Guys I was going to wait a little bit longer to post this and kinda give you guys a break from reading all my shit but I'm way too excited for this and couldn't wait at all.

This will be another multi-chapter fic, though not nearly as long as Lynne was. I've been pouring my heart and soul into this fic since I finished Lynne, and I hope you guys love it as much as I do.

This fic is rated M for many reasons. Drugs, guns, Black Market stuff, pretty intense violence, cussing, and, of course, assassins :)

Prepare for a wild ride.

Without further ado~

Enjoy!

I should have known visiting my parents would be an awful idea. But, after Grandpa died, I figured they'd loosen up a bit.

They didn't.

I had flown down to Florida for the funeral. And, even though they had called me, mailed me an invitation, and offered to have me stay with them, they still seemed unpleasantly surprised to see me show up at their door.

"Len. You do know it's going to be a Catholic funeral, right?" Mom had said to me over dinner. "Are you… are you sure you want to go?"

It wasn't a question. It was more of a statement. She wasn't asking me if I wanted to go. She was telling me not to.

"Yeah," I had bravely told her. "I still want to go."

There was a reason I had moved all the way to California. Ever since I rejected their idea of a perfect, Christian life, they had all-but sent me into exile. It was stupid of me to think that they would ever get over it.

It was even stupider of me, despite my understanding, to say I still wanted to go to the funeral.

Even my sister looked down on me for it. Only a few years younger than me, homeschooled, and the epitome of a perfect Catholic girl. She was a reflection of my mother. It was almost sickening to watch her grow up in her shadow.

It was after I stated my wishes to honor my grandfather one last time that Dad had lost it. The argument that ensued was probably heard by all the neighbors. And ended with my broken phone.

I sighed in my seat. Staring out the window of the plane, a full two days before I had planned to return home, and missing the funeral. I should have known.

"Can I take your trash, sir?" A flight attendant startled me from my thoughts.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." I pulled the empty soda can from the table in front of me, handing it to her.

"We will be landing in about ten minutes," she informed me politely. "The pilot will call when you fold your table up."

"Okay. Thank you." The two strangers sitting with me both had headphones in and were staring intently at laptops. They were oblivious there was a conversation taking place.

She moved on.

I pushed the table up as soon as she was gone. The first thing I'd have to do when I got home; buy a new phone. And get a new number. One my parents didn't have.

I sighed, watching the city pass below me. It was an unfortunate situation, for sure, but it didn't bother me much. The entire country had separated me from my family for almost five years before this trip, and my life was going smoothly without them. A decent apartment in one of the most expensive cities in the world, a wonderful group of friends, and a decent job straight out of college was all a person could ever ask for. I could confidently say I was much better off than your average twenty-three year old.

"Passengers, please fasten your seatbelts…"

I leaned back, feeling the plane descend into the city.

Only one bag traveled with me, and, once the plane landed, I swiftly yanked it from under the seat, and stood. The only downside of the window seat was the line to get off.

I passed baggage claim with a smile, thankful I didn't have to include myself in the multitude of people standing around the conveyor belt of clothes searching for their owners. Despite myself, I walked with a skip in my step. I was home. And it felt good to be home.

It was hot in Los Angeles, but what else could I expect? Hailing down a taxi was much more difficult than simply calling an Uber, but I managed to do it without much trouble. The traffic was hell, I was already sweating, and I was exhausted from my six-hour flight. And yet I breathed in the ocean air with a smile. Getting a new phone could wait. All I wanted to do was crash on my couch for the rest of the night.

The taxi followed the highway along the boardwalk. The sun was high in the sky. The earliest flight I could catch home didn't leave until six in the morning, so I had spent the night at the airport. Point being, I was ready for a nap. Even though it was noon.

"Right here," I pointed to the driver. The backseat of his car stunk like cigarette smoke and alcohol.

I paid him, then stepped out to the foot of my apartment building. It towered over me like a friendly giant. With my bag in one hand and a grin on my face, I entered the modern building.

The elevator ride to the fifth floor was slow. A song I recognized played in the background. I nodded my head to it.

With a ding, the doors opened, revealing the clean carpeted, fresh smelling hallway to my apartment. I whistled the tune in the elevator as it faded from my sight. There was no sign of life in the entire building thus far; everyone was probably out enjoying the warm weather. If I wasn't so tired, I'd do it myself.

Maybe I should call the guys for drinks, I thought, then frowned once I remembered that I did not have one. It had been less than twenty-four hours, and it was already getting annoying to be without it. I halted in the hallway, debating whether or not to go get a new one.

That taxi is probably gone. But I could just find another one. It wasn't like there was a shortage of them in downtown LA, anyway. But what about my bag?

Yeah, I'd have to drop it off first. I continued down the hall. As I approached the door, I pulled my key out of my pocket. The guys always warned me I'd lose it without a keychain, but it hadn't happened yet. I'll just drop my shit off and walk over to the Verizon store down the block, I decided.

