"You're really serious about this, Knives? I mean... you've already killed a Black Widow, so I guess you are, but… this is serious."

Sevyn leaned forward across the table, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of coffee. Her dark eyes studied Bingo, the concern in her gaze unmistakable. She wore a soft cream cardigan over a simple white blouse, the kind of layered outfit that looked effortlessly put together yet gave off a motherly warmth. Her slacks were tailored, an elegant charcoal gray, and her sensible shoes added to her composed appearance—comfort without sacrificing style.

Bingo, on the other hand, was leaning back in her seat, casually sipping on her iced coffee, her cool demeanor betraying little of the inner turmoil she carried. Her casual summer outfit—red tank top, black denim vest, high-waisted shorts, and white sneakers—gave her a carefree appearance, but beneath it was the mind of a woman consumed by her mission. She tapped her finger lightly on the rim of her cup as she listened to Sevyn's words, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I'm too deep now, Sev… now let's talk business," Bingo replied, her tone steady, but there was an edge to it—something colder than usual. The weight of what she was about to undertake was evident in her words, and her eyes locked onto Sevyn with an intensity that only came when she was fully committed to something. This was a side of Bingo few had ever seen—determination etched in every line of her face, with a silent promise of vengeance in her gaze.

Sevyn exhaled softly, her expression briefly softening before she regained her usual composure. She leaned forward, pulling a file from her bag and sliding it toward Bingo. "Alright, you wanted information on the Widows? I've got something for you."

Bingo's eyes widened as she grabbed the file, flipping it open with a mixture of disbelief and excitement. "Holy hell… Ms. Sevyn, you actually got their files?"

Sevyn smirked, a knowing glint in her eyes. "You'd be surprised what I can do, Knives," she replied smoothly, her voice laced with quiet confidence. "These files are what I could get my hands on. But… not everything. Phantom's file was nowhere to be found—like, completely erased. You'll have to work with what you've got."

Bingo let out a sharp breath, glancing up from the file at Sevyn. "You're kidding. That's… that's the one I need most."

Sevyn's smirk didn't falter, though her voice took on a more serious tone. "You're not the only one who's been trying to get the jump on him... But those files? They'll give you a start on the other Widows. You just need to use your head—and remember, knowledge is power."

Bingo nodded, determination settling back over her features as she closed the file, clutching it in her hands like it was the key to everything she needed. "Thank you, Sevyn. This is huge! You're the best."

Sevyn chuckled, her warm, yet mischievous tone filling the space between them. "I know, love," she said before her expression turned more serious again. "But listen to me—study those files. The Widows aren't just any group you can take down with brute force. You need to know your enemy if you're going to stand a chance. This will help you… but it's just the beginning."

Bingo's smile softened, "I'll make it work, I always do."

"Atta girl." Sevyn said with a smirk, leaning back in her chair. "But there's something else you should know. You've made waves in the Underground."

Bingo raised an eyebrow, confusion flashing across her face. "What do you mean?"

Sevyn's eyes gleamed as she spoke, her tone casual but with an edge. "Since you killed Archer and wiped out all those guys at that party—plus Bash, Deadeye, and Knuckle—you've been all over the news. Your bounty's gone up, love."

Bingo narrowed her eyes. "How much are we talking here?"

Sevyn chuckled darkly, savoring the moment as she leaned back, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "Before, it was 107,000. Now? It's 382,000. And that's not even counting the other guys you've put down."

Bingo blinked, her grip tightening around her cup.

Holy shit… 382 thousand? That's not just a bounty, that's a fucking target on my back.

She almost choked on her coffee. "Goddamn! I'm worth 382 THOUSAND dollar bucks?! Jesus Christ…"

Sevyn watched her, a knowing smile on her face. "You're making a name for yourself! Don't get too comfortable, though. More people are gonna come for you now, hungry for that cash on your little head."

