“I know no such thing,” she said primly, opening the window with one hand, her gun remaining trained on him. Her dress had become a sort of jumpsuit and she reached into her clutch, pulling out a small device. “All due respect, Mr. Cael, but if it was your kill, why didn’t you kill him?”
She glanced up, almost in surprise before she laughed. "Well, perhaps you should have. Our situations might have been reversed." She slung one leg over the windowsill before giving him a dazzling smile and tilting her head. "Good luck, by the way. I would say that your best chance is the fire exit, but I'm sure it's monitored."
"You may want to figure it out quickly," she said easily. She took a deep breath and screamed, a piercing cry that echoed through the house. There was a silence, and he would soon hear rushing footsteps approaching from the party guests. She nodded in satisfaction and returned her gaze to him. She dropped the gun in her purse and gave him a small wave. "Ta." With that, she fell backward out of the window and hung in the air for a moment before the device in her hand beeped and a grappling hook flew from it, connecting with the roof above. She disappeared from sight, the stars twinkling over the city.
Gabriel groaned, quickly barring the door and hopping out the window himself, his prosthetic arm grabbing on the ledge before he pressed on the side of the wrist, and grippable claw-like parts, allowing him to slide down, though leaving marks.
Petra sighed as she stepped into her apartment, flicking the light on. She quickly pressed her thumb against a panel on the wall and it beeped after a moment, disabling her trap. She shrugged out of her coat, setting the purse on the kitchen counter. Her back arched as she stretched, and she opened the rabbit cage, letting two floppy-eared creatures exit. They seemed pleased to see her. She rubbed both of their heads before heading to shower, humming under her breath.
Gabriel walked home. Luckily he brought a coat with him, keeping warm as he trudged through the back streets to return to his home.
"Her name is Petra Apte," he said, gesturing to a hologram of the young woman. Her brow was arched, and even in the dull blue of the image, her eyes seemed to watch Gabe accusatorily. "25 years old. She's a trained assassin, but we're not quite sure who she's operating under. We don't have much on her, except that she's ridiculously attentive to details. She plans her kills out without skipping over anything. That explains how she knew your name."
"Her," Leifson agreed, nodding to himself. He swiped at the hologram, and it zoomed out, showing her hurrying down an alleyway, tying her hair back and pulling out a gun. She pursed her lips and stood on a recycling bin, pulling herself onto a roof. "She's elusive," he said, "but I think you can do it."
"Great," he said, checking his watch. "Get it done." He stood up and waved away the hologram. "She's caused quite a bit of trouble for us."
Petra scanned the label of the can, her brows furrowed before she set it in her basket. She moved through the aisles quietly, not pulling attention.
