Hey Yall I Need Some Ideas For A Cod Fanfic Halloween Special Since The Mc Is American. Im Kinda Blanking

Hey y’all I need some ideas for a cod fanfic Halloween special since the mc is American. I’m kinda blanking on ideas

So tempted to right a long as oneshot where 141 meet a John wick reader

Immortal Shenanigans

Chapter 1: Pots and Bullets

Pt. 2, Pt.3

Warning: mild violence.

You stare into the darkness and frown. You had finally remembered the location of your first-ever temple, your pride and joy. At last! But all of your Gold, Statues, and mercury river was gone! What was left were thousands of years old footprints of the thieves who robbed you.

You sigh and walk around with your flashlight in hand. You fell in through a trap door and forgot how to get out. It’s been over 5,000 years and your memories of this time long faded into the back of your mind. You walk around before stopping your eyes widen as joy sets in.

Your pots!

They survived. They were rudimentary and shabbily made, but for the time it was the best. You looked at them and gently picked on up, it was used for wine when mortals bestowed God-hood onto you. It was so long ago, to be worshiped, what bliss.

“AAAAHHH!” You turn around to see the trap door closing and a new figure with you.

“What the fucking hell was that?” The man with a Mohawk grumbles. “Hello! Anyone here me?” He shouts before walking around. He’s like a mad toddler throwing a tantrum. You giggle and he twirls around gun in hand.

“Aaah!” He screams. “What are you doing down here?”

“This is my temple.” You casually reply. It was your temple, the temple of Hauhet. Many believe you were Hauhet, the goddess of eternity.

“Your temple?” He asked his accent strong and annoyed.

“My temple,” you repeat. He stared at you with a look that called you dumb in every language possible.

“What are you a grave robber?”

“Excuse me, child! I am an Antique collector! I fell down here just like you!” You snap annoyed this young man was back talking you.

“I’m pretty sure I’m older than you,” he states looking you up and down. You give him a stink eye, of course, he thinks he’s older, you haven’t aged past the age of 20. You had long lost your actual age or the date of your birthday. You roughly believe you are 5,000 years old maybe a tad younger, you couldn’t remember.

“I look very young for my age!”

“Yeah, sure.” He turns away and begins to talk to someone, The smart man had a radio or phone on him, either way, you would have eventually gotten out of there, maybe taken you a century but you’d get out.

“Ghost do you copy?”

“Affirmative, it appears I fell down a trap and there’s a random lady done here with me.” His strong accent, Scottish from the sounds of things was talking to a fool called Ghost.

You sit down on your throne as old memories of your culture seep back into your mind. The strong smell of the river, of lotus. The heavy sweet taste of honey. You remember the scent that used to adorn your skin the Kyphi only used for a god. Whenever you smell saffron it hits you like a truck.

You could no longer remember the memories but your heart never forgot the sensation of those times long passed. You open your eyes to see the man staring at you.

“You look comfy.”

“It’s my throne.”

“How long have you been down here for?”

“A day at most, at least an hour? Time moves by fast for me.” You wiggle your fingers at him, he nods.

“You fell down the trap?”

“Yup, I was digging around and fell through,” You explain shrugging and looking down at him. He was mildly handsome.

“There is an escape somewhere here…”

“How do you know that?”

“This is my temple!” You state for the again. The man rolls his eyes.

“And where would this exist be?”

“I don’t remember, this place is about 5,000 years old, I’ve forgotten.” The man sighs and walks around.

“This place is shit for a temple.”

“It used to be filled with so much gold it lined every wall.” He turns to me shocked.

“And what happened?”

“Thieves.”

Soap looked at the girl, she was no older than a teenager. Her clothes look like she shopped at a thrift store, specifically the old lady section. She sat on that throne like she owned it, her crazy ramble might be due to dehydration. She could also be a spy for the opponent.

“What’s your name?”

“Which one?” You cock your head to the side and gaze down at him.

“Your real name.”

“I have many “real names” be more specific.”

“Which name are you using right now?”

“We’ll I have several.” The man glared and walked off. He groans, he is dealing with an absolute weirdo.

The trap door was activated and light shone into this hidden temple. You stand up and walk under the light. The sun felt great on your dark skin.

“Soap you down there?” A gruff-sounding man pokes his over the hole.

“Affirmative.” A rope was dropped down. And soap walks behind you. “After you.” You grimace but climb the rope using just your arms. Your legs dangle like dead weight.

Another man helps you up, and behind you, Soap (another dumb name in your opinion) climbs up to the surface. You look over to see a man with a skull mask on.

“What took you so long?”

“I was looking for the damn trigger.”

“I literally told you where it was.”

“Are you two married?” You asked rearing your arm against your knees and stared at this with a devious smile. They turn to you with a glare.

“No!” A smug smile spreads across your lips, they are funny. You stand up and put on your backpack that you stowed under the sand.

“Well you two love bird have fun, I need to return to my—“

“You're coming with us.”

“Eh?”

The next thing you know you’re strapped down to a chair surrounded by 4 big guys. You would have laughed if it wasn’t for the gun pointed at your head— actually, you didn’t care. This situation seems so porn esc.

You look up trying to stop yourself from laughing. You fail and you begin to cackle like a hyena. Tears roll down your face. “Oh meh gawd this is funny!” You say between a gasp of air.

“What’s your name?” The man with incredible facial hair asked you, a cigar in hand. Your laughter stopped and you gave into the man’s face.

“I have many, be more specific.” You tease. You know how this looks, you had many names, you’ve lied so much you long forgot names you give people who might remember you.

“The main one you used.”

“I have like 5 in rotation.”

“What are they!” He bellows, You gaze at him coldly, barely fazed.

“Mary, Nina, Mia, YN, and Pot stealer.” Soap unfolded his arm, did his ears deceive him?

“Pot stealer?” Ghost mutters.

“Now I have to ask, why’d you steal pots?”

“I like pots!” You tell Soap. He stared into my face before covering his and laughing his ass off.

“You can not be serious!”

“Look old people are ruthless when it comes to antique collecting, they always like to throw the term thief. It’s not my fault I’m rich!” You complain. Soap drops to his knees laughing so hard he couldn’t even stand.

“How many— how many pots do you have at home?” Soap asked through gasps.

“Like a thousand or two thousand, I’m not a math guy.” You wiggle your fingers. The binding on your hands is tight. It was constricting the flow of blood.

“YN? She went missing a week ago?” The cigar man mumbles.

“A week? Pogs! Huh, time really does pass by fast.” You smile nodding my head. It was an accomplishment, this is the shortest time you’ve been stuck somewhere no one could find me.

“How are you still alive?”

“…I don’t know.” You truly have never figured out how you became immortal. Just one day you stop aging and never age past that point. You have seen husbands, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren die, yet you were frozen in time.