Bingo's mind raced as the number sank in, feeling heavier than she'd expected. The realization hit her harder than she wanted to admit. She placed the coffee cup down carefully, taking a steadying breath. "Damn. Didn't realize I was stirring up this much trouble… Guess that's what happens when you're hungry for the kill."

Sevyn's smile was a little colder now, but there was pride in her eyes. "The trouble's just beginning. You'd better be ready. But you've got this in the bag! You're a skilled young woman, and you're hard to kill. Hell, you remind me a lot of myself when I was your age."

Bingo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really now?" She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms with a smirk. "Tell me, Sevyn. How many guys do you think you've killed back in your glory days? Bet you've got a body count like a fucking army, yeah?"

Sevyn's expression shifted briefly—a glimmer of nostalgia before her mask slid back into place. "Dear… I've lost count." Her voice was light, but there was a coldness beneath it, a sharp edge to the memory she was brushing aside. "What I remember more isn't the kills… it's the ones I had to leave behind. The people I couldn't protect. That's the shit that stays with you."

Bingo's smirk faded, "Yeah… I can only imagine."

Bingo and Sevyn sat in silence for a while, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air like a thick fog.

Man, Christmas was just a few days away, and I was—out in the trenches, hunting down the Black Widows like it was just another Tuesday. What a way to spend the holidays.

"Knives," Sevyn's voice cut through the quiet, pulling Bingo from her thoughts. She looked up, finding Sevyn's eyes soft, almost somber.

"Christmas is just three days away…" Sevyn's words hung in the air for a beat, her gaze softening as she studied Bingo, "I'm sorry you have to be apart from your family. I know what it's like to be separated from the ones you love. Trust me, I get it." She paused, the moment carrying a weight Bingo hadn't expected. "But, you don't have to be alone… How about this: On Christmas Day, you come over to my place for dinner. I'll make a big feast, just for you. If you're not dead by then, that is."

Bingo blinked, staring at Sevyn as the words slowly registered.

It was a simple offer, yet there was something deeply unexpected about it. Christmas dinner. With Sevyn...

For a second, it almost felt like a real holiday—something she hadn't experienced in years. Sevyn, of all people, extending an olive branch like that. The sheer surprise and a twinge of confusion ran through Bingo as she processed it. The offer felt so out of place in the world she lived in.

Wow.. I.. I wasn't expecting that.

She stared down at her coffee, the steam rising in thin spirals. "You really mean that?" Bingo's voice was low, almost skeptical. It wasn't that she didn't trust Sevyn—it was just that kindness like this didn't come her way often.

Especially not from someone who lived the kind of life Sevyn did.

Sevyn leaned back in her chair, her eyes studying Bingo carefully. "Of course I mean it. We've both lost too much to keep pushing people away, you know?" Her tone was softer now, like she was giving Bingo a rare glimpse of something unspoken. "I get it. You don't have to say yes, but if you want a break from all this… you know where to find me on Christmas Day."

Bingo exhaled slowly, her mind spinning with the conflicting emotions—her desire for vengeance, the sting of loneliness, and the weight of what Sevyn was offering. It was a moment she hadn't anticipated in the middle of her blood-soaked mission.

For a brief second, she allowed herself to imagine what it might be like. Christmas with someone who shared her views.

Someone.. who cared.

Sevyn smiled gently, an understanding in her eyes. "Take your time. Just think about it." The husky woman stood up, her movements fluid and graceful despite her years. She reached for her bag, slinging it over her shoulder with practiced ease. "I'll see you around, Knives… good luck on your mission!" Her voice had that familiar warmth, almost playful, as if the chaos of their lives could be swept aside for a moment, leaving only a flicker of human connection.

Bingo watched Sevyn walk away, her footsteps light yet purposeful, the warmth of her offer lingering in the air like a soft, unfamiliar ache. She was alone again, and the din of the café seemed to press in around her, muffled and distant. The clink of coffee cups, the hum of idle chatter—it felt like another world.

It was strange, this sense of being temporarily pulled out of her own life, where the bloodshed and the missions were all-consuming.

