(100 words.)
The posters showed up a few months after she arrived in Karnaca, Daud's piercing eyes suddenly staring at her again from beneath a detailed list of all his crimes.
She studied one now in the dim light from the streetlamps, taking in the lines and shadows of the portrait, the scar finely etched down the side of the face. It was an unnervingly good likeness.
With a cautious glance over her shoulder, Billie drew her knife from her belt and slipped it under the edge of the paper, carefully ignoring the part of herself that asked why she was bothering.