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A wallowing cry left her solid, bloodstained lips, ravishing the dim silence evaporating from the academy’s thin hallways…a cry of desperation, now raped by the thunders raging roar. She limped blindly, unable to comprehend the passive instincts that told her to be cautious, to blend…to survive, but instead her terror manifested into a curdling scream, echoing through and through, left uncared for, unheard by those possessing courage. But did she realize she was alone with herself, that no prince charming would come to save her? Did her mind reach out and bother to tug that last line of logic, of a clearer image of what could possibly happen should her location be compromised? Certainly, at this rate, it wouldn’t be long before this game of cat and mouse ended…her body splayed, vigorously mutilated and defiled; that last, longing look before the light faded from her sight forever.

How ironic…that it should be raining, as if the moment had been stripped from the cliché of crime novels and depicted in this cruel reality, soon to become just another memory. Such an inexplicably unimportant fact to emerge at such a frantic time! But…perhaps these small details were merely her mind telling her that this would be the last time she saw rain…the last time she felt panic, or even remorse…regret. Simple…simple things…now just a blur, the moment gone, feeling lost entirely within human need.

She threw herself against a door, unknowingly digging her nails into the splintered wood. For now, things had grown quiet, but the storm had yet to pass. Still, this looming silence meant it was safe for the time being, right? So why wasn’t anyone helping her? Her eyes darted from door to door, each window concealed by a thin shade. Didn’t the teachers think she was important enough to be saved? Maybe they hadn’t heard her?

“Someone, help…!” she shouted, cut off by her own wrenching sobs. Her hands, now bloody at the fingertips, curled into angry fists, which proceeded to bang on each and every door she ran to, her voice carrying further down the hall. “Can’t you hear me?” No matter how she begged, it was silence that answered, as if to silently mock her hazardous situation. “Please… Just open the door!”

But then…the silence gave away, crumbling to a single, whimsical laugh. She paused, shrinking against a door, her body trembling, eyes unblinking…unseeing. She was close by, ready to snare her prey, bid this game farewell at last.

“I’m rather surprised you’ve made it so far,” a voice chimed, accompanied by that soft laugh once again. “But I suppose that’s what happens when I become distracted. There, I’ve gone and given you an extra three minutes of life.”

Finally, she gazed deep into the darkness, a final attempt to seek out the mysterious voice, no doubt belonging to a young woman. That sickening voice…so soft…cold…bell-like! She couldn’t shake it from her mind. Quickly turning, her aching hands pounded once more against the wooden doors, screaming incomprehensible words at the top of her lungs. “Open the fucking door, god-damnit!”

She should have known better than to expect kindness from scared school children. Sixteen or not, they all thought like timid little rabbits, scampering into safety, locking doors tightly behind. They would gladly sacrifice one of their own should it provide even the slightest bit of reassurance that they live, unharmed. But were they really unharmed? They had to remember to curdling screams, feel the powerful regret born of their cowardice. In reality, it was the hiding school children that were hurt the most tonight, not this annoying, loud, idiot of a girl clenching to desperation inside a hallway. All she had to do was die. No remembering involved.

“Help me!” Escape was rather futile… Here she was, sloppily limping toward every door in sight, gnawing on her already raw lips until they were converted to a bloody mass of dribbles at the corners of her mouth. How did she possibly believe that hope was still available to her?

“This encounter…has grown tiresome,” the darkness spoke. It was clear that any amusement from before had faded, shining a light on the inevitable end for this young girl.

“What do you want from me?” the girl croaked between sobs, finally collapsing to her floor.

The darkness parted and a woman emerged, bearing an age no higher than twenty-five, yet she could easily pass for much younger. Her hair trailed down her shoulders in long, glistening copper waves, framing her petite frame…a compliment to her pale complexion. On any other human, such an appearance would seem normal…natural, something created from a a set of generous genes, but this woman’s eyes seemed to piece it all together in a glorious appearance of unseemly danger, posed in both grace and unique contrast. Green hues...they stared, brimming with cold intelligence, watched the girl before her like a rat in a cage…a hawk eyeing a helpless field mouse.

