The Damage Done (16)

The Black Angel's Apartment, Brooklyn, New York City: A year ago, the Black Angel was one of the leading members of the group of Meta's known as O.C.E.A.N. Now, the Black Angel was living in a dank three room apartment in half destroyed Brooklyn, which she hadn't left in a week. Gone was the palatial, high-tech fortress, which was O.C.E.A.N's headquarters and her, gone were the luxuries the Black Angel had surrounded herself with, paid for with blood. No longer was the Black Angel a member of the now defunct group known as O.C.E.A.N, no longer was she taking work as an assassin or mercenary, no longer was she a part of this world....

The Black Angel had invested much into O.C.E.A.N. Not just blood, sweat, and tears, time and money, but emotional currency as well. The Black Angel doing this in the hopes she could make right some of her wrongs, while maybe, just maybe, doing something worthwhile and saving a few lives for once. It certainly was a change from the life and moral code of an assassin/mercenary, but it gave the Black Angel a bit of calm, in the storm that was her life. Not to mention some sense at salvation, though she was not sure in whose eyes she was gaining salvation. Mostly, she believed it was her own eyes.

As O.C.E.A.N crumbled down around her, the Black Angel lost her sense of purpose. After the loss of some major members, the Black Angel didn't "Rally the troops", she crumbled as well.... In short order, the Black Angel left the high-tech O.C.E.A.N Headquarters, which now only seemed like a cavernous void, filled with shadows of the past, instead of a wonder of modern engineering. Remembering all that could have been.... With O.C.E.A.N, with her life, with the impact she could have had on humanity, the Black Angel was consumed by regret and ran from the ruins of O.C.E.A.N.

After wandering Asia some, the Black Angel left for NYC, as she believed she could find some belonging for the ruins of her life, in the ruins of this once great city. She'd left behind most of her designer clothes, shoes, bags, overpriced, unnecessary equipment, all the things she didn't really need. Instead, the Black Angel had a few pairs of functional clothing, "Necessary" equipment, including two Glock pistols, several boxes of information, a tactical knife, as well as several custom kits of equipment, which she'd put together over her career, which she could use for a variety of missions. Everything was functional, everything had a place. It was as if the Black Angel was so insecure about her own place in life, that she had to have total mastery of the objects she now placed it. Which made it interesting to note, that she distanced herself from most of the things she'd bought with money she'd killed for.

The Black Angel was ashamed of her ruthlessness, her cruelty, her inhumanity, and her inability to hold together the one thing that actually made her feel somewhat human, or at least connected to the human race. Locking herself away in her tiny apartment, everyday quickly became the same for the Black Angel, running together like pieces to a puzzle that'd been hastily put together. In an attempt to alleviate her inner pain, the Black Angel began drinking heavier then before and drugging herself, to the point where she'd become severely addicted -Though she was pretty sure if she tried to quit, her healing powers would allow her to get through withdrawals in under a day. Nevertheless, she had demons, demons which she wasn't ready to face, and wasn't sure if she'd ever be ready to face them, without a proper push, from some unseen hand.

However, the Black Angel had done all she could to make sure that the "Unseen hand" couldn't find her. She didn't want to be found, she just wanted to disappear. Her apartment was under an alias, she'd also cut all ties to her previous life, had no credit cards, or other articles or accounts which could be traced, and she was sure the last place her former Triad "Handlers" wouldn't be looking for her in NYC, nor anyone else for that matter. The Black Angel was perfectly happy to spend her days and nights alone, locked away in her apartment, testing the limits of her ability and will to survive.

Luckily for her, the Black Angel still had enough cash to spend on her various habits and pay her rent, as she'd always maintained an "Escape Fund", which she was now using to live off of. True, this was still "Blood money", but seeing how most of it went to drugs, she didn't think those she'd killed would mind her spending it on slowly killing herself. Even if they weren't, there were some things that the Black Angel simply didn't mind spending "Blood money" on. Drugs being first and foremost, as she slipped into an abyss, which she meant to return from. As she saw it, she bet her soul on O.C.E.A.N.... And lost....

So, this day wasn't unlike any other.... The Black Angel had lost any sense of days, or time a long time ago anyway. She woke whenever her body woke her, she cleaned what rubble was leftover from the night before, then she dosed herself. Then things became blurry and numb, as she slunk into the recliner in her living room and began playing a movie she'd started the night before. Reality intertwined with dreams, dreams with nightmares, and nightmares with her past. Eventually settling on the one terrible possibility she'd been contemplating since she'd noticed her powers had enhanced over a year before. Was her memories and her past authentic? And if they weren't.... What did that make her?

At some point during this, the Black Angel felt something she hadn't felt in some time. Someone was nearby..... She could sense their presence, as her skills had not yet diminished, no matter how hard she tried to make them go away.

