaching the large wooden door, she knocked on the door a few times, fiddling with a cold metal object in a strap placed upon her leg.
Holding up the heavy pistol with ease, she placed it in front of the metal hatch. Grrrrr. The metal hatch inched open, Bang! A dull thud followed the loud noise, presumably caused by the dead body falling to the floor.
Everything became quiet as the commotion from within the bar that was previously audible disappeared. The song playing from a jukebox and the dull thuds caused by the rain filled in the lack of sound as Chloe stood to the side of the door and looked over to the two men she’d previously signalled.
The two men rushed forward, looking towards each other to sync their movements,1,2,Bam! The metal ram slammed into the door as the group of fifteen flooded into the bar, one by one holding dangerous weapons of war and opening fire upon anyone who’d found themselves unlucky enough to be present at the time.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Being the last to enter the bar, Chloe looked downwards towards her worn leather boots. A familiar crimson liquid surrounded the shoes, seemingly belonging to a short stubby man who had fell of a stool following a metal bullet being lodged into his frontal cortex.
Looking towards the body, she saw a familiar man who had his chest smashed in, blood flowing from his head as he slowly reached out to a small girl who laid not too far away. The loud gunshots pulled her back once more, as if a bucket of freezing water had been thrown onto the small figure. The visions had became more frequent the longer she went without Y/n. Nevertheless, it was definitely not the best time for them to be popping up.
Several pairs of bloody footprints decorated the floor as she walked onwards towards where several members were congregating in front of. Thirty or so minutes later, the whole building had been cleared, everyone found on site, killed. Six of the fifteen had been vanquished this time, not bad rates for such a seemingly important mission.
Although Chloe knew that the only reason they had only lost six people was that Mr. Well-Dressed had arranged for a small number of bodyguards to be present at the time of the siege. The information they had found was also false in some parts to lure Epsilon’s faction into traps whenever possible.
Touching a small cut that was inflicted upon the girl, she dismissed the dull pain that radiated from the area. Due to being too side tracked thanks to the visions, a man springing out of a hiding place with a knife, under the impression that taking Chloe hostage would be a good idea, quickly passed away after being shot by the small girl in the stomach, not before he managed to slash her face with the knife.
Thankfully, she’d been able to pull her face away from the blade to avoid being dealt a lethal injury, but a small cut, about one or two inches wide, had appeared on her face, an inconsequential amount of blood slowly seeping down her countenance. If she’d been paying attention he wouldn’t have even had been able to get anywhere as close to the girl as he had gotten.
A small vibration had erupted from her right pocket, prompting the girl to separate herself from the group to look at the small phone which had been previously allocated to her. A date and a time were to be found when she opened the flip phone.
Epsilon didn’t usually prevent people who were apart of the stinger squad from going outside of the facility when not on a mission, although it was very frowned upon, and Chloe had received a number of threats from the head honcho himself when she’d found herself going “missing” for a few hours once.
Chloe usually justified herself by saying she saw a few members of the purple palace, handing over the badges to Epsilon, making him shut up.
The meeting was for later today, so it wouldn’t be so hard for her to slip away on their return to their sleeping quarters. Walking back into the main room, she looked over to the antique jukebox which had hid itself in the corner of the room, away from all the commotion, and picked a random classical song which she had listened to before.
A few brief moments of listening to the song was all Chloe allowed herself to indulge in before rounding up all the remaining combatants and giving them their orders to go back to base.
It was if she had gone back in time, to a more simpler time were she and Y/n could live peacefully without being pursued.
Splitting from the squadron was quite the trivial matter for the small teen as she inputted the address into the phone and made her way over to the meeting location, entering a familiar posh neighbourhood which she hadn’t been to in for what seemed like forever.
Arriving in front of a large posh mansion-like house, she messaged the phone number, prompting the large metallic gates which warded off any guests with ill intent from entering the large abode, to open after a short delay.
Standing at the door of the mansion laid a tall man, seemingly uncomfortable due to the overly sophisticated nature of his clothes. Shifting his eyes towards the noise of the gates opening, he quickly locked onto the orange haired nuisance and shot up from his previously nonchalant state.