The girl tried—unsuccessfully—to scramble away. “What do you want?” she demanded, her tone now weak and hoarse.

“To kill you. Did you not understand what this encounter was about when I cut open your leg?” the woman inquired, motioning toward the younger girl’s gushing wound. “I was meant to kill you, darling. You are the lovely I was meant to have.” She kneeled, placing her fingertips together and pressing them firmly against her lips, a devilish little smile forming. “Although…normally I hate to simply wound my victim. I aim for a clean kill, painless too…but something about you made me want to inflict pain. Perhaps it’s due to how loud you are.”

“Who…are you?”

Laughing, the woman threw back her head and stood. In the light is was clear to see her white dress was casual…yet coated with dry blood. Yes, who indeed was this mysterious woman, whose laughter filled the air with an intoxicating bell-like whimsy, her eyes harvesting that of a primal animal. Who indeed.

“Answer me!”

“Would an answer bring your death a bit more ease?” she countered. “Willow.”

“Wil…low…?”

“Yes, just like the tree. I can’t say I possess a last name…but I don’t have need of one, so I care not for such information.” ‘Willow’ as the woman called herself, knelt down once more, drawing a knife from the belt on her dress, her face now like stone. Her green eyes pierced the darkness, reminding the poor girl of a cat, but much more sinister. “It’s time for you to die, lovely.”

And in just a moment, Willow forced the blade into the girl’s heart, giving back the academy’s silence.

Somehow, the girl’s death did little to ease Willow’s hunger. She had been looking forward to it…and yet the long awaited chase just brought back…emptiness. Had she tormented the girl for too long? Was the chase not exciting enough? Sighing, Willow placed the blade back on her belt after carefully removing it from the girl, her eyes falling to each of the doors. There were still people here. She could not afford killing them all, no matter how much she’d like to, it was not a risk she was willing to make. It was risky enough to have come after this girl in a populated area to begin with. But, with a bit of tactic, Willow simply shot the principal and got on the speaker, announcing to all that a hostile situation had occurred. Then, among the frightened bodies of students being ushered from their dormitories’ and into classrooms with teachers and professors, Willow was able to locate a suitable target and isolate her. It was a remarkably simple plan. No need to make things unnecessarily difficult, after all.

In theory it all seemed perfect, but as Willow had quickly gathered, the girl hardly put up a fight. All she did was run. Not once did it occur to her to find a weapon of some kind and at least attempt fighting back. It was certainly a first for Willow to misjudge someone, and she wouldn’t certainly count on it being the last.

“Perhaps I’m not as sharp as I once was,” Willow purred, nonchalant. Her heels clicked along the blue floors, covered in blood as she made a trail back toward the main entrance. The police would know instantly this was the work of a woman…or, they would if any evidence was left behind. My god, she wasn’t as dumb as to leave a trail! Chuckling, Willow took out a small canister and opened the top, taking a quick whiff before drizzling it near a power socket…then, with a strike of a match, a fire had begun, feeding greedily at the gasoline. In no time at all, the overhead sprinklers came on, washing away the freshly made foot prints along with the blood clinging to her shoes.

Police sirens wailed, pleading with traffic to part and make way for the fire department, each vehicle barreling through lights, swerving through unlawful drivers, their horns blaring…but by the time they arrived at the notorious Eastwood Academy, Willow had long since departed, the evidence of her crime washed away like an oceans wave…

June 4, 2014
Three days and no luck?
“Three days ago, Eastwood Academy’s golden girl, Elizabeth Harlan was found brutally murdered. According to the coroner reports, Harlan died from a single stab to her heart, killing the young sophomore instantly. Traces of Harlan’s blood was found throughout several of the hallways, leading police to believe she had been chased by the assailant before she succumbed to an injury located on her left upper thigh. Police still have no luck in finding any evidence that can point them in the direction of Harlan’s killer and it is becoming clear that the police are running out of means to investigate further.”