My door was at the end of the hall, right next to the stairs. Grinning at the familiar sight of the door, I slid the key in. And then paused.

"...in sight." A voice sounded from inside.

I shrugged. Must have left the TV on. Dammit, Len. Killing the planet one vacation at a time. I pushed the door open.

And I had definitely not left the TV on.

An opened suitcase sat on my coffee table, spilling out all sorts of unknown gadgets and bullets - Bullets? - longer than my hand across the surface. There were small screws, bottles, rags, a pair of binoculars, and many other unknown items covering it. There was a walkie-talkie on the corner closest to the center of my confusion. Kneeling on the floor of my living room was a girl, dressed in all black, holding a sniper rifle that looked bigger than she was. Its barrel was pointed out of the open window. Her short blonde hair was kept from her face with an array of bobby pins.

Three things happened at the same time. First, the loud honk of a semi-truck sounded from the street below. Second, the girl pulled the trigger of the monstrous gun in front of her, letting out a thunderous bang that shook the walls of my apartment but was barely audible over the horn. Third, as she pulled the trigger, her gaze snapped to me, her ice-blue gaze freezing me in place.

"Perfect timing," a static male voice said from the walkie-talkie.

"Yes!" Another voice, this time female, shouted out. "We've got it! We got her-"

"Wait." A third voice chimed in.

And the whole time, me and the girl just stared at each other. I was too stunned to form words. The bag fell from my hand and landed on the floor with a small thud.

"...Kára." The third voice spoke softly. "You missed."

"What?"

"She fucking missed."

"No, she didn't. No way."

"Kára?" The male voice spoke. "What's wrong?"

"Loki," she said, still staring right at me. Her voice was monotone. The entire rest of her body was motionless. "Can you tell me why the owner of this apartment just walked in and is now staring at me?"

The radio was silent.

"Uh-" I fumbled, trying to think of something to say.

"What?!" The male voice rang out again. "But-but he wasn't supposed to be back until-"

"K. You've stirred up trouble," the third voice called again. "They see you. And they're on their way."

The girl jumped from the window, pulling the gun in and beginning to twist and turn different parts of it, removing them and packing them expertly into the gun case. "How long do I have?"

"...No more than thirty seconds."

She moved more like a machine than a human, packing everything back into the case in under five seconds. Once she was finished, she clipped the radio to the belt of her dark pants and looked up at me. I gulped once I caught sight of the pistol holstered next to it.

"What about this guy?" She asked angrily.

"Kára, I'm sorry-"

"I don't care!" The female voice cried. "Kill him or get the fuck out! You have twenty seconds."

She huffed, staring me down.

"Who the fuck-" I began.

In one motion, she swiped the closed briefcase into her hand, (I would have never guessed an entire sniper rifle was packed in there) and pulled out her pistol with her other hand. She aimed straight at me.

I shut my mouth, holding my hands up.

But she hesitated. "You have three seconds to grab a jacket with a hood before I shoot you," she finally said.

There were several of them hanging on the rack next to me. I snatched one, then sighed as she lowered the gun.

"Put it on," she said, pulling her hood over her head, as well as the extra-long collar of her shirt to cover the lower half of her face. "Follow me, or you die."

"...Kára's feeling extra nice today, it seems," one of the voices - I couldn't tell them apart anymore - said.

"Shut it, Mani." She poked her head out into the hallway.

"Ten seconds."

"Loki. Pull the truck around."

"Are you sure? This thing isn't exactly the best getaway car-"

"We have unexpected baggage," she snarled, looking over her shoulder at me.

"K. Move now. They're in the staircase."

She turned to me. "You. Where's the fire escape." She spoke to me like I was a bug ready to be stepped on.

"D-down the hall." I pointed.

And then I heard several pairs of shuffling in the stairwell next to me.

"Run!" She yelled, suddenly leaping down the hall.

"Fuck, what the fuck-" I muttered to myself, before following her. I left the door open behind me. Should I have closed it? I had no idea what was going on, but my heart was thumping in my chest, a girl with a gun was trying to kill me, and now the bad guys were apparently after us?

I must have fallen asleep in the taxi, I thought to myself. But I kept running. This was a very real dream.

We were almost to the window when I heard the door to the stairwell slam against the wall. "There!" I voice called out.

"Pull your hood up!" The girl yelled. I did as I was told. We reached the window, and she threw her suitcase into the glass, shattering it instantly. Without even checking for the fire escape, she hurdled herself out. The railing shook outside as she landed.

"Loki. West side of the building."

I followed her, very aware that the men behind us were also holding guns. Where did all these people come from? I thought desperately. What is happening?

"Who are you people?" I asked, frantically following her down the stairs.

"Don't ask questions," she scolded. "Not now." The suitcase, completely unscathed from the broken glass, dangled in her hand. That thing had to be heavy. She carried it like it was empty.

The railing suddenly gave an uncomfortable lurch, and we both looked up to see the men jumping on after us.

