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Natural Born Killers (Yuna & TomC1307's 1x1)

LadyYunaFFX2

LadyYunaFFX2

Pulsar
Joined
Nov 1, 2012
Location
Boone, NC

Each and every city and town within any nation had it's flaws and shadier individuals and areas. Even the smaller and more 'innocent' seeming locations could hide the most sadistic and cruel people within them. Angelique Robertson was one of those said members .. or rather, she used to be. But now, she was done with that line of work, the one of an assassin. She paid her way out, given the other way was the traditional though very unpleasant method of death. After all, it'd be bad for people to go around and revealing things that the public shouldn't know, yes?

Angelique had no love for the company of sorts anymore and she'd made that perfectly clear upon her departure. So to say she was rather relieved to be out and free again was quite the understatement. The pay and jobs had been exciting and rewarding at first. But over the years, the targets became too easy, too simple, too boring. That plus her own close calls with self-appointed vigilantes and the law had made her want her freedom back once again.

And now that she had it, she was hell bent on keeping it. Deep within the seemingly naive blue orbs of the twenty-three year old, there was a huge, hidden amount of resolve and determination. For now, however, she would allow them to lie to the public. She appeared as nothing nor no one overly special. Just another citizen residing in the overly-crowded city of Houston, Texas.

Normally, she hated crowds. But cities like here were definitely some of the easier ones to keep oneself hidden away and concealed in. It was a bit foolish, Angelique knew, to be as overly cautious as she had been. But she also knew the Agency she used to work for had tons of others besides her that worked for her. And if they were as 'cautious' as herself, she wouldn't put it past the bastards to attempt to send someone after her.

Her head lightly shook no as she glanced out from the window, watching various street names, people, and other typical sightings pass by as she sat upon the subway. "It's been several months now ... " She murmured lowly to herself.

And with that last reassuring thought, the public transportation soon arrived at her destination. Standing up, she slipped a hand into her left pocket, purposely avoiding the other one as it had her .. 'protection'. To be more exact, a small but powerful pistol and pocket knife. They'd been her primary weapons she used to use; but it didn't stop her by any means from keeping them on her.

Inside her left, though, was an MP3 player. And as she hit the 'Play' button, lyrics began to echo in her ears, the headphones having been concealed by her raven locks given how small they were.

A soft sigh passed her lips as she walked off the subway and began going towards her house. Fine, efficiency; but who was keeping track? It had everything she needed to live, survive, and seem like a normal citizen. That was all that mattered. The volume wasn't too loud to disturb others or keep her from hearing any vital noises. Simultaneously, it wasn't too soft that she couldn't enjoy the lyrics and music.

Soon, the following words began to echo gently in her ears ....

"No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes ... "
 
Michael peeked out of the window as Angelique Robertson approached. He recognised her instantly from the picture he had been given. His mission had been to find out everything he could about her, her details, friends, contacts and then he was to make her disappear. He had wiped everything else, her driving licence, he had even handed her job resignation in, claiming she had to move to Washington. As far as anyone knew she no longer existed. Now all that was left was to terminate her and destroy the body. Michael wore black jeans and a white shirt that was tucked in. Over that was a simple but smart jacket, from within which he drew his pistol and silencer. He attached the silencer and watched his target approach, contemplating his life.

He had worked for the Agency for as long as he could remember. It was his life and he had not other memories, no other skills. He never once stopped to contemplate why he did what he did or who the people were that he killed. He just completed the job as cleanly as possible and received a nice fat pay check at the end of the day. Apparently that was reason enough for him. He had never met any other agents and even if he had he probably wouldn't recognise them. Michael was just an ordinary looking twenty four year old man. He had short sandy brown hair and piercing green eyes. His body was well toned from working out so much, but that was it. He assumed the other agents were all similar in their inconspicuousness.

There was a jangling of keys in the front door and Michael was yanked back to his current situation. He heard the door open and felt a slight breeze before the door slammed shut. He raised his pistol as the door to the kitchen. ready to shoot. He saw the door knob turn slowly before the door opened and time seemed to slow down. Angelique walked through the door, looking down and Michael noticed the wires of an MP3 player trailing down to her coat pocket. He felt a strange pang of familiarity as he studied her unclose, distracting his aim. He squeezed the trigger and the gun kicked back, but the bullet simply smashed into the wall next to his target.
 

Her heart couldn't help but pound slightly as she opened the front door. It'd been like her instincts tried to take over and say for her to be more careful. But the front door was able to be opened and quickly shut. A few light pants passed her lips as she shook her head and chuckled softly at herself. Her feet slowly guided her to the kitchen; some caffeine would calm her down. It was her anti-drug of sorts. "Tch, look at yourself. Worked up over nothing ... " She murmured, running a finger through black locks. She made a temporary stop at the mantle near the front door to turn her MP3 player off and pull it out from her blue jeans pocket then set it down.