“How don’t you know?”

“I’m immortal.” Everyone stared at you with eyes that said it all. You are stupid and a little bit crazy in the head.

“Yeah right.”

“So you really think you're immortal?” The mustache man asked.

“Shoot me in the head and you’ll see,” I state back.

“The news reports you’re a photographer, yet why would a photographer have many names?” Ghost asked walking around you.

“For shits and giggles.”

“I think she’s a spy.”

“I was—“

“So you are a spy!”

“Bro, literally what you just did was like calling a thirty-year-old who used to work at a Starbucks in their teens barista, it’s insulting. I haven’t been a spy since the 70s!” You shout.

“That’s like,” you begin to count on your fingers, “that’s like 50 years ago!”

“Did you have to count?” Soap asked.

“I’m not a math person!”

“Either way your sketchy.”

“That is true!”

“Or delusional.”

“That is also very true!”

“She might be working with the enemy.” The only black man said.

“That is less true but go off.”

“For someone who claims to be thousands of years old you sure do know a lot of pop culture words.”

“I feel really connected with this generation. Their want to die is such a valid emotion. Also, I might be old but I’m also 20, so I know shit.”

“She’s crazy.”

“What do you want me to sound like the Bible? Dost thou well to be angry for the gourd?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Thou hast had pity on the gourd!”

They all stare at you confused. Soap opened his mouth and closed it, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m asking you do you expect me to sound medieval?”

“Yes.”

“Art thou a muttonhead?” You state with a bored expression.

“Did you call me dumb?”

“Yay.” You nod your head. If they wanted vintage language you’ll give them Shakespeare flashback.

“If thy willa eald then thine becuman eald.” You state speaking English was a massive gulf ball in your cheeks. It was a mix of the older version of English. It didn’t matter which age it came from if it’s vaguely understandable that’s good enough.

(If you want old then you’ll get old.)

“What?”

“Sceotan me dead, and thy wilt seon.”

(Shoot me died, and you will see.)

“Speak modern English!”

“Imma lives rent-free in your head because I hit different, I’m a whole ass vibe check! And that’s on periodt.” You quickly state. “Y’all being so extra about this it ain’t it, chief. I’m not sus I’m not capping. But this entire situation is sending me!”

“What— what?”

“I don’t know I’m just saying stuff.”

“That’s enough,” the cigar man snaps his patients at its wit’s end.

“Oh poor fool, are you getting tired of me?” You tilt your head before smiling.

“Are you working with the Russian?”

“I’m not snitching on my buddies,” You had no clue what he was asking but you decided to play along. Life has long lost its sparkle. You chose many names and many identities just to amuse yourself. When you fall through the creaks of the lies seeing the world crumble around you is entertaining.

Bang!

You slump over. The world turns dark. You blink and you are alive. You kept your head down. Blood oozed from your head. And the loud complaints of the men make you smile.

“Oi,” you loudly call out causing a few to jump. They turn to you eyes wide in horror. They turn to each other, “Can ya untie me, I really need to get that bullet out my head.” You tilt your head casually to the side.

“I’m waiting.”

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1.8K words

First stupid idea idk if anyone will see this lol

If you want more please tell me!

Livestock AU pt. 2

pt.1,

- Kangal! Price and Llama! Alejandro are very proud of their land and territory. Alejandro only lets in a few dogs Price of course they’re old friends and Border Collie! Gaz, on one condition, Alejandro does the discipline.

- The ewes hybrid finds Alejandro very handsome and he always gets the treats the farmer gives the sheep. The small Lambs will scream and cry if they get lost and Alejandro will go rescue them.

- When rams are introduced into the herd Alejandro has to give the poor ram hybrid a long list of Dos and Don’ts (mostly don’t). Alejandro is highly protective of his ewes and will not take disrespect towards them.

- the heard of sheep is renounced for their wool production so theirs about 6,000 sheep Gaz is the only heard dog working there (because Al can not stand anyone else than agreeable Gaz)

- Gaz has befriended most of the Ewes and has a good rapport with most of the Ewes there is one older one, who gives him shit and calls him Sonny, Honey, and Sweetpea while not moving.

- Gaz does a lot of bearding of the sheep walking the parameter and reporting back to Alejandro. Alejandro spends most of his time with the Lambs or pregnant Ewes who walk the field. He chooses to be in the center of the herd.

- Price speaks with the head farmer often with Laswell to protect the farm better, then spread out to tell their underlings.

- Kangel! Ghost mostly walks around the perimeter of the farm’s land marking his territory and scenting the area to keep pesty coyotes and wolves away. Usually Barn Cat! Roach follows after Ghost

- Ghost struggles to socialize with the other dogs and sees all herds as his true family. The Farmers had to socialize with him and Ghost bonded with Price first, shadowing him before branching off

- Ghost have the deepest scariest bark and the first time all the herd animals heard it they ran for it hiding behind their guardian.

- Ghost also prefers the cats for their quietness (except for Roach who can have a one-way conversation with himself) Ghost tried to snide Laswell once got the smacking of his life (Laswell has his most respect besides Price)

- Great Pyrenees! Soap was added before Gaz but after Ghost. When the fowls were added they were too noisy for either Price or Ghost. So soap was brought in. Sociable and talkative will know all the inside bird drama from the duck, chicken, and Goose Hybrids.

- Soap spends most of his move getting the birds into their fields and feeding them before walking the inner area looking to help anyone who needs it. Usually ends up Chilling with Rudy since Al forbids him in the sheep acres (gets very sad when Gaz has to lead to do his job and not chat with him. Have tried begging Alejandro still refuses. Did cry himself asleep he really wanted to hug the fluffy ewes and lambs)

- Soap sometimes shadows Ghost and slowly his happy calmish demeanor rubs off on Soap and becomes his second bonded friend. After the morning recon, they explore the scents to see if theirs any threats, and then Soap runs off to tell Price and gather the boys

- Soap is a strong guardian dog once the fowl were moved to a field and a building was erect Soap ends up fighting off the Coyotes often at night who try to snatch one of his gossiping birdies. Ghost does Join since that’s where the action is.

- Coyote! Valeria and Soap have the most enemies-to-lover vibes while having the gayest vibes too. They flirt but in like a hateful way. Valeria has a mate somewhere and goes after the fowls mainly when she and her mate are having pups or to piss off Soap.

- Barn Cat! Laswell was gotten before any of the livestock and when both Alejandro and Price were added she instantly put them in their place. Al and Price like having her import and her inner network of barn cats from other barns do a lot of inter-barn cat political activities.

- Roach and Laswell sometimes go off for a few days to the cat conference and come back with knowledge! Once Rat! Makarov invaded and wreak other barns Laswell was very adamant about catching that criminal

- Laswell needed more men and told the Farmer she needed more soldiers that’s where Barn Cat! Farah and Alex were added and they have been waging war

- Makarov and his forces once trapped Alex and got his leg caught onset some debris. He has a permanent limp but still works as a Barn cat.

