Rozeree stared into the cracked mirror of her apartment's dingy bathroom, eyes tracing the network of lines that now mapped her transformed body. The raised lines that had been pink and puffy only a few days ago, were now long, flat scars that stretched down her face, across her arms, down her chest. Covering her like a full body tattoo
They were a permanent reminder of who she was. What she was. The Mute. And as Rozeree studied her reflection, the name felt more fitting than ever. Gone was the innocent girl from Graybarrow, her ashes scattered to the winds along with those of her first kills. In her place stood a hardened, enigmatic figure. With a deep breath, Rozeree turned away from the mirror, pushing down the lingering ache and fear that threatened to resurface.
Rain pattered softly on the pavement, the droplets leaving a faint, tingling sensation on Rozeree's skin. She looked up at the capital's sky, a dull, sunless stretch weighed down by endless smog. It sure rains a lot, she thought, her mind drifting as she breathed in deeply. The scent of old stone mingled with the savory smoke of street vendors and the sharp tang of car exhaust as vehicles sped past.
Her car—a hunk of rusted metal and peeling paint—waited by the curb. The doors creaked loudly as she climbed in. The seats, stained with old blood and sweat, felt rough against her skin. She twisted the knob on the radio, filling the cramped interior with the loud, thrashing rock station Vilrux had introduced to her. The music was angry and raw, each beat firing up something fierce inside her. She felt something deep and angry within herself come alive with it.
Vilrux had said she had a knack for handling the old machine, and it hadn't taken her long to master its quirks.
The streets Maven marked became Rozeree's labyrinth. Each pass revealed new layers. Trash-filled gutters, crumbling concrete walls tagged with neon gang signs, shadows that seemed to breathe in the narrow spaces between buildings. Her rusted vehicle crawled through every street and back alleys barely wide enough for its frame.
But days of searching had yielded nothing but dead ends. She pulled into a side street where the buildings leaned inward like tired old men, creating a tunnel of shadow. A dealer would know these streets, know the whispers. Or maybe the bars… they say if you drown enough sorrows tongues start wagging...
The impact against her roof shattered her thoughts. A compact woman, precise as a scalpel, filled her peripheral vision. Her lean frame a sharp silhouette against the streetlight. Raven hair caught the dim glow of distant neon, and something primal twisted in her gut as she met eyes that mirrored her own ice-blues. A cold, mechanical calculation flickered across her face, as her gaze assessed her with predatory efficiency.
"Youre obstructing the road," her voice came flat and mechanical. "Move your vehicle."
"I was just leaving." Metal screamed against asphalt as Rozeree slammed the gas, the car lurching forward before the woman could react. Rozeree watched her in the rearview mirror, expecting rage, violence— but that unblinking, emotionless stare remained fixed, watching her retreat.
Rozeree's heart hammered against her metallic ribcage as she put distance between herself and that clinical, penetrating gaze. The encounter shaking her more than she cared to admit.
The target's photo lay creased on the passenger seat, his haunted green eyes staring up at the stained roof. Rozeree's traced every detail for the hundredth time, the gaunt cheeks, the patchy beard, the wild desperation in his gaze. Maven's intel suggested he frequented the southern side of the Commonwealth, where neon gave way to deeper shadows and even the knights tread carefully.
She pulled up outside a bar called the Rusty Nail, its sign flickering weakly against the perpetual gloom. The stench hit her enhanced senses before she even opened the door, stale beer, sweat, and something metallic that must have been blood. This definitly looks like the type of place someone on the run would go…
Inside, faces turned toward her with the instinctive awareness of predators smelling fresh meat. Her augmented eyes cataloged each patron automatically: twelve who showed signs of recent violence, seven of which had visible weapons.
Keep your head down. Act like you belong. The bartender's chrome-plated hands moved in hypnotic patterns as he mixed drinks, his expression unreadable behind a mask of burn scars. Rozeree slid onto a stool, forcing herself not to flinch when its rusted metal squealed beneath her.
"What'll it be?" the bartender's voice rasped like steel wool on concrete.
"Information." She placed the target's photo on the bar, one finger resting on its edge. "And whatever's cheapest."
The bartender's laugh was all grinding gears. "Honey, you're about as subtle as a paint job inna church." He slid a glass of something amber toward her. "But you're not the first greenie to come hunting. Question is, how much is the information worth to you?"
The weight of Vilrux's coins pressed against her hip, lighter now after purchasing the car, each remaining gild a reminder of his words: nothing is free. She slid a handful of golden coins across the sticky bar surface, watching as they disappeared into the bartender's calloused palm like water into sand.
"Yeah, he hangs around here a whole lot, frequents a lot of bars around here." The words drawled out between mechanical movements. He methodically dried each shot glass. His attention seemingly more focused on the repetitive circular motions of his rag than her presence.
Seconds stretched into an eternity of silence, broken only by the soft clink of glass against wood and the distant hum of neon.
"And?" The word escaped her lips like a challenge, met only with a sideways glance that dripped with condescension. His eyes rolled beneath heavy brows as if she were nothing more than an annoying child tugging at his sleeve.
