I slept like a baby the other night. I seriously don't have any regrets about killing that scum…

Bingo strolled through the dim streets of Melbourne, her hands buried deep in her pockets. She kept her head low, blending into the shadows, but her movements carried an air of confidence. The familiar route she walked had a purpose, though she wore her casual fit like it was just another day. A white crop jacket over a black tank top, tan cargo pants, and scuffed black combat boots completed her look. Of course, Bingo never traveled unarmed—her knife was snug in her boot, and another rested in her pocket, just in case.

Her steps carried her to an alleyway where she stopped in front of a nondescript steel door, guarded by a hulking Newfoundland who towered over most. He glanced down at her with a raised brow, his deep brown eyes sizing her up.

"Well, well, look who it is. Knives. Been a while since you've shown your face around here," he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Heard some rumors floatin' around. Said you've been takin' out Black Widows. That true?"

Bingo shrugged, casually rubbing the back of her head. "Yeah, it's true. Those bastards crossed the line when they got my family involved."

The Newfoundland chuckled, a grin spreading across his muzzle. "Y'know, between you and me, I don't give a damn if someone's picking off those Widow scumbags. They've had it coming for years. More power to you, Knives. Now—what's the password?"

Rolling her eyes, Bingo muttered, "Sprinkles."

That earned a hearty laugh from him. "Still funny every time." With a step to the side, he pushed the door open, gesturing for her to enter. "Alright, you're good to go. But listen—folks have their eyes on you. You're makin' a lot of noise down here."

Bingo flashed a smirk as she passed him. "Let 'em look. Anyone dumb enough to test me is getting their ass handed to them.. see ya Vick."

Her boots echoed faintly as she entered, stepping into the chaotic underbelly of Melbourne's infamous Underground. The air was thick with smoke, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the mismatched market stalls, seedy bars, and wandering figures who were just as dangerous as they looked. Bingo immediately felt the weight of their gazes—some approving, some predatory. She kept her head high, her stride unbroken.

They're staring because of the bounty. Doesn't matter. I won't be here long. Just need supplies and I'm out.

She easily navigated the Killer's Den maze, her destination clear. She eventually stopped in front of a shop with a neon sign glowing faintly: The Hollow Point. It was a gritty little store, packed with weapons that ranged from knives to custom firearms. If there was something deadly you needed, Stryker was the guy to see.

Pushing open the door, she heard the chime of the bell, and immediately, the fox behind the counter froze in disbelief. He was lean, with burnt-red fur and piercing yellow eyes. His casual clothes made him look approachable, but the glint in his eye said otherwise.

"Holy shit," Stryker blurted, dropping the magazine he'd been thumbing through. "Knives?! Bloody hell, mate, I thought you were dead!"

Bingo leaned on the counter, giving him a half-smile. "I'm as alive as I'll ever be, Stryker. Killing Black Widows isn't easy work."

"Shit, I'd say not." He laughed, shaking his head as he looked her up and down. "Word is you've got every Widow in the Underground gunning for your head. You sure you're not dead? 'Cause you've gotta have a death wish, takin' 'em on like this."

"Death wish?" Bingo's smirk widened, her tone laced with dry amusement. "Nah. Just a lot of unfinished business."

Stryker whistled low, shaking his head again. "Well, you're either brave or crazy, but hey—you're alive, and that's all that matters. Now, what can I do for Melbourne's most wanted?"

Bingo's eyes flicked over the rows of weapons displayed on the walls. "I need supplies. Got anything new in stock for someone with my… style?"

"Do I ever," Stryker said, leaning against the counter. "But before you shop, maybe double-check who's watching your back out there. You've got a target painted on it."

Bingo gave him a dry chuckle, her eyes never leaving the weapons. "Don't worry about me, Stryker. I always watch my back…Now, show me what you've got."

Stryker stepped out from behind the counter, a sly grin spreading across his face as he gestured toward a wall lined with knives of every shape and size. The display gleamed under the faint neon lighting, blades of steel, titanium, and other metals casting sharp reflections.

"Alright, Knives," he said, with a slight flourish of his hand. "I know you've already got your trusty daggers and whatever else you're packing, but you wouldn't be here if you weren't looking to upgrade. Let me show you what I've got."

Bingo crossed her arms, leaning casually against the counter. "Alright, impress me, Stryker. But keep it practical—none of that flashy collector's crap. You know how I operate."

Stryker feigned offense, holding a hand to his chest. "Flashy? Me? Puhlleease, I'm all about function over form. Now—" He plucked a sleek blade from the wall, its dark gray blade reflecting barely any light. "This right here is a carbon-fiber tactical knife. Lightweight, durable, and sharp enough to slice through Kevlar. Perfect for quick kills or cutting yourself out of a bad situation."

Bingo raised an eyebrow, stepping closer to examine it. She reached out and took it, testing the weight in her hand. "Huh. Not bad. But what happens if it chips? Carbon-fiber tends to crack under heavy use."

Stryker clicked his tongue. "Good question. This one's reinforced with a tungsten core. It won't chip unless you're stabbing through concrete—and let's be honest, if you're doing that, you've got bigger problems."

Bingo gave him a wry smirk, flipping the knife expertly in her hand before setting it back on the counter. "It's decent. What else?"

