The hum of the aircraft engines echoed in Ryu's ears as she leaned back into her seat, a hood shadowing most of her face.
She kept her eyes closed, not out of tiredness but calculation.
Another city. Another target.
Mike wouldn't make it through the night.
Hours later, the neon glow of the city bled into the rainy streets as she made her way toward the bar.
It was crowded, noisy, and crawling with guards…too many for her to slip past without drawing attention.
But she wasn't alone.
One of her apprentices, sitting casually at the counter, slid a small vial of powder into Mike's drink.
Within minutes, his laughter dulled, his head heavy, and he slumped against the table.
That was the opening.
Ryu's opening.
Echo appeared like a phantom, brushing through the crowd with that infuriating grin of his.
"Too many flies buzzing around. Let me swat a few." Before she could argue.
He was already moving, his steps more like a dance than an attack. A guard lunged at him, only to have his head slammed against the counter with a crack that silenced even the music for a beat.
Another tried to pin him down, but Echo twisted, laughing, a flash of steel and broken glass turning the man into a dead weight at his feet.
It wasn't just violence. It was art. Every move of his seemed choreographed, reckless and precise at once, like he'd done this a thousand times and found it amusing every single time.
The bar rattled with a deafening BOOM as fire tore through the side wall, glass shattering into the screaming crowd.
A large explosion occurred, and a stampede happened.
Echo's grin stretched wider as the wall caved in. "Ah, nothing like the smell of fresh panic in the evening."
"Are we allowed to do that?" Ryu asked, exasperated.
"Not my idea. Just cleaning up after it. Another person got involved with the bro…. Captain's mission."
He winked, slipping between panicked bodies, a ghost in chaos, leaving a trail of groans and shattered bones behind him.
But then…everything blurred.
Mike's POV~
When my eyes cracked open, the world was nothing but fire and chaos. The air reeked of gasoline. Flames clawed up the walls, swallowing the bar whole.
My head throbbed so violently it felt like it might split.
Only when I touched the back did I realise my hand was smeared in blood.
The bottle. Someone had smashed a damn bottle over my skull.
Heat licked at my skin, smoke filling my lungs, making every breath burn.
I coughed, stumbled, my body refusing to stand. That's when I saw her.
At the entrance, a woman stood in a black jacket, her massive, smug-faced Pikachu stretched across the back.
She turned, phone in hand, face half-hidden behind a white mask. Her presence was cold and unnervingly calm, like she'd been waiting.
She walked toward me, each step deliberate, the fire dancing behind her like her stage lights. Crouching down, she tilted her head, her eyes almost kind. Almost.
"I got you on my list," she said softly. "They sent me to you. Why start a ruckus with people you can't fight back against… or escape from?"
Her knife glinted as she pulled it free, her voice laced with a cruel innocence.
"Don't worry, I'll make it quick. Just a small cut. Think of it as… a reminder not to play where you don't belong, if you leave alive tonight."
My hands started to shake.
Then came the pain.
White-hot, searing, blinding.
"AHHHHHH!"
The knife punched into my shoulder with a sickening crack… Kupchak.
The second strike tore through my calf, fire racing up my leg…Khuchuk.
I howled, body jerking helplessly under her calm gaze, screamed, body convulsing as blood stained her mask.
Her gaze stayed locked on me, calm even as her words cut deeper than the knife.
"This is just a play. Remember, courage without fear is just stupidity."
Her voice lingered as darkness pulled me under.
"Longue vie, officer. Let's hope we don't meet again.
Tsk."
Her voice was the last thing I heard before the dark swallowed me whole.