Half of the bar had emptied. The corridors and the hallway were littered with bodies, dark red liquid pooling around them, staining the floor like spilled wine.
"Sheesh... I think I've got myself an enemy here," the man, whose name was supposed to be Thomas, muttered. He carefully avoided stepping on a corpse as he strolled forward, his voice laced with mockery rather than concern.
"Yeah... looks that way," Rachel replied from behind. She spun lazily on a rotating office chair, her tone sharp, her eyes locked on him. "Of course, you didn't expect me to be your childhood friend after that kind of entrance ?"
Thomas chuckled, though his expression hardened quickly. "Hah... I thought they'd send someone professional. You don't even look like you'd rank in the top ten thousand." His mocking voice dripped with disdain.
Rachel's hand twitched. A flash of silver shot across the room a pocket knife flying straight at him. Thomas leaned aside effortlessly, and the blade buried itself deep into the wall with a metallic thud.
She wasn't surprised. She had been expecting this.
"You people always ruin my moments," Thomas sighed, his voice suddenly edged with irritation. "Every damn time I'm resting, someone barges in. Do you have any idea how rare it is for me to enjoy myself?"
Up close, he looked to be in his thirties, a man scarred by years of dirty work. His frustrations oozed out in every word. Without warning, he leapt into the air, twisting into a tornado kick that shattered the office chair into pieces.
Rachel rolled away just in time, landing light on her feet.
"Sorry, but orders are orders," she said with a grin. "I was told to erase you...make sure you only exist in LUNES WORLD. Heard you've been blackmailing a few people."
She grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it ,not directly at him, but at the wall.
Thomas smirked. "Your aim is terrible" His words cut off when the chair ricocheted off the wall and slammed into his head with a hollow crack.
"You-!" His teeth ground together as rage flared in his eyes. Rachel lunged, aiming kicks at his chest and face, but he blocked each one with ease.
Strength and agility... Rachel thought, panting as she pressed her attack. He's stronger, bigger his size gives him power. But I've got my own ways.
A fist drove hard into her waist. Pain exploded through her body as she was sent crashing against the wall.
"I guess you're dead now," Thomas sneered, winding up for another punch.
Rachel barely rolled aside in time. Struggling to catch her breath, she pressed against the opposite wall, her fingers brushing the knife she had thrown earlier. She yanked it free.
Thomas charged at her with frightening speed. She waited, eyes locked on him, holding her ground. At the last moment, she slipped sideways. His own momentum sent him crashing into the wall, leaving a crack in the plaster.
Rachel blinked at him, her chest heaving, expression unreadable.
Groaning, Thomas pushed himself up. His hand darted toward a nearby corpse, pulling a gun from its slack grip. He raised it and fired.
Rachel flinched but twisted gracefully, bullets whizzing past her. Her mind flashed back.
She remembered.
An old dojo, the scent of dust and steel. A man with silver hair and a weathered beard, his presence calm yet immovable. "There will be a time," he had said, one hand resting on a katana, "when your enemy will wield a weapon greater than yours. But tell me, Rachel who decides which weapon is better?"
Back then, she had rolled her eyes. This is such an old-man line, she had thought. But now....now it made sense.
Her lips curled.
Thomas squeezed the trigger again. Rachel surged forward, knife flashing. She jammed the blade into the barrel of the gun, blocking its path. The weapon sputtered uselessly.
Thomas froze in shock just long enough for her knee to smash into his face. Blood gushed down his nose, his body weakening. He collapsed to the floor, groaning.
Rachel ripped her knife from the broken gun, then snatched the weapon from his hand. Without hesitation, she pulled the trigger. The shot echoed, and Thomas's body went limp.
Breathing hard, she exhaled in relief. She tossed the gun aside, plucked an apple from a fruit basket on the desk, and bit into it.
Crunch. Sweet juice.
She walked toward the tall window. From the streets below, police sirens wailed, growing closer. On the high floor, she knew she still had plenty of time. Escape was easy.
But one thing nagged her. Turning back, she picked up the gun again and fired another round into Thomas's chest. She wanted no doubts
no loose ends.
The second shot rang out sharp and loud. Outside, a cop paused, ears twitching at the sound.
He looked up at the broken office window. Rachel was standing there, staring directly down at him, her face unreadable.
The cop's mouth twitched. He adjusted his hat and marched into the building.