We All Get a Serial Killer (O/O)

Cameron stopped dead at the whistle which pierced the air around where he was running. She could be calling for help. Not to mention he had a wound to be tending to before he himself bled out. He already did enough damage to the female. Perhaps when they met again, he'd be ready. He peered around a corner to see the black-clad girl and… a dog?
No…
"Get us home," She had demanded weakly as she and the dog hobbled away. Her voice rang a bell in his mind, too.
Nevertheless, she had tried to hurt him. Cameron tightened his hand around the butt of his pistol, but did not unsheath it.

Ava follows Kreja without question, trusting the animal with her life. He leads her through the streets of the city, only allowing her to stop when absolutely nessicary. Glancing over her shoulder, she doesn't see any signs of the male. Perhaps he stopped chasing her. A few blocks later, they reach the library. Going around to the side of the building, she examines one of the windows before expertly popping off one of the larger planks and slowly crawling inside. The interior is pitch-black, making it impossible to see but the layout is embedded in her mind. She weaves through rows of dust and cobweb covered bookshelves until she locates the door tucked away in the very back of the room. Swinging the door open, she exposes a spiraling staircase leading to the tower. She only makes it up a few steps before she falls. Panting, she lays there for a moment before she starts to go up the stairs on her hands and knees. Emerging through the trap door on the top, she finally allows herself to collapse. She needs a minute to rest before she can even start thinking of dealing with the wound.

Cameron turned on his heel and continued jogging, keeping an ear out for sirens in the distance as he quickened his long strides and fast kicks towards his town home. It took him a bit to realize where he was, but his home wasn't all that far. He relaxed his pace to a jog when he could finally skulk within the shadows, slipping up between rickety fences into his neat little townhome. A large dog bounded over to meet him, barking softly, its collar jangling rather loud. Cameron bent down and gently grabbed her collar to silence it, approached the back door and opened it. He let her inside, followed after, slipping off his mask to reveal his usually neat, curly hair, to be sticking up with sweat. He had almost lost his money, which was never a good thing.

Ava drags herself across the floor, not trusting her legs right now. When she reaches a table, she blindly reaches up and searches until she finds what feels to be her medical kit. She pulls it down and sets it beside her. Carefully rolling up her shirt, she hisses in pain. Much to her dismay, it looks like the bullet is still inside of the wound which means that she gets the fun task of getting it out. She grabs a thick cloth from the kit and shoves it into her mouth before pulling out the alcohol, the twisters, and the needle and thread. After cleaning the area around the wound and sterilizing the tweezers, she digs around inside of her flesh. Her screams are muffled by the cloth. The tweezers finally make contact with the bullet and she pulls it out. The extreme pain causes her vision to blur but she works through it. Wiping away the sweat beading her forehead, she takes a moment to gather her strength before cleaning out the wound and stitching it up. She spits out the rag and leans heavily against the wall, panting. Now that she's taken care of her gunshot, she gets to rest. She takes a deep breath before dragging herself across the room and collapsing on her pathetic excuse for a mattress.

Cameron fed his dog, which he forgot to do, and gently stroked her ears before heading up to his room to deal with his ripped clothing and wound. After all, he did need to look his best or the people would get suspicious. He took off his shirt, closed the blinds to his room, and turned on his lamp, looking at the arm of question with a grimace. He turned, walked across the room, opened up his nightstand which was full of medical supplies. He reallt didn't have an excuse as to why there were so many things in his drawer, but it didn't matter. He pulled out a small pouf, the alcohol, bandages, and a needle and stitching. He sat on the bed, frowning in concentration as he slowly took off the cloth with indifference. He set it down in the bandaging he had prepared, then poked the stitches in the eye of the needle before setting to work, gritting his toes in and out as he worked through pain. Soon, it was completed, and he bandaged up his arm. He changed out of his bloody clothes, then tossed them into his reignited fireplace in his sitting room, only in a pair of shorts and a tanktop, watching the cloth burn until it was gone.

