"Because if you can't see the chains, tell me what use is the key"
The song had been stuck in her head for days and had rang harmoniously in her ears through the tiny earbuds. It was a hardcore metal song, but the voice synching beautifully with the rifts of the guitars and the beat of the drums was ecstasy. Organized chaos. Those two words perfectly described not only the music, but also the one who had been nodding her head rhythmically with her lips moving slightly, mouthing the words. She was Dosa Grimm. Long forgotten and long abandoned daughter of the infamous and recently deceased witch, Lady Grimm. If you were to ask her anything about the mother she was never raised by, she would likely spit on you and flip you the bird while simultaneously driving her spiked boots to your groin. Yet, there was an uncanny resemblance between the two even if she refused to acknowledge it. Both in personality and physical appearance.
"It's cash, blood and oil, in the age of the refugee."
She was occupied in loading her her advanced sniper rifle with a single armor piercing round. It was all she needed. That specific single round was all it would take for one target. She wouldn't miss. She never missed. The sleek matte black of the Barret M82 rifle camouflaged perfectly under the darkness of the night and within the grip of the black fatigued Kid Cognus. Every detail about the weapon was almost mesmerizing. Shoulder fired semiautomatic rifle with a short recoil that could pick off a target's hat in 1, 800 meters. His cigarette in 2,500 meters if it was Dosa pulling the trigger.
"They're trying to buy our minds, we ain't selling."
Only 16 years old and one of the most sough after assassins in not only the criminal underworld, but also military organizations. Her main contracts fell from what little contacts she still had within the hierarchy of the Yakuza, but she was open to anyone. Didn't matter the target as long as her price was met. Granted, the harder the kill the higher the name would appear on her 'to do list'. Such a name brought her to New York City. The Big Apple. Her objective was a woman that was increasingly gaining ground in the drug trade against Dosa's employer and he was getting rather pissed off. There were more details in the paperwork, but she shrugged off what didn't matter.
All she needed was a name and she'd give a price. The time, place and security measures were up to her if the contact didn't provide special instructions. A deeply held secret was that she never truly investigated further on her kills. Her uncanny ability to foresee pieces of the future through mediation was her greatest asset when it came to planning. One of the few unwanted gifts genetically pasted down from her mother. It's why she knew to be at this exact location at this exact time without any interference. The few that were aware of this power had deemed her, Kid Cognus or Fatal Future. It wasn't monikers that she was too keen on, but it kept the actual name Dosa Grimm out of the mouths of many which she had preferred. If you're the most known assassin, you aren't the best.
Content with the schematics and adjustments she had made to the extraordinary weapon, she laid in a prone position, eyeing through the advanced marksman scope. Her short ebony hair falling to the sides of her cheeks, obscuring any noticeable facial features. It didn't matter, she was at too great of a distance for anyone to pin point her out anyways. Disguising or masking herself mattered little. Cocking back the bolt to the outside grip, she pursed her lips as her mark cautiously strutted out of a dimly lit business building. It wasn't uncommon for someone such as her to be surrounded by the body guard entourage that was currently circling her. This was New York after all. She aimed down the sights and focused for the heart. She was moving rather quick. No problem. Not for the bastard child. Slowly, but firmly, her midnight painted nails pulled back on the trigger as her lungs reached the end of her breath.
"Bang, bang, bang, hear they're nailing down the coffins"
The last line in the metalcore song smoothly rolls off her tongue as people panic and security guards frenzy around their employer who falls to the floor like a sack of rocks.
Rich enough to buy a security team, too dumb to buy body armor. Not like it would have helped though. Idiot.
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