blood, sweat and fears {ashley and go}

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

a s h l e y  i o

He's made me miss work and I'm livid. I'm glued to a seat, looking through transcripts of sales and marking the ones that "my" men have made. Ever since there's been a string of arrests the old man has become paranoid, insisting we have a mole and that it must be someone under my charge because his men would never do it. Fuck you too, Dad. 

I started ripping up the paper about fifty pages ago. A satisfying tear resonates around the office as I let the strips of paper fall to the ground. He probably had another copy of them somewhere (my dad lacks in a lot of areas, being a paranoid motherfucker isn't one of them) and if he doesn't it's no loss to me. He couldn't hurt me anymore and that'll teach him to make me sit looking at papers instead of doing something I actually enjoyed. 

A storm seems to have ravaged the office and I couldn't be more satisfied with myself. Shredded paper litters the floor, names and numbers once printed upon them illegible. and I almost feel bad for the poor sap who was gonna have to clean this shit up, but then again getting my point across is more important than any extra half-hour of work for some asshole who'd sold his soul to my father. 

I'm acting like a child who hasn't gotten his way and I fucking know it. It doesn't stop a satisfied smirk from snaking its way onto my lips and I push all my hair into a cap that hugs my skull. And maybe I don't have a choice and my future is already set in stone but that doesn't mean I wont take a few chunks out of the marble on my way to rock bottom. 

Because actually fuck this. 

I've seen their eyes through the window. It's blocked off by thick black curtains, but every so often the whites of my bodyguard's eyes will shine through the gap and I can almost see the vein popping out of his head as he watches me mercilessly destroy the office. And it makes everything all the more satisfying. Once a mess has been properly made I throw my legs upon the desk, closing my eyes and throwing my head back. I think of everywhere I could be. I think that I could not be adorned in such dark clothes and I could have worn my favorite orange cap. Right now, I could be wearing a pink apron and making coffee and not worrying about the fact that these arrests are a legitimate problem and that one of my men could be next. Or even me. I hated the responsibility Dad placed upon my shoulders the day he assigned those twenty men to me. 

They've taught me never to let my guard down. Even in an office with three locks and a big man standing guard outside, my ears search the silence. Every part of me is prepared to spring upwards and to run or fight or both. There's a gun underneath the desk and knives strapped to my hips. This is barely a career district, but they've got the equipment I need. I bought the knives myself, not even dad knew I had them. As tight a grip as he had on me, I always found some way to slip under his (and his men's) noses. I blame the training, really. Hand-to-hand, combat weapons, ranged, they'd forced me to learn them all. I'd despised every second and it only burned the lessons into my mind better. 

But maybe that's a good thing because the noise outside makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I'm used to the bustle of the business, men making their way in and out of the building with steel toed boots and keys that rattle against their thighs. I'm used to the silence that was anything but. 

Everything has gone quiet/

My eyes fly open, heart proceeding to crawl into my throat. Something was wrong and I didn't know what, but chances are the shit will hit the fan pretty damn fast. There wasn't such thing as fear anymore, only thinly veiled anger and frustration. It seems that's all I can feel as I prepare, dread building every silent moment and I move as quietly as I can. Hand finding the small gun with ease and I place my feet squarely upon the ground. 

I'm standing so fast there's a second of vertigo before I've managed to unlock the door. Curiosity killed the cat and all that. 

This time it really would. 

I've thrown the door open and regretted it in an instant. He's smart. Any recognizable features cleverly concealed behind cloth. Not even the color of his skin seeps through the uniform clinging to his body. It's an intimidating sight, and he's a clever one for sure. No cameras would pick up his identity, there'd be no legitimate witnesses. He's no fresh-faced aspiring mobster. It's a hit man, I think, can't think of anything else this man could be. Really, I should have seen this coming. 

And yet I'm still not afraid. I should be, and the child inside of me shakes in his boots, but they've taken it from me. The trainers and my father and all of the lives I've taken have numbed me to the prospect of losing my own life. I'm annoyed, frustrated that it had to happen today and maybe even a bit embarrassed my my tantrum is in plain view of what could be my killer. Torn up paper creating a fresh snow upon red carpet was surely a sight for anyone. 

I sometimes wish I could remember what it was like to really feel. 

I'm an honest to god idiot because I let out a sigh and scratch my head with the the hand holding my gun. "Oh for fuck's sake."

[gamemaker kelsier]

G O

"Wait, wait, wait," she said, laughing incredulously, "So let me get this straight, you want me to beat up your son? But I can't kill him?"