Ava curls up on the mattress, pissed off and in pain. If she even runs into that man again, she'll kill him. She grabs the bottle of whiskey laying next to her and take a swig. The liquid runs down her throat and helps soothe her nerves. Kreja approaches and sniffs at her face before giving her cheek a lick. "I'm okay, love," She tells him, stroking his soft fur. Not convinced by her words, the dog snorts. "Shut up and cuddle with me," Grumbling, she pulls him over to her and he happily curls up beside her. Pain is still flaring in her stomach by the alcohol and the presence of her beloved companion are certainly helping. Going over the events of the night, she makes mental notes of what exactly went wrong and how she should correct it in case something like it happens again. She sighs heavily and drags her hand across her face. Only then does she realizes that her domino mask is still out. She carefully takes it off and shoves it under her pillow, putting it right next to the knife that resides there. Knowing full well that she needs to get some rest, she spends the next few minute peeling of her clothes, each movement agonizing. Now in just her underwear and a tank-top, she settles back down.

Cameron didn't move until the fire itself wass snuffed out. He dug under the cusions of his couch with a sigh, pulling out a burner phone. He dialed a number which he had memorized to the exact digit, and as it rang, Cameron regretted giving that girl mercy. He should have killed her and done away with the body, which he had done many, many times. He wouldn't let her go again.
"Hello?" Answered a voice. It was a feminine, gritty one.
"Hey. I need a new set. This time, make the cloth thicker. A fucking knife ripped through it."
"Ahhh, my Umber. Yes, I'm quite busy at the moment, but I can make you a new one. Did the Sythei not work for you?"
"It was light but not durable. Put me back on Lytheron."

"I should have just fucking stabbed him," Ava mutters bitterly as she polishes off the last of her whiskey. The good news is that she's drunk enough to not feel any pain, or anything at all really. Burying her face in Kreja's fur, she sighs. "I miss having a real bed and a real base," Things were so much easier when she was with the Kosci. She could do whatever she wanted and have the supplies to do it. "Why did I thinking leaving was a good idea?" She misses her family and her old life but going back now could be disastrous. They all think that she's dead. Hell, she's seen pictures and read articles of her funeral. She even visited her grave a while back. It's in a nice area of the cemetery and people had left a lot of flowers. Kreja listens to her rant for a few minutes before pawing her shoulder to get her to shut up so he can sleep.

"Will do hon, what happened to it?"
"Too light, it almost cost me my life and my contract. If you have anything thicker, put me on that. Nothing light. Never again. I don't care if it's fucking lead-based (well, I do), I want that cloth to not be penetrable."
"Alright, alright, relax my child. I'll get you something heavier. Good-night, Cameron."
Cameron was not able to say another word as the line clicked off. He was left back in his dark home past midnight, the light of the phone dimming and flickering off. Another lonely night.

Ava huffs when Kreja flops onto his side and starts ignoring her. "Fine," She mutters, giving up on trying to hold a conversation. It's not her fault that she's lonely, being dead to the rest of the world means that you don't have any friends. Pulling up her tank-top a little, she checks on her stitches before letting her hand drop down. She should probably get some sleep and let her body start to heal. Planning her revenge can always wait until morning. Yawning, she curls up like a cat and snuggles under the thin blanket. "Goodnight, love," She tells the dog before shutting her eyes.

Cameron stuffed the phone into the dark cushions of the couch and sat back with a faint sigh in the darkness. His brown eyes searched for something to do but found nothing. He bit his lip and stood slowly, walking upstairs with a quiet shame surrounding him. He plopped into his bed, called for his alarm to be set to his phone, and soon he had fallen asleep.

(Should we have them meet up again or something?)

(Yeah, that'd be cool. Maybe they don't almost kill each other? Maybe Cameron gets cornered by (idk) a gang and Ava swoops in like, "No, he's mine to kill!" then decides he's already fucked up enough that she wants to help?)

(I really like that idea, it sound great! Should we skip to at least a week later so that they’ve healed a bit from their injuries?)

(Neat! How about we skip directly to that, which would be about two weeks. Also, I don't know if I asked, but do you write smut?)

