A Bloody Introduction || @HardertoHeal
How this mark was able to kill twenty of their best and brightest, sheâll never understand. He was brilliant, staggeringly brilliant in fact - that was part of the reason he was in so - much - trouble, but an amateur in the game of murder. Heâd been able to elude capture until now; which was impressive. Very impressive indeed, she had to admit. Romana almost felt a small pang deep in that hardened shell she called a heart, vaguely resembling regret. It would be a pity to destroy such an artist. An amateur he may be, but he certainly had a⊠talent for it, a taste, looking at his work. Which is why, she had been called in to take care of it. A ruthless killer versus a ruthless killer. The Companyâs very best.Â
Romana wasnât worried. Sheâll get what she needs and make sure he has a quick and relatively painless death. Itâs the least she can do, that is, assuming, he gives her what she wants. If he hadnât been so stubborn in the first place, she thinks, his family, may have been spared their fate. But alas, he just had to make things difficult for himself didnât he? First, denying them information, second, denying it again even with the death of his relatives and third, this ridiculous killing spree. Tsk, tsk, this had all the hallmarks of a bloody ending.
The womanâs dark brown eyes narrowed, keeping them trained on the man a little ways ahead on the sidewalk. She was certain to keep quite a few people between herself and him as possible.Romana stuffed her hands inside her pockets, blowing out an aggravated sigh. Where was he going? Sheâd been tailing him for a good thirty minutes now, and, if she didnât know any better he had cottoned onto the fact that someone was following him. Her lips twitched. âClever boy,â She murmured under her breath. The crowd was beginning to thin, and she knew it was only a matter of time.
To say that the Doctor was an expert on murder would be going a bit too far. He wasn't an expert; he was hardly more than a novice. But he was a fast learner, and he was careful, and when there was a means to an end in sight, he would walk that path, no matter how much blood had to be spilled to get him there. At least, he reminded himself with his hands shoved in his pockets, it wasn't the blood of the innocent.
The Doctor kept his head down low, his shoulders hunched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up against the collar of his jacket, and he resisted the urge to scratch the itch. He knew he was being followed, had noticed her two or three blocks back. Recognised her face from somewhere else, but he couldn't quite place where. Files he'd picked up on the Company, maybe. He'd have to check his NotePad. He supposed it was inevitable, really, that they'd have sent somebody after him. You didn't go on a vendetta mission against an organisation with that much power without expecting some repercussions, after all. He was honestly surprised it had taken them this long to do something about him.
No matter. He was almost where he wanted to be. Pausing for just a brief moment, the man known only as the Doctor, now, hurried into a side-alley, bending down and lifting off the lid of a manhole cover he'd loosened weeks ago for just this reason. He hefted and moved it to the side, dropping down the relatively short drop, not bothering to try replacing the cover before he hurried through the tunnels of the sewers, trying to remember which ones led to the alley beside his hotel.