"Alright, tough crowd." Stryker grabbed another blade, this one with a sleek black coating and a serrated edge near the handle. "This bad boy is a multipurpose combat knife. High-carbon steel, corrosion-resistant, and the serrated edge here is perfect for, y'know, sawing through… things." He wiggled his eyebrows at her, clearly implying less-than-legal uses. "Also comes with a built-in glass-breaker at the end of the handle. Pretty nifty, yeah?"

Bingo raised an eyebrow, inspecting the blade with her fingers. "Looks sturdy. But that serration? It's too bulky. Wouldn't cut cleanly if I needed it to. And the glass-breaker? That's just a gimmick. I can break glass with my boots."

Stryker sighed dramatically, tossing the knife back onto the counter. "Fine, fine. You're a nightmare customer, you know that? Good thing I'm used to catering to the picky ones." He stepped back, scanning the wall before his eyes lit up. "Ah, now this—this is what you're here for."

He reached for a set of knives displayed in a custom leather sheath. There were three of them—matching combat knives with sleek, curved blades and ergonomic handles. He laid them on the counter with care, as if he were unveiling a treasure.

"Knives, meet your new best friends. This is a combat knife set designed for professionals. The blades are made of CPM-S30V steel—top-of-the-line, practically indestructible! Razor-sharp, holds an edge forever, and tough enough to cut through bone. Each handle is crafted with G10 scales, so it won't slip, even if you're drenched in rain—or, y'know, blood."

Bingo picked up one of the knives, turning it over in her hands. It felt perfect—balanced, solid, but not too heavy. She tested the edge with her thumb, letting out a low whistle. "Damn. Now this is nice! They all come in this sheath?"

"Yep!" Stryker said, tapping the leather sheath. "Fits snugly on your belt or across your back or chest. Easy to carry, easy to draw. I guarantee you won't find a better set anywhere in the Underground."

Bingo narrowed her eyes at him, already suspicious. "Alright… what's the catch? How much?"

Stryker grinned sheepishly. "Two grand for the set."

"Two grand?!" Bingo barked a laugh, setting the knife back down. "You're kidding me, right? I'm not dropping that kind of cash on a knife set."

"Hey, hey, relax! I'm just giving you the starting price," Stryker said, holding his hands up defensively. "You're Knives, after all. You've got a reputation down here, and I wouldn't dare let you walk out empty-handed. How about… let's call it a thousand. Just for you. A bit of a mates' rates deal, yeah?"

Bingo studied him, her sharp eyes narrowing. "You're not just giving me a deal out of the kindness of your heart. What's the angle?"

Stryker shrugged, leaning on the counter with a grin. "No angle. I like keeping my high-profile customers alive, that's all! Means they come back for more—and tell their friends too!"

Bingo chuckled dryly, shaking her head. "You're such a sleaze, Stryker. But fine… A thousand it is. You've got yourself a deal."

Stryker clapped his hands together, looking genuinely pleased. "Pleasure doing business with you, Knives. Now, you take care of those beauties, yeah? And don't forget who gave you the discount when you're out there slicing up Widow scum."

"Oh, don't worry," Bingo said, tucking the sheath under her arm. "If these hold up, you'll be the first to know."

"Hell, I hope so! I need those good reviews!" He chuckled.

The two made the transaction happen…

Money was never an issue for me but man, 2,000 would've been a robbery! But hey… it's a nice set.

Bingo walked out of the shop with Stryker still walking to her, holding the case of her Knife set in his hands.

"You've made a good purchase there Knives! I promise you that you won't be disappointed!"

"Yeah yeah, Stryker.. I appreciate you showing me this set. I've needed some new knives for awhile now."

"No problem! I just had to get you right."

"And ya did! Now I gotta bounce, a lot of people are-"

"KNIVES!"

Knives and Striker stopped mid-conversation to look over to see someone.. new... looking at them.

A lone figure emerged from the shadows, her presence as sharp and cutting as the blades she carried. It was a female wolf, her sleek fur a deep, stormy gray that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Her long, silken hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, blending seamlessly with her fur, a few strands tied into a small braid that hinted at careful precision amidst her deadly purpose. Her face was concealed by a hauntingly elegant Japanese-style mask, painted with minimalist dark blue and silver accents that highlighted her piercing golden eyes, which gleamed like twin slivers of moonlight beneath the mask's slanted, fox-like eye holes.

Her attire was a masterwork of both practicality and tradition. She wore a fitted dark blue bodysuit, designed to hug her agile frame, every thread crafted for silence and ease of movement. Over it was a lightweight, black shinobi-style vest, reinforced with subtle armor to protect her chest without compromising flexibility. Her forearms were wrapped in black guards that extended into sleek, claw-like gloves, and her legs were shielded by shin guards with matte black plating, their surfaces worn smooth from years of use.

Strapped across her back was her weapon of pride: a meticulously crafted katana, its handle wrapped in midnight blue silk and its sheath adorned with intricate wave-like engravings. Hanging from a thick, leather utility belt at her waist were two smaller katana, each resting in polished black scabbards, their position suggesting an ease of quick dual-draw in combat. A pouch beside them held an array of finely balanced throwing stars and kunai, each razor-sharp and polished to perfection. At her lower back, secured horizontally just above her hips, was a tanto blade, its shorter blade designed for close-quarters combat and bearing a wickedly curved edge that promised precision with every strike.

