Chapter Text
A brunette in a green and light grey hoodie with a single braid flowing down her back walks to the bar and slams a gold card with the writing “James Taggart” on it onto the countertop, drawing the attention of the bartender.
“Whew, you finished that’un already?” the bartender smiles as she nods. “Right, I have another one for ye. The doll on the o’her side o’ the phone sounded urgent. Said to tell the Malen’kaya Volchitsa that the Cáileach needed her. I asked ‘er the fuck she was on about, she tol’ me to give the she wolf her number. So here. And here’s her target too.”
(Little she-wolf) (Witch)
He slid a piece of paper and a gold card to the girl. She pocketed the paper and looked at the mercenary target card, this time not a name was on it, simply “Team Iron.”
“What are you smirking at?” the bartender ask the girl.
“Nothing,” was the whispered reply, “Not one thing.”