- Makarov and Konni forces live under the dirt and in tight spots spying.

- the farmers got so annoyed they gathered SpecGru hunting association (hunting dogs ready to hunt rats) they got a lot of Makarov’s forces but rats reproduce quickly so they came back

- lastly added to the man Guardian and the farm were the Goats (mostly use to make Goat cheese) was Alpaca! Rudy. A very pretty hybrid that Al instantly was attracted to. Rudy is a good alarm system but isn’t likely to fight but will.

- Alejandro saw Rudy in another field and thought about jumping the fence to chat but Gaz put him in his place

- the first-time livestock guardian 141! Ran into Wolf! Graves his shadow company pack were stalking a Goat and Rudy alerted everyone.

- a tense stand-off between Ghost, Price, and Soap. They had to use intimidation to scare off the wolves.

- German Shepard! Nik is the Farmer's personal pet and likes to come around to collect the chicken eggs and sometimes tell wild stories to the young guardian dogs (Gaz and Soap haven't decided of his tails are real or not)

- Young Barn Cat! Reader tends to follow Laswell around and sit in the garden and sunbathe, stalk the chicks, and get chased off by Soap.

- Kitten! Reader and Makarov got beef after the giant ass Rat Makarov popped up next to Kitten! Reader. 141 are now on the lookout for the giant rat.

- soon once Cat! Reader grows up they will join the fight against Makarov and Konni group

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Any request for this AU is welcomed!

inspired a little by @tacticalanklebiter3000 and @frogchiro

Would anyone be interested in grim reapers mw2 characters? It’s a strange idea I have

Like they all die and become the grim reapers (helper) to the death god of modern warfare

Link Here!

Baba Yaga Task force 141 X John Wick! reader

Tw: animal abuse, references to pregnancy, mention of miscarriages, blood, gore, violence, death

Gender neutral uses Mx for Mr/ Mrs it’s gender neutral.

Married life— you never saw that for yourself. You also never saw yourself fall for a military man. It almost feels like a sick joke. An unsanctioned killer meeting a legal one is a sick joke.

You met him on a work trip, honestly how you two got each other’s phone number was quite the funny ordeal. You met in line to be seated, turns out he was your seatmate. You gave him no mind, occasionally you two would give each other nods.

You notice him at the same hospital you. You were on a mission, and he had a bullet wound. Your eyes lock and life continues. With one of your work friends, you have noticed him in a group across the restaurant from you. You locked eyes, a strange thought passed between us, why are you here?

The last straw was sitting at your window seat only to hear a low “bloody hell.” You look up to find him again. You couldn’t help but laugh. This is ridiculous.

“I see you again stranger,” you smile. He scratched his head mumbling some more and sitting down.

“What’s your name?” You ask as he sits down next to you.

“Simon, you?”

“[Name], nice to meet you.”

You two had to exchange numbers, it was too coincidental. You only talk for a few minutes before going back to your own devices. You kept getting more job requests. With a sigh you picked on in England, you were heading there so might as well do a job there.

You two didn’t talk for a few months, you honestly forgot he existed. He texted you out of the blue, it was small and simple. It was a short conversation. Never too long never too deep. Occasionally when you were in England and so was he you meet up for coffee or tea.

It was casual— situational. You saw nothing long-term with him, not even a romantic relationship maybe just acquaintances. Two years— every six or more months you two would have a small conversation. Two years of on and off, before it got really serious. Before he got serious.

It was like a dam had broken loose. You answer your texts, more often. You two ended up calling too. It was fast a tumble and the relationship roared to life. It was all in a span of three months.

He moved in with you— into your expensive New York home. He brought his dog with him, Riley, a cute German shepherd. A well-trained one. Living with Simon, you learn one thing for sure— he’s a man of routine. He established on quickly.

We kept our jobs private and our relationship on the download. It took him a few months to mention his work— it was in passing that you learned he’s a special operator in the military. You are a traveling art appraiser.

You two both agreed, that work is something we don’t talk about. It was another three years of quiet dating both heavily busy. He was gone for months sometimes better half of a year, which was perfectly fine for you, you’re busy too. Very busy. It was five years into your relationship did he brought up marriage. He’s… joining a dangerous task force and wants to seal the deal.

You said yes— but before you could plan the wedding, you had to leave the game. Leave the underworld. The continental and the high table won’t let you go so easily. You’ll have to pay a debt. Before the two weeks were up you must complete an impossible task— kill the three most prominent underworld leaders. With one blood oath later, you were free.

Free from being the Baba Yaga.

Free from being Wick.

Free to marry.

Free to be a doting partner for Simon.

By the time you come back, you already started doing venue shopping for the wedding. You both agree to a private wedding with just your friends, he had none who are civilians, and he chose to keep his career away from you.

The wedding was sweet. Private with less than fifty people attended. The wedding ring barrier is Riley obedient and sweet carrying the pillow with the rings. You chose the rings, they’re thin and plain something that denotes marriage but also could be simply overlooked as accessories. The world didn’t need to know you two were married just you two.

You became a Riley. You didn’t want your old name— not the name of a killer. Neither did he, but you made it clear, you were happy to have his last name. And he was happy to live in your house. He had a slight chip on his shoulder— he wanted to provide for everything.

You came to a compromise. He pays for most of the housing utilities and you pay for the house tax. His money is the family’s money and yours was yours— and the children’s. You didn’t argue on that— you both know he could quit his job and you two could live rather comfortably on your money. But you could clearly tell providing made him very happy.

It’s what made him feel worthy… worthy of you.

Three years of marriage and most of the time he was away, always on the clock even on break. Only a few people in his line of work knew you existed, a CIA agent and his captain. No one else. And that was fine with you.

Retirement life is great. You spent most of your time figuring out what you wanted to do with your millions. Three years in and the two of you were considering starting a family. A few children would be too bad, You’re retired and Simon has mentioned retiring from the military, no time soon but in time for raising kids. You never consider raising kids. Hell, you never consider marriage or leaving the underworld life.

“My love,” you turn to see Simon setting his military bag down and rushing to you for a hug. “How have you been?” He murmurs.

“Not much Sí just wondering where I put the nursery.” You hum. From the backyard, you hear Riley storming into the living room and jumping onto Simon.

Life was blissful slow and trouble-free.

Until you decided to walk the street with Riley. Coming back from your surrogate who’s 3 months pregnant, lovely woman. Simon would bring his military friends over— forced by his team. You’re are very surprised, how strange this is but you don’t mind the new guess.

As you walk down the street at night Riley on highly guarded. You weren’t scared and had your gun in hand. Simon insisted you get gun training. Something to do with his pass. He only said he lost everyone he cared dearly and he did not want to lose you too. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you already knew how to shoot a gun.