Every detail of her outfit, from the muted tones to the perfect arrangement of her weapons, exuded discipline and lethality. She was a living weapon, a shadow brought to life, every step she took measured and silent, her presence carrying the weight of someone who had walked the path of the assassin for years. Though her face was masked, her air of authority and calm radiated, as if daring the world to challenge her mastery.

Knives and Stryker stood side by side, both staring at the ninja wolf who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Stryker leaned closer to Knives, lowering his voice. "You know her?"

Knives shook her head, her expression a mix of irritation and curiosity. "Nope. Never seen her in my life." Turning her full attention to the wolf, she crossed her arms. "Alright, look—who are you, and what do you want? I don't have time for games."

The wolf stepped forward, her dark eyes burning with purpose. "I've come all the way from Japan to seek you out."

My name reached THAT far? Huh… I feel special.

"Oh, a tourist?" Knives smirked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Welcome to Melbourne. How're you liking it so far?"

Kuroha hesitated, clearly caught off guard by the question. "… It's nice, actually—wait, STOP distracting me!" Her growl echoed through the shop, and she tightened her grip on the tanto blade. "My name is Kuroha, the Black Blade. I am here to challenge you to a duel!"

Knives raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching with amusement. "A duel, huh? Bold of you to just walk in here and start making demands."

"The Widow Killer deserves nothing less," Kuroha retorted, unsheathing her tanto blade with a swift motion. Its blade glinted ominously, its black steel a stark contrast to her dark blue outfit. Curiously, she left the katana on her back untouched, her focus fully on the shorter weapon.

Stryker stepped back, holding up his hands. "I'll, uh… just hold onto your new knives for ya." he said to Knives before quickly retreating behind the counter.

Knives sighed, pulling out her own blade from her pocket. "Alright, let me get this straight. You want a duel, but no killing, right?"

Kuroha's grip on her weapon tightened, her stance firm and poised. "The goal is not to kill you. The goal is to win." Her voice was steady, her determination clear as her sharp gaze locked onto Knives. "Now, face me!"

Knives tilted her head, studying the ninja wolf for a moment. "Alright, Kuroha, the Black Blade." she said, her smirk returning. "Let's see what you've got."

With that, she adjusted her grip on her knife and stepped forward, her usual laid-back demeanor giving way to an eager focus. The air between them thickened, charged with the tension of an impending clash.

Suddenly, Kuroha dashed toward Knives with blinding speed, catching her completely off guard.

She's fast!

Before Knives could properly react, Kuroha feinted a slash with her tanto blade, her movements so fluid and deceptive that Knives instinctively raised her knife to parry. But it was a ruse—Kuroha vanished, reappearing in a blur at Knives' side. With a swift, well-placed kick, Kuroha struck her ribs, sending Knives skidding across the floor.

Knives grunted as she regained her footing, a grin spreading across her face despite the sting in her side. "Alright, ninja girl.." she muttered, cracking her neck. "So you're quick.. Let's see what else you've got."

Kuroha didn't answer with words. Instead, she leapt into the air, twisting gracefully as she hurled several shurikens at Knives. They whistled through the air with pinpoint accuracy. Knives darted to the side, her reflexes sharp, but Kuroha wasn't done. She landed lightly on the ground and clapped her hands together in a fluid motion, summoning a shadowy clone that materialized behind Knives in an instant.

The clone attacked without hesitation, throwing a series of rapid punches and slashes, forcing Knives to block and dodge. What the hell is this!? Knives thought, realizing the clone's strikes were just as strong and precise as Kuroha's. She managed to duck under a slash and counter with a swift kick, shattering the clone into a puff of dark smoke—but the distraction gave Kuroha enough time to close the gap!

Kuroha flipped forward, her heel descending toward Knives' shoulder like a guillotine. Knives sidestepped just in time, her reflexes sharp, and grabbed Kuroha's ankle mid-air. With a swift twist, she attempted to throw the wolf off balance, but Kuroha spun with the motion gracefully, using the momentum to free herself. She landed lightly on her feet, her movements feline and precise.

"..You're better than I expected." Kuroha said coolly, circling Knives with calculated steps, her dark eyes narrowing as if assessing her prey. "I thought the rumors about you were rubbish… but here you are, standing your ground against me."

Knives twirled her knife between her fingers, her expression calm but amused. "Thanks… I guess? Gotta say, ninja girl, you're pretty flashy. What's with all that magic stuff?"

Kuroha's eyes narrowed further, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. "Tch… This isn't magic," she snapped, her tone sharp. "It's Ninpo—an advanced technique that allows me to perform the feats you've seen. I am a master of the arts of moon and shadow!"

Knives raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning. "Wow. Sounds impressive. You want a cookie, mate?"

Kuroha's ears flattened slightly, her grip on her tanto tightening as a low growl rumbled in her throat. "Grr… You will learn respect!"

