Death came with Ira Vacant. She stood tall above the woman, like a vulture ready to strike. With a breath, she jumped off of the roof into the alley and atop the passerby, knives down on her back. Ira pressed hard until her victim stopped breathing. What next? Exactly what Ira was fearing. She knew what to do. Slowly, cringing at the blood, she reached her hands into the pool of red liquid pouring out. Ira stood, hands covered in blood, and smeared the wall with it, forming a word that people would know her by for the rest of her life. Once she was done, she ran, only looking back once to see her bloodstained work:
Cobra
(This is the shortest part there is by far, and is mostly for getting readers exited for the next bits. Get ready for it.)
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Vacant
FantasyShe ran away from a horrifying past. She left to follow a dark path filled with deceit and blood, but her past is chasing her, and it has a gun. He lost the one he cared for most, and he loses himself trying to make it right. But what if the one he...