(Okay! Two weeks is perfect! Would you like to start this time? Yes, I do.)

(Yes, I'd love to start! And neat, once the time comes we can move to PM for that.)

(Thanks! Alright, great.)

Cameron was out again doing his job. He decided to aim for a more dangerous part of his town, which wasn't even considered a part of it. After taking out a few random pickings on the street, he jumped down and stretched out with a yawn. He might as well go home. His contract was not coming by, and he had waited an hour. He started to trot home, sticking his pistol in his pocket and slinging his rifle back. He trotted for a bit, until he felt the strap get seized and pulled on. It took a bit of strength to pull someone like Cameron, but whomever they were, they did that and more. He was grabbed by the middle of his neck with one last gasp of air and pushed against the wall. It… it was his contract.
Now, his contract was a huge man. That's why he was waiting out on the roof to ensure his safety. This man was also a huge part of a mob, which was threatening to harm the safety of the town. Now, Cameron was cornered by one, and he saw a few more approaching his sides.
"Ay, nice job, boss!" One guy congratulated the bigger guy, patting his arm. Cameron did not struggle, he just glared and tried to hold his breath. His body wanted to struggle and flail. Try and get any blows landed before he got killed. But that was stupid.

Ava runs across the rooftops, leaping from building to building. The feeling of freedom is electrifying and addicting, she can never get enough. It’s not long before she hears a commotion nearby and decides to investigate. She’s bored and picking a fight could be fun. Kneeling down on the roof, she peers below her to get a good idea of what’s going on. In the alleyway below, serval large guys are pushing around and beating up another guy. To her utmost surprise, she recognizes the guy that’s being beat up as the asshole who shot her two weeks ago. Now is the perfect time to take revenge and all she has to do is get rid of the other guys. She leaps off of the roof with cat like grace and lands on one of the men’s back, taking them all by surprise. The man was in shock for just a few short seconds, giving her the opportunity she needed to snap his neck. With a dull thud the body falls to the ground, leaving Ava to face off with the dead man’s partners. She decides to focus on the one closest to her first. The two size each other up for a moment before she makes a move. They engage in hand to hand combat but the man was no match for her and it's not long before she ends his life by expertly slitting his throat. Two down, three to go. “I’ll give you one chance to leave before I kill you,” she warns them, making her voice deeper so it can’t be recognized. The three men refuse to comply. Two of them she manages to take down with ease, stabbing one in in the heart and the other in the head. The last man standing is going to be a challenge. He stands at well over six feet tall and is sporting large muscles. The man goes to draw his gun but ahe sharply kicks it out of his hand, sending it flying. It seems that the man is better trained than the other men seeing as he pullsout a knife and attacks. Ava, not one to run away from a challenge, stands her ground and the two duke it out. The man lands a few solid blows but this fight is personal so there is no chance in hell that she’s letting this thug win. She ducks down and slides between his legs, cutting him right behind his right knee, causing him to stumble and giving her a chance to sink her knife into his lower back and twist. With a cry of pain the man falls and she puts him out of misery by opening his throat. Ava slowly stands and glances around at the three bodies, taking a deep breath. Turning toward the man that had shot her, she points her bloody knife at him. “Remember me, asshole?” She snarls.

The few men had gotten quite a few blows on Cameron, and when he was dropped, his knees buckled and he barelg caught himself on his hands so his head didn't knock off the bumpy, rocky pavement below. He paid no mind to the fight until he was talked directly to by his savior.
Oh, really, great, her, He thought with a raspy cough. There was no way in hell he'd be able to beat her like this, even after she took out all these men. He could barelg bring himself to bring his eyes over the damage done by her and her knife. The bloody brutal mess to her alight-with-fevor face. She'd easily win. She had adrenaline pumping through her veins and not a scratch on her. He had many, perhaps a twisted something or other or a broken rib. It wasn't looking good, especially considering he didn't have a gun on his person either. It was a matter of her mind, wether she wanted to finish him off or not. He didn't respond, couldn't bring himself to, and let his head hang between his aching shoulders to spare any more agony. Maybe she'd stab him right through and end his suffering then. Then it'd be a matter of who fed his dog, and who ran his restaurant…

