So it Begins
2012
Airplane
Japan
9:47 PM
*Snip*
Yoru sliced off the strip of medical bandages she wrapped around the knife wound on her left thigh and using her thumb, pinned the loose end of the white cloth to her injured leg. The hitwoman dropped the roll and scissors into the open first-aid kit in the seat beside her before tying up her wrapping.
*Creak*
"Would you care for a drink, Miss Wick?" A flight attendant pushing a steel rectangular drink cart politely asked the suit-wearing assassin. The old rubber wheels of the trolley squeaked as the stewardess shoved it along the scratched epoxy floor.
"I… didn't ask for any refreshments." Yoru paused her bandaging and looked up at the uniform-wearing woman. "But if you're offering, do you have any mango flavored Calpis?"
"Yes, yes we do." The hat-wearing airline worker quickly affirmed with a nod before leaning over and pulling out a bottle of the yellow drink. "That would be on the house."
"Thank you." The teenager gratefully asserted as the flight attendant handed her the sugary drink.
"I am very sorry we don't have a doctor on board." The airplane worker sincerely apologized while closing up the beverage cart.
*pop*
"That's alright." Yoru assured the older woman as she broke the plastic seal on her bottle with a crisp snap. "The first aid kit you gave me was enough to stop the bleeding. I'll get my other injuries checked out when I check into the Continental."
The stewardess gave the violet-eyed girl an appreciative nod and bowed before pushing the service trolley back into the flight crew's cabin. The old push-cart groaned as its wheels bumped against every blemish that marred the artificial flooring, its aged metal components grumbling as the attendant forced it to move.
When the airline employee disappeared from sight, the young assassin raised the firm plastic bottle to her lips and tilted her head back, letting the chilled yellow liquid gush into her mouth.
*Gulp* *Gulp* Gulp*
Once the purple-haired hitwoman had swallowed her last mouthful for now, she removed the container from her lips and let out a satisfied sigh; the sweet flavor of mango temporarily distracting her from the dull ache emanating from her left thigh.
"You look for me… Inside the dark." The Wick's phone rang as the device received a call.
Yoru quickly screwed the white cap back onto her drink as the cellphone vibrated inside her damaged trousers. The teen reached inside her pants pocket for her ringing iPhone and pulled the electronic out.
"Hello, you have reached Yoru Wick." The teenager flatly announced as she accepted the call and pressed the device to her ear. "How may I be of service?"
"Yoru." A feminine voice on the other side frankly stated the purple-haired assassin's name. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I've heard about what happened."
"It was nothing Akira." The hitwoman assuredly responded to the continental manager before setting the bottle of calpico beside her feet. "I survived and Hikaru is on his way home. Told him to say hi to the family for me."
"Hahhh… That's not the problem." The yakuza boss sighed into the phone at her younger friend's response, her tone betraying her frustration. "Standard protocol keeps exclusive contracts from public knowledge until the day before they go live. Less than twenty-two hours have passed and my men have yet to detect any sign of the three clans liquidating their assets."
"How long have you been keeping tabs on them?" Yoru inquired of the older Japanese woman, her fingers curled around her iPhone 4s tightening as an alarming possibility entered her thoughts.
"Around three days ago on Tuesday." Akira curtly responded. "The four billion yen bounty is listed under the Omi clan's name but the Ishii and Yashida are listed as secondary and tertiary contributors respectively."
"And you only gave me the contract two weeks ago." The violet-haired assassin contemplatively added. "It's highly unlikely all three clans just so happen to collectively have four billion yen lying around. You think there's-"
"A mole?" The hotel manager interrupted her younger friend. "That's certainly a possibility. Though, if there was a spy within my ranks, it could've been anyone. After all, it wasn't hard to piece together what I would have sent you off with after our most recent meeting."
"With how paranoid the Omi clan is, they probably discovered you've been spending a lot of time in Miyazaki and carefully kept tabs on the sommelier there." Akira continued on with her explanation. "The moment you walked into the store they knew that they're on the chopping block. But…"
"But what?" Yoru questioned, slightly perturbed at her older friend trailing off.
"No, I'm thinking nonsense." The matriarch briskly answered and dodged the hitwoman's question. "But about the mole situation, you don't need to worry about that, that's something I have to figure out."
"That's nice to hear, " The hitwoman responded, completely ignoring the mob boss's sketchy behavior as she leaned into the stiff foam airplane seat. "But isn't social call, is it?"
"Yes, that would be the case." Akira truthfully admitted, the hitwoman heard some soft shuffling over the phone as the manager. "Osaka will be on lockdown from the moment your contract starts in two hours, no-one will be able to get out for the next week."
"Though, I couldn't prevent people from coming into Osaka." The Yakuza head admitted after a deep breath. "The high table has warned me that they will take action if I prevent travel to Osaka. I'm sorry I can't prevent other assassins from targeting you."
"That is fine Akira," The teen reassured the manager, already grateful the crimson-eyed woman attempted to make her retirement mission as smooth as possible. "Thank you for trying."
"I've sent you some information on the three clans," Akira informed the teenager. "The dossiers contain all the information my spies have uncovered over the past two years."
"I'll look through it when I arrive at the hotel." The violet-eyed hitwoman remarked at the continental hotel manager's exposition. "But if I'm to be completely honest, I'm a bit worried about the consequences of eliminating the entirety of the Ishii clan's Osaka branch."
"Aoi may be an upcoming top dog in Tokyo, but she knows it's suicide to go against the High Table and the Continental." Shimazu matriarch answered, perfectly understanding her friend's unspoken question of 'Could you guarantee my sister's safety after the mission concludes'. "But besides, you've met her before and I believe you have a grasp of her character. And surprisingly, Aoi doesn't lead the Osaka branch; it's led by a Hirabayashi Suzume."
"Hirabayashi Suzume… Where have I heard that name before?" Yoru pondered before exclaiming in mild surprise once she realized who her friend was talking about. "Huh, so she put Sparrow in charge. Think I'll take on the Ishii last, I've heard Sparrow's fast enough to slice bullets. Don't know how true the rumors are, but It's always better to air on the side of caution."
The purple-haired teenager shelved Akira's second statement into the back of her mind as something to ponder in detail later.
"That's fair," The hotel manager remarked, and the assassin heard a dull thump as something heavy impacted the woman's desk. "But I have to ask, which highway and airport did you use? I need to tell Isao where he should send his cleanup crew."
"Hikaru and I were ambushed on highway 325 and the Aso Kumamoto airport." The violet-eyed hitwoman honestly answered. "I've killed a total of seventeen people, seven on the highway and ten at the airport parking lot. And apart from people, there are several trashed motorcycles that need to be transported off the highway."
"Looks like I need to give Kenji a call as well." Akira murmured while the sound of rustling papers traveled through the phone speakers. "Thank you Yoru, that would be all for now."
"Goodbye Akira, I'll see you soon." The teen verbalized a good-natured goodbye to the older woman.
"Goodbye Yoru." Came the mob boss's response before several beeps announced the end of the call.
