Pretty prick.

"Unforgivable,"

A distinct silhouette ushered out from the smoke that pervaded the environment. The disgusting smell of blood and burnt flesh filled the air. From the smoke grew two balls of fire, which became the only light in the smoke filled darkness.

"I had to watch it all fall. Ashes upon ashes of everything I had held closest to my all consuming heart. They said it was my destiny, so I wish to ask, is it your destiny to die by my hand?" A hush hush delicate voice reverberated.

As the smoke began to slowly disperse from the balls of fire surrounding the area, then came into view bodies…. Burnt, ripped apart brutally. Only one man losing two legs leaned against an eyeless dead body while quivering.

As the silhouette began to become a seeable frame the man gasped. He had realized that it was in fact not two balls of floating fire both rather a pair of this person's eyes. This person…. This person had fire for eyeballs.

A shadow smirk appeared on the frame's face. Just as the person was about to raise hand filled with bloody vicious claws the sound screeching distracted the person.

A pair of fire for eyes shot back, and another vicious shadow appeared in front. The person shouted at the top of their lungs.

"Shoūhân!" The person shouted upon seeing the much scarier shadow before them.…..

Blue eyes flashed upon as she managed to awaken from her reverie. "No!" She screamed, the bed she was in suddenly raising mid-air and slamming against the wall.

Her chest rose and fell, while her blue eyes searched for signs of either the Shadow with fire for eyes or the other one who was more vicious.

Noticing that she was not in a blood-filled warfield but instead the cheap rent-room she had rented from one disgustingly perverted old bar owner. The bar was situated in one of the worst places in Overwatch. Places like that were referred to as….. Slums. She was in a slum.

Remembering her night activity, and that she was in fact in this disgusting place she finally calmed, inhaling the gut retching smell of semen, cigarettes…. And possibly the odour from previous dirty pig-like persons.

In summary, the room smelled like a whorehouse.

As she managed to calm down her bed which was previously slapped against the thin wall fell safely back on the ground.

Her eyes glanced at the cracked window, patched by slapping newspapers on it. As a former resident of Vie town, the hometown of farmers, she knew at an instance when she looked that it was already dawn.

She sighed, although the fear of returning into such a sinister nightmare alarmed her but she could not control her dropping lids…..

Knock! Knock! "What? Huh!" The sudden banging against her door, jolted her back awake. She panicked once more before calming herself.

She looked towards the door, getting up from her bed and stalking towards it. Elizabeth acted smart and leaned her ear against the door.

"Who is it?" She asked loud enough for whoever was behind the door to hear.

"Madam, I am Calista, I have a message from Mr. Thompson for you."

Elizabeth did not know who this Calista was, but she knew well Mr. Thompson. This was the lowlife pervert bar owner who also owned the room she rested in.

Elizabeth nodded, even though she knew the person could not see her. "What kind of message is it?" She asked.

"I am unaware Madam…. It is written on paper. I think it is a letter." The female voice replied.

Elizabeth breathed out. "Okay, thank you, please slip it into my room through the end of the door." Elizabeth flashed her usual smile, still knowing the person was unable to see her.

A few seconds later what indeed looked like a letter was slipped into her room. Her eyebrows pulled together into a frown when she bent over to pick up the letter.

She peeled open the envelope, and brought out a piece of fine paper with certain words on it. It read—

Be at the Mourk forest at the edge of Dead man's land before daybreak's.

Mr. F

This was the first time Elizabeth was encountering a situation like this. This was her first time in Overwatch Capital City, and she had kept a low profile since her arrival so very few people were already aware of her arrival.

That being The Chief Faustus and then one Oliviér Lé Fóix. Elizabeth quickly matched the last name with the letter 'F'. Considering the man's strange actions yesterday, Elizabeth did not put it past him to send this type of ridiculous letter.

As Elizabeth thought more of it she believed it to be true. She sighed, this was really ridiculous. She had just gotten the job and now she must go on to gallivant in the infamous Mourk forest so early in the day.

Thinking back at her meeting with Oliviér, she agreed to the thought in her head that the man was a prick, albeit a pretty one. He was a pretty prick.

Luckily, Elizabeth was naturally optimistic, and quickly rushed to collect herself for the day.

…..

In what was the darkness of the start of the day a man held a small stick with its arse on fire close to his mouth. He released a smoke filled breath while staring at the corpses in front of him that had gone cold.

He was wearing a white print shirt, with a black waistcoat, coupled with a large thick overcoat and a perfectly knotted tie on his neck. His trousers were finely pressed, and boots obviously cleaned to perfection.

As he sensed the presence of a blue-eyed girl from behind he glanced over his shoulder, pulling out a simple looking silver pocket watch and his eyes flickered onto it.

"You're late." He said, cold air escorting his breath out of his mouth.

He eyed the blue-eyed girl with his eyes. Flitting from her roughly washed familiar boots, loosely fitted breeches, brown dressing, and a hip length coat much more than her size. Her pink hair was brushed yet looked somehow unruly laying on her delicate face.

The skin on his forehead scrunched softly at the sight. "You look horrendous." He said softly with his usual gravel voice.

Elizabeth sighed at his words, yet lips curled up into a tender smile.

Well good morning to you too, Oliviér Fóix.

"I should have you flogged for arriving two minutes after time." He said the words so seriously that Elizabeth's smile quickly fell.

He was joking right?

He threw the cigarette on the ground, and crushed it with his feet. He began walking forward, not even minding the bodies around him.

"Do not touch the bodies, you might cause difficulties for the team tasked with the sensitive details. Careful with your steps, I've noticed you walk like a fucking drugged hyena."

The tongue lashing against her began so quickly she was dumbfounded. Someone so handsome and reputable but somehow his tongue was this terrible? Did he have something against her already or was this his everyday attitude?

"I presume you have heard of the butcher– Bleach?" He asked, still looking at the bodies around him.

She nodded. "Yes, but I do not have insider infor–"

"You look…." He glanced at her again, the creases on his forehead deepening. "Not stupid, so the information you have should serve you well for now."

"That–" she bit her tongue when she saw him raise an eyebrow. This man was like a wall. "Nothing sir."

He took his golden-red eyes away from her and continued speaking. "They were slain ruthlessly. From what I can tell some with a sword and some with claws. This thing must be–"

He suddenly stopped speaking. His dark eyebrows slowly knitted together into a tight furrow before settling. He sniffed the air, reminding Elizabeth this man was a literal wolf in human clothing.

His expression settled into the usual bored one permanently on his face. He turned towards Elizabeth. "Half breed," she felt the need to straighten her posture from his strict tone. "Luckily enough for you today, you will learn a new lesson, we shall call it– Keep the naughty pup away."

She appeared confused by his words but he simply smiled, a sickeningly sweet smile that made her flinch. She knew that Werewolves were scary but he was truly extreme.

"Good morning, Oliviér." A much deeper voice greeted him.

She flinched again. Did she not just say Oliviér's scariness was extreme? Why was this new character giving her a similar feeling to Oliviér?

She for some reason did not want to turn to see this newcomer.

Oliviér, curse the man had different plans apparently. "Ah, top of the morning to you, exalted divine paladin, have you met my new assistant?"

His words, especially the honorifics were dripping with so much sarcasm that Elizabeth feared it might soak her clothes.

But that fear was nothing compared to when the newcomer turned to face Oliviér, indirectly facing her.

Oh no.