Looking down at the man, Ava shakes her head at the pathetic sight. He looks like a kicked puppy and that only serves to remind her of how she found Kreja. Great, now she’s feeling bad for him. As much as she would love to kill him, it doesn’t feel right doing it without him being able to put up a fight. She wipes the blood off of her knife and tucks it away. Sighing, she has a feeling that she’s going to regret what she’s about to do. “Get up,” She grumbles, annoyed with herself for doing this. Stepping forward, she extends her hand to help the man up. “Chill out, I’m not going to kill you,” She tells him in case he needs any convincing. If he doesn’t take her hand soon, there is a very good chance that she’ll come to her sense and change her mind about this.

Cameron glanced up warily despite the screaming protest in his neck and throat. He squinted at her but took her hand nevertheless, dragging himself unshakily to his feet, pushing a lot of his weight onto her hand. Once he was up, he took more of his weight to his legs, which shivered as he waited for her to move, letting go of her hand. He glanced at her warily again, wiping blood out of his eyes and leaning against the wall.
"Why do you want to help me?" His voice was faint and dull.

Ava carefully pulls him up, looking at him like he’s a fragile piece of glass that’s about to break. “Shut up before I change my mind,” She tells him, reaching into one of her pockets and pulling out a cloth. Shaking her head, she hands it over to him so he can deal with some of the blood. Truth is, she really doesn’t know why she’s helping him and it’s bothering her. It’s not because he can’t fight back, she’ll killed plenty of people like that before. Stepping back, she takes a moment to study all of his injuries. “You look like shit,” She comments, having no issue with being brutally honest.

Cameron took it warily, sniffing at it before wiping off the blood and pulling down his mask to get more of it away. He was bleeding very visibly from the mouth, which he was trying to stem the most. His nose was also crooked severely and bleeding just as much as his mouth, and he had a black eye.
"I'm sorry, I can't fucking help it," He snapped back with a wince, grabbing his neck.

Ava’s eyes narrow when he pulls down his mask a little. The man seems very familiar but she just can’t put her finger on it. The tone he chooses for his next words cause her hands to curl into fists. “Don’t get an attitude with the person who just saved your miserable life!” She snaps right back. When he winces, she takes note of the way he grabs his neck. “I’m assuming that you don’t want a hospital?” She questions as she taps her foot on the ground.

Cameron leaned off the wall and shook his head, deciding to ignore her hot head. Gods, she's going to be insufferable. She'll just rub this in.
"I just need to get home. Or somewhere. We're not safe out here, especially with me being hurt. I'll just weigh you down like this." He coughed into his hand as to not get blood all over her. "But, no, no hospital, please."

Oh, she’s defintely going to regret this. “Come on, dumbass, let’s get you out of here,” Ava says, moving back over to him and putting her hand on his arm for a second before gesturing for him to follow her. She’s not going to ask him where he leaves because she’s almost positive that he won’t tell her and she doesn’t feel like wasting time. “I’ve got a place where you can crash for a few hours. Just don’t bleed all over my stuff,” There’s no way she’s taking him to her base so that leaves option two, the warehouse Stepping over one of the bodies, she manvoures her way to the front of the alley. “Are you coming or what?”

Cameron heaved himself off the wall with a sigh, carefully picking across the bodies. "Yeah, whatever. I won't lose more blood than what I already have, thanks. And, yes, I'm coming, relax," The man mumbled, picking up his discarded guns on his way over to her. He sheathed them and huffed as he arrived at her side.

After making sure that the man is following, Ava leads the way through the streets of the city, making sure that they stick to the most secluded areas. Every now and then, she looks back to him to make sure that he hasn’t dropped dead. “We’re here,” She annouces, leading him to the back of an abandoned warehouse in the more dangerous part of town. She grabs a key from her pocket and unlocks the door before stepping inside. It’s pretty bare but there’s a small mattress in the corner, a table with two chairs, a crappy couch, and a large locked cabinet in the back. “Make yourself at home.”