For a fleeting moment, Bingo wondered if there was more to her existence than just the next fight, the next target.

"..I guess I could show up for dinner." Bingo mused quietly to herself, but the thought didn't quite settle. It felt foreign—something she wasn't used to.

But first things first.

Her fingers tightened around the coffee cup, the heat from the ceramic grounding her thoughts.

I've got to find another Black Widow. I have to finish this. Her jaw clenched from the sharp memory of Bluey's bloodied face from that day flashed behind her eyes.

No excuses.

She looked down at the file Sevyn had given her, the weight of it heavy in her hands. The file wasn't just a piece of paper. It was a roadmap to the next kill, the next step in her quest for vengeance. And that was where her focus needed to be.

On the hunt.

Christmas is in three days. I'll give myself two. Two days to track down another Widow.

She didn't know if she could let herself be distracted, even by something as simple as a Christmas dinner.

But… The thought lingered, a quiet rebellion against the path she'd chosen. Was it wrong to want something more? To want warmth, even just for a day?

Bingo exhaled sharply, pushing those thoughts aside.

I can't afford to think about it now. Not yet… maybe later.

She stood up, taking the file with her, determined to dive back into her mission. She'd think about the rest later. There was no time to indulge in weakness.

Alright.. let's get to work.

…

Bingo walked back to her apartment, the cool night air brushing against her fur. The café wasn't far from her place, which was both a blessing and a curse. She huffed as her building came into view, her shoes crunching softly against the pavement.

The red heeler climbed the stairs, the file tucked under one arm and her keys jingling softly in the other hand. Each step echoed faintly in the quiet complex.

Gonna do a lot of reading tonight. Gotta love late-night intel dumps she thought dryly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

Reaching her floor, Bingo turned down the hall toward her door. But as she approached, she froze mid-step. Something was there.

A letter.

It lay neatly at her doorstep, almost too neat, like it had been placed with deliberate care.

What the fuck?

Her eyes narrowed, and her hand instinctively gripped the file tighter as she crouched to pick up the envelope. It was simple—plain white, no markings except her alias scrawled on the front:

"Knives."

She raised a brow, flipping it over as she muttered, "Great. Just what I needed."

Tearing it open with a quick motion, Bingo pulled out the letter and began to read:

Knives,

I'm sure you've figured out by now that everyone in the Underground knows what you did to Archer. I believe we both want the same thing, and I want to help you achieve that.

If you think this is a setup, don't. I have no interest in the bounty on you. My reasons for hating the Black Widows are personal—far more than money.

Meet me tonight at the Whitehart Bar at 10 PM. Don't be followed. Drinks are on me.

- Havoc

Bingo read the letter twice, her grip tightening slightly with each word. By the end, she was standing in the middle of the hallway, frowning at the paper like it might suddenly explain itself.

"Havoc," she muttered under her breath. "Right.. Bloody charming."

Her ears flicked, and she glanced over her shoulder down the empty hallway. Whoever had delivered this had been here recently—maybe even moments ago. Her hackles rose, and she fought the urge to growl as she unlocked her door, stepping inside quickly and locking it behind her.

She dropped the file and the letter onto her kitchen counter, leaning against it for a moment as she processed.

Not only does this Havoc person know where I bloody live, but they also hate the Widows…

Her eyes fell to the letter again. And they think that's supposed to make me trust them? Sure, mate. Totally not suspicious at all…

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "God fucking damn it."

It wasn't just the danger of meeting someone new in the Underground—it was the risk of being followed, watched, or worse, ambushed. But the note was clear: this Havoc knew something, and if their hatred of the Widows was genuine, they might have information worth hearing.

Looks like I'm heading to the Whitehart tonight. She pushed off the counter, her eyes still scanning the letter like it might reveal some hidden clue. Let's see what you've got, Havoc. But if this is a setup, you're gonna wish you'd stayed bloody anonymous.

….

