The main bedroom of this household is a shared space with four separate beds against each wall. With a circular drawer in the centre of the room. It has five sections to it. Presumably, each family member has a space for themselves. These people really aren't that rich then. Where are the separate bedrooms? What kind of wealth has a family sharing a sleeping area like common folk?

Kita opens a large chest from beside the only double bed in the room. Inside are far more pouches of coin than she can carry. These people have never had to worry about coin for a day in their life. Each pouch has a sum of ten thousand coin inscribed- This might actually be what a million coin looks like. She scours a few of the other drawers in the bedroom. Finding formal clothes that probably belong to the parents, tiny outfits for the two children of the family, and terribly coloured, granny-type clothing. No jewellery or anything else that could be worth anything. Between the clothes and the layout of this tent, they must have been trying to stay cautious about their wealth.

"That clearly worked out," Kita scoffs.

A backpack lay beside the chest so she decides to throw in a few of the dark brown clothing that seems most suited for travel. She also adds five pouches of coin- fifty thousand coin should be enough to last her a good while. But she has no bearings on any pricing beyond the one menu she glanced at.

She makes her way back downstairs to get out of here before any trouble arrives. All in all, this went flawlessly- Well, not exactly. It worked out though, she's no longer poor and a meal would be perfect right about now. She glances back at the five bodies around the table, and the four laying around them. Someone's probably going to notice this mess, does she need to cover her tracks? At the moment it just looks like the Raiders had a disagreement mid-job.

"Eh," She shrugs, more concerned about what she'll eat than any of that. She used magic anyway, so who's going to know?

She makes her way out of the entrance she'd cut, looking down to the city from the bridge way suspended between the canyon wall. The city never goes to sleep, the marketplace is still bustling with lights and slews of people roaming the streets.

As she makes her way along the bridge, a group of thug-looking guys are having a smoke. Most of them have tattoos all along their necks and arms- Pretty crappy ones at that, but she's no tattoo connoisseur. She squeezes her past the pungent scent of burnt bush and sweat. Grouping up on a bridge like this is pretty stupid, between the smell and the genuine idiocy. These randoms are already rubbing Kita the wrong way.

"Did I just see you coming out of that tent there?" One of the dudes really shouldn't be trying to make conversation right now. She just wants a meal and a place to stay for the night. Taking their souls out here would draw way too much attention.

She keeps her head down and ignores the man. As she passes through the group the rest of the bridge is suddenly cut off by a few more bodies. Each with a smoke in their hand still chatting to each other as if Kita isn't there. The bridge was open a second ago, why would these guys block her off?

"You hard of hearing?" That same voice pipes up, now more aggressively than before.

"What?" Kita sighs, rolling her eyes as she turns to face the approaching man. The first thing she notices is his smug smile- all of his teeth are steel. And he's wearing shades in the dead of night. He's definitely a prick.

"What were you doing in that tent?" He asks again, now towering over her, puffing out a gust of smoke into her face.

The rest of the group is acting completely natural, a few of the dudes around are giving Kita sideways looks but the majority are having their own conversations.

"I wasn't in no tent," Kita responds, straight to the point and trying not to get mad.

"So, she's a liar," He chuckles. "Pretty good one too,"

"Look, I'm just trying to get to the market,"

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"Marketplace? Can't let you do that,"

"I wasn't asking," She grits her teeth.

He says nothing as he looks at her with a strange semi-smile. Drawing his lighter to spark his smoke, he slowly peeks over the rim of his glasses. "You see, a few friends of ours were performing a job in that tent there. I need to make sure you didn't see anything you weren't supposed to,"

"I didn't see shit because I wasn't in there,"

"Hmmm," He grunts, stroking his beard. "The problem is, I don't believe you,"

"Maybe you should be more focused on watching your friend's back,"

"You're right. You see, I feel bad. We were supposed to be providing overwatch but got a little caught up on the way,"

"How's that my problem?"

"Well, it would mean that we weren't here when a certain little shit decided to sneak her way in there,"

"Like I said, I'm just headed to the marketplace,"

"More lies. Good thing I see through 'em,"

The rest of the group is watching now, all the chatter around her has come to a halt and been replaced by an overwhelming number of glares. They know she was in there. Playing it cool isn't going to get her anywhere. Do they know she killed them? If they don't they'll find out pretty soon anyway.

"Who do you work for? Chevo?"

"I don't know who that is," She responds, clenching her fist.

"Oooh she's cool under pressure, huh?" He chuckles to one of his groupies. "She's definitely one of his,"

Kita raises her hands in front of her, trying to think up a way to take all of these guys out. Crap, this is much stickier than the situation inside the tent. She has no space, one of these assholes can just grab her if she doesn't anything.

The douche looks over Kita's shoulder to one of the guys behind her and subtly nods his head. What does that?- a blunt pain suddenly rises at the back of Kita's head, where her wound is. The subtle patter of fluid trickles down her neck as her vision starts blurring. She reaches behind her head to feel the liquid and when she brings her hand to her face she sees her finger have been dipped in red. In a panic, she tries to turn and run but her body slumps to the floor- Erupting laughter out of the slew of goons surrounding her.

Her eyes struggle to stay open, slowly closing as she hears the guys in shades saying, "Get her to Vlad,"°

•°•°•°•

Kita can feel her body being dragged across the floor angst the darkness of her eyelids before she's heaved by her armpits into a seat. Indistinct chatter surrounds her as she dips in and out of awareness. The cracking of drying blood spread across her back draws her to the pain at the back of her head.

But, her eyes shoot open when she feels the icy chill of water douses her with a hefty impact to her face. Shivering and wet, with pain beating against her head she sees she's in a small room with four other people in it. She tries to raise her hands but they're jolted back down by the handcuffs attached to her seat. Her body feels weak again, she's lost so much damn blood she might as well be considered a mass donor.

Three knocks create a silence amongst the four guys that we chitchatting. The door opens, and three of them step out of the room before a bald guy with the same shoddy tattoos steps into the room and closes the door behind him.

The other one in the room steps by a table beside the door and places an apron over his head.

A hand crashes into Kita's chair, grabbing her attention to find the bald man leaning over into her face.

"You killed four of my members," His cigarette-worn voice wheezes out. "Eighteen weeks. Wasted,"

He removes his grip on the chair and stands back up, eclipsing the light in the room. "You're going to tell me how Chevo knew about the job,"

"I don't know who that is," She mumbles under her breath, struggling to find the energy to say it louder.

"What was that?"

"I don't know who that is,"

The man reaches into his pocket and removes a cigarette and a lighter. With no rush, he slowly lights it and takes a deep inhale of the first puff.

"Whatever it is that he's been teaching you assassins is becoming a real problem for me. What were you doing in the tent?"

"What tent?" She barely coughs out. Genuinely confused and struggling to piece together what's going on.

He draws to silence again, taking two then three puffs of his smoke before exhaling and leaning back up to her face. Her vision's clear enough for her to notice the cavernous stretching from his left ear to the tip of his nose. He gestures to the other man in the room to approach with some sort of wrench-like tool in his hand.

"Lying will not work for you here,"