We were in an alley. And yet, somehow, there was a semi-truck parked on the cement below. Its sides were inches from the white walls of the buildings on either side of it.

There were still two more levels left to the ground, and the truck had to have been seven or eight feet from us. But the girl next to me gave zero shits. I watched in awe as she snapped her gaze to the truck, and then jumped onto the thin metal railing.

"What're you-"

She glanced at me one last time, shaking her head as if disappointed, and then jumped. The impact sent a metallic ringing through the narrow alley. I noticed as she jumped that the back of her tiny jacket was covered in bright reds, yellows, and blues, looking like something out of space. I didn't have long to admire it. She landed with a small stumble, then crawled to the front, where the driver was seated.

She didn't even tell me to follow her. She didn't think I would do it.

The railing continued to shake.

What the fuck is happening, I thought as I mindlessly climbed onto the railing after her.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

I jumped.

Pain shot through my leg as I landed on the metal. "Shit," I muttered, rolling onto my back.

The girl perked her head up at me. "You fucking did it," she said in disbelief.

But I couldn't hear her over the sound of my blood pumping and my heart racing in my ears. Not to mention the strikes of pain I felt in my left leg.

Her gaze shot up to the men, who weren't even bothering to climb down after us and were instead taking aim.

Right at me.

Dude. What the fuck.

I threw my head back against the cool metal. It was a really hot day today.

"Yuma, drive!" The girl screamed. I heard shuffling across the metal, and then a hand gripped the back of my collar, yanking my back. My eyes bulged at the sudden feeling of being choked.

And then the gunshots started.

I held my arms over my head instinctively, even though I knew it would be no use against a gun. The girl dragged me across, the truck under us suddenly lurching into motion, and then the surface below me gave away.

I fell into the cabin of the semi unceremoniously. My vision was clouded with pain as I fell on my back, my injured leg slamming into the ground once more. I groaned.

"Who'd you bring?" I heard the same male voice from the radio talking.

"This," the girl said, nudging my shoulder with her foot. "Is our unexpected baggage."

"Rin, I swear, he wasn't supposed to come back until Monday. I swear-"

"Later." She sat in the passenger's seat, the boy, who I noticed had bright pink hair, driving next to her. "Can we get out of here?"

He took a deep breath. The sound of the gunshots was slowly fading into the distance. I stared at the ceiling of the cabin, trying to catch my breath. My hands were clutching onto my injured leg, desperate to stop the pain. They weren't helping.

"We barely fit in here. I don't think we can turn. But I think this alley leads to a street."

"Get us out of here."

The radio on her belt suddenly crackled to life. "Guys? Update?"

She pulled it off her waist, setting it on the huge dashboard. "I'm out. Hel's men after us. But only on foot, I think."

"The chariot is parked and in place. Get out of there. We'll meet you at Extraction A."

"Who are you people?" I wailed, rolling on the floor.

"...You still have him?"

The girl sighed. "I didn't expect him to jump after me. But he actually did it. He's injured, though."

"What are we gonna do with him?" The boy asked.

"I don't know, Yuma. Just drive."

He sighed. "I don't know how I managed to fuck this up. I really don't-"

She held a hand up to silence him. "We'll deal with it later. Just. Drive."

And he did.

I couldn't see out the windows from my place on the floor, but from the array of honks that suddenly sounded, I could tell we had emerged from the alley and were driving down the main road.

"The highway," the girl said.

"I know." We took a sharp turn. I tensed to keep from rolling over on the floor.

And then, suddenly, the girl's face appeared, looking down at me. She kneeled on the floor, her eyes narrowed. "What's your name?"

The pain was becoming too much. I looked down, trying to see if I was bleeding. I couldn't see anything.

"Hey," she snapped her fingers in my face. "Name."

"L-Len," I managed to choke out.

"You have any family, Len?"

The question took me off guard. "Um, yes, but… but not really." I couldn't think of a better explanation.

She cocked her head slightly, as if confused, then returned to her previous stern expression. "Friends?"

"...Yeah."

"A job?"

"Yeah."

"Pets?"

A laugh escaped me. "In that apartment? No. They'd never-"

She stood tall, cutting me off. Her arms folded in front of her. The truck hit a bump, and she swayed slightly, her hair following her every movement. "Len, sorry to tell you this, but you've just had, probably, the unluckiest day of your life."

I didn't know how to respond. My mind was hazy, my leg was throbbing, and I remembered that I hadn't had a good night's sleep in almost two days.

The sight of her standing over me was the last thing I saw before I slipped into unconsciousness.

I promised you that our past villains would get their redemption. Yay for being the good guys!

You guys probably don't care, but I just got a program that will help me with those stupid mistakes I make while I'm writing, too. Get rid of some of those embarrassing typos I tend to make a lot.

Ahhhhhh I'm so excited for this. I hope you guys are too.

Thanks for reading! :)

(Cover Artwork by Uenotsuki on Twitter)