Without hesitation, Kuroha lunged forward, closing the distance in an instant. Her tanto blade gleamed under the dim light as she aimed for Knives with a series of precise, lightning-fast strikes. Knives met her head-on, her knife clashing against Kuroha's blade. Sparks erupted from their weapons as the two danced across the open space, their movements fluid and relentless.

Knives ducked under a horizontal slash, countering with an upward strike aimed at Kuroha's ribs. The wolf twisted her torso just in time, parrying the blow and retaliating with a spinning kick. Knives stepped back, narrowly avoiding the strike, her eyes locked onto Kuroha with fierce determination.

"Okay okay.. good one.." Knives muttered, her grin widening despite the intensity of the fight.

"Save your breath." Kuroha shot back, her tone icy. "You'll need it when you fall."

From the sidelines, Stryker watched in wide-eyed awe, his tail swishing nervously. "Damn… Wish I could fight like that.." he muttered under his breath, leaning slightly forward to get a better look at the duel.

The two girls continued their fierce battle, their blades meeting in another sharp clash that echoed through the area. Sparks erupted as Knives and Kuroha locked weapons, the tension between them palpable. Both fighters struggled momentarily, their eyes locked in an intense glare, before simultaneously breaking off and leaping back to create distance.

Knives wasted no time. She darted forward, her boots skidding slightly across the floor as she closed the gap between them. She feinted with a low slash, forcing Kuroha to step back, and followed up with a series of rapid jabs aimed at the wolf's torso. Kuroha twisted and swayed like a shadow, her movements fluid and precise, narrowly avoiding each strike.

Knives shifted gears, launching a quick roundhouse kick aimed at Kuroha's ribs. The wolf ducked beneath the arc of the kick with a nimble backflip, her tanto blade slashing upward in retaliation. Knives leaned back just in time, the tip of the blade grazing her jacket but leaving her unharmed.

"Quick reflexes.." Kuroha admitted with a smirk, her breath steady despite the exertion. She stepped forward, spinning gracefully as she delivered a sweeping slash toward Knives' midsection.

Knives parried the strike with her knife, the force of the collision reverberating up her arm. "You're not bad yourself.." she shot back, her voice steady and laced with defiance.

As they clashed again, Kuroha suddenly dropped a smoke bomb, the area instantly filling with thick, choking gray fog. Knives' vision blurred as the smoke swallowed the room whole.

"Clever little trick.." Knives muttered, her ears twitching as she tried to focus on the sounds around her. She shifted her weight slightly, listening carefully for movement.

From the shadows of the smoke, Kuroha's voice rang out, calm yet taunting. "This is the difference between you and me, Knives. I am one with the shadows. You can't hit what you can't see..."

Knives tightened her grip on her blade, her expression hardening. "Oh yeah? Watch me."

The wolf suddenly appeared from Knives' blind spot, her tanto slashing toward her side. Knives barely managed to spin out of the way, the blade missing her by inches. Kuroha disappeared again into the smoke with unnerving speed, her movements a blur.

"That was close.." Knives growled, wiping sweat from her brow.

Kuroha appeared again, this time in front of her, delivering a flurry of strikes. Knives blocked two, ducked a third, and countered with a forceful knee aimed at Kuroha's stomach. The wolf twisted away just in time, but Knives followed up with a spinning slash that nearly caught her across the shoulder.

"Close, but not close enough, Knives.." Kuroha said, her voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

Knives grinned despite herself. "I'm just warming up, Ninja."

With that, she rushed forward, throwing a rapid combination of slashes, punches, and kicks. Each attack came faster than the last, forcing Kuroha to stay on the defensive, her tanto moving in precise arcs to deflect the strikes. Knives feinted with a right hook, then pivoted into a low sweep kick, catching Kuroha off guard and knocking her off balance.

Kuroha hit the ground with a sharp thud but immediately rolled backward, springing onto her feet with feline precision. She let out a low, frustrated growl, her sharp eyes glaring through the clearing smoke. "You're a pretty persistent one…" she admitted, though her voice carried a reluctant edge of respect.

Knives smirked, standing upright as she spun her knife lazily in her hand. "Eh, I can't help it sometimes." she said with a casual shrug. As the smoke fully dissipated, revealing the area again, Knives tilted her head. "So, what other tricks have you got up your sleeve? Or are we done here?"

Kuroha's eye twitched beneath her mask. She couldn't believe what was happening. This… Australian? Her thoughts raced as she observed Knives' relaxed stance, the confidence in her posture. She's no ordinary bounty hunter. No augmentations, no Ninpo, nothing. And yet she's keeping up with me… Kuroha clenched her jaw. She'd trained her whole life, mastered the art of shadow, moon, and steel, yet Knives—armed only with raw skill and nerve—was standing toe-to-toe with her.

Knives raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying Kuroha's hesitation. "What's the matter, ninja girl? Don't tell me you're getting tired already."

The taunt snapped Kuroha out of her thoughts. She tightened her grip on her tanto but hesitated for a moment. If I keep fighting with blades, this could go on forever. She's unpredictable. Time to change tactics… Taking a deep breath, she sheathed her blade with a quiet snick and stepped back, lowering her stance into a hand-to-hand combat position.

Knives blinked, momentarily intrigued. "Oh? Switching things up, are we?"

