Chronicle:Prey and Predator/1

"So, this country is a total shithole."

"Yeah, no objections there."

He offered an offhand agreement, raising a brandy on the rocks to clink it with the woman sitting across the tiny bar table. It slid down alright - perhaps the only good thing going for the place.

"Alaþius. Out of curiosity, how long have you been at this... 'liquidation' job of yours for?"

She leaned forward over the table, a sweet scent just licking at his nostrils. She wasn't the type to use perfume, so perhaps it was just the drunkenness in him speaking. Though the surroundings were rowdy with the clamor of bar activities and an appreciable number of folks drinking their sorrows away, in this corner of the two, it was relatively peaceful.

"Tenth year's coming up. I'm not planning on hitting that milestone - bit too long of a time to be constantly looking over your shoulder for. I was planning on washing my hands of this shit after one last hit, but..."

"Then you found out the target was me? That's understandable."

She chugged down her glass of beer. Alaþius' eyes absentmindedly traced over her toned form, eventually settling on a scar he didn't recognize rippling across her shoulder. His brows furrowed. He raised a hand to feel it, but she caught it in hers before he'd noticed.

"Ei, ? Or did you drink too much?"

Her lips rose in a grin as she flicked his forehead. She didn't lean back though, staying contently where she was.

"Maybe. I was just wondering how much those pair of milkers weighed, Ren."

"You've had plenty of experience with 'em, still can't tell? . Go on, how does it feel?"

Her head tilted slightly, a wordless smile appearing.

"Hm. Like one of those honeydews they grow up in Radowal. Feels a tad bit exaggerated from the first time we met."

She leaned back into her seat, hand to chin.

"When we first met... Back in Kaurissmas, when I was supposed to be protecting that baldy in Bosoya."

Of course, Alaþius didn't need a reminder.

"I blew open his head while you watched. You lost your license because of that, didn't you? Sorry 'bout that."

"It's really nothing. We have an old saying here: . Besides, it felt pretty good when you got rid of that bastard. And besides, you did repay me afterwards."

His skin rose in goosebumps as she licked at the corner of her lips.

It was a couple of years ago on Kaurissmas when the two first met, in decidedly unfortunate circumstances considering he'd blown open the head of her client right in front of her. What was more unexpected was that just a week later, as he was laying low in a rundown motel, that that person who'd gotten thrown out from her job, who'd drunk herself into an oblivion of both conventional and religious senses, was her.

Then, he did what most would in these questionable circumstances, and brought her in. Then, things progressed from there.

He'd already forgotten what part of it was driven by the sense of guilt biting at him and what part of it was driven by his base desires. What he remembered was that he would be locked in battle in the dark with her for the next month or so.

By her own words, Alaþius was her first. She'd always been a maverick, the hands-on type before then - apparently. It was like he'd opened the door to a whole new world.

After that, they kept in touch. When both found the time, there'd be the occasional flight and fling. He couldn't say if they had something going or if it was just a friendship with benefits. She was direct, he had needs, that was that.

It couldn't last long though. He wasn't even certain if he'd live to see the next morning on most days. He certainly had no fantasies about building a family - he'd never even known someone for so long before. The silver lining was that he didn't have to worry about a top-of-the-line bodyguard like her catching any strays. He knew that even he couldn't match her in a face-to-face fight - whether it be in the ring or on the bed.

"You don't seem like the sadist type to me though. What gives?"

Ren's lips pinched into a frown. Not a good memory, then.

"Ai, Phoenix above. The company only signed a protection contract with the bastard, and he thought he had the right to get me on his damn bed! 'I have women lining up at the door to spend a night with me.'" She mumbled with an inflated tone. He was fairly certain the guy didn't sound like that. "'A rare opportunity,' he said. ! With a face and belly like that, Phoenix knows how he didn't figure out what those women were planning."

"That... your job's pretty hard, isn't it. Makes my job easy to have people with such disregard for their own safety though. No wonder you didn't take that bullet for him."

"Don't even think about it. Shit, I wouldn't do it even with a vest on!"

Ren downed another big mouthful of beer. She grasped Alaþius' hand in hers again, kneading it with a stupid smile on her face. He suppressed a wince. It felt like his joints were being clamped by a vice.

"In the end, you're still the best, eh? Warm... considerate... and most importantly active in that aspect of things. Hey hey, what's up with you guys? That pervert clearly had a bunch of celebrities trying to bed him, why in Oblivion was he clinging onto me of all people?! Gah, makes me mad just thinking about it."