Yoru pressed her Iphone's side button and shut off her device before resting it on top of her midnight-black trousers.
"What kind of a person Aoi is, huh." The teenager murmured to herself as she thought back to when she met the Yakuza boss face to face for the first time.
______________________________________________
Around one year ago
September 2011
Outside of a tea house
Japan: Tokyo
10:27 PM
"So, this is the place?" Yoru remarked while Hikaru parked his Multistrada outside of an oriental teahouse. "I would have thought your client wanted somewhere more… secure."
The teahouse was two stories tall and its walls were constructed from thick dark oak. The windows were made of semi-translucent paper that yellowed with age and the frames were crafted from the same rich coffee-colored timer. Warm yellow light filtered out of the thick paper window, granting the establishment a cozy and inviting feeling. Segmented slate-gray kawara tiles composed the roof and a traditional navy-blue Noran was in place of a wooden door.
"'Masaki tea house.'" The blonde hitman craned his neck to read the name of the meeting point whilst adjusting his navy-blue suit jacket. "I never imagined I would get the opportunity to go inside. Heard the tea they serve is amazing, but it was always outside of my budget."
"The tea house is not affiliated with the continental, your employer wants us to meet on their terms." The teenager asserted, turning to face her older friend. "Are you really sure about this, Hikaru? A blank contract like this just screams setup. You don't even know who your client is."
"It's my only ticket out of this life." The nineteen-year-old justified with steely surety in response to his younger friend's concern. "I promised my sister I would get out the moment I made enough money to pay off our debts. Even if it's a bit sketchy, I've already agreed to the contract."
"If you say so." Yoru begrudgingly accepted Hikaru's reasoning after taking a deep breath. "Come on, let's go inside."
After the violet-eyed girl gestured toward the doorway with a quick nod, she walked toward the entrance to the tea house and gently pushed aside the dark fabric. The hitman followed his shorter friend and after both assassins entered, a receptionist standing behind a cherry desk greeted them.
"Hello, how may I help you?" The woman politely asked following a bow, her lips stretched into a small smile seeing the two well-dressed youngsters walk in.
'She probably thinks we're interns from the local law firm.' The violet-eyed teenager speculated as Hikaru stepped toward the employee.
"We're here for a meeting with Ishii Aoi." the blonde hitman candidly announced to the kimono-wearing worker. "My name is Suzuko Hikaru."
"O-Oh, I'm so sorry Mr. Suzuko." The receptionist stuttered out an apology, her demeanor turning a complete 180 in the blink of an eye. "Y-Your client said that only one person is meeting with her tonight."
"I'm sure she wouldn't mind a plus one." Yoru cordially responded to the tea house employee as she walked toward her. "Which room is she currently residing in?"
"If you're scared of what she could do to you, I can land you a job at the Tokyo continental hotel." The purple-haired assassin whispered as she leaned into the woman's ear. "When you become an employee, she can't touch you. The Continental is very serious about the safety of its staff."
"T-the second room to the r-right." The traditionally-dressed worker stuttered out a response after the hitwoman slid over a business card for the Tokyo continental alongside a gold coin.
"Thank you so much." Hikaru thanked the receptionist with a considerate smile. "Come on Yoru, let's go."
"Alright." The violet-eyed assassin said after sending the manager of the Tokyo continental a quick text. "I'm coming."
"You know, you don't have to worry about me so much." The cyan-eyed man commented while they approached the room where his mysterious client resided. "I can do this on my own."
"You're my friend Hikaru," Yoru honestly replied as the pair walked past two other rooms, the teenager quickly noting their emptiness. "Of course I would worry."
"Yeah… friends." the older assassin remarked as they stopped in front of the room his contractor's stationed in. After one final look into each other's eyes, the turquoise-eyed hitman slid open the traditional paper door.
"I was not expecting you to bring a guest along, Suzuko Hikaru." A commanding voice plainly declared before turning to face the two. "Let alone the Angel of Death herself."
Yoru's eyes widened when she saw Hikaru's client really was none other than Aoi Ishii, the deadly Cottonmouth of the Vicious Vipers, a group of the best freelancers money could buy.
The Yakuza boss wore a black kimono and her long deep mahogany hair was tied up into a loose bun. The leader of the Ishii clan is quite short by western standards- only standing at a height of five foot three inches (160 cm) and just ever so slightly taller than Yoru herself- and sports a slim, yet muscular, figure concealed underneath her loose-fitting black kimono. Aoi was quite frankly, a beautiful woman; her lightly freckled face was marred by no scars despite her former occupation as a hitwoman.
Though, her most distinctive characteristic is her piercing diamond-blue eyes. When Yoru's violet orbs met the older woman's, both killers recognized the trauma of losing family had scarred them both.
Sitting beside her are Yoshino Kimberly- the mob boss's half-American best friend, second in command, and primary lawyer- to her left and Matsuyama Usagi- a psychopathic fifteen-year-old schoolgirl serving as Aoi's top assassin and personal bodyguard- to her right. Both aides immediately reached for their weapons when they saw Yoru but their leader grabbed their shoulders and stopped them with a shake of her head.
"Good evening, Cottonmouth." The hitwoman cooly greeted the elder assassin with her former title. "Would you mind if I sat through this meeting?"
"Please, call me Aoi, Angel of Death." The yakuza boss frostily replied with the purple-haired hitwoman's own moniker. "Though, I distinctly remember telling the front desk girl only one should attend this meeting."
"Likewise, please call me Yoru." The suit-wearing assassin responded as a notification sounded from her Iphone.
"And as for the receptionist," Yoru continued after she pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the message. "She starts working as a laundrywoman for the Tokyo continental tomorrow."
"I see… Well, what reason do you have for intruding upon this meeting?" Aoi inquired, questioningly tilting her head to the side. "This meeting is only supposed to be between Suzuko and I."
"Yet you still brought your bodyguard with you." The teen noted as she glanced at the only other teenager in the room.
The mahogany-haired mob leader narrowed her eyes at the teen over a decade her junior and the hitwoman did the same. The temperature within the traditional Japanese room felt several degrees colder as tension skyrocketed. Both Ishii clan members sitting beside Aoi tensed, ready to draw their weapons to defend their lady if the situation turned violent.
"May we come in?" Hikaru suddenly asked the yakuza boss, simultaneously breaking the tension between the two and causing both to turn and look at him. "I apologize for her intrusion, but I'm certain we would all like this meeting to go as smoothly as possible."
"Yes, of course. Go right ahead." Aoi conceded and allowed the two assassins to step into the tatami mat floored room. After entering, the turquoise-eyed hitman closed the sliding door to give them some privacy.
"Now, could you enlighten me on why you've decided to intrude on this meeting?" The matriarch of the Ishii clan politely requested as the pair of friends sat on their knees in a seiza position opposite to her.
"It's simple, I do not fully trust you." Yoru frankly expounded, her calloused fingers started drumming on her knees. "I did kill scores of your men when I helped Akira fight for the position of manager for the Osaka continental. From what I heard, you're the type to hold grudges."