You kept your mouth shut, he took some pride in protecting you— thinking he was protecting you. Why would you take that away from him? His sense of peace and duty? You didn’t mind playing into his fantasy. It’s rather cute seeing him be all protective, you never had that in your life until now. It was everything you wanted— to be wanted. You even got your concealed license to lessen his stress. Playing the perfect spouse was very… peaceful— heavenly really.

Riley’s sharp bark regains your attention. You look up to see a group of men running into the alleyway. You step into the shadows and hope to avoid them. They were speaking in Russian.

“What the hell man! You killed a Pregnant woman!” You froze and looked at them silently.

“She got in the way,” one brash boy sneers.

They continue to argue about killing the woman— they were only meant to rob her. Riley stayed silent but he was ready, ready to fight. You hear them stumbling closer, you make a loud noise and walk from the darkness.

This has nothing to do with you— your eyes caught something. That purse— just like your surrogate. You look at all of them up and down, at the stolen items in their hands. You recognize them all.

Your heart breaks.

That lovely woman— Anne. They killed Anne and your baby.

“What you looking at?” One points their gun at you. Riley begins to bark at them sneering and snarling his teeth at them.

“You killed Anne,” you mutter silently. You picked the surrogate— a friend of a friend. She was so happy to help you two. A thanks for helping her get het out of an abusive relationship. She had her life ahead of her.

With one swing at you, Riley jumps up and latch onto the arm. Another shot Riley in the stomach. You swing hard, mind going blank as your training kicks in, systematically each of them out. Breaking their hands, arms, and neck. You didn’t feel like letting them live.

Once you were done you pulled out your phone and called for a reservation for dinner. You left the coins on the body and ran home to get your car and take Riley to the vet.

Simon is not going to be happy, about this. About his dog, about our surrogate, about the baby. That is not the news he needed. But you called, he deserves to know.

“What’s wrong love?” He answer his tone tired and muddled. Evidently, you woke him up.

“I have bad news,” you begin.

He couldn’t come back early, he was deployed in a foreign country. The news was bad and you know Simon would be worried until he gets back. More for you— he’s worried about your feelings. Sweet man.

He liked Anne. She was bubbly and kind. Happy to be a surrogate and a babysitter if needed. A friend’s friend. He wasn’t so sure about her but you could tell she had grown on him. She was a surrogate a few times.

The funeral was shocking. The culprits never caught— of course, they wouldn’t, you handle it. You called your contacts and told them to leave the bodies out for the police to find— victims of a gang shootout. You have Anne’s remaining family and a small sense of peace.

A week passes and you continue to look for another Surrogate. Adoption came to mind, you were adopted. Not by the best people— they used you like a child soldier… so be it. Your child will be happy, you promise them that.

Would Simon consider adoption?

Does he even want children after this… mess?

You checked in on Riley his wounds were recovering nicely. You rest in your bed sleeping soundly. Your husband be back in two days.

The loud sharp squeal of Riley awoken you to a house of eerie cold silence. You scramble to your feet and go looking for Riley, maybe he opened up his wound. You appear at the top of the stairs to see— that bastard.

“Arseni.” You called out coldly in Russian, as you slowly descended down the steps. Once a brother in arms, a friend, now he’s in your house beating your dog.

“Mx. Wick,” his thick Russian accent twists into a cold sneer as he inches closer to you. “You killed my son!” He screams in Russian. You cock your head to the side, as one of his men kicks Riley to the side. He let out a loud whimper and crashed into the ground. Unmoving and still.

Your cheeks feel like a molten and a burning hell fire seers into your cheek. You clench your hands until your knuckles turn white. Your nose flares, lips pull back into a sneer. You stared at Arseni, ready to punch him.

A sharp pain seers into your abdomen as one of his followers shoots you, three rush forward with metal bats and begin to beat you. You let out a low groan as the metal left large bruises on your right side. Your head rings out in agony as one hit you in the head. Your vision blurs violently as it slowly goes blotchy and red.

You kick one of them and rush to the kitchen pulling out knives and trying to get to a hidden gun in the cabinet. The three ran after you, hitting you in the back with their bats. You stumble forward crashing into your marble counter.

Your bloody broken hands grab onto a knife and violently slash the person behind you, cutting one of their neck. You grab him by the back of his head jab the knife up into his neck and watch as the life dies in his scared eyes. You threw his body at the nearest attacker and went for the other.

You shove the knife into his torso and repeatedly punch the man in the face, breaking his nose with the second punch. Blood spewed out like a faucet.

Pew!

A bullet rips through your right biceps and into the side of your cheeks. Before losing momentum. You spat the bullet out and shoved the man in your arms against the last attack. As you did so you repeatedly stabbed the bloody man in your fist in the neck. Blood shoots onto your chest, staining your white shirt red.

You rip the knife out of his neck and face the last attacker. You plunge the knife right into his right eye and he crumbles onto the ground. You stop for a second, breathing hard as your lungs burn from the lack of air. You never stop working out, but your skills truly did become rusty. You rush to the cabinets and retrieve the gun.

You’d tumble back to the living room, your house trashed and photos burning in the middle of the expensive rug you bought. Your lips are pulled into a sharp frowning sneer. You flip the coffee table over smothering the fire pit. You stumble to your dog, Riley whimpers as you touch him, he is alive.

You grab your keys and rush Riley back to the vet, for immediate care. You left him there overnight. As you drive back your body is bruised and sore. As you drive back a car crashes into yours.

“That’s yer hoose?” Soap gawks at the large modern sleek design of the house. It’s large with a large yard— how the bloody hell did Simon afford this?

Gaz pressed his face against the window a wide smile on his face, it was a beautiful home. Price also stared, it was so American in design. It looks like a nightmare to defend with all those windows.

“My partner bought it,” Ghost grunts. His brows knit together as he saw the front door wide open, the window around the door shattered and broken.

“What the fuckin’ hell—“ he floored the car to the garage and rushed out and into his house. His living was a mess blood and dents in the wall.

“[name]!” He shouts. Silence greets him back, and his heart stops. “Riley!” Not even his dog was around.

“What the fuckin’ hell happened here?” Gaz asks slowly walking into the ruined house. Besides the mess, he could tell this house was beautiful, expensive, and enviable.

“Whit hav we got here?” Soap mutters walking deeper into the house his accident seeping into his worried tone.

“Ghost!” He shouts, seeing the three dead men in the kitchen. Ghost tore into the room and froze, his heart sunk and he rushed in checking to see if anyone was his love. They weren’t. He looked around the room and noticed that the cabinet with the hidden gun was open. He looked in, the gun was gone.

Ring ring!

He booked it to his landline a retro thing that you insisted on keeping. He lifts it to his ears.

