Chapter Text
Since when did he become so unaware?
He would always know when Anya and Frankie snuck behind them during him and Yor’s dates. For every situation, the logistics were in his hands: the number of people, the names and careers of those people, the different stores surrounding them, the endless scenarios that kept replaying, refracting into multiple universes of what could happen at any second, all while moving, acting, and keeping in sync with everything and everyone at the moment.
Currently at hand, there was a cross fire. Smoke billowed through distant buildings, the chunks of rubble and concrete made it hard to run, and the scent of gunfire and charring of everything organic reminded him that war was here. But he was focused on a different mission, a mission to stay alive.
A pursuant was after him, despite the chaos that was bombings and screaming civilians.
The two main objectives set by WISE was to evacuate Westalis citizens and government officials out of the country, and stall the Ostanian heads, or whoever was responsible, from unleashing anymore bloodshed. He was given the latter, with the specific goal of overriding missiles that the Ostanian military would utilize, and while he was en route, a sudden shadow was casted from the top of a passing building and pierced the top of his vehicle.
Everything else was a blur. All he could do was get as far away as possible, and may be have at least a few seconds to process what was going on.
Twilight couldn’t understand why anyone would think it was a good idea to chase after him during an eruption of a war, but he never had a say in whatever conflict that he found himself in. His only options were to run or fight back.
Though the individual had only pin knives as weapons, the smoke, the shadowy night, and the legions of stimulating distractions, all that could prove deadly, made it difficult to point out any more features of his enemy. It also didn’t seem to restrict the assassin either, as they bolted with a frightening pace, maneuvering through the torn streets with mocking ease. The chase wouldn’t stop until he was cold and dead.
His expertise was information, intelligence, and when it was necessary, combat in either a quickened, condensed time, or where he was the owner of the stage.
This was a pure fight with a bred killer, who was trained on certain death, who was trained to leave no one remaining, to never leave someone out of sight, to never leave someone a second to breath—like a hound dog.
It’s all or nothing.
Twilight sped towards an apartment wall, momentum in his body, and pushed himself into a burst in the air, hoping the higher position would give him a sliver of a second to get a shot in.
But they only followed. A knife flicked through the trigger well and disarmed him, his handgun flying far upwards, and before he knew it, she was above, and he was below.
They were falling.
By the time he would hit the ground, it would spell the end for him. As the dust cleared, the last thing he would remember was the horrifically familiar crimson eyes that gave into him, and the similarly horrified expression etched on her face.
But then...
Everything was white.
And then everything burned.