Willow tossed the paper aside, her brows furrowed in concentration. “Elizabeth Harlan… That was her name?” she mused, cupping her chin in her hand. She couldn’t believe how terrible the writer of the article was. Not only that, but they sympathized for the police, whereas every other bulletin had been making Vale City’s task force into a laughing joke. Either way, it didn’t concern her. She performed her task well, covered her trail…and now she quietly went about living her life until the urge struck her once more. How was she supposed to know the girl had been so loved by all? More importantly, why should she even care?

Right, because she possessed no emotion. Psychopath’s rarely do.

But that’s what society said according to West Virginia’s rouge Roseglenn Asylum. Such wonderful people…so many she’d adoringly lead into a pit of acid and watch them decay. Soon, though. The truth of the matter was, Willow possessed a bountiful swarm of emotion, each delicately carving her into a unique individual walking amongst regular people, despite what late night activities she preferred over clubbing and drinking… No, murder was her profession, revenge her loyal hobby and drug.

Willow sighed, tossing her head to the side, her body restlessly arching and curling, fists tightly bound at her sides. That girl… Why… Why had she been such a terrible kill? She ran the events of last night over and over, finding no clear answer. It was the one thing that left a sour taste in Willow’s mouth, her temper brimming to a dangerous level. She curled herself into a tighter ball, her figure barely taking up space on the lush couch, a black coffee table spayed crooked before her…now suddenly eating away at her nerves.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she hissed, shooting out one leg and sending the coffee table scattering across the room. She didn’t care that this was a hotel room or that those around likely heard…nor was she pleased by the idea of being disturbed. It would happen, since such a frail looking girl, had stirred up a naughty amount of commotion at five o’ clock in the morning. But, as she sat unmoving, her mind clicked, rotating possibility after possibility…small advances of ideas suddenly forming like foam from a rapid dog.

Of course. A bellboy—so charming in their uniforms, she thought—would come knocking on her door, their voice calling out in a worried tone… But that was just it! Since Elizabeth provided such a foul kill, Willow would merely make-up for it and—

“No, no!” If a bellboy got murdered inside her room, the police would instantly see her as a suspect. She needed to avoid the public’s suspicions! Willow grunted, leaning back and stretching out, her brows furrowed in anger. No killing…just trails…just an empty, unsatisfied night! There wasn’t any doubt in her mind that in order to avoid an irrational train of events from happening, she had to leave now. Preferably before the bellboy showed up.

With swift, focused movements, Willow’s figure blurred as her fingers splayed out three large bills out on the dresser, then began shoving each item of clothing she possessed into a green suitcase and zipped it up. Front door… No, it must be the fire escape. Would they even find her leaving so early suspicious? It was a hotel…where vacationers came and went. Of course it wouldn’t be suspicious! She needed sleep, and bad.

“Car keys…car keys… Aha!” She jangled her keys, watching as they swayed, mesmerizing her for a long moment. Only when a sharp knock delivered to her door did she break away, sending an array of chills to race down her spine, her eyes widening from both surprise and the irritation inflicted from sleep deprivation. “I have to go,” she murmured, ripping aside the curtains, heavy emerald hues scanning fervently for signs of life. She could expect London to remain dark until seven, since rain still fell in slick sheets down the asphalt, clouds concealing any form of blue sky.

She wondered whether her shoes would grip the metal frames of the fire escape, or if it would be wiser to go barefoot where she ensured a safe descent from the third floor. The knocking at the door became more frantic and loud, drawing the attention of others, no doubt. “Fucking bellboy.” In one motion, Willow knocked her shoes off, sending them flying out the window where they made a splashy thud down below, followed by the creak of protesting metal as she landed, less than graceful, on the rail. Hurrying would be such a fantastic idea! The bellboy was calling out her alias, his keys now smacking the door as he attempted to unlock it. Who made actual keys for hotel doors in this day and age?

Willow steadied herself on the rail, spreading her arms out on either side until she centered, then slowly she reached back and grabbed her suitcase and heaved it over before swiftly following pursuit. When she landed, she made no effort to pick up her shoes, but rather made a b-line for her car, her thumb impatiently hitting the button to unlock it. It was then that the bellboy was at her window, having finally made his way into her room, but he was much too late. He squinted against the rain, his gaze attempting to scope her out. But the only thing he’d see was Willow’s car lights exiting the hotel parking lot.