"You know what your people say. ."

"You know your stuff. I thought you were just a hitman..."

Ren's starry eyes seemed to melt as she stared into him. That felt pleasant. It seems that the couple of years spent learning the Occidental language and memorizing its sayings paid off.

It was difficult for Alaþius to get in the mood though. After all, he still had a picture of her saved in his phone. Not of them on a stroll, not one of her nudes, not evidence of a job done. Just an ID card, sent from one of his handlers.

"So... Ren." He broached the topic with a hesitation he thought he'd been prepared for. "What'd you do to get me sent after you?"

Her smile turned pensive. "Mah, you know. This place is at war with itself."

He nodded. "Mhm. It's Central Ozara. That's normal."

"Then... some random warlord's second-in-command got his bodyguard to blow his boss' head open. Sniper job. Clean shot. So he could have the seat for himself."

"Shit. That was you?"

"Yeah. Just another gun on the battlefield. Used a rival faction's model. Even if they looked closer, they could only say that it was bad luck on his part to be showing his face around on that day, of all days."

Realization. "Now that that second-in-command's the first, that bodyguard became the only other person in the know. Am I right?"

"Yeah..." She slumped back into her chair with a deep sigh, hand unconsciously scratching at her scalp. The regret was evident for all to see. He thought he could empathize.

"Y'know, I thought your job was all that. Pop out, pop one, slip out. Looks like I misunderstood a lot of things, eh? Now I've got folks in your line of work trying to do the same to me. I've had to get rid of a bunch of 'em now... hehe." Her hand went to massage at her new scar.

"Ey! Don't be so casual about something like that ! How much's 'a bunch'?"

"Lemme see. 1, 2, 3..." Ren tapped at the fingertips of her left hand, had a moment's pause, then tapped at her right's...

", it's more than ten?! All those rumors about some SSS-grade target were about you?"

"Ah? There's something like that?"

Ren reached for the glass of beer again, but Alaþius knocked it aside, sliding in a glass of fruit juice. She tilted her head with that stupid grin of hers again, placing her lips on the straw as she asked.

"Hey, how'd your lads rate me?"

"What else can it be? Top tier difficulty, incredibly dangerous - 'Never face directly'. Every label you can imagine, they have it tagged on your document. Do you know how much your head's worth now? Ten million,, ten million!"

"Ten million isn't a lot though, is it?" She bit the straw with a dry stare.

"In dólars."

Her stare turned elsewhere as her cheeks flushed red. She finally had the sense to be a little embarrassed.

"Looks like I'm pretty great then, haha..."

"What're you laughing about ? Are you acting stupid?"

"Then, Alaþius, you accepted the hit on me."

The laugh lingering on his expression vanished, leaving a strange mix between a grimace of exasperation and a bitter smile. The message gets across fine, though.

"Last hit, remember? Thought I'd hit one last whale before I left so retirement could be a little cushier. I didn't expect your face to pop up when I did. What a headache."

"Ai, what do we do in that case? Even if you're my boyfriend, I can't let you kill me, y'know?"

The glass of fruit juice in Ren's hand was already half empty. The counter in his mind was ticking ever closer down to zero.

"Ah, if anything, remember this. If you want to live long in a job like this, you have to go through handlers, middlemen. More barriers between you and the one putting out the hit, keep things opaque. Then again, I bet that retard warlord didn't expect so many of my colleagues to get dismantled in your hands. I heard my handler was going to get rid of the fucker himself if I didn't accept the hit. Ridiculous, really."

"Hah, the more I hear about it, the wackier your circle sounds."

"It's part of the job. I wish it could be different."

Alaþius leaned back. His eyes glanced at the shady bunch sitting at the counter in the distance, then glanced back at Ren. They shared a wistful look. He shifted over to sit beside her, wrapping his arm over her neck as she soon reciprocated. That sweet scent from before grew stronger as the two leaned in. He could feel the far-off look now in her eyes even as she looked away, and the subtle shifting in her pose as her free hand reached around her back, beneath her shirt.

"，. ，. "

Alaþius whispered into her ear. Her hairs rose. Ren stared at the empty glass of juice she had just downed, then back at him with a pair of bulging eyes he thought he'd never live to witness. His hand gripped her free one and pulled it away from her back, leaning closer in a mockery of an embrace as he held her trembling form still.

It was easier than he expected.