“Is this… [name]?” A woman asks.

“No, I’m their husband,” Simon states.

“Your dog Riley just came out of Surgery, you can pick him up later today.”

Ghost signs and sets the phone down. The lady had no idea where you went after you dropped off Riley. She did tell him you were covered in blood and looked beaten up. You had refused their help to call the police. His dog is safe— but you were gone, gone with the wind.

What is going on?

His house is messed up. These random bodies are in his house. His spouse missing! What is going on?

His heart bounds violently against his chest as his heart falls. Where where you? Where were you taken? His worst nightmare came true— losing you. His hands slightly shake and he lets out a long sigh.

“You ok mate?” Gaz asks touching him on his shoulder.

“My partner is missing.” Ghost simply states. He walked to the garage, your car was gone. Your really nice vintage car is gone. His brows furrow together as anxiety sets in.

Ghost walks back into his house and pulls out his phone to call you. He hears the faint ring of your ringtone upstairs. The second floor was normal, with no destruction. In your shared room the lamp was still on, and blankets were thrown to the side.

He walked back downstairs trying to think. His eyes widened and he pulled his computer out. Sometimes he forgot about the security cameras he hid in this house, in the panic he had forgotten he set them up. The task for gather around to see what’s going on.

Simon’s blood rushed away from his cheeks, and he paled at the sight. His love, his light being beaten to a bloody pulp on the floor by some thugs. He switches cameras to the kitchen and to his shock he witnesses you kill all three. He could have mistaken the first kill as an accident. But the others look calculating, methodical— you could fight?

He hadn’t brought up self-defense classes yet. He wanted to, just in case his job would affect you and the baby…

“Damn, they can fight,” Gaz mumbled with awe. He switches back to the living room camera and watches as you flip the dining room table over to put out the fire scoop up Riley and drive off.

“I didn’t know your spouse could speak Russian,” Price mumbles rubbing his chin.

“Neither did I,” Ghost furrowed his brow. What were you hiding?

Ring ring.

Ghost stands up and answers the phone, his heart falls into the pit into the pit of his stomach. His hands slightly tremble, your prize car was found run off the road in a hit-and-run, and you were nowhere to be found.

“Mx. Wick,” you look at the concierge of the continental Hecate and smile politely. It took a few hours to get to the Continental Hotel.

“Make me a dinner reservation,” you calmly state. You had to get rid of the bodies in your house before your husband got home. She smiles and nods and makes the call for your residence.

You slide a coin over, “I like a room,” she smiles and nods setting a room up for you. You left the hotel and moved down the sketchy alleyway until you found an Asian restaurant. You knocked on the door as an old man appeared— a doctor.

“Doctor,” you greet.

“Mx. Wick,” he greets back letting you in. He was a black-market doctor. He patched you up and you limp back to the continental and heading back to sleep nicely.

You had asked Hecate to set up a meeting with the manager, Bereket Gerhold, you needed him to set up a meeting with Arseni. You sign close the curtains and go to sleep.

You’ll call Simon once this is all over. He must be worried. You aren’t the type to leave him— in the dark. He’s probably worried sick… you weren’t planning on leaving him high and dry after bringing his work friends over. How embarrassing, what a mess. You hope he didn’t find the bodies, how do you explain that? Any of this? You have a sleepless night.

Simon stared at the CCTV. He’s in shock, your Ford Mustang Mach 1, was slammed into violently by a black Mercedes. He watched it over and over again. How the Mercedes shoved your prized car out of the frame and into an abandoned warehouse where the cameras were long broken.

A bus came around. There was nobody left behind, just blood and broken car parts. Ghost caught a glimpse of the logo, the Continental Hotel. He thanks the police and leaves the station to find his team waiting for him.

“Where ur we gonna go?” Soap asks as Ghost reapproves the care.

“The continental hotel,” he states gruffly.

“There’s one in New York City, mate,” Gaz spoke up after looking up the hotel.

They drove off. Ghost had been to the hotel, he had seen it here and there. It’s an international hotel, for the rich. What were you doing there? He knows you’re rich but why go to a hotel and not the hospital? Not call him?

It’s late when they arrive at the continental. They walked in and people turned to them. They were outsiders— out of place. They ignore them and continue to walk to the front door.

“May I help you?” A woman asks.

“I want to know if my spouse is here.” Ghost firmly states.

“Name?” The woman asks.

“[name] Riley.”

“We have no one under that name.”

“…[Name] Wick.” The woman stops and looks up at him before a pleasant smile graces her lips. She picked up a phone and called someone. Simon felt his heart race, you were here.

“There are guests down here for you,” the woman says. She nods and hangs up. She handed over a key and told him the room number.

You sigh and stare at the door. Simon will be here soon. You change out of your bloody clothes and into a bathrobe. You chuck your bloody close into the bathtub.

You freeze and look at the door. The door handle slowly turns. You frown as a woman walks through the door a gun in hand. Arseni must have put a price on your head.

“Cordula,” you greet politely. “Wrong room?”

“Right room,” she pulls out her gun you just manage to dodge the bullet. You lunge at her wrestling her to the ground. She knees you in the groans a few times but you don’t let go slamming her back repeatedly into the ground.

She wrestled her hand free and shot you in the shoulder. You wince and let go of her. You back off holding your left shoulder. The door burst open and you see the burly body of your husband. He froze, seeing Cordula with a gun. Before she could even move to point it at him he had her on the ground pinned.

“Soap!” He calls in a Mohawk man steps in and switches places with him.

“My love!” He pulls you into a deep hug. He mumbles worriedly into your ear, “Why aren’t you at the hospital?” He pulls slightly away to gaze at your face. Touching it with tender care and love.

His eyes widen as he notices the blood oozing from your left shoulder. Something hit you in the side and you fall into his arms someone from outside of the hotel shot you in the side. Simon grabbed you and rushed you away from the window and out of the room.

“Shit,” you grumble in more pain. Now both sides of your torso have a gun wound.

“Gaz call the police—“

“Don’t.” You snap. You stagger to your feet and knock on the door next to your room. A familiar man answered it.

“Mx. Wick,” he greets everyone shocked, “are you working again.”

“No, can I narrow your phone?” You ask politely and a little curtly. Velimer steps aside and lets you in.

You call Hecate and tell her of the situation of the attempted murder on the continental ground by Cordula and the assassin out of the continental. She was understanding but a little dismissive.

“My husband almost called the police, I advise you to solve this, also summon the doctor to the continental I’ll be at the bar.” You hang up and give a curt nod to your neighbor.

“Let’s go downstairs,” you tell your husband and his friends.

“What do we do with her?”

“Bring her along the continental will deal with her.” You stagger off to the elevator. Simon snapped out of his shock and moved to support you even though you couldn't stand.