"How about we settle this with our fists." Kuroha said, her voice calm yet laced with a fiery determination. "First one to get knocked down loses."

Knives' grin widened, her interest piqued. She slipped her knife back into her pocket and rolled her shoulders. "Alright, now you're speaking my language. No blades, just fists. Let's see what you've got, girlie."

Kuroha couldn't stop the flicker of irritation at the nickname but let it slide. Her mind was already working overtime, analyzing Knives' stance, her balance, the way she shifted her weight. She's strong, but her style's unconventional. If I want to win, I need to exploit her weaknesses… if she even has any…

Knives casually took a step forward, her movements as relaxed as if she were strolling through a park. "Come on, don't keep me waiting!" she teased, her voice light but her eyes sharp, watching every shift of Kuroha's muscles.

Kuroha made the first move. She darted forward, feinting with a left jab before spinning into a low sweeping kick aimed at Knives' legs. Knives hopped over it effortlessly, her grin never fading. "Nice try."

Kuroha pressed on, pivoting into a flurry of rapid strikes aimed at Knives' torso and head. Each punch and elbow was precise, her movements a blend of speed and grace. But Knives weaved and blocked, her arms absorbing the blows as she kept her footing steady.

"Not bad." Knives admitted, throwing a sharp right hook that Kuroha barely dodged. The wolf twisted around and aimed a quick jab at Knives' ribs, which landed with a satisfying thud.

Knives grunted but smirked. "Alright, that one stung a little..."

They circled each other again, the area thick with tension. Kuroha's thoughts churned as she measured Knives up. She's tough. No hesitation, no wasted movement. And she's still holding back. What's her limit..?

Knives suddenly lunged, catching Kuroha off guard with a faint jab followed by a sharp knee to her side. Kuroha staggered but recovered quickly, retaliating with a spinning kick aimed at Knives' head. Knives ducked just in time, countering with an uppercut that Kuroha barely managed to block.

"You're a good fighter, ninja girl," Knives said, her tone teasing but with an edge of respect. "But I hope you've got more than just fancy kicks. Otherwise, this'll be over real quick."

Kuroha's heart raced as the words echoed in her mind. She took a deep breath, resetting her stance and focusing all her energy. She's incredible, Kuroha admitted silently, her lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk beneath her mask. But let's see how she handles my next move…

She knew she had to change her approach—Knives had proven herself to be relentless and fast, but Kuroha was faster. She had to get in close, where she could utilize her speed and Ninpo to its fullest advantage. With a subtle movement, she phased into the shadows, her body vanishing momentarily before reappearing in an instant right in front of Knives.

Knives barely had time to react before Kuroha launched herself into a rapid series of strikes—punches, elbows, and kicks—all aimed with pinpoint accuracy. The wolf was like a blur, moving faster than the eye could follow. Knives blocked, dodged, and countered, but each move was pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Kuroha's heart pounded in her chest, but she wasn't letting up. Come on, just a little more… she thought, sweat trickling down her brow. Her hands twitched, preparing for the final strike.

Knives, however, wasn't one to be caught off guard for long. With a sudden shift, she ducked low, narrowly avoiding a spinning kick aimed at her head. Kuroha's foot missed, and before she could regain her balance, Knives was already there, her fist driving into Kuroha's stomach with a force that made the wolf gasp.

"Guess I was wrong," Knives said with a smirk. "You've got more than just kicks."

Kuroha staggered back, clutching her midsection, trying to catch her breath. Damn it… She knew she had to recover quickly, but Knives was relentless, pushing forward like a freight train.

With a growl, Kuroha twisted to the side, aiming a low sweep at Knives' legs, hoping to take her off her feet. But Knives was faster, sidestepping just in time and delivering a crushing elbow to Kuroha's ribs.

Kuroha's vision blurred from the impact, and her knees buckled under the pressure. Before she could even attempt to steady herself, Knives was on her, catching her by the wrist and spinning her onto the ground with a well-placed throw.

THUD!

Kuroha landed hard, her back slamming against the ground with a heavy thud. The air rushed out of her lungs as she lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

For a moment, the world seemed to spin. How did she…? Kuroha thought, her breath shallow and ragged. She tried to push herself up, but her limbs felt heavy, her body betraying her after the relentless barrage.

Knives stood over her, looking down with a mix of amusement and admiration. "I told you it'd be over real quick." She offered a hand, grinning as Kuroha glared at her from the ground.

Kuroha's pride stung, but there was no denying the respect she felt. She hesitated only briefly before taking Knives' outstretched hand. The grip was firm, steady—confident. Knives pulled her to her feet, and for a moment, Kuroha simply stood there, her eyes narrowing with determination as she looked the bounty hunter up and down.

"I'll admit, you've earned my respect, Widow killer…" she murmured. Her hand reached up to her face, her fingers curling around the edge of her mask. Slowly, she removed it, revealing her strikingly pretty face. Her dark gray fur contrasted against her piercing golden-yellow eyes, which locked onto Knives' deep amber gaze.

Knives blinked, caught off guard for just a second. Huh. Not what I was expecting under that mask.

Kuroha's expression softened ever so slightly as she bowed low, her long hair falling forward like a curtain. "It… was an honor to fight you. I may have lost because I wasn't strong enough to defeat you today, but I still respect your victory." Her voice carried a quiet dignity, even as her chest heaved from exertion.