Go Corday was draped over the only couch in the large office, long black curls stark, gorgeous against he pale skin. The deep red evening gown that she wore matched very well with the rubies dangling from her ears. A glass of white wine that she had been 'drinking' all evening was held delicately in a perfectly manicured hand, her coy smile making a neat match for her overall look for the evening.

"Yes. That's exactly it," said the far older man sitting in an ancient but ornate desk in front of the rooms only, but grand, window. He was well past his young years but still managed to fill out his black suit very nicely. He was an old codger but a handsome one. The sly grin was slightly off-putting though, leading Go to not fully trust him.

Artfully, she pulled herself up from the couch and made her way over to his desk. She was quiet for a moment, running her hands along the edge of the carved wood. "May I ask why?" she purred, taking a sip from the wine glass. Outside the office doors the party was in full swing. Some sort of cover-up for a big heist or something, she wasn't certain, she tended not to pay attention to things that did not apply to her and never really would. She was a criminal, yes. A thief? Sometimes. A gang member? Never. Go worked alone.

The old man sighed and leaned back in his chair. He took his time, collecting his thoughts before he responded. It was odd, he sounded almost wistful as he said, "Because I'm getting too goddamned old to beat the living shit out of him myself."

She blinked.

It was odd beneath the mask, she could feel where her eyelashes bat against the metal cage of the face piece. Butterfly kisses, Gina would have called them. Go had learned a different sort of kiss, for example, her fist kissing the back of some asshole's head. That was her type of butterfly kiss. She shook one gloved fist out as she watched the guy go down like a tree in seven. Timber.

No one was really expecting some girl in a full bodysuit to attack them. No one ever really was prepared for that except for the crazy fanatics that were so pumped up on morphling that they'd forgotten which way was up. You could tell them apart from regular drug addicts because they were so paranoid that some of them were often seen with a hat made of tinfoil t keep out the satellites. It was nice to roundhouse kick a full grown man in the back and then smack her arm into the side of his head so hard that her bones rung. She ought to get out more, do stuff like this more often. It was good fun.

She wasn't sure if these men were incompetent idiots or just expecting her. Most of them went down far too easy. Only a few saw her coming but dodging their flailing knives was so easy that it was laughable. It didn't help of course that she was doing most of her getting about via the tops of the warehouse aisles. She could see a lot from up top and they couldn't really see her coming at them at top speed, knees ready to nearly break their spines with her landing.

The funnest ones were the boys in their steel-toed boots. She could see those kicks coming for miles because their feet were made heavier from the shoe. They were easy enough to dodge but three at once proved a challenge. She lost her breath for a moment or two when she took a boot to the side. She gave the man a black eye and a broken jaw for his trouble.

Her toughest adversary was the man guarding the office. His dedication to his job was somehow sweet, oddly adorable. It made him harder to take down too, he seemed more desperate to protect whoever was inside. If the other men belonged to the old man, this guy was the son's man through and through. She should write a note, leave a review for his excellent service. In her book it was top-notch. Judging by the ferocity of the punch she took to the thigh, it would be a massive black bruise by tomorrow. He was deserving of at least a ten cent raise.

Perhaps she'd been a bit brutal with him when she kicked his ass down the metal stairs and watched him land in a heap at the bottom. The satisfaction was worth it.

"Oh for fuck's sake."

She smiled, heart leaping up into her throat was excitement. It was one thing to face a bunch of goons, another thing entirely to fight a target. It was like getting to the final level to face the last boss. She turned slowly away from the railing, confident in her androgynous disguise. Her curls were tucked up tightly beneath her helmet, mask latched securely in place and breasts banded down. She was unrecognizable.

She didn't give time for him to study her further, body tensing and kicking in one foul swoop right at his head to get that gorgeous gun out of the picture. She didn't need the brat shooting off bullets and accidentally getting himself killed when her job was only to bruise and break. She wanted to get paid after all.

She felt her foot connect with skin and a cold grin formed beneath the mask.

Wendy-bird would not be pleased with her for this.

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

a s h l e y  i o

I guess he wasn’t the talkative kind because my face is suddenly on fire. My tongue runs across my lips and I rub the tender skin upon my cheek, regarding him with annoyance. ”Oh come on, at least buy me a drink first.” If I hadn’t been so intimately connected with pain for years, his strike would’ve left me crumpled upon the floor. It was strong and controlled with impressive form. He was good, very good. I’ve got only a millisecond to think and I spring backwards, attempting to distance myself from my assailant as much as possible. I needed to think and I couldn’t do that having the piss beat out of me.