“You need to go to the hospital now.” He urges worry laced into his tone. You needed to tell him the truth but where do you begin? What do you say? How do you explain the madness of the underground crime world to an outsider?

Hecate was waiting for you when the elevator door opened. She took Cordula and you know her life is at an end. You stagger off to the bar. Your husband frowns watching as the strange concierge takes your attacker away.

Why were you so calm? What is going on? Why aren’t you going to the hospital? So many thoughts run through his mind as he chases after you.

“Love,” he calls out, “you need to go to the hospital, not the bar.”

“Relax—“

“You are bleeding!” He snaps not directly at you but at the whole situation. He’s stressed and very on edge. The one thing he spent years trying to protect is injured and he has no idea why. How wasn’t safe, this hotel isn’t safe, sure the hospital would be safer than here.

“Simon,” you sigh, he wouldn’t understand, “I am the safest here.” He looks at you strangely and watches as you walk to the bar.

Ghost stared at your staggering shuffle. Why were you acting so strange? He turns around to turn to his team. They had the same look. The strange woman comes back and Ghost approaches her.

“What is going on?”

“What do you mean?” She asks politely.

“Why did she attack my spouse?” He asks in a low dark tone. The woman pursed her lips before breaking into a smile.

“Codula broke the rules—“

“What rules?” Soap steps toward.

“The rules of the continental.” The woman smiles.

An old staggering man rushes into the hotel, the clerk points towards the bar and he waves rushing by with a man old fashion doctor's bag.

“Who’s attacking my spouse?”

“Have they not told you?” The woman leans forward. Ghost looks down at her tag, Hecate. She smiles.

Ghost backed up and b-lined it to the bar. He found you sitting in a recliner getting your shoulder wound checked out.

“My love,” he calls out his tone shaky but stern. You look with tired eyes and his heart aches in pain. You look so exhausted and tired. Are you scared?

“Who’s attacking you?”

“His name is Arseni Anastas—“

“The Russian mafia boss!” His eyes widen. He rushes over grabbing your hand gingerly and with care.

“What happened?” He searches your eyes with a worried expression. Your calm gaze didn’t help ease him, were you just petrified that you just couldn’t comprehend what was going on?

You calmly pull out a cigarette which is something you do only in times of stress if the furrowed brow deepens. You took a puff and blew out the smoke.

“Simon,” you softly stare leaning your forehead against his. “What I will tell you will change your opinion of me forever, you might hate me, you might want to leave me, but can you promise me you’ll listen?” You ask holding your pinky out for a promise.

“Promise,” he utters linking his pinky with yours.

“I am a former hitman. Arseni Anastas is targeting me because I recently killed his son, who killed our surrogate and child.” You answer with a concise tone.

He bolts up and takes a walking lap around you and the doctor who moved down to your torso to clean the wound. He looked at you before looking away there was a pained look in his gaze.

“Why didn’t you walk away?” He finally asks.

“Anne didn’t deserve to die like that,” you state taking another drag of the cigarette, “besides I found those fuckers after they did it. They weren’t remorseful.” You hum.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t realize it was Arseni’s bastard son… still would have killed him.” You hum. The doctor finishes up and you hand over a gold coin. He gives you a nod before hustling away.

“Would you and your friends like drinks?” You turn to your passing husband.

“Don’t run away from this conversation—“

“I’m not Simon, but I hate for your friends to stand around clueless. So let me get them some drinks and you can collect your thoughts before we talk again.” Your state.

Ghost and look at you eyes widening, Are you always this commanding? It’s so different. You used to go with the flow. He watches as you walk out of the bar dragged his team to the bar and paid for their first few drinks.

They sat at the counter giving you two some space. You got Simon some whisky and sat it down on the table and sat on the recliner again. You gesture to the other seat and Simon sat down.

“How long?”

“I’ve been one my entire life raised in this— economy.” You hum taking in another drag of the cigarette and letting the smoke set in your lungs before breathing it out.

“When did you quit?”

“Right before our wedding.” He stared at his glass of whisky. He couldn’t look at you.

“You lied about your job—“

“It’s my part-time job,” you correct, “it wasn’t a lie just not the full truth.” He down the drink and look you in the eyes. There was nothing but betrayal in his gaze. How could he ever trust you again?

“Is that where you got all this… blood money?”

“… Naturally.” He felt his gaze burn into your face searching for humanity. You like to look away but that is cruel for him, he deserves to know.

“So my dog was hurt because of you.” You take a sip of your bourbon and sigh. You feel the divorce coming.

“Arseni’s son…. Would have mugged me either way and you trained Riley to defend me, he would have gotten hurt either way. I saw red that night and killed him and his friends.”

You look into his pained eyes. He could barely look at you. You set your drink barely drink on the table and leaned in. Letting the smoke of your preferred poison ruin your mind for a microsecond.

“Simon, they broke continental rules trying to kill me.” You tilt your head and stare at him, “I am more dangerous than Arseni.”

You stand up and look at his friends before turning back to Simon, “Go home, let me handle this.”

“Are ye crazy,” the two of you turn around to see the Mohawk one, Soap was it… yelling “Ghost yer gonna let them do ‘is by themselves?” You turn back to your husband, Ghost? He looked at you.

“What’s your plan?” Simon asks after a moment of silence. You know he worked hard on controlling his emotions, he didn’t want to be like his father.

“I’m going to have a meeting with Arseni, he leaves me alone or I kill him.” You state. He frowns, that wasn’t a plan.

“Do you know what you're doing?”

“Yes, Sí I’ve been killing far longer than you, do you know what you're doing?” I ask. Not to be condescending but as a warning. He looked at you, you didn’t know to ask condescending questions, so he didn’t take it as that.

“And how do you know he won’t shoot you before the meeting.”

“You can’t kill on continental ground.” You state. They all look at you strangely. They all had the same look, what kind of rule is that?

“Surely you do realize the underground world is far older than your government? Then your military? Then the political wars? I live in a world of honor and regulations. I am the safest here.” You reiterate your words from before. You could see realization dawn on his face.

“How are you going to… kill him? What if he stays here permanently? You won’t be able to kill him,” Simon states.

“Well… your CIA friend must be looking for him. Either I get him or your government gets him.”

“So you're using us—“

“Don't overthink it, love,” you said looking down at him, “my other plan was to scorch the earth. Originally I was going to hunt him down… personally that’s still my preferred method but I like to end this as on as possible.”

“Damn Ghost yoo found yourself a spitfire!”! Soap cheers which earned him a glare.

“Oh,” your turn back to Simon. “I owe a Blood Oath to an Italian mobster.”

“What does that mean?” He leans back folding his arms. He’s guarding himself from you.

“If he comes to find me, I must do what he asks. It is a blood debt.” You state firmly.

“And why do you owe him one?”

