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The cold breeze flew by the girl who was busy lighting up the lighter repetitively yet absentmindedly. Her back rested against the wooden plank in the dark alley.

Her target was just several seconds away from where she sat. The black cloak covering her petite body with the hood draped over head.

The ground vibrated underneath her, indicating that it was time for action. Getting up, she dragged herself towards the end with a smirk resting on her face. Taking ahold of the gun from her waist, she placed the silencer on top it.

Crossing her feet, she leaned casually on the rough edged wall, comfortably.

“Leaving so soon?” She lowly spoke, grabbing the attention of the man who stood several feet away with his phone latched on his ear.

He abruptly ended the call and turned around. His eyes dilating at the creepy human who was playfully twirling her gun on her index. “W-Who are you?” He hastily stuttered, gripping the phone tightly within his palm.

Tilting her head, she swiftly clutched the gun within her hand, directly aiming at him.

"You’re karma.”

“The fuck?” He screechily yelled like a scared pussy he was. “Who sent you? Who gave you the bounty?” He questioned, his hands trembling as he tucked the bag behind him, away from her eyes.

“You’d be disappointed to hear it before you die.” She blankly stated, her fingers itching too shoot him in between the eyes but today her brain had a different way too murder the man.

“W-What? Don't kill me please.” He pathetically begged. “You want money? I’ll give it you. But p-please don't kill me. I have children and a wife waiting for me at home, don't-" He screamed and fell down on the ground, clasping his leg tightly. The thick, strong scented liquid flowed out through his ripped flesh, staining the ground. “Shut up, Monroe.” She tsked, getting away from the wall.

She slowly approached his crouched figure, the bag of valuables next to him.

“Children and wife, you say?” She grasped his jaw tightly, yanking his face up. Her piercing sapphire orbs digging holes within his dirty skin.

Heavy tears dripped on his cheeks brought happiness within her heart. “What they don’t know is that you’ve selled half of the minors just for money too feed your gambling.”

Releasing his face with a harsh tug, she backed away. “Just hope you pay for your sins in the hell.” She darkly chuckled as she brought the filled can towards him. “Who.. who are you?” He asked once again, with a troubling voice. His breath labored and unstable. Ignoring him, she shot him straight in his left arm, earning a loud pitched howl in return.

Kicking the bag away, she drizzled the concentrated smelly liquid all around him, like a prey would encircle its predator.

Halting, she threw away the empty can, her thumb lighted up the lighter.

His frightened look was something her soul craved for.

She loved them all helpless and vulnerable. The voices telling her to give him the worst of the worst just like every time she killed people without any remorse.

“Bye, Monroe.” She uttered, throwing the lighter towards him. Without wasting anytime, the quiet place erupted in a bright orange color.

The dense flames rose to the sky. His painful yells ringed within her ears as he slowly burned away in the scorching fire.

The heat that consumed his body demanded everything to become ashes, radiating its anger outwards.

The orange reflection in her orbs left her starring at him. She felt no guilt as he bellowed for his life. The flickering sparks touched her cloak making her retreat.

Soon the ample smoke filled up the night sky, disturbing the nearest things, alive.

She knew if she stayed here looking at his now roasted body she would get caught.

Without another glance, she gripped the bag and darted off to the other side of the alley. Her cloak flowing with the wind as she ran by, hastily. Her heart thumping in fear, but soon the fear resolved as she saw him standing with a cigarette in his mouth.

She approached him and threw the bag at his feet. “Woah, calm down.” He hissed.

Extending her hand, she awaited for the payment he was supposed to give her. “Yeah yeah, hold up.” He snarled, knowing she wasn't gonna talk to him. Digging through his jeans pocket, he took out a stack of hundred dollars and placed it on her hand.

“Good job, Diavola.”

She hummed in approval as she gazed at the cash. “Call me if you need anything, Cyrus.” She muttered, turning around. Waving her hand in the air, she walked away from the boy who was looking at her with a smile.

She was one of his clients. Whenever Cyrus wanted to assassinate someone with cruelty, he always called her for help. She was the best assassin in town. Diavola -- the one was fearless and heartless. She was the kind of human, the underground and the mafia feared. Cyrus was fours years older than her so basically she was just like a sister to him. Even if they spoke in a minimal way but still they were comfortable around each other.

She walked back to the almost broken house, with her cloak in her arm and the stack tucked under her bra. Blowing a breath out, she stalked in through the backdoor, only hoping for the monster to be asleep. Looking at the watch, she cursed out under her breath.

Entering the kitchen quietly, she made her way to the living room, only to see thousands of beer bottles sprawled on the floor. The toxic smell entering her nostrils making her gag in hatred.

She turned around the corner and took a step towards the staircase. But before she could take another, her body stilled at the sudden interruption of a voice. A voice, she held immense hatred for.

She turned and saw her so-called stepfather standing with his hands crossed over his bulky chest. Gulping, she clutched the railing for support.

“Where do you think you’re going, Seraphina?”