Kurt was reviewing the convoy routes Cassandra had marked when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He glanced up, and every coherent thought he'd had promptly fucked off.
Emma descended into the lounge, and she looked like she'd walked straight out of a dream designed to ruin men.
Her black hair, usually tied back in a practical ponytail, fell loose around her shoulders in soft waves.
She wore a fitted black gown that hugged every curve with a plunging neckline that showed just enough to make imagination run wild. A high slit ran up her thigh, revealing smooth tan skin and the leather holster strapped there.
When she descended down the stairs in movements that made the already fitted gown tighten even more, Kurt forgot how to breathe.
Rook looked up from the map spread across the table, his expression unchanging. "Big plans today."
It wasn't a question.
Emma adjusted the strap of her holster and shrugged. "Yeah. Too bad I'll be missing your raid. I'll be there for the next one."
Kurt finally found his voice, swallowing. "You look... great."
Emma glanced at him, and for just a second, there was something between satisfaction or amusement in her gaze. "Thanks," she said casually, like she hadn't just shattered his composure.
Lizzie emerged from the back room, took one look at Emma, and whistled. "Damn. Someone's gonna get lucky tonight."
Emma's grin was sharp, and her eyes had that amused look. "Maybe," she said seductively, then reached down to the holster on her thigh, fingers wrapping around the handle of a jagged military knife.
With a smooth motion, she pulled it free and drove it into the map, pinning a marked location in the B-rank district. "Don't hit this one without me," Emma said, her grin widening. "Save it for when I get back."
Rook nodded. "Noted."
Emma straightened, slid the knife back into its holster, and headed for the door. "Don't wait up, boys." The door closed behind her, and Kurt felt the lounge go quieter.
He stared at the door Emma had just left through, hands not entirely steady and cleared his throat. "Right. Convoys. We've got work to do."
Rook proceeded to divide the team. He and Lizzie would take the C-rank district convoy of the northern route that required heavy firepower and precision.
Kurt and Cassandra would handle a D-rank target on the southern edge with lighter security but trickier terrain.
"Stay sharp," Rook said, rolling up the maps. "This is going to be the second and third truck we hit, and Braun's going to notice the pattern soon. When he does..." Rook grinned, "it won't matter. That's why we've got six seconds to take down each convoy. Let's make it count."
Kurt nodded. "We'll be in and out. Easy, peasy."
Cassandra, standing near the window with her arms crossed, said nothing. Her blue eyes were distant, cold, and Kurt couldn't tell if she was focused or just indifferent.
***
The southern convoy rolled through the south tunnels of the industrial district just after midnight.
Kurt and Cassandra watched from the roof of an abandoned factory, waiting for the truck to pass beneath them.
"On my mark," Cassandra said quietly.
Kurt crouched beside her, hands ready. "You know, you could try sounding a bit more enthusiastic about this."
Cassandra didn't look at him. "I'm plenty enthusiastic."
"Could've fooled me."
"Now," Cassandra whispered.
And they dropped down.
Kurt hit the roof of the truck hard, rolling to absorb the impact, while Cassandra landed on the hood like a cat.
She drove her blade through the windshield, shattering it, and ice exploded outward. The driver screamed as frost encased his hands, freezing them to the steering wheel.
The truck swerved wildly as Kurt grabbed the edge of the roof and swung himself toward the back doors, kicking them open to reveal three guards inside, who turned with weapons raised, but Cassandra was already moving.
She vaulted through the broken windshield, landed inside the vehicle, and froze the driver solid before he could reach for the radio to call it in. Then she turned to the guards.
Her blade gleamed and the first guard's scream cut off mid-sound as ice erupted from his chest, flash-freezing him solid.
The second guard tried to run, but Cassandra flicked her wrist, and jagged spikes of ice shot up from the floor, impaling his legs so brutally that he collapsed, howling in pain.
As for Kurt, he climbed onto the hood of the truck and stopped to watch.
Cassandra moved like a predator. She wasn't just efficient, it looked like she was enjoying this. Her expression was calm, almost serene, but her eyes gleamed with something cold.