And to think right now I could be huddled within a sleepy coffee shop, making a coffee for the kind old lady that always came in around this time. Granted, anything beats fighting for your life, but that'd beside the point. It was a sign, probably, that missing work is a bad fucking idea and that I should never let him coerce me into skipping out again. I bite the inside of my cheek out of spite, darting about the room a few more times before giving any thought to my situation. 

They weren't armed (if you called heavy shoes and an outfit that looked like it alone could murder me in a thousand different ways unarmed). My gun's skittered across the floor into some unknown corner, but it seems he's made no grab for it. I can't be bothered to find it again with tall, dark and grumpy on my ass and-

Fucking shit where the hell is my hat?! I've meant to pull it further onto my head but I only manage a fistful of hair. It's official, this day really cannot get any worse. 

Running about isn't going to get me anywhere. Whoever's hired this fucker payed a pretty penny 'cause no one with this skill set was gonna come cheap. I wonder if they'v sent one after my dad too and I really, really hope they snap his neck 'cause if not I'm going to kill him after this. 

(C'mon Ashley you gotta focus. One foot behind the other, heel square to the chest and then get the fuck out before they regain their senses and throw you to the ground head first.) It wasn't so much self-defense they taught me, but how to kick the shit out of someone with a bit of self-defense thrown in. I'd have to figure out the useful shit on the spot because coming into work bruised as fuck wasn't going to fare well with the customers. Just a sneaking suspicion of mine. 

I move fast, striking out at the man with as much accuracy as I can muster in my distressed, hatless state. I've made contact with something but I don't bother to stick around to just what I've hit. I aimed for his chest but gods know where my foot landed. I'm too busy tucking my head underneath my body, too busy trying to evade certain death to really care much. 

Hell, who knows, maybe me and grumpy fuck could be great friends. I could calm him down and we'd get to the root of his problems and why he kills people for a living. Maybe we'll sit on a couch and cry together and start a book club while doing each other's nails. I didn't know the first thing about this guy and here we were and here he was trying to kill me. Ah, the injustice of this all. Where are to good ol' days of poisons and painless deaths? We've become such antisocial creatures, all violence and blood. 

Then again I'm a hypocritical bastard who's probably taken as many lives as this guy. So, there's that. 

I'm worried about the others too, had he killed the lot? Killed George amd Mike and Shirley, killed anyone who stood in his path? And the though saddens me because that'd be all my fault, a shit ton of more lives upon my shoulders and I hadn't even killed them this time. I tried hard to take care of my men, I don't care but I take care and I think that's at least worth something. 'Cause maybe I don't want the starving puppies that my father has forced into my palms but I try at least to give them the best life I can. And they sure at hell aren't the sacks of meat my father treats them like. 

I land on my feet, straightening slowly and trying to catch my bearings. The Hit Man could be anywhere, could have found my gun and have it pressed against my skull, for all I knew. It had no hat, after all, exposed to the world. A real tragedy if I ever saw one.

I'm not sure if it's that I don't fear my death, or that I'm not convinced this is the end because I'm sure as hell not as terrified as I should be. Honestly, all I can think of right now is how to avoid getting hit and how to get this little fuck back for hitting me. I didn't want to kill or do anything more than stop him 'cause I vowed I'd never sit and take this shit ever again. Not since I was big enough to hit back.

And so I do just that.

[gamemaker kelsier]

G O

She liked this boy. Not that she could tell all that well. The downfall of the scary looking mask was that facial features were rather difficult to pick out. She only knew that she was attacking the right body because he'd been the one in the office at the top of the stairs; the lovely princess guarded by fire breathing dragons. Useless fire breathing dragons.

He wasn't useless, she decided as she took his foot to her chest. She fended it off with one hand but it wasn't enough to stop the force of the blow entirely. She bent to one knee to regain her breath, in the meantime her quarry was getting away. She leaped up onto the metal railing that surrounded the small balcony she was on and watched as he moved away from her across the warehouse floor. He probably thought that he could create a safe distance from her by doing so. She smirked beneath the mask and ran along the railing, leaping gracefully onto the nearest shelving unit which was thankfully taller than the other ones because it was against the wall. She grit her teeth as she landed, a bit of pain shooting up her leg from the spot on her thigh where she had taken the punch. Luckily, she was used to pain. It did not slow her.

