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Reaching for the vest, I settled the weight of it on my chest, easing into it. Across the arm of the couch, I lifted up my black sweatshirt and tugged it on, wrestling to make it comfortable. Zipping up the article, I feel Angel's eyes inspecting my every move with severe intensity. Due to this, I emphasize my reaching for the previously loaded .45 and setting it in my waistline. Even with this, he doesn't tear his eyes away. Slightly annoyed, I reached into the sleeve sheath in my sweater and emerged a blade with remains of crusty, dried blood on it.

I looked at him, teetering my fingers around the silver, with the most intimidating look I can give him. Being himself and all, he's not particularly easy to be intimidating towards.

Yet, he looked back at me skeptically, only glancing at the weapon. He knows me well enough to know I won't harm him purposely. "Are you sure?"

In stubborn response, I ran my thumb along my already bloody blade. A thin line of blood was drawn. Angel is many things but stupid is not one of them.

He read my body language, and sighed.

He offered the sale for tonight.

I stuck the blade back in its sheath and grabbed the bag. As I turned to walk away from him, he called my notorious street name, "Reaper?"

I stopped in my tracks, turning my head a little to signify he's gotten my attention.

"Be careful."

At his foolishly phrased words I spun on my heel, and marched back towards him. When people tell me this, I take it an insult. As if I don't know what I'm doing, when I know more than half of the Tragic line combined. "Angel, baby, Careful is my middle name."

I saw him swallow hard as I neared our lips, centimeters apart. His shallow breath quivered on my lips. I was never really sure why I made him so nervous. Maybe it's the gun.

"J-just watch out. Those fuckers don't mess around."

"And I do?" I whispered, brushing his lips softly with the open wound on my thumb. Blood littered over the flesh of his lips.

"Just-"

I cut him off with a kiss, lustful and fierce, with no expectation of romanticism between us afterwards. The only real motive behind it was to catch him off guard; make him shut up.

A siren blared somewhere. That better not be Kit. I'm not bailing that douche bag out again. Between the narks, cops, other gangs, the hunters and the vampire's, the Tragedies has enough shit as it is. He pushes me away, sighing.

"Stop fucking around, this is serious. This shit is dangerous. You could get bitten. I'll go with you." he stood up from his position on the leather couch.

I shoved him back down, "No, Angel. This is not how we work; now sit your ass back down before I get Shorty to cover the door."

"At least take Spit."

"No. Spit's out with Kit and the other crackhead. They better not get caught tonight."

He sighed in defeat. I smiled at him reassuringly, I can't blame the kid for being paranoid or caring, but. I turned around and walked through the doors, slamming it behind me in the process.

__________________________________

The damp concrete in the alley made soft splashes as my shoes hit. The wind had whipped too hard so I'd put the hoody over my blood red hair. My breath was quivery from the chill of the night and with every exhale from my lips, it conformed into a white fog. My teeth were borderline chattering. My thumb had stopped bleeding yet my heart was beating rather quickly, threatening to burst through my ribcage and flesh. With every condemning step, I felt the cold metal of my .45 against the skin on my back.

I loved this feeling. The surging adrenaline and the fright that always seemed trigger my reflexes twice as fast; sickeningly sweet.

I knew it was foolish to come on a drop with the Dandies alone, but there is a reason I am leader of Tragic's. Now, they don't just call me Reaper for nothing. Besides, people have lives… or other duties. Shorty was on SOS (Suck On Sight) with the Mystics, ever since she cut one the leader's prostitutes on accidental purpose. Spit was covering Vampy and Kit while they collected, and the rest of those fuckers act to hard, they're the flaws of the clan.

Then again, this is my first direct drop with the Mystics…

Not to mention, from what I’ve heard, William's wanted to meet me for a while.

Let's give him the pleasure.

My legs were cold, I had to admit, but oddly, I run faster and move quicker in skirts. A few steps further and I stopped short at a rusty metal door. If this would go as planned, I would be in, out then back home while Angel counted the money.

I knocked on the door, greeted by an obvious Mystic. He looked me up and down. I stared coldly into his dark eyes.

"Come in."

I tore my gaze down and stepped into the building. He and another Mystic lead me down hallways and rooms. The entire building was eerie in the sense that it was cold, somewhat damp, and grey. Like something out of Gothika.

They knocked on the door and another opened it. The two from before disappeared and the new one lead me to the new room. I stepped in, immediately dropping my hands at my sides.

This room was just a sneak peak of what the rest of the building was. The walls were harsh intimidating concrete, well… almost intimidating. A drop dripped somewhere and I honestly felt like something horrible had happened in here. The stench that hung around it, told me exactly what it was.

My hands went immediately to my .45, pointing it directly at the person who had just appeared. A dim bulb turned on somewhere and I cocked it, stepping closer to have the metal against their throat. The bulb provided enough light for me to see their silhouette.

"I am not your dinner, bitch."

"Why are you here then?"

"Drop."

"Tragic's sent you? Where's Vampy?"

"Vamp's out. Don't worry about her; worry about this."

"You know that bullet wont hurt me as much as you think."

"I know how much it'll hurt you. It won't do much, but by the time, your body realizes it, I'd have the stake through your heart."

"Sounds kinky."

"Think of it whatever way you want."

"And who the fuck are you just exactly?"

"Reaper."

The bulb flashed then brightened, sending light through the room. Five Mystics surrounded me; starting with the one that had recently had my gun to his throat.

They looked at me then at him. He backed away from the barrel and a dry chuckle interrupted the stony silence. I looked from one face to another until I found the source.

Long chestnut brown hairs, fair skin, stick thin, and a bone structure meant for glory. William.