Obviously the former assassin was good at hiding her tracks and staying hidden, which is actually a good thing in the assassin line of work; How silly would that be if the law was following them and capture them. More silly then any assassin could ever imagine, but someone like sixteen who understood the game wasn't a fool. He was not in new York when he got the strange but easy assignment, an assignment which is basically recon and giving her an interview of the life she is now dreading on in her small apartment. Now at first his instant is to burst through her window, but then that would most likely give her the wrong impression and that may end bad; Luckily he had been watching her for a couple of days now, and from his perspective she didn't seem hostile so an aggressive approach might be over doing it. Frontal confrontations are not really his thing, but lurking however wasn't going to get his task completed any time soon. Right knuckle slamming against her front door of the apartment about three times, giving her three solid knocks; in which were surely loud enough for her to hear.



This part caused a bit of tension between both sides of the door, two assassins between doors means only one thing usually. This is one of the most non usual jobs he has ever accepted, he actually wasn't qualified for this assignment he kind of just wanted to visit new York and explore his brain for a personality that he couldn't find anywhere else. The apartment was a well done piece of art, he could smell finest in the wall and the accurate and pleasant gesture which echoes the environmental air. Danger Senses, he couldn't sense any harm from the whole building and anywhere apart, from his range to be honest. He searched everything she may have been able to find her, the only thing that caught her was the facial recognition system; She couldn't hide her face when she went outside for purposes like shopping or running errands. The rest was like following the yellow brick road, straight to her apartment in which she literally hasn't really moved from, he never seen any human get like this before so it was interesting watching the last couple of days, she was tore up.


His Attire:  All black, current palms, a special close quarter combat weaponry, gauntlets with a metal plate attached to the top forearm for support and a little defense; thick long sleeve shirt that held on to his body tighter than his mask that showed only his eyes and hair. His nose and below was guarded by his elegantly made domo ninja mask with the rest of the lower body outfit to match the all black, traditional strap on ankle shoes giving him the most fatal look in the night. Utility belt and gun holsters with guns present, check, mind over matter, check and his cell phone for proof - Check. His skin was chocolate, but his eyes were as cold as ice and as blue as glaciers which was weird; but it actually showed off as a more attractive feature if anything. <-- That was usually his attire, but in this case he instead he didn't have the mask on and his beauitfully cocky face was present to meet this angel of death or whoever the bitch was. He didn't have any intent of fighting, he just carried his battle armor on with him; He wouldn't know how to shop if it was a book called 'Shopping for dummies' got imprinted in his mind like most of his stuff he knew did. Six feet, musclular and sexy as fuck was at the door waiting and she was doing stuff on the other side which is what he was assuming. He spoke, not being hostle, more informative and curious.

"Ocean Angel, I know your in there ... I've been watching you for days now ...I'm proposing a conversation beyond the door? Your my mission; So I'm sure you know personally what mercenary will do to obtain their objective"


He spoke like he knew what he was talking about, he knew she knew, so he knew she would let him in ... or at least Plan B is always an option.

As the Black Angel heard three knocks on the door, thoughts as to who was at the door raced through her head. She was paid up on her rent for months, she didn't have utilities, and she didn't remember asking her dealer to do a delivery. So who could it be? She knew it could be someone from her past having finally tracked her down.... But.... If they were an assassin and wanted her dead, they wouldn't be using the front door. The Black Angel knew that all to well.

A few seconds later, it was clear it was an assassin at the door, but after the man said "Ocean Angel, I know your in there ... I've been watching you for days now ...I'm proposing a conversation beyond the door? Your my mission; So I'm sure you know personally what mercenary will do to obtain their objective" the Black Angel was left with more questions than answers. Did he mean to kill her? Or was he sent for some other, more mysterious reason?

The Black Angel supposed there was only one way to find out... She stood from her chair, her right hand already clutching a pistol. She was dressed "Bummy", wearing black sweatpants, a tight black halter top, and had her hair in a ponytail. She hadn't expected anyone, so she certainly wasn't dressed to impressed, quite the opposite in fact.

The Black Angel cautiously made her way to the door, moving past empty bottles and drug paraphernalia which was all over the counter and showed quite clearly what she'd been up to for the better part of this last year. Finally she reached the side of the door, her pistol at her side, ready just in case. The Black Angel didn't really want to live anymore, but she wasn't about to let another assassin get to be able to brag about killing her. She still had some resembling pride, which wouldn't let her let an "Upstart" assassin off her, no matter how suicidal she became.

Speaking from behind the door, the Black Angel said "I'm your mission? I wouldn't recommend trying to kill me.... It won't work out that well, or be all that profitable for you... Even in the state I'm in.". The Black Angel unlocked the door and slowly opened it, softly saying to herself "Come what may...".