"So you believe I had specifically lured your friend here as a sort of retribution for what happened." The Tokyo yakuza boss remarked following Yoru's explanation, her brows furrowing upon the teen referencing her past. "You believe that I will either kill him tonight when he comes alone, or send him on a suicide mission."
"I don't have any reason not to." The purple-haired hitwoman frankly replied before raising her palm. "First of all, you called us here to this specific teahouse- one that is not affiliated to the continental- in what is an otherwise blank contract. That tells me you're looking for someone who's either desperate for the money, or looking for a way out."
"Secondly," The teen continued as she retracted her thumb. "In a meeting that is supposed to confirm details regarding a contract, you have brought not one, but two of your associates. You're already a well established assassin in your own right, one of the best outside of the jurisdiction of the continental and the high table. So, that just begged the question, why would you need two extra armed subordinates present?"
"And finally," Yoru concluded while retracting her pointer finger. "I have to confess that I'm having a hard time trusting someone who would- not only- partake in gunning down their pregnant best friend and former team member, but also nine innocent civilians just a year ago. So, please, forgive me for being cautious when I walk into what's shaping up to be a cobra's den."
"You dare insult her?!" Usagi snarled at the teenager's callous words and quickly stood up with her hand wrapped around the handle of her steel meteor hammer, ready to pulverize the head of the teen sitting in front of her into chunky red salsa. "YOU-"
*click*
"Usagi!" Aoi thundered out the white-haired teenager's name after whipping her head around to face her young subordinate. "Stand down."
"But Aoi-sama-" The sadistic schoolgirl began to protest her mistress's order; however, whatever she was about to say was quickly shot down.
"Set aside your anger and look carefully." The mahogany-haired woman commanded her bodyguard. "If I hadn't stopped you, she wouldn't be the one whose body is lying in a pool of their own blood."
Usagi blinked at the mob boss's words and looked over toward Yoru, only to recoil in surprise when she saw the suit-wearing hitwoman kneeling on her right leg with her pistol aiming directly between her ruby eyes. In the split second the albino teenager took to stand, the hitwoman had pulled her left leg out from under herself and whipped out her APX A1.
The well-dressed assassin's pointer finger rested on the light silver trigger, silently promising to put a hole into the student's forehead if she were to go any further.
"I'm sorry, Aoi-Sama, I have overstepped." The albino teenager softly apologized and returned into her seiza sitting position. "Please forgive me."
"Now, you as well, Yoru. Put your gun away." The blue-eyed woman calmly requested of the violet-haired girl. "I understand why you might be worried, but I assure you there is a reason for all this."
*click*
The Yoru nodded at the Ishii clan matriarch's words and flicked her Beretta pistol into safe before deftly returning the Italian handgun to its polymer holster.
"Now, the reason why I specifically chose this location for the meeting is because I don't want the target to get spooked if he ever caught wind of my plans." The mob boss disclosed after the violet-haired assassin returned sitting on her knees. "In fact, I would've taken care of him by myself but an unforeseen situation suddenly arose and left me with no other choice."
"I heard the Kure and Handa clans had imported an abnormally high number of weapons this past week." Hikaru commented, breaking his silence throughout his client and his friend's entire exchange. "Does your situation have anything to do with that?"
"Yes." Aoi confirmed, nodding her head at the blonde's question. "The two clans had created an alliance and declared war on me. While the Ishii isn't limited when it comes to manpower, we don't currently have the numbers to take on both clans at once."
"I'm guessing the contract would require me to assassinate one of the clan heads." The cyan-eyed hitman surmised following the yakuza matriarch's exposition. "Since neither currently has any suitable heirs, the chaos of succession would give you an opportunity to deal with just one of the clans instead of fighting both simultaneously."
"That is correct, you will be hired to kill the head of the Handa clan, Handa Mitsuo." The Ishii head declared as she reached into her robes and pulled out a picture of the elderly patriarch. "From information gathered by spies stationed within his ranks, he will be attending a strategy meeting with Kure Jiro- Kure Katsu's second lieutenant- in Sumibi Yakiniku Nakahara tomorrow at nine PM sharp."
"As the contract stated, you will be compensated with the prize money of one-hundred-sixty million yen upon his death." Aoi continued whilst sliding over the photo. "While the prize money may seem high for just assassinating one man, we've only obtained this information just yesterday and need him dead as soon as possible."
"Mhm, I see." The assassin in navy blue noted his client's words as he examined the photograph, noting the man's scarred and covered right eye. "But, I'm not accepting the contract for the prize money."
"Oh?" The mob boss questioningly remarked and tilted her head, silently beckoned for the young hitman to state his demand.
"I want you to write my letter of retirement for me." Hikaru politely requested as he slid the photo back to Aoi. "I intend for this contract to be the last time I accept a contract to kill."
"And why can't someone else write it for you?" The mahogany-haired yakuza head curiously inquired, further prodding the younger man for answers. "After all, Japan is far from limited when it comes to influential criminals."
"It's simple really, you were one of us." The blonde frankly declared to his contractor. "The difference between you and all the others is that you were an assassin first, a Yakuza leader second. Though our reasons for going into this life are different, you understand that taking advantage of someone looking for a way out is something beneath your station."
"What about the Osaka Continental manager, Shimazu Akira?" Aoi probed while glancing at Yoru to gauge the hitwoman's reaction. "Couldn't you ask her to write your letter?"
"She couldn't." The violet-eyed assassin quickly interjected, her features revealing nothing. "The High Table would only declare assassins recessisset after either a letter from a contract that would be worth at least two million USD- or just around one hundred-fifty-five yen- or paying the two million straight up. Any job Akira could give Hikaru would've been too far above his skill level."
"And my contract satisfies both conditions." The mob boss mused and nodded at Yoru's words. "The reward is both above a hundred-fifty-five yen and is a relatively simple assassination mission."
"Well played Suzuko," Aoi complimented the younger man with a small smile. "You saw your chance and took it."
The yakuza matriarch looked to her left and nodded at Kimberly. The lawyer leaned forward and set two teacups onto the short wooden table.
"I believe this meeting is over, and I would be a terrible host if I didn't offer any tea to my guests." Aoi asserted as her chestnut-haired best friend lifted a porcelain teapot and poured out two cups of tea for the pair of young assassins.
The pair of friends graciously accepted the two cups of steaming green tea and blew on their respective beverages to cool them down enough to drink.
"Thank you so much Miss Ishii." Hikaru politely bowed, setting down his empty teacup after he emptied the cup.
"Thank you for letting me sit through this meeting Aoi." Yoru said after mirroring him. "Come on Hikaru, let's go."
The purple-haired hitwoman and her taller friend stood up and walked toward the sliding door. The blonde hitman opened the door and stepped outside; however, before the teen could do the same, the crime boss stopped her.
"Just one moment, Yoru." The blue-eyed woman suddenly called out to the hitwoman. "Tell Shimazu I'm sorry for trying to take something that didn't belong to me."
