Chapter 1: Crossed Sights in Betraying Rain
Torrential rain hammered rusted rebar atop the abandoned high-rise roof, blurring skyline neon into cold gray haze. Across waterlogged concrete, two pistols pointed cleanly at each other's foreheads.
Walter Kreis pulled up his frayed trench collar, rain stinging the pale knife scar down his cheek. "White-haired Obsidian Guild cleaner. Walk away from the encryption key."
Sleek leather clinging sharply through storm gusts, Estelle Novak fixed crimson eyes steadily behind black tactical steel. "Termination target confirmed—though you're annoyingly stubborn. Step aside unless you want lead."
Both triggers crept toward break-weight—until crimson fire split storm clouds overhead.
"Wait—orbital strike drones?!"
"Get down!"
Walter yanked Estelle violently behind crumbled parapet stone a split second before smart missiles shattered asphalt. Crackling static flooded both earpieces, carrying Viktor Katsuragi's silken, mocking voice over howling wind.
"Splendid work, you two. Sadly, clean books allow zero witnesses. Please turn to ash."
"Katsuragi—you dare cut me loose too?!" Estelle snarled before howling white-hot blasts buckled the floor beneath their boots, plunging both assassins headlong into pitch-black chasm below.
Chapter 2: Muddy Handshake of Enemies
Damp groundwater dripped endlessly across a subterranean concrete cistern reeking of cordite and soaked ash.
Pinned beneath crushed masonry, Estelle gasped raggedly against rising hyperventilation, squeezing a dry trigger that only clicked uselessly.
"Empty mag. Breathe slow," Walter grunted, flicking a dented Zippo to light a damp cheap cigarette before crouching cleanly over concrete rubble trapping her ankle.
"Hands off...! Keep your charity, enemy!"
"Quit squirming or your fibula snaps. Let's call a truce till daylight—plenty of time to shoot each other topside."
Calloused palms braced squarely over soaked leather and heaved clear, lifting crushed stone aside in one sharp surge. Heat radiated sharply through frozen rain as boots splashed upstairs—followed by sweeping grids of crimson laser sights hunting dark water.
"...Katsuragi's clean-up squad. Watch my six?" Estelle murmured coolly, tossing aside her empty pistol and drawing two matte-black combat knives from thigh sheaths.
Walter chambered one heavy armor-piercing round into his bolt rifle with a dry grin. "When bullets run dry, we talk with steel. Move."
Chapter 3: Duet in Crossfire
Sparks tore through narrow turbine catwalks under blinding steam jets.
"Left hall—three heavies!"
"Mine."
Crack! Walter's round punched straight through lead visor glass. Before armor hit steel grating, Estelle blurred silently across puddles, carving two razor-thin arcs straight into unarmored neck seams.
"Estelle—catch!"
Snatching his tossed submachine magazine blind mid-turn, she snapped steel smoothly into the grip, pivoting against Walter's injured left knee so their shoulders locked tight back-to-back—matching ragged breath and fierce gunshots like two halves of one weapon.
Shattered bulletproof glass rained everywhere as they breached the penthouse command deck. Trapped beside overturned monitors, Katsuragi stumbled backward over soaked tailoring, sobbing wildly.
"N-no! Why are enemies helping each other?! Take my accounts—name your price!"
"Save your breath," Estelle murmured frostily. "Bullets travel faster than excuses."
"Try dying off-contract, Katsuragi," Walter replied calmly.
Twin muzzle flashes shattered gold-rimmed spectacles simultaneously, painting crisp white silk crimson as the rain claimed one last silhouette.
Chapter 4: Pale Morning After Smoke
Dawn mist rolled cleanly off deserted harbor docks as ocean wind stung dry mud along scratched skin. Sitting side by side atop weathered stone bollards, Walter fished one final crushed cigarette from an empty tin, sparked orange embers, and held it quietly sideways.
"...Hate smoke," Estelle muttered.
"Stops internal bleeding. Mostly."
After pausing quietly to trace tired gray lines beside his scar, she plucked the paper filter cleanly between slim fingers, inhaled once—and immediately dissolved into fierce dry coughing.
"...Ugh. Awful."
"Yeah. Disgusting."
Chuckling softly beneath tattered wool, Walter tucked the smoke away and turned down the empty pier. "Next meeting, back to targets?"
"Pass," Estelle scoffed, already striding the opposite walkway toward waking city traffic. "Waste of good ammo."
Tucked quietly inside her leather pocket, however, her slim fingers curled tightly around one warm brass sniper casing lifted unnoticed from his rig in the dark.