She leaped from unit to unit, keeping the boy in her muddled sights all the while. He kept looking behind him, as if he thought she would follow by ground. She couldn't blame him, most people thought the same. A cheeky grin formed from beneath the mask and with perhaps too much gusto, she jumped from a lower shelf, powerful legs folding to knock him in the chest with her knees.

They collapsed in a tangled mess.

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

a s h l e y  i o

He recovers much too quickly and trying to get away seemed to make things worse because I can't feel much of anything anymore. I groan, It was an aerial attack which was, admittedly, unexpected. His knees dig into my chest, leaving my body completely void of air. I try not to care, I really do, that my death is mere moments away. Pasting a cocky grin upon my lips and looking up at my murderer through slitted, unfocused eyes. There seems to be about two of him on top of me and at least four more floating beside him. Please don't see that I'm terrified. I don't want to be a coward when I die. My breaths come in heavy rasps and my head swims the minute we hit the ground. "Good... game." I manage before the rest of the world melts around me in sweet, sweet release.

I didn't die, and that was nice. Waking up on the floor with blood in my mouth and no clue what the absolute fuck was going on, really wasn't. It was sometime in the morning and Dad didn't come to look for me and somehow I wasn't surprised. I didn't even bother stopping by home as the old cod probably wasn't even awake and he'd try to hit me if he was. I keep a change of clothes in the shop and that's exactly where I find myself now. The old couple in charge nearly cried when they saw how shitty I looked. I told them it was fine and cleaned up pretty nice apart from the nasty cut on my lip. There wasn't much I could do and that was that so I tied pink apron around my waist and served coffee looking like the vagrant I was.

[gamemaker kelsier]

She was meant to do him a little bit more damage than a nasty headache and a bruise or two but there had also been no time limit on her job. When she was certain that he was really dead to the world, she slipped her mask off, long black hair tumbling loose and onto her shoulders from it's makeshift tie. She ruined the glorious moment completely by immediately swearing and wiping the sweat off of her face using one of the previously knocked out pion's shirts. She stood over him, inspecting her work, wondering if she should give him a bit more visible damage.

Wendy-bird stood beside her, looking down at the boy as well. He was sort of cute in an 'I-just-beat-your-ass kind of way. Wendy-bird opened her mouth, probably to tell Go off for beating up a sweet young man again. Go didn't let her finish. She knelt down beside the boy and bit into his lip, tugging slightly until the taste of blood filled her mouth.

--

It was too early in the morning to be awake but it helped that she'd never gone to sleep at all. Last night had been spent in a bathtub with some tea lights and bubbles, nursing the painful bruise on her thigh. For a job well done, she was treating herself to a cup of coffee at one of her favourite shops. Bundled up in a cute jacket and scarf combo, she brushed her long hair out and let it hang down her back, not on the job for the day and therefore free to look as adorable as she pleased.

"A chai tea latte, please," she said happily to the old woman who was always running the till, paying and moving to the side in order to to wait for her drink. She hummed happily as she waited, flipping through her old copy of Peter Pan. for the umpteenth time. The boy who made the coffee spoke, said something or other to the old woman and she froze, recognizing the sound of his voice.

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

a s h l e y  i o

"Dear heart, you heard the order right?" She turned to me, giving a bright smile that wrinkled the crow's feet around her eyes. I nod, gently pushing past her to steam the milk. It normally would have been no big deal had every part of my body not ached. I grimaced, holding my arm before eventually making my way to the kitchen. "Oh my Ash, are you still hurt?" a wrinkled hand finds its place upon my shoulder and I grab it reassuringly. You see, Grandma injuries don't go away just because you can't see them. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just sore." 

"You should tell your father what happened, Ash dear." 

"Yeah, I'll do that." I try not to roll my eyes as I turn my back, moving the warm milk back and forth under the pressure so that it creates a thick foam. 

"Good, he cares about you deary." 

"I'm sure he does." 

I push past her after that, completed latte in hand. There's a pack of toothpicks I keep just under the register. I pushed one skillfully around the foam until the brown liquid meshed with white became something of a tree. (For the Ratmas season, of course). "Here's the coffee, Lee! Who'd you say it was for?"my tone is forced and bright when all I can really feel anymore is tired. Figures a warehouse floor wouldn't give me the best night's sleep. My eyes scan the crowd as she points out the customer absentmindedly. A pretty girl with long black hair sweeping behind her. Using the back door, I pick my way through the sleepy shop, holding it out and grinning as wide as I could without pain searing through my split lip. "Your coffee?" 