The assassin blinked in surprise but nodded at the Ishii clan's matriarch's words, silently promising she would deliver that message.
______________________________________________
2012
Outside of Kansai International Airport
Japan: Osaka
10:34 PM
*Shrr*
*Step* *Step* *Step*
Two steel framed glass doors slid open and Yoru stepped out of the airport and onto the concrete sidewalk outside. With Osaka being further north than Miyazaki and the late hour, the air in the port city was noticeably cooler.
*Shrr*
After the steel framed automatic doors slid shut behind her with a hiss, the violet-haired girl scanned around the road for the taxi she reserved on the plane. Upon seeing none within her immediate vicinity, the teenage hitwoman pulled out her phone and opened her messages.
"Oh, by the way." The young assassin remarked as she scanned the message the taxi service sent her. "You're not being as sneaky as you think you are. You can come out now."
*Step* *Step* *Step*
Once she finished reading, Yoru shut off and pocketed her iPhone before turning in the direction of the footsteps.
"Hello." A woman wearing a yellow scarf courteously greeted the violet-haired girl as she walked closer.
The woman looked to be in her mid to late twenties and of average height. She sported black short curly hair and rich navy blue eyes and apart from her knitted muffler that covered the bottom half of her face, she wore a bulky dark cobalt jacket alongside a pair of pine colored cargo pants. A hefty dark brown brown hiking backpack was hung from her shoulders and the hitwoman could see a leather revolver holster strapped to her right thigh.
"You a tracker?" The purple-haired assassin asked the bulkily dressed woman, noting several elements of her dress being common amongst members of the sister group.
"Yep." The bounty-hunter admitted with a nod. "The Omi clan put thirty-two million yen into my bank account to track your location for the next week. Until either you complete your contract or die trying, you're stuck with me."
"And are you here for the bounty as well?" Yoru incredulously inquired as she tilted her head, her right hand simultaneously clasping around the black polymer grip of her Belgian PDW.
"Well, no. Unlike most people I know that playing the lottery is just begging to lose." The raven-haired tracker denied the teenager's question while her right hand curled around the textured rubber handle of her holstered pistol. "However, I am not afraid of defending myself if you give me a reason to."
Yoru nodded at the navy-eyed tracker's words and let her fingers unfurl from the textured grip of her suppressed SBR. Likewise, the scarf-wearing woman removed her hand from her own firearm, accepting the teenager's gesture of peace.
"That a .500?" The teen queried once she spotted the enormous cylinder the back-pack toting woman's revolver had.
"Yep. Āsā here has been with me for over seven years now." The older bounty-hunter confirmed with a nod and softly patted her enormous revolver. "Armor-piercing .500 magnum punches through most body armor like they aren't even there."
The purple-haired assassin turned around and before she started walking toward where her taxi was parked, she looked back at the bounty hunter.
"You have a name?" Yoru inquired. "It would be weird not having anything to call you for the next week."
"Most people know me as Retriever." The curly-haired woman stated as she pulled down her yellow scarf. "But my name is Kurokawa Akiko. It's good to make your acquaintance, Angel of Death."
"...Just call me Yoru." Yoru requested of the newly named Akiko before making her way toward taxi. "Feel free to hop into the cab with me. It's late and I'll pay both our fares to the continental."
The bounty hunter blinked in surprise at the teen's offer before shrugging and following her.
______________________________________________
Apartment
NYC: New York
7:30 AM
*Click*
"Hey, uhh, are you sure about this Isaak?" A Russian wearing a red baseball cap tentatively asked as the brunette set the dust cover of his custom AK-74 into place. "It ain't too late to go back to the boss and-"
*Cra-Kin!*
"My mind is set, Volkov." The former mafioso interrupted his roomate by charging his assault rifle. "The number of good men Wick and his daughter killed that week is too many to forgive. Wick may be dead, but his daughter is very much alive. If she manages to retire, she will be untouchable."
"Doesn't her aunt sit at the table?" Volkov asked his hazel-eyed friend while the young man laid his rifle on the floor and pulled a gun case from beneath their leather couch. "Despite the fifty-million dollars on the lass's head wouldn't her connection to the high table make killing her moot? Money is worthless if you can't spend it."
*Click*
"Familial love might as well be a myth for the high table families for how foreign a concept it is." Isaak firmly replied to his roommate whilst unlocking the polymer case with a dull click. "The relationship between the Angel of Death and the head of the Ruska Roma is likely purely contractual, a 'scratch my back and I'll scratch yours' sort of arrangement. Since she's retiring, the Ruska Roma likely won't have any further use for her."
The cap-wearing Russian nodded as he watched his former colleague lay his custom AK-74 into the foam lined trunk. After laying the Soviet assault-rifle into the dark gray foam, he reached for his CZ Shadow 2 and placed it into the case as well.
*Clack*
"Well, guess this is goodbye Volkov." Isaak remarked as he softly shut the gun case, its locking mechanisms engaging with each other with a snappy click. "I do hope I can see you again."
The green-eyed man lifted the black polymer case and made his way out of the apartment.
"Я надеюсь, что вы вернетесь к нам, Исаак. (I hope you'll come back to us, Isaak.)" Volkov called out before the brunette completely left their shared home.
The hazel-eyed former gangster simply nodded his head in appreciation for his roommate's well wishes and walked out the door.
______________________________________________
April 2010
Hospital room
New York
3:27 PM
*Beep…* *Beep…* *Beep…*
"Hey… Mom." Yoru softly greeted her unconscious mother as she sat on a chair provided by one of the hospital staff. "Sorry for not visiting as often as I probably should. It's just I… the…"
*Beep…* *Beep…* *Beep…*
The now teenage girl trailed off as the cardiac event monitor rhythmically beeped, the device announcing the photographer's every weak heartbeat.
The purple-haired teen took a deep breath and grimaced after smelling the sharp scent of sanitizer heavily clinging to every surface in the room. The odor made the already bleak room seem that much more haunting.
The woman lying in the hospital bed appeared gaunt and her once luscious brown locks have been reduced to a short buzz cut, both consequences of undergoing chemotherapy. The back of the photographer's left hand was bandaged, the IV system that used to maintain her dying body having been pulled out hours before the assassin-in-training arrived.
But despite her outward appearance, Helen's unconscious expression appeared serene. Almost as if she's just taking a restful nap instead of being rendered comatose from the tumor growing inside her brain.
"The band's splitting up Mom." Yoru finally managed to utter after a couple more tries. "We… They all agreed it's only for the next couple months and we'll be back together in June after the tests. But… I don't know if I could. I don't know if I could continue playing knowing you would never be there to watch any of my performances."
The young girl pursed her lips; as she continued speaking, hot tears accumulated within her violet orbs. The droplets of saline liquid barely clung onto her eyelids, just moments from spilling out and trailing down her cheeks.