“Because I left this life to marry you.” You state which took him by surprise.

“Can we talk in the lobby?” Simon asks setting his empty glass down. The confusion was gone and he made up his mind, or at least he came to redemption.

You two walk into the semi-quiet lobby the air conditioning drowning out some of the muttering of other people. A few turn to you, of course, they did. You two found a small corner to stand and talk.

“…why didn’t you tell me?” That was all he could say.

“I didn’t want to chase you away.” You honestly tell him. He cups your face rubbing his thumb tenderly against your cheeks.

“I wish you told me before all this.”

“This is pretty last minute.” He slightly cracks a smile.

“Let me help you.” He murmurs pulling you into a hug.

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” You mutter back.

“[name] I can’t know you're doing something dangerous without me… I can’t lose you, too.” You pulled you close and kissed your lips tenderly. As you pull away you see the manager walking in.

”[name],” you pull away and he turns around to look at the older man. He’s in his 50s or 60s by the look of him.

“Berket,” you greet walking up to him.

“And what do I owe the pleasure of Mx. Wick?” He asks with a fond smile.

“Set up a meeting with Arseni, I like to chat.” You fold your arm.

“Why?”

“Simply we need to chat,” he stared into your eyes before nodding.

“You must be their husband,” Berket turns to Simon with a strange smile looking up and down.

Ghost felt his body tense under his gaze. He gently grabs onto your arm protectively. He didn’t like this man, how he talked to you like you were a child. It infuriated him.

“They did quite a lot to leave this life for you, an almost impossible task.” He walks past and towards Hecate.

“What does he mean, love?” He asks softly still holding onto your arm. His grip travels down and he laces his fingers with yours.

“To leave this world you must do something major, most can’t do the task that is asked of them. I was able to, after getting help— the blood Oath.” You explain.

“You’re not truly out are you?” He mutters pulling you into a hug once more.

“Not fully, once I finish that blood Oath I will be.”

“Are you sure?”

“I hope so.” He frowns as he studies your face.

“What did you get us into?” He murmurs before lifting your chin to kiss you deeply.

“Us?” You ask.

“Us.”

“Who knows,” you murmur.

“Let’s get back to the others and figure out an actual place,” he takes you by the hand and walks back for the bar. “And we can get you some clothes later.”

You blink a few times before chucking, “I forgot I was wearing a robe.” He chuckles and you find the three chatting with the bartender.

“Is there a private place to talk?” He asks me.

“Go get them and I’ll talk with Hecate.” You hum. As you turn to leave he didn’t immediately let go he looked at you longingly before slowly letting go. He watched you leave.

You approach Hecate, “I need to use your armory.”

“Why?”

“Need a quiet and safe place to talk with my husband and his colleagues, my hotel room isn’t safe.” She froze for a second before smiling.

“Of course.”

“Will you also bring me a new suit?” You ask. She nods. You turn around to see all four men walking towards you.

Hecate walked us to the vault and the men froze gazing at the wall-to-wall guns on display and a nice couch in the middle. You sit down on the couch, your husband joining you. The other leaned Against the wall or checked out the guns.

“Why so many guns?” One asks. The other one, besides Soap, pulled out a cigar and began to smoke.

“Safety protocols.” He turns to you confused.

“So the plan?” The cigar man asks.

“Arseni Anastas leader of the Russian Mafia will be coming here for a meeting with me, with the help of the manager,” you start.

“We can contact Laswell to see if they are looking for him,” Simon speaks up.

“We can call the police swat team—“

“We bought them out,” you state interrupting Soap.

“The FBI will have to send their people, people who have nothing to do with this hotel chain or this world.” You state fiddling with the helm of your robe.

“So this place is highly corrupt?” Cigar man asks.

“Completely.” You state looking at all of them. The room grew silent as each began to think.

“Can’t you just kill him?” Soap asks.

“I can but not on continental grounds. I’m bound by rules.” He nods.

“Let’s contact Laswell, she might have a plan.” They nod. The cigar man pulled out his phone and began to call someone.

“So…” the dad cap man begins, “is the… Baba Yaga real?” He asks.

“Yeah is he?”

“Gaz, Soap,” Simon said sternly.

“What?” Dad Cap asks, “If their other hitmans out there surely the Baba Yaga is real!” Soap and Gaz turn to you expectingly.

“Yeah Baba Yaga is real.” You sigh, you forgot about your notoriety, you forgot to tell your husband. This could break your relationship again… fuck!

“Who? Baba Yaga hasn’t been seen in years did he finally die?” Gaz folds his arms speculating.

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

“I retired.”

“Oh— Your Baba Yaga?” Soap said his eyes widening in shock. You since at his volume.

“Yeah.” He looked you up and down, you didn’t look like much. You could see Simon staring at you in shock as betrayal clouds his eyes again.

“Only the Baba Yaga could do what the high table asks and leave this hellish world alive.” You tell him sternly.

“So… you know… we are hunting you?” Gaz mumbles.

“Figured.” You state standing up as Hecate walks in with a nicely pressed suit tailored to your body “I’m shocked you hunting me when all my targets have been other criminals.” You hum as you begin to put on the pants.

“How did you track down Azhar Maktar when we couldn’t even find him?” Soap asks watching you intently as you change into the black suit.

“The continental and a few connections,” you state.

“I see… will the continental help us.”

“I doubt it, you can ask but they will turn you down.” You tell them. You put on the white dress shirt hiding behind Simon’s body to as you change. You walk from behind him suit on and ready to slay.

“Can you help us locate another man?” Soap asks.

“Who?”

“Vladimir Makarov,” your face scrunches up. Hearing that familiar name.

“That bastard.” You mumble.

“You know him?”

“Met the motherfucker on a mission, got in my way so I beat him near death. Since then every few years he sends men after me trying to kill me.” You wave your hands before walking to the wall and looking for a nice gun to have.

“Do you know where he is?”

“No, my guess is somewhere nowhere Russia.” Soap groans and looks at you with slight disappointment.

“Is Makarov part of the underground network?” Simon finally asks.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t heard of him, but he could be using a proxy.” You explain, too which he nods.

“Alright,” you all turn to the cigar man who sets the phone down. “There is a warrant on Arseni Anastas. We are given the authority to get him.” He tells his crew. They all nod.

“We’ll have to drop by a base—“

“Too far,” you inturupt Gaz. “You’ll have to work like a hitman. Let’s get you suits.” You turn to them with a wicked smile. They all look at you confusingly.

“What will a suit do?” Gaz asks.

“Besides fitting in with the continental it can also protect you from bullets unless you want to risk it.” He nods.

“So where do we get the suits?” Cigar man asks.

“I know a place. We’ll borrow a car from the continental and drive there.” You explain.

“You stay here,” Simon immediately states. He looks down at you with a serious expression, “You're the target.” You sigh but nod.

