15 ☂ Success?

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Success?


Five was nowhere to be found when Eight woke up to an empty, cold bed. Grunting, she drew back the drapes a bit and slowly opened her eyes to adjust to the light.

The girl grumbled, stretching her limbs and yawning as she sat up on the soft foam, "Well deserved sleep."

She rose up, kicking off the blankets, and took off Five's pajamas before putting her own uniform on.

She stumbled out of the room and into the bathroom next door, where she brushed her teeth and did what she could to disentangle her tangled hair.

She halted Five by the bar with Dolores, drinking on what appeared to be margaritas, by leaping from stair to stair as she approached.

"What's the special occasion?" The girl's morning voice echoed through the tall room.

"Mark's dead. No end of the world." Five spun around on his chair, facing her.

"What? How do you know?" Eight asled, surprise in her voice.

"We went to check it out this morning, found him stabbed approximately a hundred times." Five shrugged his shoulder, turning back around to face the bar, sipping on his drink.

"And nothing about that seems odd to you?" The girl asked curiously. "Like.. Where's Vanya?"

The boy laughed and ignored the inquiries as he engaged the mannequin in conversation while listening to quiet jazz music on the radio behind the bar.

The two teenagers sighed in irritation as the loud knocking on the door missed the quiet area.

"All right, I'll get it." Five leaped out of his chair and made his way to the door while carrying his drink in one hand.

Eight patiently waited, her head tilted back and her back against the constructed bar as she stared up at the high ceiling.

"Hey old-timer." he heard the familiar voice.

"Do you have my sister, if not, would you like a margarita?" Five's calm voice echoed through the room. "Come on." he invited the man inside.

"You're here to kill us?" Eight asked, her eyes fixated on the gun held up to them from a fair distance, Hazel's finger on the trigger.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, old habit." He exhaled, pocketing the weapon. "Well, I can understand why you might feel that way, you know..." said the man, standing awkwardly.

Five sat back into his chair, sipping on his drink and Eight stood next to him, both curiously looking over at the tall assassin.

"Well, you attacked our house, tried to kill our family, and kidnapped our brother." Five listed.

"Well, there's not much I can do about the past." Hazel sighed. "I'm not the only killer in this room. You two got your own bloody history. Speaking of which, that job you did in Calhoun, that shit's legendary. Can't believe I'm actually sittin' here talkin' to you two, after all-" he spoke excitedly.

"Hazel, why are you here?" Eight interrupted him, wanting to get to the point of all this, not wasting another precious second.

"Well, I'm, you know-" he tried to answer, only getting attacked by Diego, tackling the large man to the ground.

"Oh, for fucks sake." Eight sighed, walking away from the fight with an annoyed expression, entering the kitchen to grab some food.

She heard plenty of grunting and Five's angry voice before the sound of glass breaking hit her ears, cautiously walking back to the living room to see what happened.

𝙲𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙰𝚂 𝚂𝙿𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚄𝙼 ☂ Five HargreevesWhere stories live. Discover now