She crouched beside the screaming guard, her eyes locking onto his in a cold stare, and with a slight tilt of her head, she froze his vocal cords mid-scream.
The silence that followed, broken only by his muffled, desperate choking.
The last guard, blood streaming from a gash on his head, tried to crawl toward the exit. He was sobbing, one hand reaching desperately for the door.
Cassandra stood, unsheathed her blade, and stalked after him. She raised the sword, angling it for a killing blow through his spine and Kurt's hand shot out, catching the blade.
The edge bit into his palm, and blood welled up, dripping onto the floor. "I think you've done enough, love," Kurt said with a steady voice. "Lesson's been passed across. No need to make it personal."
Cassandra's eyes snapped to his, and for a moment, Kurt thought she might try to pull the blade free and take his fingers with it. But then her expression shifted to something unreadable and she lowered the sword.
She sheathed the blade with a sharp click, stepped forward, and kicked the guard's face so hard his head snapped to the side. Blood sprayed across the floor and splattered onto her heel as the guard went limp and unconscious.
Cassandra looked down at her bloodied shoe, then at Kurt's bleeding hand. "You're soft."
"Maybe," Kurt said, pulling his hand back and wrapping it in a piece of torn cloth. "Or maybe I just don't see the point in overkill."
She didn't respond. She just turned and walked to the front of the truck, wiping her blade clean, and that's when Kurt's system chimed.
[NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE DETECTED]
[+2 points awarded]
[Available Points: 35]
Kurt blinked, his face carrying a confused look. "Near-death experience?"
He looked down at his bleeding hand, then at Cassandra who was still wiping her blade clean, and Kurt caught it.
The way her shoulders relaxed, just slightly. The way her breathing evened out. Like she'd been holding tension and finally let it go.
She noticed him watching and her expression went cold again. "Problem?"
"No problem." Kurt looked away. "No problem at all," he said as understanding dawned.
The system must have sensed her bloodlust, so much so that it registered that as a brush with death.
"Christ," Kurt muttered to himself and Cassandra called from the front. "We're moving. Get the cargo loaded."
He sighed, wrapped his hand tighter, and got to work.
***
Several hours later, Kurt staggered into the hideout long after midnight, clothes half-shredded, knuckles bruised, and face smeared with dirt and dried blood.
Behind him, the others dumped crates of stolen cores, weapons, and gold that clattered like a dragon's hoard.
Braun was hemorrhaging resources, and, judging by the growing mountain of loot, they were getting rich enough to drown in it.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, only to freeze at the sight of Emma back in her usual tank top and skimpy shorts. Hair tied back and a cigarette tucked behind one ear.
It was almost impossible to reconcile that this was the same woman who had slayed half the room in a high-slit gown hours earlier.
Lizzie bounced up to them, all sunshine and caffeine. She thrust a steaming cup into Kurt's hand and turned to face Emma. "So?" she asked with a wicked smile. "Been meaning to ask. How'd it go?"
Emma dropped her bag onto the table with a thud, stretched, then leaned in to whisper something into Lizzie's ear.
Lizzie exploded, coffee spraying in a mist from her mouth. "Six seconds?! Six?!" she howled, collapsing against the counter.
Emma threw her head back, face palmed herself and snorted in a laughter she tried to suppress "I've seen grenades with longer fuse times."
Kurt blinked mid-sip, unable to understand what the hell they were talking about. But before he could process any of that, Rook called out behind him. "Kurt. Over here."
Kurt tore his eyes away from the disaster brewing across the room and walked up to Rook. "What's up?" Kurt asked, but his gaze still shifted over his shoulder towards Emma and Lizzie.
Rook jerked his chin toward the weapons bench. "The Foxhole? It's almost time for you to head out," Rook said to him, his eyes tracing Kurt's gaze back to Emma and Lizzie and he simply smiled knowingly.
"Right, Foxhole. Better start prepping for that then." Kurt tried to focus, but his eyes slid back one more time toward the two cackling women as Emma slapped the table, still laughing.
