-Since we're in a rough spot, I'll just timeskip so we can get this moving again-
Sat boredly in a dark alley somewhere on the streets of New York, Marcella had a bottle of wine in hand, and took a swig from it nonchalantly. Sure, she wasn't legally supposed to have it, but hey; what did she ever do anymore that was legal? Touche. See? We TOLD you this couldn't go wrong! This caused a frown to form on the young woman's features.
"'Couldn't go wrong'? Are you f%#^n' with me?" she scoffed to no one in particular. "I mean.. We're out on the streets without food, or a house, or anywhere I can go! I mean..." There was a pause as she smashed her wine bottle against the wall before turning and stabbing a man who had been trying to sneak up on her with it, resulting in a scream tearing from his lips.x. "Don't touch my money, you filthy little piece of s#^$," she snapped simply, pulling the bottle free and watching the man scamper off with bemusement. Then, she returned to what she had been saying before, after snatching a newspaper off of one of her numerous piles of money. Features set in a frown, she pointed at the headline.
Breaking news; Seventeen-year-old Marcella Sweet gone missing
"See? We're on the front page of the damn newspaper, for Heaven's sake! We can't go anywhere, and it's all your fault!" Woah, man.. Chill out. We forgot about our gazillion scars. You really aren't helping, y'know. "Will you all please just shut up?" she groaned in exasperation. Muttering unhappily, she stood up and stretched, rolling her neck. Huffing, she reached for her belt, opening various pouches and stuffing her money into them. Wasn't like she had much, aside from that.
Well... Except her weapons.
So, does this mean we finally getta use those things? I hope so! Yeah, yeah.. Just shut up 'til we get there. We know we can't do that. Just- Hey! Listen to us when we're talking to you! This gained nothing from the girl, and she merely kept walking. She wore all black clothes; a pair of black sweat pants, some soft grey sneakers, a black hoodie(with the hood pulled to conceal her face), and.. Well, her belt and pouches weren't black. But that didn't matter; her destination wasn't far off, and she was taking a little-known route.
There were a few familiar houses along the way.. There was the apartment she had first lived in when she moved here, and a small elementary that strongly resembled the one she had long since burned down with the help of her friend Quinton in her hometown. The one she recognized best was likely the one she recognized to be Chester's. Or, rather, where he had used to live. Briefly, she wondered if he still lived there, and even paused to consider stopping there.
What're ya doin'? We can't stop. You know him; he'll wanna take us in and return us. That's all those damn lawful folk do. Yeah.. I guess you guys are right. He DID try to help us, though.. Yeah, yeah, yeah.. Just go. For all we know, he don't even live there anymore. Fine, fine! Sighing, she shook the thoughts away and kept going.
From there, it only took her a matter of minutes to reach her destination; an old, abandoned motel. Sure, the place was falling apart and rotting, but she hardly cared. She slipped through one of the barricaded broken windows and rolled to her feet inside, brushing herself off. New B.O.O? It would certainly seem so. Not like we've got anywhere else we can go. Always did tell ya this place would come in handy! A small breath of relief passed Marcella's lips, and she undid her belt, letting it drop to the floor.
Stepping over it, Marcie slid her tongue over her lips, walking nonchalantly past her messy pile of melee weapons and firearms. Rather, she sashayed over to where a small navy desktop laid, plopping onto the floor by it and pulling it into her lap. Quietly, she opened it and checked her email, before shutting it and sighing. She then flipped out her cell, surprised to see a number of missed calls. Interest piqued, she re-dialed the last caller, holding the phone to her ear.
"He-hello?" came the shaky answer on the other end of the phone. This earned no amusement from the teen. "Code, please," she replied, deadpanned. There was a brief pause. "..72650," the male finally replied. "..Good. Address? I prefer to consult my contractors in person."
"Uh.. Uh... Y-yes! Of course! 1705, 13th avenue," he finally replied, to which Marcie snapped her phone shut and stuffed it in her pocket. Sighing, she got up and nonchalantly peeled off her clothes. She did her best to ignore the dozens of newly-acquired scars and occasional welts that now littered her skin, and pulled on her suit. It was something she'd been working on for years, and had only recently finished. After the skin-tight suit was on, she emptied her money from her belt pouches on the floor with the rest of her things and pulled it back on. After this, she sheathed two standard-issue combat pistols and pulled on her mask, settling a katana on her back as well. It's go time, mother#&@(!s! Hey! You stole my line, you little b@&#* ! Oh, shut it.
With that, she was off again.
It didn't take long for the mercenary to reach her destination. She wasted no time on knocking on the door. Rather, she decided to take the more 'fun' route.
...Right down the chimney.
"Ho ho h- Ow! Owowowowowowowowow!" Marcie yelped, scrambling to her feet and desperately patting out the flames that had been licking off her suit. There was a man in the room who had scrambled away when Marcie had crash landed, who seemed to be in his twenties. She shot him a harsh glare through her mask, placing her hands on her hips. "The hell were you thinkin'? Who actually uses their fireplaces, anyways!? Imbeciles!" she exclaimed with a comedic tone. However, no response came, and the man only stared with fear.