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June 5, 2014

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know?” he shouted, cheeks red with rage, knuckles bone white around the receiver. “I told you to find her and you call me and say you ‘may have a lead’ but no fucking solid evidence? Do you think this is a goddamn joke?” His teeth gritted, his other hands balling into a fist and smacking the top of his desk, sending papers fluttering about. It was hardly a friendly sight to lay eyes upon, especially at six in the morning. “Do you realize how dangerous this woman is? If she isn’t comprehended soon, this whole fuckin’ city will become a goddamn shit hole!” On a parting note, Captain Liam Stanford tossed the phone halfway across his office, temper flaring through with chagrin.

It was days like this where he wished he could just put a fucking gun to his head and blow this disaster right over the wall.

How much longer were his soldiers going to pussy-foot around in finding her? Liam shuddered, forcing himself to sit back and take deep, calming breaths. Slowly his face returned to normal, no longer the flaming red that consumed his otherwise tan complexion.

It had been eighteen fuckin’ months since Liam had been ‘temporarily’ assigned…eighteen months since Willow escaped military clutches. Did they seriously expect him to stay patient around shitheads whose only balls were the nuts they ate to stay in uniform. Grunting, his graze dropped to his withered and scared hands, each ragged line telling a story better off forgotten. It was one scar— pink as a fine blush— that he swore to take his revenge on the one whose blade drug across it in her escape. The one who now, he was hell bent on destroying.

“You took everything from me you stupid bitch!” he hollered, slamming his fists onto the desk, before toppling it over with his thick, mud stained boot. “For that you’ll fucking burn!”

It was that very same moment when silence crept through the hallways, each soldier, once throwing an onslaught of jokes and laughs, gulped down what riley behavior they possessed that very moment. It was one thing to poke fun at Liam Stanford behind his back…but to confront such a beastly man…it was utter suicide! The man was an artist with a gun. Give him an enemy, and he would slay without hesitation, without remorse. He was a man who brought several questions to rise, one in particular being: whose more monster…Liam or Willow?

Liam was captain of a unique set of soldiers, each packed with the skill and patience needed to track Willow, or so he’d first thought. It was eighteen months ago when Willow had confronted Liam on Fort Bragg military base of North Carolina, having not the slightest idea that her murderous actions had caught the attention of the government. The woman had been able to detect Liam’s presence, eventually coming to the conclusion the he was military. In fact, just three days of tracking and Willow was able to locate which base he was stationed at, what rank, how many within his squad, and where he and his daughter lived. It was clear then that Willow was no ordinary woman, whose tactics were far more advanced than his…

He could remember that night so clearly… The way Willow’s green eyes seemed to glow in the dim lights near the bases gates…her body clothed merely in a pair of jeans and long sleeved polo shirt, and the way she stood strong, relentless to the snow falling in cold flakes above her. What had caught him off guard was the way she looked at him. Here, this unarmed girl stared with an expression so cold, it made Liam feel as though he were looking into the depths of hell that moment.

“Why have you been following me?” she’d asked. Her voice most certainly had not been what he expected. How could such a tender voice be laced so thickly with venom and still sound so innocent? “Three days exact you’ve been following me Liam Stanford.”

He had drawn his gun slowly, ordering her to put her hands above her head. But when those words reached her, she only laughed. She was so unthreatened by him she even dared to walk forward. It was then, when she was close enough to be engulfed in light, that Liam saw the blood smeared heavily on her clothes, droplets speckled across her face like freckles.

If only he hadn’t been caught so off guard by her appearance! Before Liam could blink, Willow was at his side, her hand jolting forward, knocking away his gun. In response he had unsheathed his knife, instinctively stepping backwards, but she was already at a distance near the gate.

“Liam Stanford… If you value your life…or that of your daughter, Sara, at your lush home of blue, you will not track me further. I am no longer your mission.”