He groaned and reached into his coat for a cigarette, only to find the pack empty. "Empty. Perfect."
***
Over the next several days, the raids didn't just continue, they snowballed.
Silver Tail kept rerouting their convoys, adding armored escorts, staggered decoys, and more of their members. But Raven's Crow stayed ahead of them every single time, adapting faster than Silver Tail could panic.
Emma and Rook handled the high-risk routes, the ones packed with C-rank hunters for guards and enough firepower to level a block. Exactly the kind of trouble Emma liked.
On one run, Silver Tail sent two armored trucks and four bikes that rode beside and behind them.
Rook cracked his knuckles and muttered "Alright… let's be irresponsible," walking straight onto the road.
Then he lay down, camouflaging himself against the asphalt, becoming the world's most muscular speed bump.
The truck hit him at full speed and Rook punched upward like a human landmine, launching the entire vehicle into the second and flipping end over end before crashing in a shriek of metal that knocked down the accompanying bike riders.
Emma who waited for this as her cue, shot past him before the debris even settled, boots skidding across concrete and began knocking out dazed silver tail members and guards with precise strikes.
A guard, who was also a C rank silver tail hunter, staggered out of the second overturned truck, shaking off dust like he'd respawned wrong. Then he twirled a materialized knife, energy crackling along the blade, and snapped his arm forward, unleashing three rapid slashes of compressed force.
Emma slipped past the first, ducked under the second, and she was already closing the distance with that predator's grin that said she was enjoying this way too much. The third slash came in high and she stepped into it.
Caught his wrist between her thigh and hip in a ridiculous move that should have broken her spine, not his balance. Then she jumped, twisted mid-air, and snapped him into the ground head-first, all in one fluid motion that knocked him out cold.
Rook flipped the truck back onto its wheels with one hand and casually punched a half-conscious guard back into unconsciousness with the other. "Truck's still usable," he announced, then flipped the other.
He took the first and Emma took the second as they drove off before Silver Tail's reinforcements even realized which direction the convoy had gone.
Meanwhile, Kurt and Cassandra were carving through D-rank convoys in perfect contrast, quiet and surgical like ghosts. Cassandra froze roads, wheels, and lungs without blinking. Her ice left no room for mistakes or survivors.
Kurt, on the other hand, improvised with his abilities. Displaying resourcefulness and ingenuity with them that made him adaptable.
They learned each other's rhythms frighteningly fast. Cassandra would immobilize a target, Kurt would finish the objective. Kurt would bait a group into formation and Cassandra erased them in a single sweep of frost. They grew in synergy with each raid.
But Kurt noticed the part no one else saw. The way Cassandra paused after each kill. The way her eyes grew sharper and darker. The faint, serene exhale she made as if letting something out, or feeding something inside.
It became pretty clear to Kurt that this wasn't just about efficiency for her, it was release, it was catharsis. Then again, it should have been obvious from the first moment he met her in the dungeon.
***
At the Silver Tail headquarters, Braun Ironside received report after report. Convoys hit. Cargo stolen. Guards dead or missing.
His office was a wreck. Furniture overturned, glass shattered, his knuckles red from where he'd punched a hole through the wall.
"ENOUGH!" Braun roared.
Two of his lieutenants were present in his office. One of them sat by the couch like a sloth and the other stood silent behind Braun.
Eli, the Second Lieutenant, stepped forward with his gloved hand raised to his chest. "Sir, we've increased security. Doubled the guards, changed the routes—"
"And it's not working!" Braun snarled. "They're still hitting us. Cassandra knows too much. She's feeding them everything."
Joshua Freeman, the First Lieutenant, spoke up lazily. "How haven't we found these guys?."
Braun's eyes burned with fury. "Find Raven's Crow. Find Cassandra. And burn them to the fucking ground."
He walked over to the bottle of an expensive brandy sitting atop a shelve that housed other valuable objects and poured himself a drink.
"Send Rayner, Riley, and Leon. Tell them if they come back without results, they don't come back at all."