A wicked grin sprung upon his countenance as the teen grew closer, “I see that ya looking terrible as usual!” he paused, glaring at the girl’s cheek which had blood smeared about it.
“You’ve got a meeting with the big boss. So, clean yourself up before you go inside.” he sneered, throwing a black handkerchief over to Chloe.
The girl gave a small nod in response, removing the bloody stains on her face, following the ruffian who she’d dubbed “Bulldog” due to the way he was always acting threatening around her, putting up a harsh front once the girl appeared, but had softened up a bit towards her over the past six months when they occasionally met each other with Mr. Suit dude for meetings.
The mansion’s décor consisted of several expensive looking pieces of art with black oak furniture and crème carpet. The room which she was being led to was located on the first floor of the house, two large men donned with fire arms guarding the sophisticatedly decorated entrance, small insignias carved all over the wooden door.
“He’s in there.” Bulldog stated, looking towards the pair of guards with slight contempt in his eyes.
′Fuckin Poshies’ he thought, looking at the neat suits the bodyguards were wearing. He’d much rather be wearing more comfortable clothes if it were acceptable in such circumstances, instead he was forced to wear this overly formal suit and thus looked like the “Poshies” which he despised so much.
Both of the men standing at the door looked towards the metal gun holstered on Chloe’s left leg, gesturing for her to give it over to them. Unwilling, all she could do was comply; else the girl could tell things would become a bit complicated.
One of the two bodyguards nocked their fist on the thick door, alerting the personnel inside that the person they had been waiting for had finally arrived.
“Come in!” a deep, earthy voice rumbled out. The doors subsequently swung open, revealing a square office, two sets of lounge chairs located to the left and right of the door with a oak desk located directly in front of the door.
There sat a tall man who stared at the tiny orange haired girl. His hands were in a tight knot and seemed to clench even harder together in response to seeing the girl in front of him.
Looking around the room, Chloe strolled forward and stopped a metre away from the desk.
‘This guy... doesn’t seem to be very friendly towards me. ’She thought, feeling around her left leg for the gun that had given her so much confidence and peace of mind. Alas, it was nowhere to be found.
“You’re the mole that’s been giving us the information. You have my thanks.” Stated the man, a quaint smile appearing upon his countenance.
Not giving Chloe any time to reply he continued, “The stinger squadron eay? I heard some little birdies chirp’s that the police had conducted a operation on where Epsilon keeps the relatives of you lot.”
The orange girl demeanour stiffed in response to this new information, her fingernails digging into her hands as her palms started to sweat.
“Didn’t you have a friend who was taken away by Epsilon? Here, take a look” the man smirked, pushing a few photos forward. Chloe slowly moved forward and took the photos, sifting through the various images.
Burnt and desecrated bodies came into view, nails torn off and skin burnt to a crisp, multiple fatal wounds present on the photos. Hastily analysing each photo, the small orange haired girl would skip to the next photo once she verified that the person inside the photo was indeed not Y/n.
Flipping to the next image, her eyes widened in shock, hands loosening. A particular image stood out to the girl, black bold words placed a top of the photo reading a familiar name.
The body featuring in the photo had been burnt to a crisp, multiple knife wounds all over the body with a single bullet hole present on his frontal cortex.
A summary was provided at the bottom of the image, ‘This prisoner appeared to have been exposed to various torture methods, mainly the use of fire and cuts. Cause of death is suspected to be a bullet, if their other various injuries hadn’t accumulated resulting in their death before the bullet was shot.’
It was if the small teen’s world had stopped for just a short period of time, trying to process what she’d just read. Maybe If she double checked, she’d realise that it was a mistake? That it wasn’t Y/n in that photo?
He was gone. Y/n was gone.
The last pillar of support the small girl had abandoned her. Just like her father had. Chloe’s hands began to shake violently, a sight that visibly improved the expression that sat upon the large man’s face.
Y/n was gone.
What was she to do now?