Scarlett’s preceding hours at The Fortress required a steel wire brush to scrub the disgust from deep within her bones; preferably, starting with the ones in her mouth. Hadn’t she learned opening up like curtains from a window, only left her exposed and prone to being caught in the moment? Desperate eyes locked upon the master’s baiting pitch, she was practically running outside for the reward of retrieval. The velocity of the motorcycle matched her speeding train of thought, still restrained from separating herself from the tracks laid before her. 

On the busy nighttime streets, forced to ride pillion with - how’d they describe themselves again? [i]‘A gentleman of diminutive stature’[/i], which during the trip, the lone thing more staggering than knowledge that the individual behind the pedal wasn’t blind and utterly soused, was the bike itself. Why was she getting escorted by such a crappy motorist? Needing to unconsciously clutch their shoulders several times to keep herself from rocketing off into oncoming traffic. Her fingers felt greasy gripping the unwashed biker jacket. Receiving an unexpected deviation from the familiarity; like finding a needle while combing inside a haystack, you’re met with an unpleasant prick in your hands. At least they were wearing their helmets...she almost felt obliged to drop to her hands and knees to kiss the concrete after being dropped off.
[hr]
The loud buzz prompted her to step through the entrance, immediately feeling an unnerving sense of nostalgia, even if it was partially aided by the lingering cigar smell on her fur. She slowly ascended the old apartments’ staircase, the single distinctive sound was coming from the creaking of the many wooden steps. She passively glanced at the cracked mirror hanging up on the wall between the second and third set of stairs. Stopping to touch her neck, realizing in haste she’d kept the collar on. Not wishing to dwell on how accustomed she’d gotten to it, Scarlett hurried up to the requested room number. Not making her search any easier when they weren’t in discernible numerical order, finally arriving at door 15. It suddenly swung wide open, causing a split-second reaction to whip out the Beretta from its holster, aimed squarely at his pointed goat beard connected to a toothy grin. He leaned forward, giving her full view of his pentagram tattoo, using the muzzle as a headrest.

“Please - feel free. Would make my day much less stressful.” He taunted with a glazed stare. Her fingers seemed frozen and physically incapable of pulling the trigger. One of her implanted chips was overpowering her will, must have been another subordinate working with her boss.

[i]“Should be upside down if you wanted to be subtle about it.”[/i] Her counter remained in the mind, eyes rolling underneath her headgear as she walked in. The man quietly shut the door, quieting the broken chain lock rattling in its sway. The place appeared remodeled, albeit poorly and it was hardly furnished and packed with stacks of large cardboard boxes, but that was nothing bizarre for fresh tenants. Spotting an opened nylon carry bag with an entire cyberware arm and a white plastic mask, lying in the middle of the carpeted floor. But recognizing two problems moments after looking around, they’re suppose to be here.

“Father’s in the closet, daughter’s in the bathroom.” He explained dismissively approaching behind her, sounding annoyed that he needed to reveal that information. She went over and peered in the empty closet, seeing the father rope-tied to a chair with a sack covering his head and without a right arm. Turning to the unfamiliar colleague zipping up the bag and carrying it under his arm, seemingly flexing his defined muscles at her. His back leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door, straight across from her.

“There’s enough space to fit them both in here. Why did you separate them?” She asked. He snorted and itched his nostrils.

“If one of them broke their restraints, I didn’t need them freeing each other.” He answered in a callous tone, quickly averting his attention. Soon as he stated his reasoning, they heard the churning pipes with the shower turning on. She charged into the bathroom, permitting him little time to move aside. The bathroom was a mess; sink was full of water mixed with red and the floor was slippery, in the tub was a blindfolded pre-adolescent girl sitting upright with arms tied behind her back and below a barely flowing shower-head. Though her top half was already drenched, shaking and breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed and blood dribbling from her nose. 

Scarlett turned the water off and drained the sink, treating it like a formality. Dashing out of the bathroom upon hearing the rattling chain, as she caught the man halfway out of the apartment with his hand clenching the handle, the other still holding the bag. He seemed to sense the glare she was shooting him, just standing there with a sneering face.

"The bitch wouldn't stop screaming at me and I was getting sick of it. Just look out that window and wait for the signal, and be prepared to use those guns for something beside intimidation." He lazily pointed to the window, as she muttered something inaudibly through a slight growl. He chuckled and closed the door. 

She merely waited by the window and waited for the vague notion of signal to happen, occasionally peeping through the blinders, only seeing the neon lights, the overpass and the unsuspecting crowd striding by…

There it was - sounds of firefight and the commotion from unfolding chaos. Checking for visual confirmation, recognizing the shoot-out was nearby. Her orders were established, simply get as much footage of the ensuing event as possible, her questions garnered her the explanation that if anyone else is looking for our target, they’d be present. She only needed to kill whoever she deemed a threat. This was a mission to obtain information and identities that could hint to potential leads. Before leaving the safety of the building and going into dangerous alley, a moment of hesitation came from the whimpering cries coming from the girl. She rushed for the door, but nearly swiveled around 180 degrees and gritted her teeth. Picking up the girl who had somehow loosened her blindfold, giving Scarlett a grief-stricken stare as she carried the pre-teen off in her arms toward the closet. Noticing her face briefly having a wave of relief seeing her father’s writhing body. Raising the rope restraints up to her jaw, she began chewing, grinding and pulling on them with her sharp fangs until they were loose enough to pull apart in due time, then gently setting her down near her father.

“Don’t go outside.” Scarlett warned, fleeing from the building’s entrance and running even closer to the sounds the gunfire with both of her guns drawn, scanning her surroundings like a hawk and using as much cover as the terrain provided. She didn’t anticipate to drop any bodies tonight, but she was equipped for worse situations, should they arise...