But his anger had risen to a peak at the mention of his little girl, sheer panic overtaking him. “Have you done something to my daughter?” he’d demanded. He did not wait for her to reply, but instead ran toward her bearing his knife, slashing into the front of her shirt, missing her flesh by a hair…

Willow had countered by falling backwards onto her hands, using her right leg to kick away his knife. Then, with cat-like reflexes, she was the one armed. It didn’t keep Liam from leaping toward her, his hands extended, left palm closing tightly around his own blade, now in enemy hands…

It was then he received that scar. It was then that Willow had skittered away into the darkness, away from capture, away from him…

Liam shook his head, forcing himself from his reverie. He couldn’t afford to think back on that day. Granted, he could consider himself lucky she didn’t just kill him, but the fact she even spoke his daughters name… It only made him angry! And now every second of every day he wondered whether his darling Sara was safe, or if Willow had dug her nails into the only precious thing left in his miserable life.

It was bad enough they kept him away from his daughter for over a year, but was it truly necessary to have placed him here in London? He just had to remember…the trail led him here…the recent murders, the locations in which the victims were found…it all screamed to Willows presence. He had finally found her after all these months. He would end her life, crush her throat so she could not utter his daughters name again, restrain her hands so that she may never end another’s life.

But how did one go about killing a monster whose appearance was hauntingly abnormal?

July 18, 2014

London’s streets were wet from yet another continuous onslaught of rain, making the scenery all the more depressing. It would be foolish for Liam to believe that deep down he was homesick…but rather his mind wandered over and over again to his daughter. Due to the high alert Willow had created that night, it would be too great a risk to even make one phone call to his little girl. But even if he could call, he would only worry about where she was being ‘safely’ kept. For all he knew, Sara was lying dead beneath ground, having been caught in that bitches web of slaughter.

Soon… he told himself. Soon all this would change. He would be able to see Sara, to hold her in his arms, to ensure that danger never entered her life again… Even with a reassuring smile, Liam was certain that such a tremendously large promise would be nothing but hollow words. Unless Willow was brought down, safe haven didn’t exist.

“Captain Stanford?”

Liam’s gaze shifted, his once thoughtful expression masked by subtle surprise. In his reverie he’d nearly forgotten he was in a vehicle, the chance to move out finally becoming a reality. He had needed to remind himself that a straying mind was the best way to get yourself killed.

“What is it?” he inquired, turning his gaze back to the window. During his duration in London, Liam had been asked to dress in civilian clothes, have absolutely no social contact with natives, and to be accompanied by First Lieutenant James Blackman. It could be worse, but Liam felt his pride at stake compromised by the idea of being babysat by a Lieutenant. Granted, Blackman was a good man, quite intelligent, but faced with real danger the boy wouldn’t be a match against a stronghold of enemy troops.

Blackman sighed nervously and averted his gaze, gingerly raising his hand to scratch the back of his head. It was clear he was entirely intimidated by Liam. “Captain… I, uh… Are you….”

“Spit it out son,” Liam demanded softly. “There’s ain’t no room for the meek in the military. Speak up or shut up.”

“Right… Captain Stanford, do you believe Willow will be caught?” Blackman finally lifted his gaze, his hazel eyes full of a passion for justice, a starry innocence that the military could truly change the lives of others. Clearly Blackman and yet to be faced with seeing his trusted comrades die right before his eyes, or feel the power of a gun as your bullet strips away a human life.

Liam cleared his throat, unsure of how to answer. He couldn’t be sure that Willow would be apprehended soon. It was very likely that unless she was killed on site, Willow would only wind up escaping and this whole disaster would begin over and over again until every last one of’em were dead by her hand.

“Don’t worry yourself boy. This mission doesn’t concern you,” Liam replied. Blackman remained quiet, averting his eyes to his clutched hands. How did such pansies make it into the military? Didn’t they have standards anymore? Sighing, Liam leaned back, his teeth gnawing at the tip of his tongue. “Look, the less you know about that crazy bitch, the better off you are.”

“I heard she was spotted near London, sir.”

