Chapitre 5: First Mission: Kill the Boss, Part 2
Vionne shivered where she stood. "Your blood tastes good." The words echoed in her head as she stared at the kid in front of her. Licking her blood out of the dagger used to stab her.
Her right arm bled steadily. Gunfire still rattled from where Kirika fought; footsteps grew louder as Kirika closed the distance. Vionne heard Kirika call her name, a single, sharp sound—then nothing. Vionne decided she didn't have to answer. The kid's presence demanded to be dealt with now.
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" Vionne asked through clenched teeth.
The kid only smirked. "I hate how naive you are about this game. And mostly… I hate that she chose you. And mostly hate that I am not allowed to kill you, Not yet."
"Chose me?" Vionne echoed, confused.'' Who is stopping you from killing me? And why? What game?''
The kid's grin widened. She raised the dagger and aimed for Vionne's head. The blade flew—fast and precise—but didn't hit. Behind Vionne a man staggered forward, the dagger buried in his forehead. The kid yanked it free, kicked him so he crumpled against a pillar, and launched the blade again. It skimmed Vionne's cheek by inches.
A low groan came from the shadows. Another man who'd been sneaking up to shoot lay dead on the floor, a dagger protruding from his chest. Before Vionne realized what had happened, the child was inside the attacker's space—wrenching the blade free, driving it into the next intruder, and pulling it out again with fluid, machine-like efficiency.
The kid moved like a storm. She grabbed a man hiding behind the counter by his necktie and wrapped it tight, choking him into submission. Then, without hesitation, she yanked the AK-47 from the gunman who'd shot Vionne and forced the muzzle into his mouth—pulling the trigger and letting the spray of bullets take out two more attackers as the man's body became a ghastly shield.
Vionne tasted smoke and bile and the copper tang of fear. She had been stabbed, disarmed, terrified—but somehow watching the kid kill felt like watching a ritual. Calm, practiced, and terrifyingly efficient.
Vionne felt utterly useless. She could only watch as Kirika kept moving, her every shot precise, eliminating the remaining guards one by one until silence swallowed the room.
When it was over, Vionne stood frozen. The floor was littered with bodies, fragments of broken columns, and shattered glass. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, blood, and cement dust—a heavy mix that clung to her lungs.
And there they were: the three of them.
Kirika stood across from the kid, her handgun lowered but empty, its magazine spent. The kid faced her calmly, dagger dripping crimson onto the cracked marble. Neither spoke. The only sound was the soft ringing in Vionne's ears and her own heartbeat pounding against her ribs.
The tension was unbearable—a silent standoff between predator and prey, though Vionne could no longer tell which was which.
Her hands trembled as she looked from one to the other, unsure who would move first—or if either of them would survive what came next.
A slow clap echoed through the smoke, followed by a faint laugh and measured footsteps. All three froze, their eyes snapping upward.
At the top of the grand staircase stood four men, roughly their age.
"Well," the man in front said, voice smooth and mocking, "that was interesting."
He was striking—Japanese-looking, with silky black hair tied neatly at the back and a custom-fit black suit that screamed wealth and control. He stood with effortless grace, while the three men behind him remained silent and still. They wore equally expensive suits, each one radiating the same quiet menace.
Vionne noticed they carried no guns, yet their presence felt more dangerous than the armed guards. Their aura pulsed with the same intensity she sensed in Kirika—and in the kid.
She swallowed hard, waiting for their next move.
The man's grin flashed a perfect set of white teeth. Slowly, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small sheet of paper.
"This is what you came here for, right?" he said, holding it up between two fingers. The page looked blank.
Vionne's brow furrowed. All this killing—for that? But she trusted Kirika's word. If this was the lead to her mother's killer, she couldn't question it now.
The man adjusted his sleek wristwatch. A holographic timer blinked into existence above them: 20:00.
"I'm giving you twenty minutes," he said evenly, "before the bomb inside that man's desk explodes."
A video projection appeared beside the timer—a calm old man sitting at a desk. But the real horror was beneath it: a five-year-old child asleep, curled up and unaware, with the explosive device strapped under the table.
"Is this a joke?" Vionne blurted, her voice breaking.
The man's eyes turned razor-sharp. "Call me a joke again," he said softly, "and I'll show you just how serious I am."
Vionne froze, heart pounding. The cold certainty in his gaze told her he meant every word.
"Good," he said after her silence. He turned away. "Your timer starts now."
The holographic clock began to tick down. 19:59.
And chaos erupted again.
The three men behind him leapt down the stairs simultaneously—steel flashing, bullets flying. Their leader remained at the top, watching with detached amusement, his hands tucked casually in his pockets.
The one who lunged at Vionne wielded a katana, its blade slicing through the dust-filled air. Despite her injured arm, Vionne twisted aside just in time, feeling the wind of the strike graze her cheek.
Kirika's attacker came armed with both a gun and a knife. She blocked the knife with her empty pistol, sparks flying as the blade struck the trigger guard. The man fired, grazing her side, but Kirika rolled with the impact and flipped him over her shoulder—only for him to twist and pull her down with him. They landed locked in a violent spin.
The kid's opponent was faster—wielding two curved sickles that sliced dangerously close to her throat. She slipped under the strike with uncanny agility, her grin spreading.
焦るなよ,変人.」(Aseru na yo, henjin.) — "Don't get so worked up, weirdo," the kid said in a teasing tone.
The man watched the scene, amused by the chaos unfolding before him.