Knives tilted her head, watching Kuroha with a curious smirk. Geez, so respectful… She wasn't used to people treating her with anything other than hostility—or fear. It was a little strange, but she supposed she didn't mind it.

"Hey, save the mush and moping, will ya?" Knives said, reaching out to pat Kuroha's shoulder. The gesture made the wolf blink in confusion, her sharp eyes darting up to meet Knives'.

"…What?" Kuroha asked, genuinely puzzled.

Knives grinned, a spark of mischief in her expression. "You gave me a good fight, and that deserves a reward!"

Kuroha straightened, her brow furrowing. "A reward?"

Knives leaned in slightly, her tone casual but teasing. "You drink?"

Kuroha's golden eyes widened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. "Drink?" she repeated, almost incredulously. She certainly hadn't expected this. "You mean… alcohol?"

Knives shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah. You know, beer, whiskey, whatever. After a fight like that, nothing hits better. My shout."

Kuroha's mouth opened, then closed, before she tilted her head slightly in thought. "I don't normally… but…" She crossed her arms, regarding Knives with a skeptical look. "You're not trying to trick me into letting my guard down, are you?"

Knives laughed, the sound light and genuinely amused. "Relax, ninja girl. If I wanted to get the jump on you, I'd have done it already. This is me being… friendly."

Kuroha raised a brow at the word "friendly," unsure if Knives was serious or just messing with her. But as she watched the Australian's easy grin, something about it disarmed her usual wariness. She let out a small sigh, shaking her head. "Fine. I'll accept your… reward. But only because it would be dishonorable to refuse."

"Sure, let's go with that." Knives replied, slipping her knife back into her pocket. She let out a small chuckle as she walked over to Stryker. "Honestly, I was just expecting to grab some new blades and head home. But this… this was unexpected."

"Yeah, I bet." Stryker said smugly, tossing Knives her case of knives. "Always full of surprises, aren't ya, Knives?"

Knives caught the case with ease, throwing Stryker a grateful nod. "Eh, I guess I am... Hey, wanna come to the Crimson Coffin? We're grabbing drinks."

Stryker laughed, waving her off. "I wish I could, Knives, buuuut some of us have a business to run. You think this place runs itself? I'll catch up with ya another time." He grinned, then wagged a finger at her. "Go have fun, yeah? But BE CAREFUL. That ninja there looks like she could snap your neck if she gets in the mood!"

Knives smirked, slinging the case over her shoulder. "When am I not careful, Stryker?"

Stryker raised a brow. "You really want me to answer that?"

Knives rolled her eyes, giving him a mock salute before turning back to Kuroha, who was watching the exchange quietly, her arms crossed. "C'mon, ninja girl. My favorite bar isn't too far from here. It's called the Crimson Coffin. Drinks are good, music's alright, and no one's uptight. You'll like it."

Kuroha hesitated, her sharp golden eyes flicking between Knives and Stryker. "The Crimson Coffin? Sounds… dramatic."

"Dramatic? Nah, it's just atmospheric," Knives shot back with a grin, already walking toward the door. "Trust me. Best spot in the Killer's Den."

Kuroha followed after a moment, glancing over her shoulder at Stryker, who gave her a quick thumbs-up and a sly grin. "Good luck keeping up with her!" he teased.

"I don't need luck." Kuroha muttered under her breath, adjusting her mask at her hip. Catching up to Knives, she asked, "…You really drink a lot after fights?"

Knives shrugged without breaking stride. "Not always. Just after the good ones. And you, Kuroha? You drink, or is that too dishonorable for a ninja like you?"

Kuroha's lips twitched, fighting back a smirk. "I can hold my own. But don't get ahead of yourself. I didn't say I'd drink with you to be friends."

"Sure, sure." Knives said breezily, hands in her pockets. "It's just a drink, not a marriage proposal. Loosen up, will ya?"

Kuroha allowed herself a faint smile, shaking her head. This girl… she's something else.

"Maybe I thought too harshly of you, Knives.." Kuroha admitted as they walked side by side, her arms crossed in a more relaxed posture now.

Knives glanced over at her with a smirk. "I get that a lot. No sweat. I'm like an acquired taste—takes a minute to appreciate me." She tapped the case of knives slung over her shoulder. "Now, let's go drink, yeah? Feels like the perfect way to celebrate beating the hell out of each other."

Kuroha chuckled softly, the sound almost foreign even to her. "You Australians are… strange. But I'll admit, there's something refreshing about it."

"Strange, huh?" Knives teased, grinning wider. "Coming from the ninja who can turn into smoke and throw magic kunai, I'll take that as a compliment."

Kuroha rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the slight upturn of her lips. "Fair enough. Still, it's… unusual. One moment, we're trying to beat each other senseless, and now we're walking to a bar together like old friends..." She paused, her golden eyes narrowing playfully. "Is this some sort of 'girl thing' in Australia?"

Knives laughed, the sound loud and carefree. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just you and me, ninja girl. Either way, let's not overthink it, yeah? First round's on me."

