Steel colored eyes narrow in concentration, raven black hair pushed back from her face. She breathes in deep, lining her shot perfectly. If she misses, everything could mess up here. Not that there's much to mess up. Shoot this bastard, leave a lot of people screaming, and then get out without being seen. It's a normal job for her as an assassin who all but abandoned her duties as a soldier who bends to whim of her superiors.
She pulls the trigger, and the glass shatters. It takes a minute for everyone to completely understand what happened, but when they do, all that's heard is screaming and shouts and yells for help. She watches as someone goes to the body, shaking visibly through her scope. She smiles. "Must be Mrs. Jackson." She stands up, a whole four buildings away and higher up than the building she shot into.
She gets a call. "Is it done?" The voice is heavy with some type of mod over it. She knows better than to ask, though the curiosity eats at her inside.
"Of course. You said you wanted it done by noon." She climbs down the stairs quickly, her sniper put away in a guitar case. She comes out on the bottom steps, going against the crowd as they rush to the scene. "I got it done by noon. Maybe a few seconds later, but regardless, it is done. I expect my payment in the mail by tomorrow." She hangs up.
Arctic Wolf is an open target for any and all assassins and mercs out there. She has a home in every country, but every government knows better than to mess with her. The U.S. lets her do what she pleases short of mass murder; Canada lets her kill who she pleases as long as they aren't innocent; Ireland tries to arrest her every chance they get. It all depends on where she is, and she knows it to be a fact of her life. Something that comes with the killing and money.
So she isn't too surprised to come home to find three people lounging on her couch. They're friendly though, and familiar. Not her favorite people, but people she knows all the while. "I didn't know we were having a deadly meeting at my house. I specifically remember the last one being here and having a ton to clean up, so if we could reschedule this for another time."
"You're under a lot of heat, Wolf," says one of them, a pretty blonde lady who's famous for her cutting techniques. Her nickname is the Cutter, so it makes a bit of sense. Cutter is the one Wolf like the most, though she'll never admit it. "You're being targeted by some pretty big people, my friend. Which is getting us targeted too. A bit of a pain if you ask me, my friend."
"Friend?" she asks, incredulous. She makes her way to her kitchen, grabbing the milk and Hershey chocolate syrup. A glass comes down from the cabinet, and there's a male next to her. Headshot has always been a bit intimidating as a big, broad man. He can hit hard, but his best bet is with a gun. "I was unaware any of us were close enough to be 'friends' around here, right, Headshot?"
A gathered fact is a simple one to any of them. He doesn't talk. He can make anyone uncomfortable just by staring, and it's enough to unnerve anyone to the point of cracking. Wolf avoids him when she's in particularly dark places. But his sidekick, Hothead, does all the talking for him. "You wound us, Wolf. I thought we were getting along!"
"If getting along includes you having a key to my house and being able to come in here without permission, then sure," Wolf says dryly. "I won't even bother asking how you got a key." She pours the milk into the glass and stirs in some Hershey syrup. Sipping her chocolate milk, she turns and looks at the three of them. She waits for them to speak before she offends anyone and gets in a fight.
Cutter stands up and stretches in her catlike way. Wolf just takes another sip. "Wolf, you can be a real pain in the ass. You're attracting attention, and you're the only one who openly gives out her address. I mean, we have an address for our clients, but you actually live at yours." Cutter is the kind of girl who wants anonymity between all of them and the world. "Basically, we're getting targeted by some pretty high figures."
"And by 'pretty high,'" Hothead adds. "She means people even I can't track." Wolf's brow raises in surprise. Hothead is short tempered, and his temper makes him work harder when he's frustrated. Being the techie of the group, he's the only one who could be able to track anyone in any and every way possible. If he can't do it, Wolf doubts anybody in the world can.
"All because of your ten kills this week, all open and untraceable," Cutter says, glaring at Hotshot. She doesn't like to be in the center of attention without knowing what or who exactly is coming her way. Wolf has learned this over time since Cutter is sometimes hard to read and understand correctly. She's a bit of an odd ball for sure. "I don't care if the client wants panic anymore, Wolf. You better start doing your job and leaving nothing left behind."
"I didn't think you were this dim, Cutter," Wolf says, setting the empty glass down. "Do you hear what you're saying? All of them are untraceable. Sure, we can't trace this guy, but I'm not some newbie, Cutter, and I'm not as amateur as you. Honestly, when was the last time you had ten kills by Wednesday?" Cutter is looking coolly at her, but her fists are clenched at her side. "If it were easy, I'd say they know who's hiring me out. If it were easy, I'd have reason to believe maybe they were the ones hiring me. But I'm putting more money on them knowing the targets."