"My… My birthday was four days ago." The teen just managed to blubber out, drooping her head and letting salty water droplets freely fall onto her black skirt. "And, I just wished you would get better; I prayed to whatever could be listening out there for a miracle. But, I should've known better."
"...Your cancer wouldn't suddenly shrink one day and keeping you here to slowly rot away is not a way to live." The hitwoman-in-training finished after breathing in a deep breath to keep her tsunami of emotions from overwhelming her for just a moment more.
Yoru recalled the day her beloved stepmother was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Her parents were out for the night going on a date and she was just in her room reviewing her band's most recent song.
But when the violet-haired teenager got that phone call from her father, all of her instincts immediately flared when she heard John's frantic voice. In all her years of living with him, the girl had never heard her father panic. For her, the soviet had always been the perfect picture of a calm and collected individual. Never once had he raised his voice at her nor had he let emotion alone dictate his actions.
The diagnosis next morning was the most soul crushing part of the whole ordeal. The doctors said it's glioblastoma multiforme, a fast-acting brain cancer. They had caught the illness too late, but that didn't stop any of them from giving up hope. The hospital staff had tried everything, but none of the treatments worked.
Yoru raised her head and looked over toward the entrance of the hospital room, her tears blurred her vision but she could just barely make out the silhouette of her dad standing in the doorway.
"Sniff… Is… is it time dad?" The teen sniffled out after she wiped away the liquid gathered in her eyes.
The youngest Wick looked at her guardian, and the retired assassin nodded. The young girl's lips stretched into a sad smile in an attempt to assure her parent she's fine, but both of them knew this wasn't the case.
For the violet-haired teenager, Helen was her first taste of a mother figure, something her biological one would never be. Despite only knowing each other for five and a half years, their bond was as close and genuine as it could be.
The Soviet walked into the room and toward his comatose spouse; the violet-eyed teen slowly climbed off her chair and followed her father to her mother's bedside.
The long-haired man kneeled down beside his wife's hospital bed and just stared at his unconscious lover's face, taking just a few more seconds to silently say his final goodbyes to the photographer.
John then slowly stood up and leaned toward his partner's forehead, leaving one last farewell kiss just moments before the doctor pulled her life support.
After he was done, the retired assassin stepped aside to let his ward do the same. Yoru walked closer to the hospital bed and simply clutched Helen's thin hand.
"Mom…" The teen sorrowfully whispered as she gently caressed the back of her stepmother's right hand. "Dad and I both love you… but I think you already knew that… So… Thank you for being someone I could call mom."
Then the heartbeat monitor beeped for one final time before a high-pitched noise permeated the hospital room, signaling the photographer's passing to the father-daughter pair.
Yoru peeled her eyes from her mother and looked up to her father. The Soviet sported a neutral expression, but after spending more than half her life with him, the Japanese child could easily pick out the whirlwind of emotions the tall man was experiencing.
Though his face might not show it, his eyes shone with fresh pain and tears the former assassin managed to hold back.
After feeling her stepmother's hand go cold, the hitwoman-in-training let her fingers slip out from under Helen's palm and stood up. When her father turned to look at her, Yoru wrapped her left arm around the now widower's waist and pulled him into a hug.
The Soviet said nothing and just leaned into his daughter's embrace, his dark-brown orbs never leaving the face of his now-deceased spouse.
______________________________________________
Four days later
John's home
4:08 PM
John blankly stared at a silver bracelet while he sat on the edge of his bed, a bed he and Helen used to share.
"Just an anniversary." He said, sliding the box holding the chain he recently purchased toward Helen.
Memories of days long past assaulted the former hitman as he noticed several small areas where the silver metal had tarnished. Ever since the photographer had been hospitalized, she never had the chance to maintain the ornament.
After taking a deep breath, the Soviet stood up and set the piece of jewelry onto his bedside dresser next to his smartphone. Preparations for his wife's funeral had taken up most of his time over the past few days and Yoru had taken it upon herself to take care of the house and prepare meals while he's busy.
…
'I'm slipping…' The suit-wearing man thought to himself as he pocketed his Iphone. 'My daughter just lost her mother and she's the one taking care of the things I've been neglecting. She shouldn't have been the one to take care of both of us.'
With that in mind, John walked out of his room and knocked on the door to the assassin-in-training's bedroom.
*Rap* *Rap* *Rap*
"Yoru?" He softly called out to the Japanese girl. "It's time."
The retired assassin heard some soft shuffling noises before the violet-eyed girl unlocked her bedroom door with a click. John took a step back as his daughter pushed open the door, revealing her outfit for the funeral.
The teen had tied her hair up in a loose bun, leaving only two stray locks on both sides to frame her makeupless face. The purple-haired assassin-in-training wore a simple raven-colored dress, the very first dress Helen helped her pick out. Aside from her dress, Yoru also chose to wear a pair of midnight black stockings with dress shoes of the same color.
"Hey, dad." The teenager greeted her father with a somber smile. "Sorry about leaving a mess in my room, I'll clean it up before all the aunties and uncles come over."
The retired assassin craned his head to peek into his ward's bedroom and saw a thick leather photo album laid upon her bed with photos strewn about all over the mattress.
"...It's alright." The long-haired Soviet gently reassured his daughter. "Remembering old times?"
"Yeah…" Yoru breathed out with a small nod, her lips pursing while she looked back at the multitude of pictures scattered across her twin-sized bed with a forlorn look in her eyes. "Come on, let's go."
The teen stepped out from her bedroom and gently closed the dark oak door behind her. John nodded and as she began descending the circular flight of stairs leading to the ground floor, went down behind the Japanese girl.
______________________________________________
Cemetery
Half an hour later.
4:42 PM
Helen was buried on a rainy spring evening, low rumbles of thunder were a constant throughout the proceedings. All of her relatives and loved ones soberly watched as the casket that held her body was slowly lowered into a grave, the pulleys creaking and groaning as they softly set the wooden box into the grave.
Each and every one of the guests held a black umbrella to shield themselves from the downpour, the sound of raindrops hammering down on the leather parasols created a sort of morose cacophony of noise that served as the backdrop for the funeral. The umbrellas blanketing the area behind the burial site with black contrasted greatly with the pots of white flowers that surrounded the dug-out grave.
Yoru slightly stiffened after she felt something warm brush against the fingers of her left hand. The purple-haired girl looked behind herself to see a mop of brown hair and a face she's only really seen at family reunions.
"Hey, David." The hitwoman-in-training greeted her cousin just as she saw one of her uncles pat her father's shoulder out of the corner of her eye. "You alright?"
"I should be asking you that." The brunette morosely replied, his hazel orbs looking down at the black casket his aunt is buried in. "You were the one who's the closest to her."
"I… I think I'm managing." Yoru replied with a pause in her words. The violet-haired girl knew that she's still mourning but right now, she just felt numb, almost as if her well of emotions ran dry days before the funeral.
"...Alright, take care, Yoru." David asserted after his mother tapped him on his shoulder, signaling it's time for them to leave. "I hope to see you soon."
