The great Raven was sitting bloody tied to a chair.

“Want anything? A water? Snack? Maybe a new face?” I punched her again. Her head snapped back, blood spraying from her nose like a sprinkler. Honestly, she was going to need a miracle of plastic surgery to get her face back to socially acceptable.

“A water would be nice,” she spluttered, her voice shaking. Her eyes were squinted in fear as she stared at me, practically begging for mercy.

“Well… too bad!” I aimed a kick at her stomach to accompany my perfect comeback, “Traitors don’t get water. You abandoned your fellow assassins! You should be grateful you’re not dead right now.”

“Oh… I should? For being a traitor? For refusing to kill a baby in her mother’s arms?” She was… crying? Tears rolled down her face as her whole body trembled. This was gonna be good.

“I think you’re confused. I shouldn’t be afraid.” Her laughter burst forth, tears of mirth running down her cheeks eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Oh… oh yeah? At least I’m not tied to a chair!”

Her kick flies at my forehead. Blinding pain shoots through my temple. The concrete room darkens.

“That can be arranged,” is the last thing I hear before the world goes black.