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 see the night through.
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 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 realize 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, there was a woman in a black jacket with a 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.
ASH's POV~
From the far corner, he leaned against a broken beam, the firelight throwing his shadow long and jagged against the walls. He watched as Echo greeted Ryu as she stepped out from the blaze, her mask dotted red, her jacket glowing in the flicker of flames.
She looked untouchable…ghostly, like the fire itself bowed to her.
He chuckled low, shaking his head. "And they call me reckless."
He stepped over a fallen guard, boots crunching glass underfoot, and glanced once at the officer bleeding on the floor. Still alive.
Barely.
He took out his Desert Eagle and shot.
Ryu always left too much life behind.
It wasn't mercy, not really. Just her way of twisting the knife in her superiors.
Ash sighed, raised his gun, and corrected the mistake with one clean shot.
Outside, the night rain hissed as it met the fire's heat. He lit a cigarette and let the smoke curl out of his mouth.
The firelight was fading behind him. He dug his phone out of his pocket, thumb hovering over the screen. The name that appeared made him smirk ... Eve.
A moment of hesitation, just long enough for a shadow of amusement to cross his face, before he tapped the call.
The line clicked, and Gera's voice sliced through the static, sharp, amused, and familiar.
"Hmmm."
"Mission's done... eve," he said lazily. "Your pet project pulled it off… with a little of my help, of course."
On the other end, silence.
For just a breath, Gera didn't answer. Then came her voice again, sharp, like steel sheathing over something softer but her voice crackled, sharp and edged with amusement.
"A little help? Or another one of your explosions?"
He grinned. "Booms keep things interesting."
There was a pause, her voice dropping lower.
"…Then tell me, why did the boss contact you directly for this? Shouldn't it have been kept quiet?"
Ash's grin widened.
"You know how it is, how our captainship works, right?
When they want shadows, they send Ghost.
When they want whispers, they send you.
When they want silence, they send Eel."
He kicked a loose stone into the gutter, eyes glinting under the rain.
"But when they want the world to burn… well, that's my call, isn't it? I think I am being nominated in the house for the last captain's position…. I have got more kills than anyone else"
"One day, your booms will blow your own ass off," she shot back.
He flicked his cigarette into the wet pavement, the ember hissing out.
He laughed, low and genuine. "You'd miss me too much."
Static hummed between them, neither speaking for a moment.
Then, almost to himself, so soft it barely carried, he murmured her old nickname.
Gentle, stripped of malice, a ghost of their banter.
"…dumb bitch."
And with that, he ended the call, shoving his hands into his pockets as he disappeared into the rain-soaked night.
The city swallowed the blaze behind them, leaving only the hiss of rain and the faint smell of smoke in the alleys. Another mission, another ghost added to the fire.