I need to get him.

Far from the right speeding limit, I do not care about nothing anymore. I've been feeling eyes watching me as I climbed up my motorcycle in the morning. And right now, I am on the road chasing the owner of those eyes!

It has been years since the massacre happened, but I won't ever forget the faces I saw that night. And right now, I am chasing one.

Mine to kill.

He is a member of the organization that killed my mother. He is the one who gave the handkerchief to the lady after she held German on the shoulder! And anyone who is connected with the woman who killed the precious woman I've ever known will die. That organization that ruined my home... my family... and my life... would suffer.

I will kill them. All of them. I'll make sure they'll suffer hell.

More than I've suffered.

They have to pay what is done.

And I don't care how many years may have passed for that junction could never be forgotten. It tarnished me... fatal.

Heck, the monster has lived more than what is due while there have been enough reason to terminate his damn life breach. Now there's damn much reason for me to fuck this!

On a brisk drastic swerve of his car, trashcans he purposedly hit, greeted me wild. More of what he shoved me, I have avoided, but for most, I have also hit forward, more critical than he did.

I undoubtedly followed when he entered an unfamiliar alley. This is my chance to redeem myself. Meeting him again is a touch of past I would surely not let to just pass!

The distance between us grew wider as I allowed myself to get cozy of the trashcan stunt he must thought is intimidating.

When the greater distance is thrilling enough for my adrenaline, I drilled at a faster speed.

My wheels rattled smoothly as I reach 220 mph. On a frivolous shift, he hit a pile of trashcans...again. Still ridiculed of his lame stunts, my head lightly tilted when some flew to me but crashed back into his rear bumper.

I am playing with 230...235... 240 mph when a head from the backseat appeared to shoot me with his smexy gun. I almost whistled at the price of the cool gun he is owning.

But then foolish of him to think he would easily hit me. How funny of him to challenge a madwoman!

I noticed his persistent tries to aim at my motorcycle's tire but I already expected that so I critically moved to the other narrow side. Every time he takes a shot, I would bend, slide, and shift but never to hide or run. Seeing how irritated he is with his continuous failed shots, I decided to take advantage of his little emotional moments. On a quick free hands driving, I aimed for his head.

Bang.

With his bad position in the car while shooting, it was easy for him to fall off the car's window.

Your emotions are your enemies' best ace towards you, keep it a secret if you don't wanna die.

My eyes shaded black. It only took me a quick glimpse to notice the few strands of blonde hair in the passenger's seat, so before she can actually go out for her shot, I already anticipated her head popping out of the window, and fired.

Headshot again. But this time her body remained in the car's seat. So she is luckier than the latter.

Though both surely dead.

The car suddenly executed an aggressive show-off drift as he entered what seemed to be an abandoned building and I followed it only to be greeted with numbers of shits.

My motorcycle wheels screeched loudly when I made an abrupt conceited parking, more critical than he executed, in the lot's centerpoint which marked a line on the floor. One booted foot after the other, I got off my motorcycle and removed my helmet, fronting them the usual yet most hated expression on my face... barrenness.

I mentally counted the number of men in the place. Thirty-eight?

Thirty-nine...

Different angles. I briefly and discreetly did a wholesome sightseeing on the building. This is obviously a trap. Seamlessly, I pressed the guns in my body and grazed the folded sword on the back of my leg, and the two other that's intact in my waist. A bit small for them to notice as a sword. A foldable one. Cool right? Marsha is one genius freak.

A devilish grin crept my lips as I veered to my very welcoming and exhilarating hosts. My eyes dimmed, but not with fright.

I felt them all as if on a luscious body glaze.

The one driving the car opened his door to welcome me with a victorious taunting smile. His gray suit is very out of the place, but it can very well accommodate him for his today's death so it's a fine deal.

Forty.

He may be in his 50s and is visibly very involved with wealth and trends. Shades while driving, dim plain colors combined outfit, expensive tooth, bold flashy watch, latest version of iPhone, and a one of a heck billion dollar flauntable sports car.

We have a superstar right here... with a face of an disgruntled old hoot criminal.

Just by the stretch of his viscious lips, I can immediately tell how he is obviously mocking me because I was trapped.

This is your trap. Not mine.

Try. But beat me.

He cooly removed his black shades and flexed the popular side golden tooth when he offered me a wide welcoming smile.  "Gentlemen, appreciate our guest! Please, please, please... Eyes on her. It's such an honor to have a pretty woman visiting us today."

He smiled wider as he wipe the bloodstain on his coat before checking me out. "Don't let this pass, she might not be as beautiful and flawless later on,"

He spitted after a quick eyeing on my body

Too bad he found no possible damage on me?

Did your teammates disappoint you?

Aww.

"Like what you see?" It was me mocking him this time. I caught how his smile faltered on his lips. It was you and all these men who will be killed later. And I won't leave anyone breathing— or living.

The way his hand swung to his cheek to intentionally shove me a calibrated long gun screamed pride and prejudice of what he expected to happen.

Expectations...hmmm. Where would it take you?

