Chapter Text
Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. Tap. Taptap. Taptaptaptaptap. Rose's foot beat an arrhythmic staccato on the floor as she sprawled across the rusted folding chair. A disgruntled growl escaped her lips as she tilted back onto two legs, the aging metal bowing just slightly. A door slammed shut down the hall, the hollow thud followed quickly by the sharper echo of metal hitting tile. The white haired girl leaned forward, single eye narrowing in irritation at the cracks spreading further from where her perch collided with the floor.
"Garbage, piece of shit dump." With another sound of disgust she pushed the curls from in front of her face, tucking them into the band of her eye patch before standing and tossing a small black object onto the seat. The young assassin spent an extra few moments to stretch out the kinks in her back. Apparently this client was not actually going to show up tonight, which meant she could go hole up for a few hours and poor herself into a dirty shot glass or seven.
Just as her gloved hand settled on the filthy doorknob, the harsh 'deedly-dee' of the burner phone she had so haphazardly discarded. For a moment she paused, her teeth catching in her bottom lip as she considered just leaving it. The deadline had technically passed. Of course, there was the matter of her empty bank account to consider...
"You're late." She bit out into the phone, one foot resting on the seat as she kept her eye firmly on the exit. All this fucker had to do was piss her off in the slightest and it was whiskey town for the night. As he spoke she absently worried her bottom lip with her teeth. The idiot nattered on and on as she half paid attention. "Fuck." She interrupted, the tang of copper filling her mouth as she bit a little too hard. The voice on the other end made an inquiry.
"Listen asshat, I don't have the time or the patience for your sob story. What is the fucking job, and make it quick." Half a minute later. "Has she committed any crimes? You know I don't fuck with innocents here. I don't give a fuck what you're charging..." The killer metahuman's face drained of colour, her voice deepening to hiss of rage. "Motherfucker when this is over, you and me are gonna dance, and I will paint the streets with your entrails."
Rose snapped the phone closed, crushing it in her hand, relishing the barest hint of a scream that the electronics made as she ground them into dust, letting them drop onto the floor beneath her baleful glare. This was not a job she wanted to take. The fuckwad's slithery voice clung to her neck, whispering his foul little secret in her ear on repeat. Once this was over, and she had his money, she was going to relish taking him apart, piece by scummy piece.
The things she did for money.
They couldn't hold a candle to what she would do for revenge.
Rose tugged on her mask, double checked her katanas and hit the street. Five blocks over and three down she picked up a file from the dead drop. She flipped through the information halfheartedly, that tiny corner of herself that spoke with Eddie's voice filling her head with doubts. She'd heard of Retz Incorporated, she'd even heard of the heiress. Huffing she tossed the surveillance sheets into a trash bin, following it up with a pair of lit matches. Leaving the fire burning behind her she moved through the Gotham streets towards the nicer part of town.
Penthouses were a pain in her ass. Rose stared dispassionately down at the concierge, blood congealing in a sticky mess across his desk. The only way she was getting this done was if she turned what remained of her conscience off. She was Slade Wilson's daughter. His only heir. She had trained at the knee of Deathstroke, Sweet Lilli, Nightwing... She could do whatever it took, but fuck if her vengeance wasn't going to be all the sweeter for having to step outside her comfort zone.
The elevator pinged, and Rose was beside it in a breath, blades in her hand. The elderly lady who stepped out with her furry rat-on-a-string style dog let out a gasp just as the blade came out the other side of her throat. Rose stepped back, shaking the blood off her blade as the woman crumpled, the dog yapping away in agitation, unable to reach Rose as it's leash was caught under it's dead owner. Rose kicked the lady out of her way, giving the dog a long, quelling stare before stepping into the elevator.
Killing and abducting innocents was one thing, yippy little dogs was a whole new level of hell she wasn't ready to condemn herself to yet. The masked mercenary closed her eye, touching the kashira of her katana to her forehead. When the elevator stopped she re-sheathed the blade before padding down the hallway. She crouched at the door, tugging a pin from her hair and working at the lock. If there were silent alarms, she wasn't worried. The Ravager moved far too fast for the Gotham police to catch, and they had more important matters to contend with.
As was often the case with these swank establishments, the presence of a person at the main entrance meant individual suites were... lacking in the security department. In less than five minutes Rose was inside and quietly padding through the dark halls of the penthouse. She hesitated in the hallway, increasing her breath rate to artificially heighten her adrenaline for a moment, giving her a flash of the next few moments. Ahead, to the left. The soft rise and fall of breaths guided her foreward.
Like a ghost she slipped into the sleeping young woman's bedroom, catching the edge of the comforter in one hand and pulling it off the bed with a sharp yank. "Get up, you're coming with me."