Something deep within Rozeree's chest twisted and snapped. A dam breaking. Releasing a flood of raw fury that surged through her enhanced muscles. She was not some wide-eyed girl to be dismissed. She was a fixer. A killer. The Mute. Her body moved with inhuman speed that surprised even her. Augmented reflexes firing like lightning through her nervous system. Her fingers tangled in his coarse black hair, synthetic muscles coiling.
The sound of his face meeting the bar was a wet crack that echoed through the room. Blood exploding across the wooden surface in a crimson constellation. His scream pierced the smoky air like a siren. Before the seven men she'd marked could do more than tense their muscles, her hand was already moving. The Visionis turned her world into a tactical display, each target highlighted in pulsing red as she squeezed the trigger.
Seven shots rang out in rapid succession. Each bullet found its mark with surgical precision, not flesh, but warning shots that sparked and smoked mere inches from skulls. Her targeting system painted the air with calculated trajectories. Each near-miss a deliberate message written in gunpowder and lead.
The men stiffened, the tension thick as their eyes flicked between themselves. Her black hair whipped around her face like dark flames, each strand catching the dim light as she stood unmoving. The bartender's breath hitched as her grip tightened, her gaze sweping across the room. Making sure the message had been received.
She turned back to the bartender, still pinned beneath her grasp. Blood bubbled from his crushed nose with each sobbing breath, spreading across the bar's surface like spilled wine. Her augmented muscles held him effortlessly, steel and synthetic fiber humming with barely contained power. "Now don't make me mad. Where is he?"
"He's been staying above the corner store down the street!" Blood and spittle flew from the bartender's lips, each word carrying defiance despite his crushed nose. "You could've asked anyone in here you stupid newbie bitch!" His voice cracked with rage, eyes burning with humiliation. "Nobody likes that rat! Now let me fucking go!"
Rozeree's fingers uncurled from his hair one by one, releasing her grip like a predator savoring the moment. She held his gaze, letting every ounce of cold fury she'd cultivated pour through her augmented eyes. But the bartender didn't wilt. Even with blood streaming down his chin and staining his shirt, he stood his ground, shoulders squared against her stare.
"Get the fuck out and don't come back." The words rumbled from his chest. A smirk tugged at Rozeree's lips. What threat could he possibly pose to her? Her new body hummed with lethal potential, each enhancements a testament to her superiority. She tossed a few more gild onto the blood-stained counter, the coins landing with wet clicks, before turning away without a word.
The corner store blazed with fluorescent light. Vending machines lined every wall. Their glass faces reflecting the constant stream of customers who fed them coins and received their automated rewards. The crush of bodies filled the small space with a suffocating heat, the air thick with the scent of artificial food and sweat.
Near the back, partially hidden behind a towering snack dispenser, a steel door caught her attention. Its surface was scarred with age, a simple keypad mounted above the handle. Maybe... She thought as she pretended to study the prices displayed on a nearby machine. But there'd be a whole lot of witnesses and the knights will show up… Then again, that could be a good thing. Vilrux did say reputation was important.
Outside, her gaze traced the building's facade. The windows started impossibly high, mere squares of light against the weathered concrete. Of course they start super high up... Maybe I could come from one of the other rooftops and come down?
She purchased something called a sweet pop– a disappointingly bland sphere of synthetic sugar mounted on a plastic stick– and retreated to her car. The worn seat creaked beneath her as she slumped behind the wheel, turning options over in her mind. The quiet route beckoned with its promise of safety without complications. But Vilrux's words burned in her memory. Never stop or take the easy way out. Her grip tightened around the steering wheel, enhanced fingers leaving indents in the worn leather as she made her decision. Risk everything, every time.
With a deep, steadying breath, she shoved the car door open and stepped back onto the street. The corner store beckoned, its lone steel door a siren's call that pulled her forward. Each step sent tremors of anticipation through her frame. This was it, her first true test. No more hiding, no more hesitation. The Mute would make her presence known.
She paused before the key panel, a virtual crosshair hovered over it, calculating the optimal angle and force required to shatter the mechanism. But her fist hovered over number pad, a fleeting moment of uncertainty creeping up her spine.
What if the knights show up? The question danced at the edge of her thoughts. A specter of doubt that threatened to undermine her resolve. Vilrux had shown her about the importance of reputation. But was she truly ready to stare down the city's enforcers?
The memory of the bartender's defiant glare suddenly flashed in her mind, the sting of his words like a slap in the face. Stupid newbie bitch. Her jaw tightened, teeth grinding together as a fresh surge of anger burned away her hesitation. No more holding back, no more playing it safe. I'll carve out a legacy one bloodied step at a time.
With a decisive motion, she swung down on the keypad. An alarm blared to life as she kicked the door in. The shrill sound pierced the air like the screech of some metallic predator. Heads turned in her direction, eyes widening.