"What's your problem, anyways? Are ya mute? Cat got your tongue?" There was a brief pause, before she continued. "Anywho! Who am I supposed to kill?" she queried, snapping her fingers in front of his face. Finally, he responded. "I- I need you to kill a man named Jeremiah Nelson. I, er.. I 'borrowed' somethin' from him an' he wants it back, but I can't exactly-"
"Yeah, yeah.. Got it. I don't needa hear your damn sob story," she cut him off with a wave of her hand. Briefly, she looked away and muttered; "Can you believe this guy? What a loser!" she said to no one in particular. This left the man confused and looking hurt, but she didn't seem to care. Ask him how much! Yeah! We don't do jobs like this for dirt. We need money so we can actually get a place instead'a sleepin' in a run-down motel. Y'know, for once, I agree. "So, pal.. How much're ya gonna pay?" she inquired casually, arms crossed just beneath her chest.
The man chuckled nervously, twiddling his fingers and staring at the floor. "Err, well.. I.. I don't exactly have much money.." This earned a good few minutes of silence, before Marcella spoke again. "Look; you don't pay, I don't kill." Ooh, ooh! Go dark! Doitdoitdoitdoitdoit!! "..Actually... You don't pay, and I'll kill you. No, no... Actually, I'll kill your family, and your friends, wound you internally and le-"
"Stop!! Stop!!! I'll pay you, dammit!" he exclaimed in a cry, pathetically. "Good. I thought you'd see it my way.." In all honesty, Marcie wouldn't have laid a finger on him or his family. She was too kind for that. When she killed..? It was for self defense, money, or to avenge. That wouldn't happen here.
"Now.. Where can I find thi- S@*#!!!" Duck, you idiot! Marcie was cut off when a man swung in through the window, shattering the glass and sending the shards that appeared as crystals flying everywhere. Luckily, Marcie had listened to the voice and narrowly avoided some shards. Jeez... Well, thanks. No problem. Haha, kidding; you owe me. You should listen to us more often. The young male wasted no time in rolling to his feet and starting to shoot. Gritting her teeth, Marcie shoved her contractor to the floor, grabbing her pistols and starting to open fire at the intruder. The male evidently hadn't expected this, and yelped as he fell to the floor, a bullet lodged in his calf. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to knock?" she chided, skipping over to the male. He growled in annoyance, attempting to push himself to his feet.
Though, this was quickly stopped by Marcella firmly placing her foot on his back, keeping him down. Curiously, she looked him over. "Why're you wearing a mask, pal? Trying to hide your face 'cause it isn't as sexy as mine?" Amen to that. The only response she earned was a grunt. Bemused, she pulled off the male's mask, and blinked in surprise. "Thomas..?" she muttered, eyes quickly turning from surprise to anger. Sneering, Marcella kicked his gun away and stomped on his bullet-free leg, earning a cry of pain. "Be glad I let you live, you filthy little..-" What's this b@&#*%$ doin' here, anyways? It's a diversion, you idiots! Oh, shit!
It took taking a bullet piercing her side for Marcie to fully realize that her past sexual assaulter was a mere distraction, and that the real threat had yet to come. She snarled in pain, wincing as she ripped the bullet free and tossed it aside. She took her foot off of Thomas and aimed her guns at the older man, likely in his thirties, who had emerged from the doorway(that apparently had a broken lock). "Oh, my... Is a little girl going to stop me?" the man mocked with amusement.
This earned a snarl from Marcie. "Actually...," she huffed, glancing the man over. Fit, old, nimble... In one swift movement, Marcie had aimed, fired, and nimbly dropped her guns before lunging forwards and grabbing her katana, holding it against his throat. "..She is," she murmured, before sweeping the blade. Add 'dead' to that list. Decapitation always has been my favorite method.. Carelessly, Marcella sheathed her katana, grabbed her guns and sheathed those, too, before turning to face her contractor. "...Pay up, pal. 'N I don't accept checks," she stated, arms behind her head.
As the man scrambled about to gather money from the house, grunts of effort caught the mercenary's attention. Mask hiding her poker face, she approached the wounded young man on the floor, stepping over him casually before pulling him up by the hair. "So, my friend.. Listen up, and listen closely; I'm gonna let ya live.." A small breath of relief left the boy. Haha, he's relieved! "..But it ain't 'cause I like you. In fact, it's because I hate you. So here's the deal; you're gonna live with scars from those little bullet holes, some potential broken bones, and maybe a little visit from me later," she deadpanned, suddenly releasing her grip on him, causing him to fall with a yelp.
"Now...-" ..Do I smell bacon? No, you idiot.. We needa get out. We were played! Dammit.. She gritted her teeth as she noticed the flames now tearing through the apartment wildly at a rapid pace. That takes a REAL coward.. I mean, I understand fleeing, but setting the whole apartment building on fire..? Damn! Don't you realize? He wants us caught. He knows we'll be comin' after him for not payin', so he phoned the cops and bailed. Probably told him we assaulted him for extra insurance.. Hell, mighta even said we're keeping the praver over here hostage. He wants us locked up so we can't get him! For the love of God..