Description
Reaching for the vest, I settled the weight of it on my chest, easing into it. Across the arm of the couch, I lifted up my black sweatshirt and tugged it on, wrestling to make it comfortable. Zipping up the article, I feel Angel's eyes inspecting my every move with severe intensity. Due to this, I emphasize my reaching for the previously loaded .45 and setting it in my waistline. Even with this, he doesn't tear his eyes away. Slightly annoyed, I reached into the sleeve sheath in my sweater and emerged a blade with remains of crusty, dried blood on it.

I looked at him, teetering my fingers around the silver, with the most intimidating look I can give him. Being himself and all, he's not particularly easy to be intimidating towards.

Yet, he looked back at me skeptically, only glancing at the weapon. He knows me well enough to know I won't harm him purposely. "Are you sure?"

In stubborn response, I ran my thumb along my already bloody blade. A thin line of blood was drawn. Angel is many things but stupid is not one of them.

He read my body language, and sighed.

He offered the sale for tonight.

I stuck the blade back in its sheath and grabbed the bag. As I turned to walk away from him, he called my notorious street name, "Reaper?"

I stopped in my tracks, turning my head a little to signify he's gotten my attention.

"Be careful."

At his foolishly phrased words I spun on my heel, and marched back towards him. When people tell me this, I take it an insult. As if I don't know what I'm doing, when I know more than half of the Tragic line combined. "Angel, baby, Careful is my middle name."

I saw him swallow hard as I neared our lips, centimeters apart. His shallow breath quivered on my lips. I was never really sure why I made him so nervous. Maybe it's the gun.

"J-just watch out. Those fuckers don't mess around."

"And I do?" I whispered, brushing his lips softly with the open wound on my thumb. Blood littered over the flesh of his lips.

"Just-"

I cut him off with a kiss, lustful and fierce, with no expectation of romanticism between us afterwards. The only real motive behind it was to catch him off guard; make him shut up.

A siren blared somewhere. That better not be Kit. I'm not bailing that douche bag out again. Between the narks, cops, other gangs, the hunters and the vampire's, the Tragedies has enough shit as it is. He pushes me away, sighing.

"Stop fucking around, this is serious. This shit is dangerous. You could get bitten. I'll go with you." he stood up from his position on the leather couch.

I shoved him back down, "No, Angel. This is not how we work; now sit your ass back down before I get Shorty to cover the door."

"At least take Spit."

"No. Spit's out with Kit and the other crackhead. They better not get caught tonight."

He sighed in defeat. I smiled at him reassuringly, I can't blame the kid for being paranoid or caring, but. I turned around and walked through the doors, slamming it behind me in the process.

__________________________________

The damp concrete in the alley made soft splashes as my shoes hit. The wind had whipped too hard so I'd put the hoody over my blood red hair. My breath was quivery from the chill of the night and with every exhale from my lips, it conformed into a white fog. My teeth were borderline chattering. My thumb had stopped bleeding yet my heart was beating rather quickly, threatening to burst through my ribcage and flesh. With every condemning step, I felt the cold metal of my .45 against the skin on my back.

I loved this feeling. The surging adrenaline and the fright that always seemed trigger my reflexes twice as fast; sickeningly sweet.

I knew it was foolish to come on a drop with the Dandies alone, but there is a reason I am leader of Tragic's. Now, they don't just call me Reaper for nothing. Besides, people have lives… or other duties. Shorty was on SOS (Suck On Sight) with the Mystics, ever since she cut one the leader's prostitutes on accidental purpose. Spit was covering Vampy and Kit while they collected, and the rest of those fuckers act to hard, they're the flaws of the clan.

Then again, this is my first direct drop with the Mystics…

Not to mention, from what I’ve heard, William's wanted to meet me for a while.

Let's give him the pleasure.

My legs were cold, I had to admit, but oddly, I run faster and move quicker in skirts. A few steps further and I stopped short at a rusty metal door. If this would go as planned, I would be in, out then back home while Angel counted the money.

I knocked on the door, greeted by an obvious Mystic. He looked me up and down. I stared coldly into his dark eyes.

"Come in."

I tore my gaze down and stepped into the building. He and another Mystic lead me down hallways and rooms. The entire building was eerie in the sense that it was cold, somewhat damp, and grey. Like something out of Gothika.

They knocked on the door and another opened it. The two from before disappeared and the new one lead me to the new room. I stepped in, immediately dropping my hands at my sides.

This room was just a sneak peak of what the rest of the building was. The walls were harsh intimidating concrete, well… almost intimidating. A drop dripped somewhere and I honestly felt like something horrible had happened in here. The stench that hung around it, told me exactly what it was.

My hands went immediately to my .45, pointing it directly at the person who had just appeared. A dim bulb turned on somewhere and I cocked it, stepping closer to have the metal against their throat. The bulb provided enough light for me to see their silhouette.

"I am not your dinner, bitch."

"Why are you here then?"

"Drop."

"Tragic's sent you? Where's Vampy?"

"Vamp's out. Don't worry about her; worry about this."

"You know that bullet wont hurt me as much as you think."

"I know how much it'll hurt you. It won't do much, but by the time, your body realizes it, I'd have the stake through your heart."

"Sounds kinky."

"Think of it whatever way you want."

"And who the fuck are you just exactly?"

"Reaper."

The bulb flashed then brightened, sending light through the room. Five Mystics surrounded me; starting with the one that had recently had my gun to his throat.

They looked at me then at him. He backed away from the barrel and a dry chuckle interrupted the stony silence. I looked from one face to another until I found the source.

Long chestnut brown hairs, fair skin, stick thin, and a bone structure meant for glory. William.