"I remembered you being sweet and polite as a child, now you are sharp-tongued and bitter... I wonder why? "

I saw him thought of something and his eyes twinkled with joy. I maintained a stoic face, not interested in this conversation.

Why don't we just let our guns talk? Ah, such talkative fiends hurt my head.

"Ah! I remember a hot night. It was a memorable night. The most memorable of them all. When we decided to rummage a house and ended up seeing a woman's body so bea—"

I quickly grab my gun and shot him before he can even finish talking.

For I can't help but to do what might be soothing.

Rage filled me in as I listened to how dirty and happy he is remembering that night, that I want to easily end it. Immediate anger rose and barbarically exploded in my head, and I can't help but to do what might be pacifying.

He fell to the floor with his mouth exploded with my shot.

If only he didn't open that mouth of him, his life would be a bit longer. He brought his own death. I held my gun down, cool, and highly apathetic of the fallen man.

His bad, not mine.

"You talk too much," I said as I scratch the back of my ear.

What's the use of a calibrated gun if my bullets are farway unstoppable? If I am gravely unpredictable?

Told you, expectations might be far from what to really expect. He expected to kill me. And yet he was the one dying.

I then turned my sight to his accomplices and saw seconds of their shock.

I titled my neck and wetted my lips with a bold glaze, very disappointed with the easy kill.

"Next?"

"Bitch."

"Bitch!"

Someone mouthed a rasp curse, and I smirked inwardly when their movements turned instantly tensed.

I pulled out two open-bolt and blowback-operated submachine guns on my waist— the UZIs.

"Motherfucking bitch!"

Then the shooting begins.

One...two...three... ten.

Got them lying on the floor. Cartridges unstoppably falling towards my steps.

"Head! Chest! Or her legs! The fucking eyes! Shot anywhere, damn it! The woman is loaded-"

I found him and fired up.

Can't they see how I am not fond of unessential noises?

Sooner I realized they became more heated because of his fall.

"Take cover on me! I'll be keeping his body! Boss should learn his death! Trem! Take that lady down! Alive or dead! With head or headless!"

You cannot beat an avenging woman with just a number, especially when you touch a memory of her you aren't even deserving to talk about!

I ran towards a foundation wall and hid myself from the sudden stir of very aggressive shootings. Seeing a loophole, I continued firing back. I threw the other emptied tactical pistol before hiding again. They should have brought someone wiser, that way I'll easily die hiding. But they are too stupid to not think about that. They thought them outnumbering me will make me down?

Try harder.

Perhaps squeeze your balls harder, maybe you could level on my knees.

Grabbing another pair of shotguns, I dropped down to shoot their legs or arms or both to somehow divert their attention as they are all obviously targeting my only head.

My, my, my. What's with my pretty head? Why are they all after it? Is it worth it?

How much?

Surely it couldn't even be paid by their lives.

I ran towards the stairs which is next to the wall I am hiding when I sensed a brief loss of focus from them. The other gun I am using ran out of bullets so I hid myself again to fill it again. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulders but I seamlessly ignored it knowing that I should make the most out of my time. Critical at my current position with all of their guns firing at me, I smirked mischievously and thought of throwing an overrated surprise— smoke bombs.

I've already memorized their positions before going up so it was easy for me to anticipate their possible movement. I shoot and shoot above them until few of them are left standing in the smoke, all under me. Soundless like a cat, I then jumped swiftly from my position to get down fast, so I could near them.

I carefully placed my guns on the floor. To grab the two swords, and unfolded it behind them who are busy finding me above.

It has been long. Time for sword practice.

I slashed each of them left. Feeling their blood against my skin. Enjoying the sound of their pain.

But I left an unlucky one and wounded him in his legs so bad that he immediately and helplessly kneeled down. I pulled him out of the building, making him face the heat of the sun and the rough floor on his skin. I bent to talk to him closely.

I need the fucking information!

Who is behind that night?!

"Who are you working with? " I grimly asked while gripping him hard by the shoulder.

Despite the obvious contortions on his face because of the pain I am inflicting, he still found an opportunity to smirk at me. And I despise how his eyes turned sexual as it traveled my body.

Someone is buying his time here.

And it isn't pleasing me.

"Why would I tell you?" he laughed.

I stared deep into his pleasured eyes before forcefully kicking his dirty mouth.

He will not be talking, so might as well take your perverted thoughts to your grave.

Annoyed at how I predicted he won't talk, I catched his head before it could fell down so I can severely drive it more on the ground. Making his lips bleed more with the pebbles I made him kiss.

This guy will not tell me things I should know. I am very aware of these kinds, the loyal dogs who will only piss you off without spilling the tea!

I returned to the building, that is now seemingly a slaughter lot. I drove my motorcycle out and purposedly passed my wheels to his left hand making him shout in despair.

Oh...

Looking in the side mirror, I noticed him still breathing but hurling... in so much pain.

Someone's still alive? Haven't I told myself I won't leave anyone like that?

I made a quick turn and shot him from the far distance. I am serious when I said I won't leave the place with anyone breathing still.

I drove fast out of the place and quickly decided to head to the mansion to discuss my plan on how to bombard those behind my mom's death.