“Before you go you need to know a few things.” You state pulling out a notepad. You wrote down two addresses, one for a tailor and another for a Sommelier.

“When you go to the Sommelier ask for him and when you meet him ask for a tasting. If you don’t like what he gives ask for something robust,” they stared at you a little confusingly, “Simon in your case ask for dessert.”

“Why?” Gaz slowly asks.

“We talk in code,” you explain.

“When you go to the tailor and ask for an Italian suit, it’s for a social event, tactical lining, and rush to order. Have it delivered to the hotel, got it?” You tell them. They all nod committing your words to memories.

“Let me get some coins,” you murmur.

“Coins?”

“You need to pay for it somehow.” You walk off and walk back to your destroyed hotel room. You retrieved a handful of coins and pocketed it.

“Here,” you hand over the coins to your husband. He looked at them weirdly. “Assassin currency pays what they ask for.” He nods and studies your face.

“We’ll be back soon,” Simon kisses you on the forehead.

As they depart the hotel you let out a sigh and sit down at the bar. You order another round of bourbon and smoked another cigarette. You mind your own business as people come in and out.

A few hours passed before they returned. They looked a little frazzled and very warn out. Simon sat across from you and handed over the unused coins.

“What— that was an experience.” Soap mumbles pulling a chair up next to you.

“Are those guns legal here?”

“Yes,” you answer, “yes it is.”

“So… what now?” Simon asks.

“It’ll be a few days until the suit will be done.” You begin putting out your cigarette on the ashtray. They spent their time casing out the continental waiting for their suits to be made.

Simon spent most of his time around you, asking questions here and there. You could tell with every answer you gave stressed him out even more. You pitted him, this must be so… daunting to learn.

“Love,” you look over to see your husband walking up to you.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go over the plan again,” you sigh but nod. It’s the twentieth time he asks but you know it comes from a place of pure love.

“We’ll be having this meeting in the bar. Gaz and Soap will be sitting at the bar while you and Price watch on from the lobby.” You recite again. He nods along.

“I rather be inside the room.” He spoke up finally telling you his honest desire. You looked at him. His team agreed he shouldn’t be in the room and so did you. Not because you didn’t want him there, just if it gets tense, you didn’t want him to see you at your worst.

“It’s not up to me,” you state, but to some degree it was. He turns to you eyes full of worries and grief, eyes that seem to study you with every second his gaze lingers. You knew he was trying to remember everything about you, your face, your smile, your voice, everything.

“It’s going to be ok,” you reassure him. You touch his thigh and he gazes down at your hand. He slowly nods.

“Promise me you won’t do anything drastic.”

“I promise.”

“Wow… these suits are, are almost perfect,” Soap mused to himself as he moved his arms up and down.

“It still feels a little constrictive.” Gaz mutter.

“Italians like to hug so the suits are a little more comfortable to move around in them.” You explain as you pick up a knife and slip it up your sleeve.

“I feel like James Bond,” Gaz smiled looking at himself in the mirror.

You slightly smile and look over to your husband who silently watches you. You give him a reassuring nod before getting up.

“Are you ready men,” you look over to see their Captain, Price speak up. They nod and head out, leaving you and Simon one last moment of peace.

He pulls you close to him and softly kisses you one last time. It was far longer than any kiss he had ever given. It was a goodbye as it was a final “I love you.”

“Be safe.”

“Of course,” he left the room.

If it was anyone else besides your husband you would have laughed. Be safe… You’re the Baba Yaga, you have no need to worry. You sigh and look around the room. Your anxiety is kicking in even though you’ve done this a hundred times… was it because you have something to lose now?

Ring ring

Your hotel phone goes off, you stand up put your cigarette out in the ashtray, and lift the phone.

“Yes?” You answer.

“Arseni Anastas is here.” You thank Hecate and exit your room. You made your way down to the bar. As you enter the lobby you find both your husband and the captain sitting At opposite places slowly studying everyone’s movement.

You round the corner to the bar and there surrounded by a few men was Arseni. He turns to you with this wicked cold glare. You sat across from him.

“Arseni,” you greeted coldly.

“Wick,” he sneers back, “come to beg from my forgiveness?”

“Hardly, I am asking you to walk away from this—“

“You killed my son!” He roars before falling back to Russian insults.

“And you’re done killing my surrogate and child,” you coldly stated. He turns back to you annoyed and frustrated.

“I’ll give up when he’ll freeze over.” You stood up lit another cigarette and stared down at him.

“Then let’s take this outside off of continental grounds.” You suggest moving away from the plans.

“I’ll kill you one way or another!”

Creak!

The window to the bar shatters as a bullet hits your bulletproof vest. You sense and take cover. Arseni that fool! His men turn on you guns ready. But then both Gaz and Soap caught on to the madness.

Bullets fly across the continental bar. You see Arseni and a few of his men rush for the exit. You scramble to your feet and chase after him.

“[name!],” your husband shouted but you were out the doors. You grab the onto your suit and use it to hide your head.

As the last bodyguard left continental grounds you unsheathed your knife and stabbed him in the neck. You restless the gun from him and shot him dead.

Ba ba ba!

It hit your suit. You winced in pain. Though they stopped the bullet they did not stop it from hurting like hell. You shot two more dead. A few other hitmen came rushing out, they were waiting for you.

You lungs behind a car and check how many rounds you have left. You sigh and begin to quickly take out the hire hit. You changed up to a semiautomatic gun and mode down two more.

Arseni jumped into a car and knocked out an assassin on a motorcycle. You hopped on and raced after them, leaving the continental behind.

You chased him down to a run-down building. You groan realizing this will be a shoot-out. You enter the building slowly ready to kill your target.

They came flooding out like ants to a food pile. It was almost like an all-you-can-eat buffet. They made it so easy. You swing around ducking and dodging as you take out one person after another. Every once in a while exchanging your gun out for a newer one.

By the time you reach the final door, you are completely out of it. You were very rusty, in your skills but it seems like your body hasn’t forgotten. You know tomorrow you be sore.

“In here!” You froze and duck down behind the railing and look to see who just arrived. To your shock, it was your husband and his friends.

“[name]?” Simon calls out.

“Here,” you shout back before standing up.

“You were supposed to wait!” He worriedly stated anger laced with in his tone.

“Did you do this?” Gaz asks seeing the dead boy littering the ground.

“One last room,” you state.

“Let us handle it.” You looked at your husband before sighing and nodding.

You stared at the door, your hands itching to enter. The door slowly opens in in their costing was Arseni. He looked at you with vile and hate.

“You're a filthy pig,” he snarls. Soap pushed him forward and walked him away.

“Finally this is over.”

“I doubt it’s that simple.”

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8.4K Words

@makandcheeses, @100percentlazybonez, @selinbaskaya