She took the stairs two at a time, her augmented legs effortlessly carrying her upward. The stairwell was cramped and narrow, the air thick with the smell of damp concrete and rusting metal. As she reached the top, her enhanced senses picked up the faint sound of movement. A muffled thump. The creak of a floorboard.
Without hesitation, Rozeree surged forward, kicking a door open with enough force to rip it clean off it's hinges. She swept the apartment with her weapon raised, Visionis painting her target in a pulsing red. There, by the window, a gaunt figure clawed at the frame, desperately trying to escape.
Without a moment's hesitation, Rozeree advanced, her enhanced speed allowing her to close the distance in the blink of an eye. She seized him by the collar, fingers digging into thin fabric as she wrenched him away from the window. With a sharp twist, she flung him to the ground, the impact driving the air from his lungs in a ragged gasp.
Rozeree loomed over him, barrel pressing against his forehead. Her finger tightened on the trigger, the familiar weight and balance of the gun anchoring her. This was it, the moment of truth. With a single squeeze, she could end his life, fulfill the contract, and cement herself as the Mute.
But as his desperate, pleading gaze met hers, something within Rozeree faltered. Something stirred deep inside her. A flickering ember of humanity that refused to be extinguished. This was a person, terrified and broken, begging for his life.
For a heartbeat, Rozeree's resolve wavered. Her finger trembled on the trigger. The cold certainty that had carried her this far suddenly cracking under the weight of his pitiful cries.
"They said they'd kill me and my whole family! I had no choice, I swear! You have to believe me!"
Vilrux's voice spoke in her mind, a harsh reprimand. You're not some bleeding heart, Rozeree. You're a fixer. This is what you signed up for. His words tore through the fog of her indecision, reigniting the fire of her purpose. There was no innocent. Just the strong and the weak. And this man was weak. And I am strong.
With a grim resolve, Rozeree steadied her hand, pushing aside any lingering traces of hesitation. She would not falter. Not now. Not ever.
As she stared deep into his eyes, words fell from her lips with icy detachment, devoid of any trace of empathy. "I don't care." He opened his mouth to plead again. Her finger tightened on the trigger. The action as natural as her own heartbeat.
The gun roared to life, the shot exploding from the barrel with a violent crack that seemed to tear through the air. The impact was brutal. Flesh, bone, and blood erupted, a gruesome spray painting the walls. His eyes went wide, before the light fled, leaving only a vacant stare. His body crumpled to the floor, the life snuffed out in an instant.
Rozeree stared down at the lifeless form, that same sense of calm settling over her. This is it. No more holding back. No more hesitation. She turned and strode out the door, each step measured and confident. A slight smile played on her lips. She had chosen her path, and she would enjoy it.
But as Rozeree breached the store's threshold, a sudden cacophony of shouts and the rapid thud of armored boots shattered the stillness. The knights had arrived. Converging on her location like a pack of hungry wolves.
Rozeree's heart thundered in her ears. The rush of adrenaline mingling with the euphoria. Without a moment's hesitation, she flung herself into the driver's seat of her waiting car. She barely spared a glance at the road before slamming on the gas. Her Visionis feed her a constant stream of data that allowed her to navigate the narrow streets at breakneck speed.
The car bucked and groaned beneath her, protesting as she pressed the gas harder. Driving with reckless abandon, she wove between startled pedestrians while careening around tight corners. Each maneuver was executed with calculated precision, her augmented reflexes and enhanced perception allowing her to anticipate every obstacle.
The knights were falling behind, but Rozeree knew the reprieve would be brief. Sooner or later, they would deploy aerial units or call in heavier firepower. She had to put as much distance between them and her as possible. Rozeree's jaw tightened, her enhanced muscles straining against the wheel as she pushed the car even faster.
Rozeree's heart thundered in her ears as she frantically wove the battered car through the narrow, winding streets of the Commonwealth. The roar of the engines and the wailing sirens of the pursuing knights faded into the distance behind her. Her augmented reflexes guided the vehicle with lightning precision through the crumbling architecture.
Rusted steel and crumbling concrete gave way to shadowed alleyways. Rozeree's enhanced vision pierced the gloom, searching for a place to lose her pursuers. Finally, she spotted a particularly dark and secluded alcove between two sagging buildings. She guided the creaking car, puttering and sputtering, into the tight space, cutting the engine.
Silence fell, save for the pounding of Rozeree's pulse. She sat in the dimness for what felt like an eternity, chest heaving, adrenaline surging. Eventually a triumphant grin began to spread from ear to ear. She had done it. She had finished her contract and did it with flair. The Mute emerged, her newfound capabilities proving their worth. This would only be the beginning of her legend.
But as Rozeree basked in her achievement, a massive shadow suddenly blotted out the little light that had filtered into the alcove. Slowly, she turned her head.
The petite figure of the raven-haired woman sat behind the wheel of her own vehicle. She blocked the only exit, her face a lifeless mask.
Instantly, Rozeree's victorious elation curdled into dread. But she stared into those icy eyes, refusing to cower. Gripping the steering wheel until her enhanced knuckles turned white, Rozeree steeled her resolve, ready to face this head-on.