Vionne and her opponent had started at the staircase, but now their fight had moved beneath it. Despite her wounded arm, Vionne fought fiercely, gripping a steel bar she'd picked up as a weapon. He couldn't help but be impressed. For someone bleeding and outmatched, she moved with surprising skill.
Still, her hesitation was her downfall. He could see it—the way she held back, refusing to kill. If she could only let go of that restraint, he thought, she'd be unstoppable.
To her right, the kid was toying with her own opponent. She had already stabbed him three times, yet still hadn't delivered the killing blow. She moved like a cat playing with a half-dead mouse, grinning as the man's fear grew. In desperation, he threw one of his sickles and grabbed a gun from the floor. He fired—one shot grazed the kid—but instead of flinching, she laughed.
Farther to the right, near the counter, Kirika and her opponent fought with ruthless precision. Her enemy wielded two pistols, shooting relentlessly, but Kirika matched his pace—dodging, calculating, and countering. She was elegance in motion, her focus unbroken. The man was skilled, but Kirika's calm precision made their duel almost beautiful.
Then, unexpectedly, Vionne was the first to finish her fight.
When her opponent swung his katana downward, she blocked with the steel bar, ducked low, and struck fast. A hidden dagger slipped from her boot, and with her wounded hand, she drove it into the man's arm, then his leg. He froze in shock, eyes wide as he stared at her bleeding arm.
Vionne smirked.
"Lesson to learn: never trust a person's weakness—so you'll never fear the brave."
With a sharp shove, she pushed him down, leaving him sprawled on the floor.
The kid caught the moment and scoffed.
"Tsk. Such a show-off."
She turned back to her own opponent, who was now trembling and bleeding. With a lazy kick, she sent a handgun spinning into the air, caught it, and fired without hesitation. The bullet tore through the man's skull.
Kirika, still battling near the counter, ducked behind a pillar as her opponent taunted her between gunshots.
"So this is all you've got, top?" he sneered, firing relentlessly.
Kirika exhaled, checked her watch, and murmured to herself, "Seven minutes."
Another commotion erupted—Vionne saw the kid sprinting toward the staircase. She followed, leaping beside her. At the top stood the elegant man, the same one who had been watching them. He calmly raised a revolver, spun the chamber, and aimed.
Click.
Empty.
He smiled, spun it again, and fired.
Click. Still empty.
But neither Vionne nor the kid slowed down. They kept moving, knowing the next click could be the last sound they'd ever hear.
Kirika's opponent fired again—
Click.
Empty.
Kirika stepped out from behind the pillar, calm and unhurried.
A faint smile crossed her lips.
She raised her gun and shot the man cleanly through the head.
Without another glance, she moved to join the others at the staircase, where Vionne and the kid were already facing the man in the tailored suit.
Gunfire still echoed through the mansion like distant thunder.
The elegant man spun the revolver once more—but before he could fire, the gun was knocked from his grip.
A dagger buried itself deep in his throat.
Blood trickled down his collar as he chuckled hoarsely.
"Very well expected of you, Chloe," he rasped, his voice cold even as his strength faded.
Then—BANG.
A gunshot split the air.
Chloe's body jerked, and she tumbled down the stairs, rolling lifelessly to the floor.
Vionne froze, shock flooding through her. She hadn't seen it coming—the man had a second gun hidden in his other hand.
He turned it toward her, eyes sharp and cruel.
"You really thought it would be that easy to kill me, huh?"
"Game over."
It was too late before the man realized he'd been tricked—the muzzle of the revolver he'd been holding earlier was now pressed against his temple.
"Kirika," he said, almost smiling despite the blood on his lips. "Even stripped of your memory, it's an honor... it was you." His gaze met Kirika's cold, dead eyes. "Top."
A single gunshot ended his words. Smoke curled from the fresh hole in his forehead as his body slumped lifelessly to the floor.
Kirika crouched, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and said flatly, "Let's go."
"You go first," Vionne said, voice trembling. "Take the Chloe kid out. I'll save the child and the old man."
That earned a long, heavy stare from Kirika.
"Leave them. Help me carry the brat," she said, her tone weary but sharp.
Vionne blinked, disbelieving. "No! I'm not leaving the poor man and that kid in this mansion—with a bomb!"
Kirika sighed. "One minute left."
"So? Go now!" Vionne shouted, desperation cracking through her voice.
"If there's anyone you can still save, it's this one—she's still breathing," Kirika said coldly, stepping past Chloe's unconscious body. "But if you want to die with an illusion of hostages, be my guest."
Defeated, Vionne glared at her but obeyed, dragging Chloe's limp body after her. They reached the garage just as Kirika started the rover.
Vionne flinched when the first explosion ripped through the mansion, glass and debris bursting out behind them.
She lifted Chloe into the back seat, then climbed in beside her. Kirika didn't look back—only shifted gears and pressed down on the accelerator.
As they sped down the mountain road, the sky behind them glowed orange.
Vionne tore her shirt, using the fabric to bandage Chloe's wound. Kirika caught a brief glimpse of her in the mirror—just a glance, nothing more—then returned her eyes to the road.
The two drove in silence, the sound of sirens wailing faintly as police cars raced past in the opposite direction.
"You knew all along, didn't you?" Vionne finally said.
Kirika's voice was calm. "Knew what?"
"The old man and the kid… they were already dead."
For the first time, Vionne saw something flicker in Kirika's eyes—something too faint to name. Then Kirika looked away, her face unreadable once again.
Tears pooled in Vionne's eyes as the silence stretched between them. The road ahead was endless. Neither of them said another word.