Kuroha shook her head again but fell into step beside her newfound rival-turned-drinking-companion. She's different from anyone I've ever met… and maybe that's not such a bad thing.

As they approached the faint glow of the Crimson Coffin's neon sign, Knives pushed open the door and gestured for Kuroha to step inside. "Welcome to my sanctuary. Hope you're ready, ninja girl. This place gets loud, and the drinks hit hard."

"I've faced assassins, mercenaries, and warlords," Kuroha replied coolly, stepping into the lively hum of the bar. "I think I can handle one night with you."

Knives smirked as she followed her in. "We'll see about that."

The door swung shut behind them, and for the first time in a while, Knives wasn't thinking about the Black Widows, her vendetta, or the weight of her mission.

Just two fighters, sharing a drink and a rare moment of calm in their chaotic lives.

…

The Crimson Coffin buzzed with life, its dim lights casting a warm, hazy glow over the mismatched patrons scattered around the room. Knives and Kuroha sat at the bar, a half-empty bottle of whiskey between them and a pair of glasses that had been refilled far too many times. Knives leaned back against the counter, her face slightly flushed, her usual sharpness softened by the alcohol. Kuroha sat upright but noticeably more relaxed, her golden eyes glinting with amusement as they chatted.

"…and that's when Stryker tried to haggle with a guy who had a shotgun pointed at his face." Knives snorted, taking another sip from her glass. "I swear, he's either the bravest bloke I've ever met or the dumbest. Still can't figure out which."

Kuroha smirked, resting her chin in her hand. "He sounds… eccentric. But I can see why you trust him. He seems loyal."

Knives nodded lazily. "Oh yeah, Stryker's solid. Pain in my arse sometimes, but solid." She turned her head slightly, studying Kuroha with a lopsided grin. "You're not too bad yourself, ninja girl! Gotta say, you caught me on a good day."

Kuroha raised a brow, her hand still wrapped around her glass. "A good day..?"

Knives chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. "Yeah, lucky you. If you'd shown up yesterday?" Her stare got serious."…I probably would've killed you without a second thought."

The words hung in the air for a moment, cutting through the haze of their buzz. Kuroha blinked, taken aback, before leaning back and crossing her arms. "You're being honest, aren't you?"

"Dead honest." Knives replied, meeting her gaze with surprising clarity. "I'm not usually in the mood to play around with challengers. But today…" She gestured vaguely to the bar, to the bottle between them. "I dunno. I guess I just didn't feel like spilling blood? Felt like taking a chance on someone instead."

Kuroha's lips curved into a faint smile. "Taking a chance, huh? That's… unexpectedly merciful for someone with your reputation."

"Merciful?" Knives laughed, the sound sharp but genuine. "Nah, don't get it twisted. If you'd pissed me off or come at me wrong, this would've ended a lot differently. But you didn't." She pointed a finger lazily at Kuroha. "You've got guts. And you're skilled. That earns you a bit of slack."

Kuroha tilted her head, her smile lingering as she took a sip from her glass. "Knives... I'll admit, I didn't expect you to be so… easy to talk to."

Knives grinned, raising her glass in a mock toast. "That's the whiskey talking, mate. Give it credit where it's due."

Kuroha clinked her glass against Knives' with a soft chuckle. "Perhaps. But I think there's more to you than the ruthless 'Widow Killer' people whisper about."

Knives' grin faded slightly, her expression softening. "Don't get too ahead of yourself, ninja girl. I'm still that person when I need to be."

Kuroha held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. "I believe that. But for what it's worth, I'm glad I caught you on a good day."

Knives leaned back against the bar, her smirk still lingering as she swirled the last bit of whiskey in her glass. "Me too. Otherwise, who else would I have to drink with, huh?"

Kuroha chuckled, shaking her head as their laughter faded into a more subdued calm. She adjusted her posture, glancing at the bottle before looking back at Knives.

"So, Kuroha," Knives began, her curiosity piqued as she tilted her head toward the wolf. "Tell me a bit about yourself. I mean, I know you're from Japan—kinda hard to miss with the swords, the flashy moves, and the whole ninja thing you've got going on. But there's gotta be more to it than that, yeah?"

Kuroha leaned on the counter, her golden eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and thoughtfulness. "Heh… you're not wrong. I am from Japan, but there's a bit more to the story than just 'flashy moves.'" She paused, brushing her bangs out of her face. "I'm a bounty hunter, like you. It runs in my blood. My family's been in the trade for generations. My mother and father? They're the leaders of our clan."

Knives raised a brow, her smirk fading slightly as genuine interest replaced her teasing demeanor. "A whole clan of bounty hunters, huh? Sounds intense."

"It is," Kuroha admitted, a faint pride in her tone. "We take immense pride in our work, especially when it comes to taking down notable threats. Reputation is everything to us." Her gaze flicked toward Knives, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Funny enough, you ended up on their radar. The 'Widow Killer' herself, a rising star in the underground world. Once they caught wind of you, they decided you were dangerous enough to warrant attention. So…" She gestured toward herself. "Here I am."

Knives blinked, then let out a low whistle. "So, what you're saying is… I'm big enough of a deal that your parents sent their own kid after me? Damn… I feel honored."