[gamemaker kelsier]

She knows that there is no possible way that he can recognize her. She wore a mask the entire time last night, only taking it off at the last second to catch her breath. Still, she hid her face behind the book the moment he walked over to where she was in the store, instinct taking over and managing to make her appear to be soft in the head. This was rather unorthodox however to come across a target the day after smacking them around, mostly because usually her targets ended up very much dead. She didn't often have live ones to release. She wasn't sure how to react. Surely he would recognize her by her height or her frame or her gracefulness.

Or maybe he'd just think her an idiot because it had nearly been a full thirty seconds and she hadn't taken the latte from his hand yet.

Or it was quite possible that he somehow knew that it was her who had attacked him last night and he had infiltrated the coffee shop as a worker, fully knowing that it was one of her favourite places to go and he had poisoned the cup of coffee in revenge for her beating his ass last night because really what kind of crime boss's son works in a coffee shop?

Slowly, she lowered the book and eyed the latte. There was a tree made skillfully out of the foam on top. Wendy-bird peaked over the rim of the cup, and then eyed the bottom as well, rather skillfully. "Go ahead and take it Go, I'm sure it's not poisoned," she said to her older sister. Go knew not to acknowledge her sister's presence, lest she come across as insane.

After another long moment, she gingerly took the cup from Ashley Io's hand and offered him a soft, "Thank-you," followed by a rather sweet little smile.

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

a s h l e y  i o

She doesn't take the coffee for a long while and I'm left smiling like an idiot for too long. It fades and even after she takes it I remain, brows furrowed and studying the way her lips moves and how they curved when she smiles, matching her tone all too well. Thank you. She states and I nod, still not convinced and probably a bit offended that'd it taken her so long to take the fucking cup. "Does it not look right, or something? I could always take it back? The old man always says if somethings not right, speak up." I rest my hand on my hip, watching her carefully for a reaction. I'm a sucker for irony and all that and it wasn't like me to hound a customer like this but it wasn't like a customer to spend thirty seconds trying to decide whether or not to take the coffee they ordered.

There's a book that she pulled up to her face when I approached. I crane my neck not-so inconspicuously to try to catch a glimpse of the title. Peter Pan. I'd had to read that for my lessons, but I had to read a lot for my lessons so the chances of me remembering fuck all about that book is slim to none, but I feign interest nonetheless. "Ah, I've read that once, I think. Was a great read, yeah?" I place my tongue in the hollow of my cheek, grinning. The old woman won't get mad at my not working, says I work hard enough as it is and I can take breaks whenever I want. Granted I won't tell her that working here is my break so I almost never take her up on the offer but it's appreciated. I like to appreciate whatever kindness I received.

[gamemaker kelsier]

She allowed herself to slip fully into the character of a shy bookworm in order to come across as less suspicious. So when he told her that he could make the drink again she blushed and took a sip from the cup, smiling from behind the rim to reassure him. "No no, it's really wonderful thank-you! The tree is lovely!" she offered almost desperately. It was a good cup. The reason this place was one of her favourites was because they seemed to always get the coffee just right, no matter what was ordered. As a bonus, the old couple who ran the place were very caring and had asked after her well being more than once.

She hadn't had much of that before and although they probably asked after all of their customers, she cherished it all the same. She sipped the coffee again, making it past the foam and burning her tongue slightly. In response, she stuck her tongue out a bit, scraping the top if it across her teeth in an effort to stop the soft pain it gave her. "Ah yes," she said, when he gestured towards the book, "My sister is- was very fond of it so it's special to me." She allowed her blush to creep back across her cheekbones, desperately trying to normalize the situation.

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

ashley io

My tongue snakes across my lips, lingering upon my wound as I regard the raven-haired girl with interest. A blush crawls across her cheeks, causing gravity to tug violently at the corners of my lips as I realize how unnatural it looks. Pretty girls such as she, with sharp jaws and soft eyes, the kind that radiated power and demanded respect, did not blush. There were a lot like her back at the warehouse, some of my strongest men are women. 

I tap my foot impatiently, the longer I listen to her words the more they morph and twist into that of excuses. And perhaps it's in my job description to be skeptical but her desperation to appear normal came across as anything but. She tells me of her sister (presumably deceased, maybe recently as the girl mixed up her tenses) and how she loved the book in question. 

I hum gently, pulling up a chair and sliding next to her, running a hand through hair long since ruined by harsh dyes and nineteen years. "Fascinating." I drawl, frown still digging at the hollows of my cheeks as I examine her once more. "Are you running from someone?" I inquire, crossing my legs and leaning back, not at all troubled by the insensitivity of my words. "You seem a bit nervous."