(Human Form)
She’d managed to do what should have been impossible.
She’d managed to avoid the mafia. She’d died her hair. She’d moved out of town. But most importantly, she’d given Xanthus the slip.
It had been…months since she’d seen him. She wasn’t sorry in the least bit; Kitche was an independent woman. She didn’t need some big idiot following her around like a giant shadow, no matter how handsome he was, or how sophisticated his suits were. Nor did she want him living in her home, dogging her every step, following her to and from work, always being there at every turn. After only a few weeks, she’d gotten tired of him always just…being there. She’d never had a break. So while he slept, late one night, Kitche had gathered her money, a few belongings, and a pack, and stealthily climbed out her window. She’d proceeded to get out of town as fast as possible. She’d gotten out of Lambastia, and headed to Barakka, where she’d set up in Lamenolai in a tiny apartment, with a two-bit job at some bakery or other making bread and pastries of all kinds. It wasn’t the best work, but at least she got some leftovers to take home.
She’d even managed to dig up one of those ridiculous ‘magic users’ who she’d enlisted to change her natural hair color to a nondescript color, and her bright red eyes to a plain, duller shade. She was absolutely certain the mafia, and more importantly, Xanthus, would be unable to find her. She was so certain, in fact, that she didn’t bother changing her first name (Her last name wasn’t a problem; she’d just used Fioray’s, since he owed her one anyways, and became Kitche Meshkenet). But Kitche’s problem here was that she’d become…too comfortable. She’d gotten too complacent; she’d believed no one could find her, and thus, she was safe. But she hadn’t counted on persistence; she’d thought Xanthus was just some crazy guy who had been exaggerating the lengths the mafia might got o get to her. So when she was making her way home in the snow, body bundled up against the cold, and four nondescript men dressed in black stepped out of the shadows.
The crunch of her boots stopped immediately, and Kitche had just enough time to wonder who she’d pissed off in another life before one of the men spoke. “You know,” he drawled, sounding very unconcerned as he strolled forward casually. “You’re one hard bird to find. You sure gave us the slip. But we finally caught up to you.” He cracked his knuckles, a humorless smirk crawling across his face. “You know, how a little broad like you managed to kill two of our guys, I’ll never know. But you did, and now it’s time to pay the piper.” Kitche’s blood had frozen in her veins, even as she willed herself to take a step back, to move away from the men, to run or do something. “I didn’t kill them,” she managed, and her voice sounded like it was stuck in her throat.
The men merely cackled, looking far too amused for such a grim situation. Kitche vaguely decided that taking a shortcut through an alley to get to work had been a very, very bad idea. These guys obviously didn’t give a damn if the sun would be rising in an hour or so, and that whatever they were doing might be seen by someone, even as they advanced towards her. All she could really think of when the men started towards her, drawing something that looked suspiciously like some kind of firearm from the insides of their jackets as they advanced, was that she hoped her boss wouldn’t be too mad when she didn’t come in for her shift that morning, and who the hell was going to feed her cat when she was gone.