10 PM had arrived.

The night air was cool, carrying the faint hum of the city as Bingo approached Whitehart Bar. The alleyway leading to it was dimly lit, illuminated only by a string of lights hanging haphazardly above the entrance. A faint murmur of voices and music spilled out, growing louder as she neared. Bingo tugged at the hilt of her knife, while the other hand brushed lightly against the handle of the door.

The industrial-style entrance loomed ahead, its steel frame covered in graffiti and street art. Bingo stepped inside, her boots scuffing against the concrete floor. The scent of alcohol, faintly sweet and bitter, mingled with the aroma of greenery from the plants hanging off the steel beams.

Her eyes scanned the bar. It was busy but not packed, a mix of locals and Underground regulars laughing and chatting over craft beers and cocktails. Neon lights flickered above the bar, casting a bluish glow over the bartender as they poured a drink. The vibe was relaxed, but Bingo felt the tension coil in her chest. She wasn't here for the drinks or the company.

Bingo adjusted her unzipped white jacket, the faint glint of her black tank top catching the light as she moved further in. Her tan cargo pants swished slightly with her strides, her black shoes muted against the concrete. A few people glanced her way, but she ignored them, her sharp gaze sweeping across the tables and the rooftop lounge above.

Alright, Havoc.. where are you?

Bingo thought as she scanned the bar, looking around as she walked in some more, surveying the area without trying to look suspicious at all.

Shit, there's so many people here tonight..where the fuck could he-

She stopped her thoughts when she saw someone sitting in a corner booth under a cascade of potted plants, a male husky with light gray fur, white-tipped ears with white fur underneath his eyes that resembled half circles. His eyes were unique, one eye being blue and the other being green. He wore a dark gray trench coat with a dark blue shirt underneath, dark grey pants that had an ammo belt around them, brown boots, and black fingerless gloves.

He was looking at Bingo, the two looking at each other.

Yeah, that's gotta be the guy.

She exhaled sharply, brushing a strand of fur from her face. Keeping her posture relaxed but her steps deliberate, Bingo made her way toward the booth. Her hand lingered near the knife at her side, a subtle precaution that spoke volumes about her state of mind. When she reached the table, she stopped, staring down at the husky, her expression hard.

"…You Havoc?" she asked, her voice low but firm.

"Yeah, that's me." The husky leaned back in his seat, resting a hand casually atop the revolver holstered at his side. His tone was calm, his movements deliberate, but there was a tension behind his eyes that mirrored hers. "Glad you got my letter. Since you've read it, you know why I wanted us to meet. But before we get into it, I did say drinks were on me."

Bingo's gaze flicked to his hand on the revolver, then back to his mismatched eyes. She gave a slow nod, gesturing for him to lead the way.

They made their way to the bar, Havoc ordering a Sailor's Grave for himself while Bingo opted for a Two Bays—gluten-free, of course. She didn't miss the looks a few patrons threw their way, but she kept her focus on Havoc, who seemed unfazed by the attention.

Back at the booth, they sat opposite each other, the potted plants above casting shifting shadows over their faces.

"Alright, let's get straight to it," Havoc said, setting his drink down after a small sip. His tone shifted, becoming more direct. "I want to help you take down the rest of the Widows."

Bingo glanced at her beer, the cold condensation dripping onto her hand. She took a sip, savoring the rare moment of not having to foot the bill herself. But the indulgence was brief—her eyes snapped back to Havoc, her tone sharp.

"…I killed one Black Widow without anyone's help, mate. Don't think I need your assistance."

The words came out cold, and calculated, but her thoughts were already racing.

This guy… Who the hell does he think he is? Offering to help me? What's the angle here? Is this a setup? Or am I just letting my paranoia get the better of me again?

Havoc didn't flinch at her tone. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his mismatched eyes locking with hers. "Yeah, I know. Everybody knows what you did to Archer." His voice was steady, serious. "But killing him? That was just luck."