"You too, David." The violet-eyed girl answered as she stared at her father. Despite all the guests making their way to their cars, he didn't move an inch. The long-haired soviet's eyes are still laser-focused on the coffin his late wife's now resting in.
"Hey, Dad." the Japanese teenager called out to the man. "It's time to go."
John blinked at the sound of his daughter's voice- the assassin-in-training's voice likely having snapped him out of whatever trace he's in- and nodded before responding with a quiet yeah.
The retired hitman turned around and started walking away from his partner's final resting place. Yoru followed him, walking quickly to catch up with her father's long strides. Once she's beside the former marine, the violet-eyed teenager swapped the handle of her umbrella to her left hand and reached for the bearded man's left with her right.
John down at his left arm when he felt something brush against his calloused digits; when he saw it was his child's petite hand, he uncurled his fingers and let Yoru slip her hand into his.
The father-daughter pair walked over to where the soviet parked his Ford Mustang- his prized muscle car gifted by Helen for his fortieth birthday- while holding hands.
However, before he could reach his car and go home, the ex-hitman was ambushed by a familiar face.
"It's been a while." An elderly ginger remarked as the Soviet came to a stop in front of him. "My condolences. How are you and your daughter holding up?"
"...I keep asking 'why her?'" John replied, his grip on his umbrella ever-so slightly tightening. "And as for Yoru…"
"I… just can't believe she's gone." The purple-haired girl continued where her father left off. "Just as quickly as she came into our lives, she left."
"There is no rhyme or reason to life; there is no pattern we could use to predict what happens next." The suit-wearing man sagely imparted, his voice sporting a fatalistic edge of certainty. "It's days like today scattered among all the rest."
"Are you sure?" It was Yoru who spoke up first this time, her hand further curling around her father's whilst she asked her question.
"Yes I am, little one." The American responded, sporting a thin smile on his face as he looked down at the Japanese teen, a smile that is all too familiar with loss. "And John, don't blame yourself."
"...What are you really doing here Marcus?" John questioned the newly-named Marcus while ever so slightly pulling his daughter closer to himself. "Are you scouting?"
"No, I'm not. Your daughter is way too young." Marcus denied with a shake of his head, perfectly understanding his former student's question. "In two years, maybe I will be. But right now, I'm just checking up on an old friend."
The retired hitman stayed silent as he stared impassively at his mentor, his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned at his longtime senior's words.
The Soviet was already uneasy at the prospect of his adoptive daughter joining the continental, but he knew Marcus's tutelage would be of great help to her. After all, he himself had been taken in by the elder assassin when he was in his early twenties. However, despite his immense trust in the ginger, he would not allow Yoru to become one until she's of age; that is what they both agreed upon.
"Good-bye John." The old sniper said as he reached out his left hand for his ex-mentee to shake.
The former marine looked down at his former teacher's hand for a brief moment before slipping his fingers out of his daughter's palms and shaking it briefly.
Once the final part of their farewell was completed, Marcus simply walked away, leaving the father-daughter pair outside of the graveyard.
As the silhouette of the final surviving member of the old guard shrunk with distance, John looked over to Helen's headstone. At that moment, the guttural roar of thunder pierced through the air, almost as though the heavens were welcoming in their newest angel with a cheer of approval.
______________________________________________
Six hours later
John's home
10:36 PM
It has been almost six hours since the funeral service for Helen Wick concluded and all of Yoru's extended relatives have left long ago. Right now, the violet-haired teenager is in the bathroom, freshening up before she goes to bed.
*Ptew*
*Ding Dong*
The hitwoman-in-training spat out a thick glob of toothpaste foam moments before the doorbell to the Long-Island mansion rang.
'Who would be at the door at this time?' The Japanese girl wondered as she rinsed her sky-blue toothbrush under the faucet. 'Everyone left hours ago and I'm certain neither I nor dad ordered anything.'
The violet-eyed teen put away the slender brush and quickly reached for a face towel draped over a towel rung behind her. Just as she dampened the rag, Yoru heard her father open the door to their home and accept what sounded like a package.
Not in a particular rush to check on what's happening downstairs, the purple-haired girl meticulously wiped every part of her face and rubbed on some lotion once she's done.
After the Japanese teenager was done rinsing her face towel and hung it on the towel bar to dry, she shut the bathroom light and walked downstairs.
"Hey dad, what was that all…" Yoru trailed off once John turned around to face her. The former hitman's face was tear streaked and his hands held a letter. It didn't take long for the assassin-in-training to piece together what happened once her gaze fell upon the pet kennel on the coffee table.
"The letter and the dog were both from mom… weren't they?" The purple-haired girl intoned in a morose tone while she made her way toward her father.
The soviet just simply nodded his head and handed his adoptive daughter the letter his late wife had written for the both of them just days before she fell into a coma.
"John, my wonderful husband, and Yoru, my lovely daughter, I'm so sorry I cannot be there for the both of you. While I can no longer be by your sides, I hope she can help you two recover from what the sickness had taken from us all. John, Yoru, I love you both so very much. This illness had loomed over us for a very long time and now that I had found my peace, find yours and be there for each other.
Until that day, your best friend, Helen."
*Pit* *Pit* *Pit*
Before the violet-eyed girl had even finished reading her mother's final message, tears she didn't know she still had already started rolling down the sides of her face.
The droplets of salty water landed on the girl's scarlet pajama pants, leaving dark stains on the crimson cotton fabric.
Yoru softly folded up and laid the photographer's final message onto the marble coffee table. She looked over to the Soviet for a few moments before leaning into the man. The purple-haired teen's head rested on her guardian's shoulder, the textile of his cotton dress-shirt slightly shifting as he reached over and unlatched the door to the kennel.
"...Hey." The retired assassin softly whispered to the beagle after the hitwoman-in-training lifted her head from his left shoulder. John slowly leaned in and lifted the tri-colored puppy out of the black and white cage.
"Daisy…" The veteran said, reading out the name on the small dog's collar. "...Of course."
The violet-eyed teenager reached her right hand over her father's arms and started petting the beagle just as the canine started licking the bearded man's face.
"Hey Daisy, welcome to the family." Yoru softly muttered with a genuine smile splitting across her face, something that had been missing ever since her mother got diagnosed with her incurable brain cancer.
______________________________________________
The next day
6:05 AM
*Brrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*
*Thwack*
The violet-haired girl's hand struck the navy-blue alarm clock that sat atop her bedside dresser palm first, silencing the shrill ringing of the small device with a loud smack.
The assassin-in-training shoved her bed-covers off her person and groggily sat upon her mattress. She raised both of her arms above her wild purple mane and stretched, her arm and shoulder joints cracked with a satisfying pop and she yawned as she let her forelimbs down.
After rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Yoru quickly hopped off her bed and sifted through her closet for a fresh uniform. Once she found what she's looking for, the purple-haired teen threw the garments onto her unmade bed and stripped off her nightclothes.