“Not near. She is in London. It seems she thought fleeing to another country would keep her out of U.S. Military hands. She’s got another thing comin’.” If things played out just right, Willow could be taken down in as little as seventy-two hours. Except…things were going to get rocky if his gut feeling was right. Two weeks ago Liam had received a letter from the Colonel that the Willow project would be shared equally among himself and a woman with an IQ ten times higher than his own. Liam was great with strategy, but this woman…she was unlike anyone he’d met. She was the iciest, most hard-nosed bitch he’d ever come across. Crossing her would be like signing your own death certificate.

And much to his chagrin, he was about to meet with her face-to-face.

As the car came to a stop on the outskirts of London, Liam got out without the slightest hesitation. Blackman followed a few feet behind, making no effort to point out the obvious rout into an isolated brick building. The entire area was surrounded by barbed wire fence and guards standing at every corner while three circled the perimeter with high caliber rifles. So much for the power of secrecy. One look at this and Willow would be onto them like a shark to wounded prey.

Liam nodded to the guards near the doors, making no effort with pleasantries and he entered the building. He was hit with a powerful chill as he closely examined the long, seemingly endless corridor. A person would have to know this building inside-out not to get lost. He could barely see the floor a few feet in front of him, it was so dim. What a shithole.

After what felt like several minutes passing by, Liam breathed, relieved to have finally come to the far end of the hallway where a metal door was prompted open, soft chatter emitting from inside. Blackman entered first, announcing their arrival before taking his place at the back of the room where he proceeded to blend. It was Liam who stood out.

“Caption Liam Stanford, I’m pleased to have you on board. It’s been so long since you’ve lead the Elite Secondary squad against Willow, hasn’t it?” a man said with a smile.

“Nearly two years,” Liam confirmed, shaking the man’s hand. In the far right wall, all of those familiar faces eyed him with glee and respect, happy to finally be reunited with their captain. It gave Liam a sense of pleasure to know he was in charge of such respected soldiers. However, on the left side of the room were an identical number of soldiers, all bearing unfamiliar faces…likely the squad members of the bitch he’s heard so much about…which then brought his attention to a slender woman, her icy gaze fixated on him.

“You must be [your character],” he said, smirking. “Commander of Elite First squad powering against Willow….”

The man that had first spoken stepped in between the two, his expression now serious. “Speaking of Willow,” he stated firmly. “The two of you have been asked to join forced. The colonel believes that with this joint effort, Willow will be comprehended. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll allow you both to converse on a strategy. All the information you require is in that folder there,” he said slowly, motioning toward a crisp manila folder on the table in front of him.

Liam was the first to grab it, his eyes quickly reading over the words written and then scoffed. “They fucking believe this is enough to know how Willow is working in this country? Her fuckin’ MO is changing every time she kills.” The only thing remotely useful to them was the fact that Willow had been spotted at least five times near Big Ben (London Clock tower) which gave them an area to scope out and get a whiff of Willow’s trail. Everything else was possible sightings. No wonder they called in both elite squads to handle this! No one wanted to get their hands dirty if this went down badly. Scapegoats. How fucking wonderful.

Liam dropped the fold back on the table and took out a cigarette, lighting it, and taking a greedy drag from it. “What do you think of it?” he asked Evelinne.

July 18, 2014

Willow was beginning to wonder whether the rain would ever stop. It wasn’t that she hated it…it was more-or-less the cold that came with it that bothered her. You could have picked a warmer place, she thought bitterly, tugging her coat tighter around her shivering body. With her hat coming down low on her forehead and her collar covering her mouth, it was impossible to see her face, let alone tell she was even female in the amount of layers concealing her. It was probably better this way, she assumed.

As the light changed, she impatiently rocked back and forth on her heels, wanting desperately to return to her hotel room and take a shower. Two days she had been sleeping in her car…two days she had managed to kill three people…two days she had risked exposure by wearing clothing with their blood beneath her jacket. Finally, she broke down had got a room at a dingy little hotel in London, but since she had no gas in her car, her money running thin, her food runs were strenuous walks through the cold and grunge.

