𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓 ✘ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐅𝐅

{1¹} {A PHONE CALL}

∆ {1¹} {A PHONE CALL} ∆

ROXI SNUCK AROUND the corner silently, one hand glued around the handle of a pistol, the other against the cream wall to help her keep her balance. The hard, varnished wooden floors of the villa in Spain she was currently in were waxed, which was only something someone very rich could enjoy. Also, that and the fact that there had been a Tesla parked outside on the gravel. Money meant uncertainty, and uncertainty meant security. Too bad the security this man had employed wouldn't be enough.

The man who lived here was an arms dealer specializing in black market trade, who said his name was James Davis. A lot of other people in the job that Roxi was in wouldn't bother to find out their target's names before carrying out their jobs, but she liked to. She liked to at least have something to remember the people who died at her hand with. Even though they were terrible people, she felt as if she owed them in some way for cutting their life short, and so, she learned their names, kept them written down in a black journal that always lay in the shadow of her lamp on her desk, where it would be harder to find.

She rounded the next corner, having edged her way down the corridor, and pressed her back flat against the wall as she heard the subtlest shift in weight moving down the hallway she'd just been down. The person was moving surprisingly quietly. Maybe taking out security would be slightly harder than she thought. Roxi poked her head back around the corner to try and get a read on her opponent. It was a large, hulking man, probably a highly-trained bodyguard judging by his quiet movement and the way that he kept walking with absolute surety that he could take down anything that came at him. She brought her head back down as she figured out her plan of action. He was confident, which meant she would probably be able to exploit that if she needed to.

She waited until the man had come past the corner she was hiding at, though he continued walking straight. She carefully moved up behind him and punched him hard at the back of his skull, where his optical lobe of the brain was. When he woke up from his current passed out state, there was a possibility that he would never be able to see again. She almost felt bad for him. She caught him before he got the ground, quickly shoving him into a nearby bathroom and locked the door from the outside.

Roxi glanced around one more time before continuing to her target. She wasn't surprised when she found him in the lounge of the villa as he looked out over the pool that was outside. Very quickly, a plan formed in her head. She slipped the pistol back into the holster on the inside of her coat, slipped a small black earphone inside her ear that could record in case she found out anything interesting that she could use to point to her next target. She slowly sauntered into the room, making her presence known as she spoke.

"You have a lovely villa, Mr. Davis." The man in question, who was wearing a charcoal grey coat turned his head and raised his eyebrow at her. Another thing he was notorious for was his interest in women, and Roxi had dealt with a lady in the villa earlier who was no doubt on her way to meet him.

"Thank you," he said, his black eyes gleaming as they roamed her body hungrily. All Roxi felt was disgust; who would ever like a man such as him. She reminded herself to stay professional, so her exterior didn't change in expression, a light smile, accompanied by a certain fake look in her eyes.

"Would you like a drink?" Davis asked, and she nodded, walking over to the expensive white loveseat he was sat on. She took a seat next to him, smiling as he poured her a glass of prosecco. She smiled, lifting it to her lips and taking a light sip, though her eyes never left his. He seemed to like that, as he copied her actions, moving slightly closer to her. She did the same after setting down her glass on the table, bringing her left hand down so it looked like she was going to pull off her leather jacket, but instead, she grabbed the pistol from inside, brought it up so that it was at Davis' chest. She watched his eyes widen as he opened his mouth to call out for guards, but before any sound could leave his lips, he was slumped against the white leather loveseat with a bullet in his chest.