Bingo's grip tightened on her beer, her eyes narrowing.

"I'm not denying that you're skilled," Havoc continued, unfazed by her glare. "But do you really think the rest of the Widows are going to be that easy? Archer was bottom-of-the-barrel, Knives. The others? They're stronger, smarter, and they'll see you coming a mile away."

He paused, taking another sip of his drink before adding, "And besides, I have my own reasons for wanting to see them dead."

Bingo looked at him, her gaze flickering between skepticism and contemplation.

He's got a point, she admitted grudgingly. Archer was nothing compared to the others in the nest. The rest are going to be tougher, more dangerous… Goddamn it.

Bingo scoffed, taking a long swig of her beer. She set the glass down with a soft clink, her free hand tracing the edge of the table. "Alright, look… we both have our reasons for wanting to kill these fucks, yeah, but…" She trailed off, her gaze dropping to the table. Her words hung in the air as she wrestled with her thoughts.

Is getting help really that bad? Two of us against them wouldn't be the worst thing… two heads are better than one, after all. You're a bad bitch, Bingo, but you're not killing them all alone.

She shook her head and muttered under her breath, "Goddamn it…" before looking back at Havoc. "Alright. I might consider letting you help me, but only on one condition." She raised a finger, her tone sharpening. "You tell me what you know about these bastards. I don't care if it's big or small—it better be useful. And don't fuck me over on this, Havoc."

Havoc had been swirling his drink absentmindedly, but at her demand, he set it down and leaned forward. "Fair enough." He locked eyes with her, the intensity in his mismatched gaze cutting through the smoky air of the bar. "Well, Knives, you've made your move on the board. Now it's theirs. Nyx is already looking for you, but I do know something we can use to our advantage."

He took a sip of his ale, speaking between drinks. "Nyx owns a little side gig downtown. It's a strip club and bar he runs on the weekends. He usually hangs out there with his now-dead buddy Archer and another Widow, Axel. We could go there—either to dig up intel on Nyx or catch him off guard and take him out, plain and simple."

Havoc leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms as he waited for Bingo's response, his tone calm but purposeful.

Bingo's lips curled into a small, sardonic smile as she finished off her beer, setting the empty glass beside his. "Well, well… color me impressed, American boy. You've actually given me some good information and a solid lead." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "Guess you're somewhat trustworthy, For now."

Her expression shifted to one of suspicion as she crossed her arms on the table. "But information aside, I've got to ask this—how in the fuck did you figure out where I live? Do you know how close I was to stabbing you for that shit? Were you following me? Stalking me?"

Goddamn impressive if he was. I didn't notice a thing. Still… this guy's got balls.

Havoc smirked faintly and pointed to his right eye. "This eye's an augment. It helps me pick off my targets from afar—and yeah, other things, too. It has a zoom feature. I stayed far enough away to avoid being spotted while I tracked you. Sorry, but it was the safest way to set up this meeting." He shrugged. "I wouldn't have left that letter under your door if I wasn't serious about this—or the risks."

He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table. "Let's be real: if we partner up, our bounties are gonna skyrocket once we start dropping Widows. I don't care, though. I plan on going back to the States when this is all over—or dying in the process. Either way, I've got nothing to lose." He tilted his empty glass upside down on the table with a quiet thunk. "So? Do we have a deal?"

Bingo studied him carefully, her gaze never wavering. His calm demeanor didn't mask the fire in his words, and that eye of his—a damn augmentation—gave her pause.

Augments, she thought. Some assassins get them done for an edge. Superhuman shit. Me? I don't need any fancy tricks. I'll manage.

Finally, she leaned back, crossing her arms. "One last thing," she said, her tone curious but firm. "What exactly did the Widows do to you? Why do you hate them as much as you do?"

Havoc's smirk faded instantly, his face tightening. He hesitated, his jaw clenching, but he finally exhaled and spoke. "My mother," he began, his voice quieter now. "She was sick. We didn't have money, so I became a bounty hunter to pay for her treatment. Turned out I was good at it—good enough that the Black Widows offered me a spot in their ranks. I told them no. I wasn't in this for the money or the fame."

