The Scent of Blood and Silence
Leon eased open the window, the sill creaking softly against the darkness. Moonlight poured across his sharp face, creating shadows that sketched the contours of his features in a cruel beauty. He went in first, boots sinking silently onto the gleaming floor, each step calculated, controlled. The silence was almost religious, but tense with expectation. Natasha trailed close after, her hood pulled down low, shadows consuming the contours of her face, leaving only the flash of her watchful eyes, catching what little light there was. Nova followed next, elegant but slow, and then the rest, gliding like shadows themselves, one at a time, until the room was filled by them. The air lay heavy, charged with a strange, anticipatory silence.
