Anastasia had never had an easy life. Living with an abusive step father and an even worse mother, Anastasia had accepted the fact that her life would not be getting any better. But their sudden death has given Anastasia hope, hope that she would in...
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Anastasia's POV
I got off my bike, picking up the duffel bag and walking towards the mansion before me. Before entering I make sure to fasten the voice modulator in my jeans and the mic attached to my face mask. The black mask covered my face and nose, only leaving my eyes in the open which seemed perfect for hiding my mic as well.
Walking up to the gate I pressed on the buzzer, it was late at night, probably two or three in the morning, hurriedly two guards coming running up to the door, their machine guns clutched close to their chests as they jogged up to me, clearly they didn't want to be outside in the freezing cold.
To be fair it was quite cold, I guess my adrenaline was playing a big role in me not feeling anything while being in a simple blood soaked shirt and my leather jacket as any sort of cover. "Имя?" one of the guards asked in his gruff voice, "Natalia." I reply, my voice comes out an octave or two lower and slightly gravelly thanks to the voice modulator, I was on a job and my identity remains strictly hidden during jobs. (name?)
Upon hearing my name the two perk up, the taller of the two quickly pulls out a flashlight and shines it on my face, focusing on my face, more specifically on the symbol on my mask, the red hourglass on the right hand corner was a not only a design but a signal, a warning, that it was the black widow of the underworld.
Squinting at light, I grunt, "Убери эту чертову штуку с моего лица." the guard immediately turns it off and starts talking into the walkie talkie attached to his uniform, seconds later a response comes and the man turns to me, opening the door. (get that fucking thing out of my face.)
Inside, there is a man standing before the door, from the looks of his suit and attached intercom I guess he is a higher ranking guard. "Mam. We need to check your bag." he said. I smile under my mask, "Don't worry, whatever's inside won't bite him. I'm just making a delivery." the man hesitated a second, looking at the bag and the blood that had slowly started to seep through. Before letting me in and escorting me to his boss's office. "Босс, она здесь." he told his boss before leaving. (boss, she is here)
"Mr. Williams." the old man turned to me, his frightened face a dead giveaway of his situation. "Is it done?" he asked rapidly. I throw the bag on his table and walk towards the liquor cabinet in the corner of the room.
Mr. Williams was a powerful man, well powerful compared to an average man, in the underworld he was a fucking ant. But an important ant, he wasn't a part of any mafia or gang but he was rich, old money rich. The perfect target for a group to want him on his side and if he doesn't agree then they would want him dead.
One of the people that wanted him dead had decided to take action on their threats, in fear the old man came to hide in Russia and acquired the services of yours truly to help him.
The sound of gagging took my attention away from the bottle of whiskey I had been eyeing to Mr. Williams. "What the fuck is this?" he asked, pointing to the duffel bag, I shrugged "His head." to his confused expression I scoff, "You were the one that asked for proof. This is plenty of proof, or if you want I can give you the location of his body, you can dig it up and see for yourself."