The tall and sexy assassin could hear the footsteps moving closer to the door, he seemed to be able to attract her attention enough so she could move towards the door. An assassin using vocal methods instead of other means, usually means it's not going to end badly; hence why she is probably willing to actually talk instead of try to kill him. She could be even more nuts in the head and try to kill him while he's inside, traps and sneak attack in her own apartment. His hands were actually folded up, his back facing towards the door next to his chest filled with air; he was making an attempt to create some kind of personality before he came into her apartment, but he didn't know how to do it.


He could feel her presence beyond the door, the anticipation wasn't really killing him as much but it got a bit better when she began to speak. Voice recognition is noted and the pressure and pitch of the voice was none hostile - the sentence was understandable; confidence of an assassin rather retired or not he still manage to understand she obviously wasn't going down without a fight. Kinky. She admitted she is in a specific state that is obviously not in her prime mode; which is something he could easily exploit in colorful ways. The door opens up and he turns to face his assassin, face to face as he gave a relief sigh. Sweat pants, hair tied - Chilling with no makeup on ... That's when your the prettiest ... Oh shit is that a gun.


"I'm 16. Can I come in?"

As the assassin who randomly showed up at her door said "I'm 16. Can I come in?", the Black Angel nodded and opened the door, careful not to expose herself, if there were more people besides 16 at the door. Though, she didn't feel as if she had any other imminent company besides 16. 16 seemed brash and arrogant, almost a chip off of her block, when she was in the same line of work. I suppose it takes a particular type of person, or set of experiences for a person to be capable of killing another person for money... the Black Angle thought to herself.

As the door swung open, the Black Angel outstretched her hand and sarcastically said "Welcome to paradise...", bidding 16 to enter her apartment. The Black Angel being careful she didn't let 16 get behind her, if even for a moment. She'd gone through this song and dance enough times to know how dangerous letting even a novice assassin behind her could be. Though.... It'd been quite some time since she'd met someone that was able to be anything more than practice. Even as she'd recently looked herself in her own private hell, trying to kill herself slowly, she'd felt what she felt in the last days of O.C.E.A.N. Her powers changing.... Evolving.... Amplifying... No matter how hard she wished to wish, drug, or kill them away.

On the Black Angels counter were a collection of empty, half empty, and full bottles of various liquor, with squeezed lemons and syringes placed intermittently between them. The Black Angel showed 16 to a table, where she outstretched her hand and said "You can take a seat 16.". As 16 took a seat, so did the Black Angel. Once she was seated, her Glock quickly disappeared somewhere on her side. The Black Angel then continued speaking, saying "So..... 16....". The Black Angel paused for a moment, then said "You know I was a number once to.... 3.... Anyway... What brings you to New York?". The Black Angel tensed with those last words, ready for anything. For all she knew, he'd been sent by Dragon Head to kill her...

No threat made, no threat found. The door came open by the careful and attended hand of the old assassin who made it her mission to punish herself for her own reasons. She gave him a very unintentionally smooth welcome in her voice granted him a even more smaller glimpse of confidence to make his first step in her apartment. The smell of alcohol embraced him with a blast of unpurity and pleasure. After his first step, he stopped not allowing her to close the door due to him being in the way, as he stood for three seconds he looked directly into her eyes without moving.


A small moment of first impression, intensity, and a moment when two assassin's could recordings each other without the need for blood. After they made eye contact, his facial expression sadly as serious as it was calm had to see this 'Angel' for himself in full. Though he had been watching her, he never got in close quarters to see her up in person, she looked a bit dried up and hollow in his opinion - Then again who was he to actually judge? Mister number man began movement again, with the smell of of liquor running through the air as if it was almost leading him to the destination that she wanted him.


"Thank you. Anything you perfer me call you?"

She was behind him, natural for an assassin to have those kind of pleasures right? He is armed, studied her and she takes into consideration of her past; She was doing the safe thing to do. Sixteen opinion on that was to let it slide, as assassins we all have closer comfort zones and his Danger Senses had a lock on the whole apartment damn near so he was cool like it was his own house. SIxteen was then shown to a specific table in which after scooping the apartment with his eyes he sat down. He tried his best to show with his actions of non violence future but as an assassin you could never be so sure. She speaks, in admitting that she used to be three; the fuck does that mean?


Anyways she got to a point, or at lease she got t the point of asking why he was here in New York. His eyes wondered over to the alcohol, he had never drank before a day in his life; Or at least the life he remembers: Curiosity was killing him. Blinking rather largely after five seconds after she asked of his meaning of blessing her with his presence. His response described below, his arms resting gently on the table, his eyes shoot back to her with a bit of confidence and flare of course. Ice blue eyes catching every piece of information needed.

"Well first; I'm not here on any sort of hostile mission, Obviously, or I wouldn't have used such a frontal approach. Since your an assassin .. Or Ex assassin I think; It's safe to assume I don't have to sugarcoat this kind of stuff. Guy hired me for two reasons: To confirm your existence .. And to ask about your life story basically in details. No interrogation, or interior motives. The main priority is to make sure your alive. Whoever the person is, is not your enemy. He wants information I suppose."