Selda & Javier | weapvnized
“You and me both.” It figured that the amateur team either didn’t take the time to thoroughly gather intel on what they’d be up against or they did and then failed to communicate it to the rest of the team, leaving everyone underprepared. Neither would surprise him — problems like that were expected with newer teams. It didn’t make it any less frustrating though.
The newer recruit looked at Javier as if waiting for his permission to hand over the weapon. “Oh for fuck’s sake, it’s not like you’re going to use it anyway. And if you did, I think you’d somehow only manage to shoot one of us.” It was getting increasingly harder to keep his temper in check during this mess.
For perhaps only the second time during the job, the rookie did as he was told, sparing him from more snarky comments from Javier — at least for the time being. “We’ll slip out the back and I’ll try to round up the rest of the crew, assuming they haven’t gotten themselves killed yet. Meet us there when you can and we’ll see how salvageable this job is and go from there.” He started to drag off their incompetent associate once more. “Fingers crossed we catch a lucky break and have a driver that will get us the hell out of here in one piece.”
Enhanced sight was her greatest asset; not only could she spot a needle in a haystack, but she could do so from a mile away. Selda yanked the gun from the rookie’s grasp, then fired two shots that incapacitated three men. One could always count on ricochet when ammo was tight. “Alright. I’ll cover for whoever is left standing,” she said. “Don’t count on there being too many.”
Vision had always been the enhanced sense with a straightforward use. It’s the one she’d been encouraged to develop. What good were boosted senses of taste and smell to a killer? In another, less villainous life she could’ve integrated with civilians, and taken up the culinary arts or become a luxury perfumer. New recruits were oblivious to the faint, whisper of grief whenever she told them that she was good for shooting guns and not much else. There were so many lives she could’ve lead, so many opportunities she could’ve seized.
Selda could always tell right away which recruits, whether through talent or outlook, were born for The Continental. But, this amateur team was not one of them. They were the type that wanted to roleplay crime lords in shoes that didn’t fit, and had foolishly thrown away their chances at normalcy. Then there were recruits like Selda, whose very talent had become her prison. Villains never stopped, new jobs always came up, and there’d always be new members of their criminal flock seeking refuge under her wings.
“I think his second command just shot himself in the foot,” she said, gritting her teeth. “I don’t even mean that metaphorically.” The warehouse’s dampness from blood, sweat, and the tears of some frightened recruits, tickled her nose. Until now, she’d mostly been on the defensive. But if the objective was to salvage recruits, it was time for her to go into the open and take some risks. “Get moving, Meat Shield! Don’t look so weepy about it. I’ll be right behind the two of you, once I clear a path for your fucking toeless friend.”