He paused, his hands clenched into fists on the table. "They didn't like that. One day, when I went to visit my mom in the hospital, I found out she'd died a few hours before I got there.."

Bingo's ears twitched, and she frowned, sensing the weight of his words.

"The doctor let me see her before they took her away.." Havoc continued, his voice growing tighter with each word. "I sat by her side for hours, crying. But as I was leaving, I noticed something tucked into her blanket." His fists tightened further, his knuckles white. "It was a note. Just four words: 'Sorry for your loss.' And beneath it? A fucking spider, drawn on it."

Bingo felt a chill run down her spine. She knew the Widows were ruthless, but this…

"They killed her." Havoc said, his voice rising in anger, nearly a shout. "All because I wouldn't join their goddamn ranks!"

The table shook slightly as his fist slammed against it. He sat back, breathing heavily, his rage barely contained.

Bingo stared at Havoc, her anger simmering—not at him, but at the Black Widows. She could see the pain etched in his mismatched eyes, the fury that drove every word he'd spoken. The tension between them hung thick in the air, heavier than the smoky haze that filled the bar.

For a moment, she said nothing, her fingers drumming softly on the table. Finally, she sighed, the sound carrying more weight than she intended. "I'm sorry." she said quietly, her voice softer now. She met his gaze, and for once, her eyes held something other than her usual sharpness—sympathy. "What they did to you… it's valid. Your anger, your hate—it's valid."

She paused, her jaw tightening before she continued. "They came for me, too. Tried to recruit me, like they did you. When I turned them down, they retaliated by going after my sister. Put a bullet in her, left her for dead." Bingo leaned back in her seat, her ears flattening slightly at the memory. "She survived, thank god… but when I found out who did it? I made damn sure Archer didn't."

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "You mean you killed him, right? Just killed him?"

Bingo's lips curled into a bitter smirk. "No. I tortured that son of a bitch for two hours. Then I killed him. And it wasn't quick." Her voice was cold, unflinching, as if she were stating a simple fact.

"…Jesus Christ, woman." Havoc leaned back, eyeing her cautiously.

Bingo chuckled darkly. "Yeah, I'm a tad unhinged. Comes with the job, mate." She exhaled sharply, her tone lightening. "Anyway… I get why you're here now, and honestly? I respect it. You've got your reasons, and I've got mine. So, yeah… I'm willing to work with you."

She extended her hand across the table, her grip firm even before he took it. "For now, let's be partners. Let's take these motherfuckers down. Deal?"

Havoc glanced at her hand, then back at her, a small smirk creeping onto his face. Without hesitation, he clasped her hand, shaking it firmly. "You've got yourself a deal, Knives."

Bingo flashed a wicked grin, leaning back in the booth as she raised her empty glass toward the bar. "Right on. We'll get to the intel tomorrow. But first…" She shot him a teasing look. "You're still on the hook for the drinks tonight, right? I'm thinking I'll take full advantage of that."

Havoc groaned, half-laughing as he leaned back in his seat. "Shit. Alright, you got me there."

Bingo chuckled, her eyes sparkling as she stood and made her way back to the counter. She ordered another beer, savoring the thought of a well-earned drink after the tension of the conversation. Shaun followed her, grabbing another drink for himself. The two of them made their way back to the booth, their conversation becoming lighter as they soaked in the bar's buzzing atmosphere.

They talked, laughed, and drank, the alcohol making the night feel a little more effortless, a little less heavy.

So far, this Havoc guy doesn't seem like a total snake. Bingo thought as she watched him with a more relaxed gaze. We're in this together now. We've got the same target, and for once, I'm not flying solo.

Her fingers drummed absently on the edge of her glass. Next on the list?

Her eyes narrowed with determination.

Nyx. We're coming for you, fucker.