Finally the crosswalk blinked green and immediately Willow shot forward, pushing past people without care. They couldn’t see her face, let alone determine what gender she was at the moment…no harm would come. But, as she reached the other side, her emerald gaze became fixated on a single vehicle, her body suddenly frozen in place. Her gloved hands fingered the revolver in her pocket, stoking the barrel as if it would somehow calm her. It wasn’t the car itself that had caught her attention, but rather the person sitting in the back seat.

Liam…Stanford… she purred, her mouth twisting into a frown. From this distance she couldn’t be completely certain. Walking wouldn’t suffice either. For now, the car was stopped at a red light, giving Willow just enough time to eye her surroundings before settling on one idea, despite how reckless it may be…. But if Liam was in London, he was smarter than she gave him credit for. Not only that, but it meant she’d been compromised. Willow turned back toward the street she had just crossed, the crosswalk blinking red momentarily before switching to green as cars came to a stop as a red light. Her pistol was no longer loaded…but perhaps if she slipped into a vehicle and forced the driver to follow Liam? They certainly didn’t have to know her gun was out of ammo…

In full, brisk steps, Willow selected a black sedan with tinted windows and opened the door, her frame fitting snuggly into the passenger side. She didn’t allow the driver, who appeared no older than herself, to speak…but rather she pulled the gun from her pocket and held it low, but still visible enough for the young man to see.

“Speak or protest…and I will shoot,” she announced. No doubt her voice would reveal to him that her gender was female, for her clothing may suggest otherwise, if not her short height. “Look forward,” she ordered softly, unable to hide the soft amusement from her tone. “Do you see that navy blue sedan? Follow it with three cars in between. I have killed before. Your life means absolutely nothing to me.”

When the light turned green, Willow was pleased to see this young man obeying her commands flawlessly…despite how rigid and nervous he appeared. Her eyes flickered back and forth from the sedan to the man, desperately trying to catch even the faintest glimpse of its passengers. “Pull into the right lane and try to pass it.” It took several minutes before an opening appeared…but finally they managed to pull into the right lane, the young man hesitating before speeding up. Willow hunkered down, pulling the collar of her coat higher on her face, her eyes squinting the moment they passed the blue sedan…. Then, in a moment of surprise and agitation, Willow lowered her gun, cursing beneath her breath as they passed up ahead of the sedan and out of sight.

Liam is in London and he’s not alone, she thought bitterly. How the hell had she been compromised? How did she miss? There was no way they could have predicted her to be in England of all places! Not only that, but was Liam that desperate for her death that he would go against U.S. regulations and follow her here? Her gaze darted back to the driver, her eyes narrowing upon his inspection of her gun, which quickly rose again.

“Listen to me carefully boy…. You are no longer a simple civilian. Unfortunately for you, you’ve been dragged into something far larger than yourself. If you want to live, you will do as I say, understood?” Her eyes narrowed further. “Understood?” she said more fiercely, satisfied only when he gave a slight nod. “Very good. Go to Brook Inn on South Avenue. “ Forget about food… It was time Willow found a way to deal with this unsavory man. She certainly couldn’t kill him without bringing attention from Liam. But, as her mind mulled over the fact Liam was in London, no doubt for her, Willow began to wonder if this boy could actually be useful to her. If going out was becoming such a danger, then perhaps this boy could simply be her eyes and ears… Yes, that was exactly what she would use him for. At least for now.

When they pulled into the hotel parking lot, Willow put the gun into her pocket but made it very clear to the boy that it was still aimed at him. If he ran, it wasn’t like she needed a gun to catch him. Her reflexes were far superior to that of a normal human. Hunting would pose no problem. “Room 208,” she murmured, getting out of the car only after he did. It took no time at all to get to the hotel room. There, Willow locked the door behind them and tossed the gun onto the bed and proceeded to strip down to her jeans and raggy t-shirt, still covered in blood. It would be no doubt a surprise to the boy to see such a delicately built woman with a killer pair of green eyes…which held a rather dangerous glint at the moment.

“How inconvenient,” Willow sighed, glancing at her new ‘accomplice.’ “What’s your name?”

OOC: Need someone to play the female Commander of Elite First squad and the man Willow has just forcefully brought into this whole ordeal (: Feel free to ask any questions.