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Summary
“Sorry, buddy,” V says, spinning her gun around her index finger. “You gotta go.” Abruptly, she stops the motion and straightens out her arm as she aims down sights, pulls the trigger in one smooth motion. Red blooming over his heart, the guy gurgles before buckling like a puppet with its strings cut.
Song doesn’t say anything. A pregnant pause stretches on.
Eventually, in utter disbelief, Songbird finally breaks the silence. “Did you just trickshot him?”
or
the one where v has a day job and a regular who buys dodgy scopdogs but works as a merc during the night with a mysterious, highly talented netrunner named songbird