In no more than five minutes, the hitwoman-in-training stepped out of her room fully dressed and her bed neatly made. After the teenager completed the rest of her morning routine in the bathroom, she made her way downstairs and an unexpected smell hit her nose.
'Are… are those pancakes I smell?' Yoru wondered, sniffing the cheesy scent of syrniki, something her father hasn't made in two months. 'Is… is dad making breakfast?'
The Japanese girl hastened her steps and briskly walked to the kitchen. There, the teenager saw John in a black chef's apron flipping pancakes.
"...Hey Yoru." The soviet greeted once he saw his daughter enter the dining room. "I made you breakfast."
"Dad…" The teen started, her eyes narrowing in confusion whilst trailing toward the newest addition of the household greedily chowing down on some small slices of beef. "Your alarm was supposed to be for six. I was supposed to make you breakfast."
"...Woke up early today." The former assassin replied as he slid the toasted flapjack into a porcelain plate. "Might as well make breakfast."
"I see…" Yoru noted as she went over to the cabinets and reached for her father's coffee mug. Setting down the white mug on the marble countertop, the teenager then pulled the filled transparent bulbous pot free from the coffee machine and poured until the dark brown liquid was just a third of an inch away from the brim.
After inserting the coffee pot back into the coffee machine, the Japanese girl pulled open and reached into the topmost spruce drawer for a pair of forks and knives. The assassin-in-training shut the cabinet once she had the silverware in hand and picked up the steaming mug before setting them all down on the dining table.
Whilst his adoptive daughter was preparing the table, the veteran continued making breakfast. Flipping two more cheese pancakes onto a second plate, the retired hitman turned off the electric stove and brought the pancakes to the dining table.
"Thanks dad." The violet-eyed girl gratefully said as she stabbed into the syrniki with her fork, slicing off a piece and bringing a chunk of her fluffy meal into her mouth.
"The pancake's good dad." The teenager complimented her guardian after she chewed and swallowed the flapjack. "It's… been a while since you made anything that wasn't cereal."
The soviet nodded whilst he chewed a piece of his own food, remembering all the times he ordered takeout for dinner because he just couldn't be bothered to cook.
"But it's alright. Mom wouldn't have wanted us to wallow in our depression." The violet-eyed teen melancholy murmured out while she chewed on another piece of her toasted breakfast. "She couldn't bear to see either of us sad when she's alive, and I doubt it wouldn't be the case now that she's dead."
The retired assassin paused his eating for a moment as a flash of memories assaulted them both before the sound of Daisy whining snapped the two out of it.
"...Hey, it's okay." The bearded man softly intoned, placating the pooch with his voice. After that, the father-daughter pair nodded to each other and finished their meal in relative silence, the only sounds being the clinking of silverware and their canine family member's sloppy eating.
______________________________________________
Yoru's High School
3:07 PM
"Hey dad, how's shopping?" The assassin-in-training inquired as she opened the door to the passenger seat of her father's muscle car.
"Oh hey Daisy." The teenager softly whispered after she heard the tri-colored beagle excitedly barking in greeting. "How's the car?"
The small puppy barked once more and beamed at the Japanese girl. Yoru smiled and gently lifted the pooch off the gray leather seat before climbing in and setting the canine down onto her lap.
The violet-eyed teen shut the door and carefully pulled the seatbelt over her body, attentively making sure the small dog wouldn't get snared onto it.
"So, dad. How's shopping?" The purple-haired girl repeated her question after peeking into the trunk to see it filled to the brim with pet supplies.
"...It was fine." The former hitman replied as the car began to move.
"Mhm." Yoru hummed in agreement whilst she glanced at the car's fuel meter. "And, the car's almost out of gas. We should probably fill it up."
John nodded in agreement and turned a corner in the direction of the nearest gas station.
______________________________________________
Three minutes later.
The long-haired man looked up from his car when he saw a black BMW pull up to a pump near him. Loud rap music blared from the car's speakers before the vehicle suddenly went quiet moments after several people stepped out.
A man wearing a black baseball cap and a leather jacket popped open the fuel tank flap and inserted the gas nozzle. Another man in a gray suit said something in Russian to another in a black hoodie before walking into the gas station store.
'That's Iosef, Viggo's son.' The ex-assassin realized once he caught a glimpse of the hoodie-wearing Russian's face as he prepared to smoke a cigarette. 'They must be getting home from a job.'
The Soviet looked away from his former superior's kin. The crime boss had complained about his son's hot headed impulsiveness on many occasions and if he was caught staring, the brown-haired man would likely take it as a slight against him. John's not afraid to defend himself when push comes to shove, but he's not willing to be the one who makes the first move.
"Nice ride." Iosef complimented, walking over just as the veteran was about to return the gas pump.
"Mustang. Boss four twenty-nine. She a seventy?" The heir to the Tarasov mob inquired while he rapped on the hood of John's prized vehicle.
"Sixty-nine." The retired hitman briskly answered, quickly screwing on the muscle car's gas cap and closing the flap.
"Huh. Beautiful car." The hoodie-wearing Russian remarked, leaning closer to the automobile and lightly tapped it. "How much?"
"Excuse me?" the Soviet queried, his hand halting right before he was about to open the door to the car.
"How much for the car?" Iosef repeated himself, his words taking on a condescending edge.
"She's not for sale." John candidly informed his former boss's son with a polite smile as he opened the door to his muscle car.
As the former marine climbed into his pewter gray car's driver's seat, the steel-eyed Russian walked over to the rolled down passenger-side window.
"Oh, is this your daughter?" Iosef asked while leaning into the car, Daisy let out a high-pitched whine when the canine laid her eyes upon the young man.
"You have a beautiful daughter, and a cute dog as well." Viggo's son remarked as he reached his hand in to pet the tri-colored beagle sitting on Yoru's lap. "всего, сука, есть своя цена. (Everything's got a price, bitch.)"
"А у этой, сука, нет. (Not this bitch.)" The purple-haired girl- who had stayed silent throughout the entire exchange- spoke up before her father could oblige the younger man with a response.
The brown-haired Russian looked up at the Japanese girl in shock for a couple of seconds, not expecting the asian to retort- much less understand- his native tongue. However, that surprise quickly transmuted into anger after he processed the violet-eyed teen's words.
The heir's face twisted in fury but before he could do anything, his companion intervened.
"Кем эта сука себя возомнила?! (Who does this bitch think she is?!)" Iosef furiously spat out while his friend pulled him away.
"Have good day sir." The gray-suit wearing mobster leaned in and said with a smile and a heavy accent.
As the well-dressed Russian leaned away from the vehicle, John ignited his car's engine and drove away from the gas station.
"...Who do I think I am?" The purple-haired teen angrily murmured under her breath after the father-daughter pair drove out of earshot. "Who does that punk think he is?"
Daisy whined and the assassin-in-training took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry dad. I shouldn't have snapped at him like that." Yoru apologized as she consoled the small puppy in her lap with soft headpats. "You seemed to recognize him. Did you know him?"
"... He was my boss's son." The retired hitman simply responded when they stopped at a red light.