Angelique let her hands rest on the steady, wooden surface to keep herself mostly calm. Next to her MP3 player, the light jingling was heard as keys were set beside the musical device. She went completely silent, as if to go into her 'keen senses' mode of sorts. Even for a human, she would be able to hear almost anything. Glancing around a few times, she saw nothing. But why did she not feel satisfied? Like she still wasn't alone? Her head shook in annoyance. Her feet began to re-guide her towards the kitchen though now while in mid-walk, she began to remove the hoodie from around herself.

Underneath was a crimson tank top with rather thin straps that barely covered her shoulders. And upon those - and some were hinted on her back - were an array of tattoos. This girl was clearly not afraid of needles or many sharp things; it suggested it would take much more than holding a simple blade to her to scare or unnerve her. She'd been going towards the refrigerator and though she didn't hear it, the sight of something flying out of the corner of her eye was noted. She didn't think, just let her instincts fully take over as she pulled her own pistol out and sure enough, the thing she had indeed seen was a bullet hole. She quickly turned, no longer exposing her back to Michael.

"Who's there? You've all but exposed yourself being here ... now let me see the person who caused this bullet to fly into my wall." Her blue eyes began to dart around, doubting they'd actually comply. So she would need to find them before they were able to fire again. Her eyes tried to trace where the bullet source should be coming from, beginning to look toward the area. Her heart raced more but despite the slight fears, she didn't dare let them show on her face or eyes. No ... the second she did that, she would definitely end up dead.
 
Michael remained silent, still aiming the gun at the woman. What was it about this woman that was so familiar? Why had it made him miss? He contemplated these things as he watched her look around for him. As he aimed down the sights of his pistol he knew that he could easily kill her, yet he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. Instead he snapped his aim to her gun and fired. His bullet hit her gun, knocking it from her hand. He allowed himself a brief moment of pride. He had always been good with guns. It had been his signature weapon for as long as he could remember and he could take apart and put back together any weapon blindfolded, and he could hit the smallest of targets from nearly any range.
He snapped back to reality as the gun clattered to the floor, wasting no time, he leapt across the room, closing the distance between the two of them. And then in one fluid motion he struck out with his left hand, knocking his target out.

He wasted no time in tying Angelique before studying her close up. She was definitely an intriguing woman, and the more he looked he began to feel a strange attraction. He shook it off and made a quick decision. He lifted her up and carried her to his car, which was parked round the back of her house. He would take her back to one of his safe houses and interrogate her. If in fact they did know each other then perhaps she could tell him things about himself, who he was. These were all things that he wondered but he was never allowed to know them. But as he placed her in the boot of his car he couldn't help but hope that she could answer these questions. And another part of him hoped that they were more than just friends.

By the time they reached Michael's safe house it was dark, and the moon cast a silvery peal on their surroundings. His safe house was a small cabin nestled in a small forest. He went t the boot and opened it to find the woman inside still unconscious, surprisingly. He carried her inside and placed her in a wooden chair. He tied her to it and waited for her to wake up as he surveyed the room. it had been a long time since he'd been here. On the left wall was an oven, sink and other kitchen amenities and cupboards. There was also a small round dinning table. On the other side of the room was a living area, with a sofa, tv and several bookcases. Behind where Angelique sat was a wooden door that lead to the bedroom.
 

A low gasp of shock passed Angelique's lips. Whoever was wielding the other gun had damn good aim ... the person was anything but an amateur. She scoffed in annoyance, glaring down at her weapon that was now upon the ground. Her hand had barely finished gripping the handle before she felt a harsh blow against the back of her neck. Her eyes widened and a low gasp mingled in with a groan left as her body fell forward. The last thoughts were inward curses on the bastard resorting to such a cheap tactic -- sneaking up behind her like that. Oh she was furious!

And it'd only get worse when she woke up. As her blue orbs began to open, the first thing she noted was it was dark; the moonlight outside practically spelled that much out. And then the surroundings around her, including the utilities and such. Next was herself and the feeling of .... something restraining her. Glancing down, she found herself bound to the chair she was sitting in. Tch, lucky prick. If only I could reach my pocket .... She could feel her switchblade still in her pocket. Thankfully, he hadn't bothered to check her for that, at least.

Still, it would do no good if she couldn't grab it either. She would wait. After all, he couldn't be around her 24/7. Eventually, he would need sleep. He ... right? And that was the final thing her eyes found; what was likely to be the prick who snuck upon her and knocked her out. Furious blue eyes narrowed as she glared at the man. "So .... mind explaining what the hell this is all about, hm?" She asked, not even daring to bother hiding how annoyed she was with him.
 
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