Above the city lights that flickered below, among the hum and roar that swallowed ordinary voices, they perched on the edge of the building like predators waiting for their prey.
She crouched, muscles coiled, eyes glittering with reckless focus. He leaned casually against the ledge, comic in hand, calm as if the chaos around them didn't exist.
"Remember, don't-" he began, voice measured.
"Relax. I got this," she interrupted, grinning. "You always overthink everything."
He raised an eyebrow, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder like it weighed nothing. "Overthink? I'm not overthinking. I'm reminding you not to-"
"Not to what?" she teased, tilting her head, hair whipping around. "Not to kill him too quickly? Not to make it boring?"
He exhaled slowly, flipping the comic page with casual precision. "I said, don't. Just… wait!"
Too late. She leapt, launching herself toward the opposite building, wind ripping past her.
He let out a quiet sigh, scanning the target briefly, then, with a grace that defied gravity, jumped down himself, landing silently, comic still in hand.
Down below, the target barely had time to register anything before she landed, spinning like a whirlwind.
A solid kick smashed into the target's head, sending him sprawling, but she wasn't satisfied.
Her laughter rang out, high, wild, unrestrained, as blood sprayed around her like some twisted art.
She moved with predator precision, stalking the target as if the chaos itself obeyed her will.
He didn't flinch. One hand rested lightly on her head, steadying her, holding her just enough while his other hand casually flipped a page. He knew she would stop when she was ready.
"Too easy, huh?" he murmured, calm, eyes never leaving her.
"Too easy? Ha! This is pure fun! Pure art!" she said, spinning, brushing blood from her gloves, flicking it with careless delight.
"Art," he said slowly, voice low, lethal, "I call it reckless. And messy. Laundry will hate me."
She paused, chest heaving, grin feral, wild eyes sparkling. "Messy… maybe. But you like it."
He smirked, closing the comic and pulling out a handkerchief. Calmly, he wiped the blood from her cheek, fingers brushing her skin lightly, deliberately.
"Lesson one: always satisfy the work first. Lesson two: never make a mess in front of me again. Lesson three: if you insist on going wild, make it worth my attention."
She tilted her head, grin still feral, adrenaline coursing. "Worth it? Am I? You're the judge now?"
"I don't judge," he said, voice soft, deadly. "I just survive it. And sometimes… I enjoy it."
Her laughter bubbled up again, sharp, echoing across the rooftops. "Enjoy it? So you like watching me go psycho?"
"Exactly," he replied, hand still resting lightly against her head. "And don't test me more than you have to."
She let out a breath, letting the thrill ebb slightly, eyes still dancing. "Good. I'd hate for you to be bored."
He tilted his head, comic tucked under his arm. "Bored? Never. You, on the other hand…" His gaze sharpened, almost predatory, "you should pace yourself. You can't outrun the adrenaline forever."
"Oh, please," she scoffed, brushing blood from her sleeve, smearing it on purpose. "I could do this all night. You just… keep me grounded."
"Grounded," he echoed, voice low, almost amused. "I call it survival."
The city around them pulsed with neon lights and distant sirens, but their world was smaller, tighter, only the two of them.
Every breath, every twitch, every pulse of blood was amplified in that shared space.
She crouched low, eyes narrowing, already scanning the next potential target, a grin twisting on her lips. "You think that was enough?"
He didn't answer immediately. Calm, deliberate, he just observed her, noting the way her muscles tensed, the way her adrenaline still crackled visibly in the air.
"It's never enough for you," he said finally. "And yet… I don't stop you. I let you go."
"Why?" she asked, tilting her head, curious, teasing. "Because you're… nice?"
He smirked, lethal and unflinching. "Because I know when you're satisfied. When you're done… and only then."
Her grin widened, chaotic and wild. "And you… always calm. Never flinching. Even when I'm covered in blood and laughing like a maniac."
"That's because I know you," he said, low, deliberate. "And knowing you… makes surviving this easy. Enjoying it… harder."
The adrenaline slowed, her chest heaving, the city's distant hum returning to dominance.
The lecture shifted, subtle, consuming. Their lips met in a deep kiss, tension and danger threading every motion. Threads of desire and chaos tangled them, refusing to break easily.
When they pulled apart, breaths mingling, their foreheads nearly touching, he smirked, eyes sharp, calculating, deadly. "Brutal as always… my wife."
She grinned back, chest heaving, wild, satisfied, already itching for the next chaos. "And you… my calm nightmare."
He let out a quiet chuckle, scanning the city again, comic tucked under his arm. Calm, lethal, untouchable. She, unpredictable, untamed. Together, unstoppable.
Above them, the neon city lights flickered like witnesses to the deadly ballet.
And somewhere in the chaos, they thrived, blood, adrenaline, laughter, and love interwoven in the dark, brutal way only they could understand.
The mission was over. Explosive, bloody, as always.
•••••••••••
They walked down the hallway of the organization's HQ, hands intertwined.
He moved like a shadow, calm, composed, clothes immaculate, comic still tucked under one arm.
She hummed a dark little tune, grin wide, clothes splattered with blood, dagger dripping fresh crimson in her free hand.
At the boss's office, they stopped in front of the massive desk.
The boss leaned back, eyes twinkling. "You two never fail to make a mess."
She grinned. "Isn't a little chaos what makes life interesting?"
He held the comic up, covering half his face, eyes cold and sharp. "She categorizes her chaos. Precision in destruction. Efficiency in mess."
The boss chuckled. "You can't even say a job well done when it looks like this. Too bloody to be called an assassination."
She tilted her head, dagger flicking a drop of blood to the floor. "I call it art."
He lowered the comic slightly, gaze piercing. "And the art… follows the rules."
The boss laughed, shaking his head. "Defensive, as always, when it comes to your wife."
Finally, serious now, he said, "Here's your new mission… Tatiana and Mikael Lauderdale. Or should I say… The Grim Couple."
Under the shadows, their eyes glowed.
She smirked, wild and untamed.
He grinned, cold and lethal, comic half-hiding his face.
Together, they were chaos incarnate.
The Grim Couple.