Kuroha rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smirk. "Don't let it go to your head. I came here expecting a target, not… this." She gestured vaguely to the bar, the empty glasses, and Knives' grinning face.

Knives laughed, leaning forward. "Hey, you're the one who challenged me! Don't act like you're not having a good time now."

Kuroha's smile softened, her eyes meeting Knives'. "I'll admit, you're not what I expected. I thought I'd be facing another cold-blooded killer with no regard for anyone. Instead, I found…" She hesitated, searching for the right words.

"A charming, witty Aussie who just kicked your arse?" Knives finished for her, grinning smugly.

Kuroha shook her head, though she laughed quietly. "Something like that." Her expression turned serious, but not unfriendly. "You've earned my respect, Knives. Even if things didn't go the way I planned, I'm glad I came here. It's been… enlightening."

Knives raised her glass in a mock toast. "I'll drink to that. To ninja girls and new drinking buddies!"

Kuroha clinked her glass against Knives', her smirk returning. "To unexpected allies."

The two downed their drinks, a shared understanding settling between them. It wasn't the start of a partnership, nor was it entirely a friendship—at least, not yet.

….

The dim light of the Killer's Den cast a shadow over the small, inconspicuous bar in the corner of the room. Two Black Widows sat across from each other, their expressions grim. Axel, the burly Koolie with a dark blue Merle coat, brooded over his glass of whiskey. His blue eyes glinted, dark and stormy, beneath furrowed brows. He was clad in black attire—dress shirt, pants, and shoes—his heavy frame leaning against the bar as he took a swig straight from the bottle.

Beside him, Pierce, the yellow-furred Labrador, exuded an aura of quiet control. His green eyes were concealed behind sleek black shades as he sipped his red wine with deliberate slowness, savoring the taste. His red business shirt and black dress pants were immaculate, and his brown dress shoes were polished to a fine shine. His posture remained composed, but there was an edge of tension beneath the calm exterior.

The silence between them hung thick in the air until Pierce finally broke it, his voice low but laced with an underlying bitterness.

"Nyx is dead, Axel." Pierce muttered, not even flinching when Axel's fist clenched at the words. "Knives killed him, blew his ass to smithereens.."

Axel's eyes narrowed as he exhaled sharply, taking a longer swig of whiskey, the burn of the alcohol doing little to dull the frustration gnawing at him. His jaw tightened.

"Yeah… thanks for the fucking newsflash, mate," Axel spat, his voice laced with irritation. "How the hell does she always gain an edge on us? She's always fucking there… I don't get it, Pierce. How is she always one step ahead?"

Pierce tapped his glass thoughtfully, before lowering it to the bar with a soft clink. His voice was steady, and methodical as he replied, his eyes hidden behind his shades.

"She's got help. No doubt about it." Pierce leaned back in his chair, the casual air around him at odds with the deadly resolve in his words. "There's no way she tracked Nyx's business and pinpointed the exact day of the meeting all on her own. She's got someone feeding her information, no question.."

Axel's teeth ground together at the thought. His fists clenched, nails digging into the sides of the glass bottle.

"Yeah, well, she definitely has a partner. Someone who's playing her game right alongside her," Axel growled, his voice low and filled with anger. "But how the fuck do we catch this slippery bitch? How do we corner her, put her down for good?"

Pierce's smirk appeared beneath his shades, sharp and knowing. He slid the wine bottle closer to him, pouring a fresh glass as he spoke with an almost unnerving calmness.

"I know a guy. A guy who knows another guy. We can get some help to track her down, get close." Pierce's grin widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Once we've got her cornered, we'll make sure it's personal. It's about time we even the score."

Axel paused for a moment, his brows furrowing as he processed Pierce's words. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a dark grin of his own. He leaned forward, his voice a low growl.

"Fuckin' right, mate." Axel reached out, grasping Pierce's hand firmly, the sound of their palms meeting like the crack of a whip. "Let's get this bitch. We'll make her pay for what she did to Nyx."

Pierce's grin never faltered, but his tone darkened. "And Archer. He didn't deserve that end… The guy was a dick sometimes, but damn."

Axel's eyes burned with the memory of the gruesome footage of Archer's dismemberment—something that still haunted him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. "Yeah… I'm gonna make her feel that same fucking pain. I'll torture that rookie bitch until she begs for mercy. Let's make sure she NEVER forgets who we are."

Pierce took another sip of his wine, his eyes reflecting a cold amusement as he considered their next moves. "Later. We'll plan more when we're ready. For now… let's just drink."

He poured Axel a glass, watching him with a knowing, almost predatory grin. "To Archer. To Nyx. To the hunt."

Axel's lips curled into a grim smile as he lifted his glass. "To the hunt…" he echoed, clinking his glass against Pierce's before they both took a drink.

The air between them seemed to thicken, an unspoken promise of what was to come. A storm was gathering, one of vengeance and relentless pursuit. The duo had been forged in the aftermath of loss, and Knives had just become their most personal target.

Axel and Pierce's plans were set into motion, a shared determination burning in their eyes. They weren't just going to hunt her down—they were going to make Knives pay for the deaths of Archer and Nyx, for the lives she had taken, for the betrayal they felt.

She would suffer, and they would ensure it was a fate… far worse than death.