The streets of Paris were illuminated by bright neon lights of myriad colours. Despite the tardive hours, people were still mingling and moving through the streets, keeping it lively and bustling. One of the most animated places in the city was La Bastille— a veritable zone filled with bars and nightclubs of practically all kinds.
Women in short skirts walked through the night alleys despite the shivering cold while men were busy chatting amongst themselves and trying to attract their attention.
In a corner of a street where no light could seemingly reach, emanating only the indiscernible sounds of music that lightly caressed one's ears, a young woman with long black hair wearing a skin-tight suit was breathing heavily with her back against the wall.
Her modest chest was moving up and down in rhythm with her frantic breaths, with utmost difficulty, while incessant droplets of blood leaked out of the various wounds of her body, dripping and dyeing the floor. They were all the wounds she had accumulated during her escape.
'I won't be able to last much longer.'
She gave a grin filled with the fatigue that she felt inside her mind– so very tired. Keenly, she observed her surroundings and cross-matched the scenery with the map she had memorized in her mind of this region. Fighting off her pursuers, deviating them from her trail, had not been easy in the least for the wounded girl.
They had clearly not expected them to steal the painting on the very first day of the auction and because of this action of theirs, the defense had been far more lax than it would have been if they were to proceed in a more traditional setting. However, this still did not change the fact that innumerable hunters had surrounded the premises when they received their leaked locations.
'15, 16, 17…'
Making sure that they did not simply get bogged down by their assailants had been paramount to this mission. And… if things were to proceed as they have till now, there was a really high chance of her making it out of this dangerous situation alive. As for her brother, she was not too worried about him if she were to be honest about it. They were twins, after all.
In the supernatural world, having the status of twins meant that the two of them were linked to each other in mind and body in such a way that it went beyond any logic that could contain this world in the realms of reality.
Thanks to this bond of theirs, she could feel the general position of her brother no matter where he was and could acquire a rough estimation of his current situation at all times.
She knew that he was alive and honestly, that was all that mattered to them. As long as they were alive… Even on the off chance that he was about to get captured, Moriarty had given them a list of the best hunters to surrender to as those hunters would most likely not torture them or use them as hostages in the hope of getting more information out of them.
Staying alive was the goal of their mission first and foremost, and as long as they stayed alive, then everything else would work out somehow. As long as they stayed alive…
'70, 71, 72.'
At the same time, she was counting the seconds in her mind to a pinpoint precision. No disturbance, no distractions, no stops. If she made an error of even a single second, then this would truly be the end for her. Though, in a way, it was already a miracle that she could still stand or should she say as expected of their almighty script writer?
This entire plan was made with great attention to detail as was the habit of Moriarty, being meticulous was his work ethic. However, the only reason he went out of his way to make such a complicated plan was, other than his meticulous nature, primarily because he knew that they could succeed if they just followed his instructions perfectly. ƒгeewёbnovel.com
And… as much as she gave flack to that bastard, she was not about to let him down.
'110.'
She thought and counted while standing straight as a ramrod. Barely two minutes of rest was not enough for her to recuperate her Prana reserves to optimum levels, let's not even talk about complete recovery, but it was enough for her shadow to erase all traces of blood and other residues she might have left on her way.
After taking a deep breath, her shadow started to move and coiled around her body like a boa constrictor before finally fusing inside her. Her form changed instantly. Her hair went from midnight black to earthy brown, her body grew taller and her wounds vanished as though they never existed in the first place.
Her skinsuit was replaced by a short red skirt and a sexy red top that framed her modest breasts and emphasized seductiveness. All of her features became more distinct and mature, giving the impression that she was a few years older than she had been previously.
When she closed her eyes and opened them again, they took the color of the ordinary brown that could be found in any ordinary person. She was a seductive beauty, but none of her otherworldliness could be sensed any longer.
In just the space of a few seconds, a wounded, bleeding, and tired fugitive was replaced by a sensual woman with the looks of your average hooker working on the shady alleyways… ready to romp a new customer on a moment's notice.
She grimaced at how tacky her clothes had become and it wasn't as if her wounds had truly disappeared as though nothing happened. But this disguise would do for now.
This was a very high-level illusion made by using the power of shadows and she was sure that even an ordinary Executor would have a hard time seeing through her illusion techniques unless they were directly confronting her with suspicion in their mind.
When she stepped outside the street and started approaching the more animated parts of La Bastille, she felt like she was entering a whole new world. Loud noises, people of all ages, carefree university students who had nothing better to do than waste their time away in these shady and party-heavy places… squandering away their youth and lives without doing anything meaningful.
She had always been envious of such freedom and soon she would be able to earn hers as well.
'Focus.'
She grinned and avoided the men who came talking to her and walked toward one specific nightclub. Which, as ironic as it was at the current moment for her, was called the Panic Room.
'Whoever came with this name is truly a weirdo amongst all weirdos.'
This so-called Panic Room was one of the biggest and most popular nightclubs in all of Bastille and this was also the next stop of their overarching complicated plan.
'Moriarty should have already started his move by now.'
A magician always had a trick under their sleeves and the most important thing in the realm of magic was misdirection. Using his two loyal lackeys as baits was not strange for a criminal overlord. She simply hoped that he would finally be able to realize his wish and obtain what he desired. That way… they will finally have freedom.
"Hello miss, wishing you a great night."
She nodded absentmindedly and muttered a small thanks while leaving a crumbled 10 euro bill in his hand as she was ushered into the club. Entering a club was never much of a problem for a woman as long as she had the right clothes and the right face for it.
She ignored the tremor that she felt as she exchanged the money with the bouncer guarding the door. He would know what he needed to do.
What she needed to do now, was simply to wait.
At least that was her initial expectation as she took a seat in a small reserved private booth,
"Hi!"
She did not even bother looking up, "This place is reserved, sorry."
"Heh. I see. I guess, for the shadow twins, reserving such a place is nothing but you know… It's quite rude to not look at people when they are talking to you."
She felt herself go rigid as a young man sat next to her and put his arms around her shoulders. As if that wasn't enough already, another young girl holding a sheathed weapon sat on her other side. From the way no one was reacting, it was clear that this was not a normal weapon but a magic weapon that the veil shielded. Again, it made her understand the nature of the people surrounding her.
'Shit… I—' She was ready to bolt but she had the sensation that her entire body had been restrained by a colossal force. As if hundreds of chains were coiling around her and stopping her entirely from moving. It was both ethereal and real, real and illusory. She couldn't see it, couldn't touch it, couldn't even sense it. Just feel it.
"Now now. Dear lady. Why the hurry? I believe we have many interesting things to talk about."
The young man chuckled to himself, causing her to growl like a savage beast, "Who are you?" She did not expect to receive a name. She was just trying to stall for time and look for a way out.
"Me? Well, I have many names but you? You can call me the Red Magician. At your service, my lady."
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