A thing that never stopped irritating her; was despite living in a criminally active city, nobody had properly tightened security. A measly fingerprint lock that could be overridden with an 8 digit pass-code that took no time whatsoever cracking from the grease staining the keypad from pressing the correct ones? Are you kidding? Maybe that was just because she was so good at her job, or perhaps everyone’s incompetence assisted in perpetual, productive wrongdoings. Her self-reminded annoyance served as a momentary distraction of thought, necessary to not have apprehension while heading indoors... [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/muO7i5w.jpg[/img][/center] It was foolhardy to claim that it was too quiet, but the atmosphere crept along her skin like centipedes crawling up her legs. She was certainly followed, possibly ever since she entered into the alleyway across the street, and into another building closer to simultaneous shootouts changing the late night forecast into a hailstorm of smoke and bullets. Her steps clanged like an iron bar smacking against someone’s back, the clamorous echoing inside only drowned out from her ears approaching the ensuing chaos. Guided by long dim, ceiling lights as she rushed through a lengthy cramped corridor, into a wide open room with slightly brighter ceiling lights causing a green hue, staring down a pair of double translucent glass doors between two sets of staircases leading to the second floor. Turning her head having that paranoid fear that every moving shadow is a stalker with murderous intent. Catching the glimpse of the object slashing overhead to carve into her left shoulder, cutting the air as she pivoted right to dodge the attack and confront the hostile. A katana held in his left hand. She jumped backward, avoiding the following horizontal mid-slash going right to left. She attempted to pull out her pistol, not enough time, her muscle-bound opponent lunged at her thrusting his blade, as she leapt and rolled out of way. Her opponent quickly facing her standing on all fours, his glowing deep-blue eyes discerning her movement. The dangerous situation slowed to a crawl, something clicked into place her mind like the last piece completing the puzzle. Her opponent was carrying no visible guns? Holding weapon in one hand, due to the heavy power glove equipped to the other and he had no apparent armor. Besides a potential bulletproof vest underneath his clothing, but he was using visual enhancing equipment. Likely a separate entity from the outdoor firefights, needed to eliminate first and ask questions later. Processed in within a single moment, wiping out her Beretta from her holster and taking aim, the bang echoed, bullet deflecting off the katana with his precise movements rushing at her. Predicting her slim chances firing off a successful shot, she haphazardly half-stuffed her gun back into her holster. Her previous degrading treatment was about pay off; circling past still running on all fours like it was natural. He staggered spinning himself around, reaching down and grabbing inches away from her tail. She swung upright on two legs with a fluid non-stop motion, ascending the west stairs. Her gun falling out of the holster and landing on the fourth step. Her mistake sunk in her gut as conflicting thoughts screamed at her to run versus retrieving it while having the opportunity. He was already behind her, hastily kicking the Beretta between the cracks going up to the fifth step. She turned and grabbed her opponent’s raised wrist, wrenching it away until the blade scraped the wall. Striking her head with a powerful uppercut; the helmet absorbed the blow, but was knocked clean off and ricocheted off the wall and bounced off the steps onto the ground. Using the glove to reflexively grab her arm, still twisting his wrist as her maw opened wide and lunged forward, sinking her fangs into his arm. Tasting the iron in the blood spurting in her mouth as it gushed from his arm preparing a right hook. Avoiding it by jumping backwards onto the next step, releasing him and grabbing her firearm with the same hand. Watching the glove slam into the wall with a thunderous clang, leaving a sizable indentation as he ripped it back and let out a growl through clenched teeth. She pulled her gun and aimed at his groin, pulling the trigger as his eyes glowed blue again, lowering his arm and directing his katana downward to deflect the bullet into the railing. [i]“That’s what I thought. When you rely on the equipment for battle, you lose.”[/i] Promptly kicking the katana from his grasp, clattering to floor beneath with his careless foot movements knocking it aside to dodge another shot aimed at his shoulder. Swatting the gun out of her hand, feeling like he broke her hand with the sheer veracity of his swing. The gun tumbled down the stairs just above the first step. She countered with a flurry of blows as he closely shielded his head with crossed arms. He glanced below at his weapon, thinking for a split-second about recovering it, an involuntary distraction invading the mind. Letting her tightly grip the railing by the wall with her hands and jump up, swiftly plunging both legs into his stomach. His last ditch effort to reach out and grab her failed, shoved backward, skidding his back into the steps in his descent before his skull made acquaintance with the tile. She dived off the steps as he pushed against the floor to sit up, connecting with his solar plexus, keeping him flattened and causing him to sharply gasp, kicking the Beretta by his feet behind the stairs. [i]“I don’t need my guns for this.”[/i] She pounced down her hands landing against her shoulders. “Get off, beast! I said get off!” His voice was deep as an ocean, but his wave of demands reflected a glimmer of weakness, she couldn’t help but think they were pitiful to have as last words. He reached up to grab his sides to throw her off, but he was too late. The shocked stare in his eyes, seeing the saliva dripping from her jaw onto his lips. The sound of a crunch was followed by a scream, he writhed and squirmed on the ground vainly attempting to get her off. She spit out the flesh and blood ripped from his face, taking several ineffectual blows to the face with his bare fist. Sinking her jaws into his neck, just as he gripped the back of her head with his glove, immediately weakening his grip. Pulling her head away, only yanking the collar off her neck. His stunned body unable to react to her fists smashing his face repeatedly, until covered in her opponents blood. Finally, he stopped thrashing about like a beached trout. No such luck. She found nothing while patting him down. Pulling herself up and pulled off his shirt, wiping her face and hands and tossing it on top his mangled face. Coming to realize how fast her heart was pumping letting her adrenaline was wane, as she took a minute and a half to catch her breathe. [i]“Hm - I was right about the vest too.”[/i] Scarlett thoughtlessly picked up the broken collar from between his limp fingers, but tossed it away. Putting her helmet back on, then retrieving both her Beretta’s which she inspected before returning them to her holsters and shrugged. [i]“Least my equipment wasn’t damaged.”[/i] This final mission wasn’t off to the best start; one body dropped, just to head out into more danger and being nowhere closer to discovering anything worthwhile to locating the lieutenant. Plus, she could really use some booze to wash the bad taste from her mouth...