Headshot puts a calming hand on Cutter's arm. He glares at Wolf, but she shrugs off the feeling of his glare. It's Hothead who gets mad next. "Are you kidding, Headshot? A glare isn't going to simply make her stop. She's right, she isn't an amateur or a newbie. But she isn't a big girl either. If she were a big girl, she'd know who she's working for and be able to trace them." Wolf scoffs.
"Hothead, I'm sorry, but your logic is flawed. I have a certain code I was taught when I became an assassin. I can trace them, but from the way you were talking earlier, I'll have to be on the phone while I'm tracing them." Wolf goes into her pantry and comes back with a thing of icing, opening it up and grabbing a spoon. "I'm sorry if growing up the way I did is alarming to you."
"Alarming-" Hothead holds himself back, and Wolf smiles her odd little smile.
"Hothead, you can't even hold back your emotions properly in front of us. Don't say you've come to care about us, dear." Her head moves just a fraction of an inch, a senbon needle barely missing her. "You should have gone for my eye, Hothead. You know that." Seeing her next move, Wolf catches the next needle coming for her left eye. Her smile turns predatory, a scary thing on her.
"Hothead, stop. This isn't going to solve anything," Cutter says. "She's right, anyway. Have a bit more respect for yourself." Hothead turns a seething glare on Cutter, who meets his gaze with a level look of disinterest. Cutter turns back to Wolf. "Find out who's been watching your every move and get them off our tracks. Or there will be problems. Do you like problems, Wolf?"
Arctic Wolf allows her smile to die, taking on her own level expression of half amusement. "What kind of problems, Cutter? I like certain kinds of problems. I like problems where I get to spill blood. Don't you? Speaking of spilling blood..." The senbon needle flies and someone makes a surprised kind of noise. Wolf skips over to the shadow. "Hello, Jinx."
"How do you know me?" she asks, and Wolf only smiles in return. The ravenette grabs her and drags her into her living room, throwing her on the ground and pulling a sharp pocketknife from her table and holding it against Jinx's throat. Wolf hums, low and quiet and so creepily it sends shudders down her companions' backs. It strikes fear into Jinx's heart.
For some odd reason, Wolf's name flits through her mind. Arctic for her cold nature, and wolf for her hunting abilities. She can find a blonde with green eyes in a field of blonde with blue eyes, all of them wearing sunglasses. She had to do it before. That day had been particularly fun. "Little ninja, little ninja, you're still fairly new. Cutter, don't you want the honors of killing her? I'm sure a girl like her can bring you more trafficking. Even if you don't kill her, I do believe her body type is similar to the one you've been looking for."
Cutter turns, a type of glee entering her face. Her beautiful blue eyes alight, and her blonde hair is pushed from her face, giving her a new kind of sexy look. Wolf hands over the knife, and Cutter drags her into her own corner, waiting for the signal. When in Arctic Wolf's home, one can never be too careful. But she does drag the knife over her arm, lapping at the hiss that passes Jinx's lips. "You should come out, Arashikage ninjas. I don't take kindly to intruders." She takes out another knife, jamming behind her bathroom door.
"You're fast," she comments, praising him. She hums, moving around her apartment until she can see or hear one of them again. Her steps are light, and the humming helps her focus. She can almost hear Jinx's blood rushing if she tries hard enough, struggling against Cutter. She twirls around, the knife in hand. Someone drops down behind her, and she dodges the swing of his katana, ducking under it. "Hehe!"
He turns around, facing her as she stabs the knife forward. He catches it just barely. "Hello, Snake Eyes. Hothead, I'd be watching my back if I were you." She smiles a frightful smile, her words right on point as Hothead goes at Storm Shadow with his shock device. It's like a taser, but it isn't the same thing. Tasers don't hurt as much. Wolf jerks her leg forward, and Snake Eyes bends over as she lets him fall.
"Wait!" Jinx calls. "We aren't here to fight."
Wolf turns her steel eyes on Jinx, Headshot holding Snake Eyes in one place. "You might not be here to fight, but I am. Did you really think you could sniff out the wolf?" She goes to Jinx. "You're most likely to crack. Don't worry, Cutter. I'll leave you something of her." Arctic Wolf holds Jinx up by her throat. "Who sent you?"
Jinx doesn't have the time to answer before something is held to Wolf's mouth, and she's forced to breathe in a chemical, her eyes getting heavier and heavier until she's out completely. Wolf feels stupid. She should've seen it coming.