48.

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TW: Gore, Suicide

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The Hunters laughed at my words. The smugness apparent in their voices.

None of them had their faces covered. Their eyes were bright, and their auras tensed, yet ready. I hadn't seen a lot of people the last time I went to the cafe. They were all dressed in black, wearing holsters and belts across their body which I could only assume held ammo. There were big guns in their hands, rifles.

The eyes of the demons and angels in the restaurant were glued to the humans approaching them. There were about three Hunters assigned per table, the demons and angels were cornered in their seats.

I heard a chuckle beside me, turning to see Asshole walking over with Harry in tow. Their guns were raised to point at Lou and Mike as well. I took a step back to let them pass.

"Apologising to scum like this won't get you anywhere, Ryleigh." Asshole smirked, waving his gun in Mike's face.

Harry nodded. "They don't care."

Mike smirked, raising his glass to calmly sip his drink as another gun was pointed at him. "We aren't the scum she's apologising to."

"Ah." Lou snickered, also taking a sip. "So, you admit you're scum."

"Not as much as you are."

I sighed, crossing my arms and resting my back against the counter. "Can you guys move already? I hear enough of your shit everyday anyway."

"Impatient, aren't you?" Lou snickered, jerking his head to the side. "Hey, feathers. Did your kind finish the work?"

"We always finish our work." He tilted his head to the side, blue eyes flashing at the implied insult. "And yes, they're done."

On cue, the bell above the entrance dinged. I could see blue eyes through the Hunters standing in front of me. My eyes widened as I saw the blood on the angels walking in. It wasn't theirs.

I recognised them. They were the team that had come to back Mike up once ages ago. Was it ages ago? It felt like ages ago. Simple times.

The confident and assured auras of the Hunters twisted immediately, warping into worry and fear as they saw the blood. They glanced at each other, unsure of what to do.

The angels looked over at Mike sitting at the counter amidst the confusion. "It's done."

"Good."

"What's... done?" Harry spoke up, voice commanding. That tone was best not aimed at angels.

The black lady who'd tried to kiss me sneered. "Watch your tone, you bag of blood. I don't answer to you."

"Answer them anyway." Mike's glass tapped against the wood. "Let them know what's going on."

The bell dinged again, another angel walked through. He was holding... a head.

My eyes widened, stomach revolting wildly at the sight of the goggling eyes and agape mouth. It rotated by the hair as if caught by a gentle draft.

"We're ready." He grinned widely, unaware of the blood splattered across his face.

"MAKOTO!!" One of the men guarding a booth yelled, turning his gun towards him. The muzzle flashed, the loud sound assaulting my ears making me grimace and turn away. It cut off suddenly, a loud snap barely making it way to my eardrums.

I looked up to see an angel standing behind the Hunter who'd opened fire. The Hunter's neck was titled at an awkward angle. His face was frozen in grief and anger, life fading out of his eyes.

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