Second Time's the Charm

[Margot Moitessier]

With the point made the assailant lowers the weapon to reveal an adrenaline-fueled gaze, with otherwise little animosity within it. A bruised lip with a drop of dry blood on the chin, a wobbly stance and messy hair tied in a tail. Extravagant, expensive looking clothing underneath a dark coat, relatively dirty as if they recently got into a heated, physical argument. Certainly intimidating to a regular civilian.

Next to the aggressor was another woman dressed in a strikingly red suit, clearly out of place in the otherwise drab and industrial environment. She was clearly out of breath, having ran a distance to where they are standing now. While the assailant spoke, the other was observing the exit with a gun clutched tightly in her hands, ready to pull it up and shoot at any moment.

"Monsieur," came a voice with little time to spare, "we need transportation." Quick, and to the point. "I would rather not resort to bloodshed. Be quiet, follow my lead." Upon closer inspection, the mobster's finger sat firmly on the trigger of the gun. Perhaps indicating to the users lack of discipline- or more likely, this weapon is the source of the earlier gunshot. The yelling and commotion from somewhere out of view kept getting closer, but without a discernible point of origin. Multiple voices; how many are threats, though?

"Turn around," motions circularly with the weapon, "and take us inside." Gripping the handgun tighter, now with both hands as she shoots a gaze over the man's shoulder, scanning for danger. "No negotiation, don't say a word. Go." Sweat drips down her brow as the situation reaches a boiling point, each second with the weight of an hour.