Hell's Sniper | J. Todd

XII - Bitch Better Have My Money

Bitch better have my money.
- Rihanna

I can almost hear Sgt. Collins telling me to "FALL BACK FALL BACK, YOU ARE ABOUT TO GET YOUR ASS BEAT." at a lung-rupturing volume, but I continue a stealthy approach to the brutal crime lord.

"Come on, where is she? You've got thirty seconds!" His mask never fails to freak me out, but I've seen literal skulls in a war-torn land before, so this is nothing.

I finally catch a glance at who he's threatening to shoot; a young girl, probably only nineteen, thrown to the floor and yanked up by her hair as tears stream down her face.

I take off my high heels as one of Black Mask's goons makes his way around the crowd of distressed socialites. Glancing at Jason, the Waynes and their "family friends", I can instantly recognise the urge to act rising in them all, but Jason catches my eye and gives me the faintest nod. It makes my heart whirl and mind grow in confidence.

He knows I've got this handled.

The goon doesn't seem to notice me as I press myself up against the wall, the marble pillars of the ballroom casting long shadows that provide the cover I need. The goon has a rifle, and I really would like that rifle.

"Twenty!"

The girl cries harder. Now or never, I think. I silently move towards the goon and in one swift movement, I snap his neck. I lower him to the floor so I don't draw any attention to his death, and the girl's loud sobbing and Black Mask's degrading shouts muffle the initial sound.

I pick up the rifle and hope it's got a good amount of rounds left. Thankfully, this rifle has a decent suppressor, but it's not going to be a completely silent shot.

I move behind the pillars alongside the shadows, moulding into one myself as I pass by another goon, now in a perfect line of fire for Black Mask. 

"Ten seconds left, sniper!"

Like my old spotter said, "A sniper is just a fancy killer."

I pull the trigger, dropping him and the two goons near him soon after. Vicious snarls and screams fill my ears, ignored until I turn on my heel to shoot the other goons.

But my Dobermans already beat me to it.

Mutilated criminals litter the ballroom, blood staining the floor. Guests of the gala finally breathe in relief, but all I can do is furrow my brows as I lower the rifle. How did my Dobermans get here? I left them at the apartment. It's impossible to smuggle six Doberman Pinschers into a Wayne charity gala.

"Thank you, thank you!" 

The gratitude snaps me out of the confusion, at least for now. The girl who almost died is covered in Black Mask's blood but she's okay, so it's okay. Right, I think as I overlook the crowd. I'm the hero.

"Ruth le Vont- in a week, you've managed to kill two of Gotham's largest crime lords," Commissioner Gordon says as he approaches, not even concerned with the rifle in my hands.

"Right time, right place, sir."

The Commissioner snorts. He mustn't've been carrying a gun with him, or maybe he thought that he couldn't do that much in the middle of a panicked crowd by himself. "Seems I'm always in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Red and blue lights glitter in warning on the tall windows, lighting the shadows the pillars once cast.

"Got some good news for you, le Vont." Cops enter the building, some I recognise and some I don't. They start their procedures efficiently, which means Jason will be caught up for a while.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" My Dobermans move through the crowd with blood on their muzzles, standing around me in a protective circle.

"They've just finished training up  teams worth of SWAT rookies." His sigh at the end of his statement piques my attention. The Commissioner dismisses an approaching officer with a wave.

"And...?"

"They're splitting up the three current teams into nine groups for there to be high-ranking and experienced officers in each team, rather than six teams of rookies."

My heart's still pounding, but it's slowing. "Four members from each current team with eight rookies," I summarize. "Greaattttt."

Despite the circumstances, Gordon laughs and I laugh too. "You're being promoted to first-in-command of the Seventh Team."

"I'm a Sargent now?"

"Yes you are."

"In command of rookies?"

"Yes...?"

"All due respect, sir, but I've been a fully-fledged officer for like, six months."

Gordon shrugs before moving to talk with detectives. I pass an officer the rifle, then move towards Jason as he stands next to Damian and Max, talking to an officer. Thank God she's okay.

"Ruth! You downright mentally insane-"

I wrap her in a hug before my younger sister can continue her sentence. She returns it with a relieved squeeze. It pulls at my heart to know that she was scared for me when I couldn't be afraid, terrified that her sister's training could take over and cause her demise.

I should be more careful. But then I glance at the girl that Black Mask almost shot and I think, It was worth it in the end.

Heroism and guilt always end up going hand in hand when I'm around, and that's completely out of my control.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into Maxine's hair before letting go.

 She sighs quietly and then snorts. "You really didn't like those high heels, huh?"

"No, I didn-"

Jason pulls me into his warm and tight embrace, causing my dogs to jump a little in shock. I'll follow up with you lot later. Maxine and Damian crouch down to pet them as Jason continues to try and break all of the bones in my body.

"Can't- breathe-"

He laughs and loosens his grip, but doesn't let go completely. It's almost like he refuses to with the way his hand grips the black fabric of my dress, bunching it at my waist. "You scared me. Don't do that."

"I know," I apologise, holding his jaw in my hands.

"EW. GROSS. STOP." Maxine shields both her and Damian's eyes, though she struggles to reach up to his level. "PDA is not appreciated."

"You're not appreciated," I mutter, hoping no one hears. Jason finally lets go, and Bruce approaches with his brow furrowed. I'm not quite sure at what.

"Dick took a photo of that, Jason." Jason curses as Bruce continues. "That was... selfless of you. I'm glad you were here to... to help."

"I know you know that I know, so let's say it for what it is. You thought I could've handled it without shooting anyone, don't you?"

"I'm not going to criticize your methods publicly," Bruce pauses. "How did your dogs get in here, though?"

The only answer I can give is a shrug.

Don't you hate it when the MC of a book has a pet but then the pet isn't mentioned for the rest of the book

LIKE, THE ONLY REASON I'M READING THE BOOK IS BECAUSE OF YOUR GOOFY GOLDEN RETRIEVER WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO PLAY FETCH, NOT BECAUSE I WANT TO KNOW HOW YOU SOLVED A BRUTAL COLD CASE MURDER. GET IT RIGHT.