"I see…" The violet-eyed girl said, her tone beckoning her guardian to continue.
"... You don't have to worry about him." John assuredly asserted after briefly glancing at his ward.
The teenager nodded at her father's words and the family of three stayed silent for the rest of the ride.
______________________________________________
John's home
Ten hours later
1:18 AM
"Arf!"
John groggily awoke to Daisy's bark and the feeling of the small beagle scampering off his bed.
"...You need to go?" The long-haired man tiredly asked the baby canine as he sat up in his bed.
After another bark, the former hitman shoved the covers off of himself and opened the door for the pooch. As the small dog scampered off into the darkness, the soviet quietly followed the puppy, his every step silent as to not wake his daughter.
But when he arrived downstairs, John was met with two people standing inside the darkness of his living room. And before he could react, a strike from a metal baseball bat had sent him sprawling onto the wooden floor.
*Clang*
"Ugh!" The bearded man grunted in pain as he clutched the back of his head, his head spinning from a concussion.
The living room light turned on and before the retired assassin could catch a glimpse of his assailants' faces, another one kicked him in his abdomen.
*Thwack*
"Urrgh!" the Soviet groaned, his entire body curling in on itself after his other assaulter drove his foot into the ex assassin's solar plexus.
*Clang*
Moments after John curled up in pain, his first assailer said something his freshly concussed brain couldn't comprehend and swung the aluminum bat into his forearm. Breaking his humerus and leaving the former hitman gasping from his injuries.
"Где ёбаные ключи от тачки? (Where are the fucking car keys?)" A third intruder angrily demanded after the hitman's second assailant kicked him in his face.
*Crunch*
The Soviet felt his nose break and blood sluggishly spurted from the olfactory organ like a leaking faucet. The kick to the head further rattled his brain and all the retired assassin could hear was a shrill ringing noise and Daisy's whimpers.
*Shatter* *Crash* *Thunk* *Thunk* *Crash*
The sound of breaking glass and porcelain rang out as the man with the baseball smashed up the decorations in the living room.
"Заткни эту ёбаную собаку! (Shut that fucking dog up!)" The leader of the burglars ordered whilst the tri-colored beagle's whines got louder and more frequent.
One of the housebreakers obliged and while the canine tried scurrying away, the man caught her by the skin on her neck and pinned her down before slamming his fist into the dog's head. After a shrill final whine of pain, the canine went silent and collapsed onto the ground. As the mask-wearing thug stood up from his handiwork, the other Wick of the household made her presence known.
*StepStepStepStepStepStep*
*Thump*
What is just a purple blur in John's hazy vision slammed into Daisy's killer's chest and tackled him to the ground.
'Yoru!' The Soviet's mind thought in alarm the moment he realized exactly who had landed on top of his attacker's chest.
*Thwack**Thwack**Thwack**Thwack*
The violet-haired girl's fists slammed into the masked burglar's face. The first punch she landed broke the man's nose and each subsequent one further fragmented the man's facial bones. When John looked into his daughter's eyes- instead of burning white stars- blazing black supernovas dark as midnight had freshly burst into existence.
*Thwack**Thwack**Thwack*
*Clang*
A gray metal baseball bat struck the back of the teenager's skull and she crumpled to the ground. Had the Japanese girl not been blinded by pure rage, she would've heard the footsteps running behind her. But in that moment, there was only her and the man who killed Daisy, the ray of hope her late mother had sent for them after her death.
"Чертова сука. (Fucking Bitch.)" The head thug spat out before he walked over and brutally kicked Yoru's unconscious body off of his barely conscious comrade.
*Crunch*
The violet-eyed teen's comatose body rolled onto the floor and the leader kicked the teenager in the face, breaking her nose with an audible crunch.
"- Ты ключи нашёл? (Have you found the keys?" The leader called out to the members who're still searching.
"Вот они. (Here. I found them.)" One of the burglars called out, holding the keys up high for his boss to see.
"Ну давай же. Хватай его и пойдем. (Come on. Grab him and let's go.)" The lead thug called out, tilting his head toward his downed ally.
The other home invaders nodded and moved toward their injured partner.
*Step* *Step* *Step*
The head intruder roughly grabbed John by his hair and forced the still dazed Soviet to look at him.
"Спи спокойно. (Sleep well, bitch.)" The Russian whispered after he pulled down his mask, revealing he's none other than Iosef Tarasov.
The heir to the Tarasov mob raised his fist and slammed it into the long-haired man's face. And then, everything went black for the former assassin.
*Thwack*
______________________________________________
Five hours later
6:03 AM
John awoke from his involuntary slumber with a splitting headache, courtesy of the nasty blow he received to the back of his skull last night. His vision was cloaked with a foggy haze and his taste buds were overwhelmed with the sharp tang of copper.
As the retired hitman blinked the blurriness away, his eyes widened when he spotted a head of violet hair laying on the ground.
'Yoru!' The Soviet thought in alarm as the memories of what occurred last night suddenly flooded back.
John pushed himself off the bloodstained wooden floor, hastily scrambling to his feet and rushing over to where his daughter laid.
"Yoru?" The bearded man whispered, kneeling down beside his unconscious ward before flipping the Japanese teenager over and roughly shaking her.
"Ughh…" The assassin-in-training groaned out in response to her guardian's shaking. "Dad? Wha… What happened?"
John let out a breath he was unconsciously holding once his daughter roused from her comatose state. The former marine had already lost his wife just two days prior, he wouldn't know what to do if he were to lose his child as well.
…
No, he knew full well what he would do if that were the case. Consequences be damned, he would make the ones responsible pay. But, it's not as if he wasn't going to do that already.
"*Thss* Ow… my head…" The violet-eyed girl winces as a sharp pain assaulted the base of her head.
The ex-assassin took several steps back to give Yoru some space. The teen pushed herself off the hickory wood and sat up; her right hand reached over and rested on the back of her head to nurse her injury from last night. And in her sitting position, she saw the body of the newest addition to their family.
"Daisy… no…" The Japanese girl breathed out when she laid eyes on the dead dog curled up next to her.
With the thought of injury now pushed to the back of her mind, the purple-haired teenager reached down and gently lifted and embraced the pooch.
"Those bastards…" Yoru quietly spat out, her words filled with an inconceivable volume of venom and vitriol while she held the deceased canine. "They killed an innocent puppy… JUST BECAUSE THEY THOUGHT SHE WAS ANNOYING?!"
John pursed his lips as he watched his ward's hands curl into fists. Only with decades of experience was he able to keep his anger at a simmer. His daughter- on the other hand- had no such experience to keep her emotions in check.
"...He will pay." The Soviet promised the hitwoman in training, all three words filled with absolute conviction and painted with undertones of wrath. "They will all pay."
The long-haired man stood up from his kneeling position and walked into the kitchen for some paper towels. He'll find a box to bury his late wife's final gift later; right now, he needs to clean himself and his daughter up.
After that, he'll visit an old friend at his vehicle chop shop.