In the end, she was like all others, and he’d take pleasure in making her his prey.

Before she even had time to react, he drove his crutch into the ground to finish breaking the part of the roof she was standing on, the part she weakened through her own recklessness.

Without any idea on how to deal with this situation, she could only look in a mixture of horror and amazement at the individual above her. Despite the mask, she could picture his eyes, and how their emptiness betrayed a real bitterness against her. 

“I hate how people like you give us a bad name.”

Her fall came to a halt when she felt sharp objects piercing through her skin.

Maurice joined Benjamin and looked in horror at the scene before them. The monstrous Fighter that had just been terrorizing him a few moments ago was now resting in a pool of her own blood after being impaled into the trap they had set up. Benjamin turned towards him: “See? We’re all humans at the end of the day.”

“It’s… only a question of preparation?”

Benjamin nodded before looking back at the jittering body downstairs. “Grab the toolbox. I’ll make sure she stays alive.” His smile disappeared once more just like his body. In an instant, he was at the bottom of the building. Really, it only came down to a bit of careful navigation. His damaged leg would not hurt him if he avoided putting pressure on it.

Maurice could only concede that, despite his age and injury, M’sieur Hosmer still got it. He really was a fool for doubting him.

Regrets be damned!

There was no time to waste. After all, the rumbling probably alerted a few people and their work was far from over. Maurice approached the bag of tools at the edge of the rooftop: “Guns… not necessary right now. Uh… The drone! Right. This should be it for now. Hopefully…”

Despite his nervous ramblings, he proved himself quite capable. He flew into Bonnie’s apartment without any trouble with the recording device. “Putain,” hurled Maurice at the view from the inside, “Poor sod.”

A proof. That’s all the deceased man became once the drone caught a good enough image of his mutilated corpse in the workshop. They needed some since their client wanted to see the killer rot in jail so they gathered it. “This sight will be a common occurrence, isn’t it,” mused Maurice while he tried his best to brace himself, “Better get used to it, I suppose.”

He supposed but really he hoped to be proven wrong in the following contracts. This was enough violence to last a lifetime. Moreover, this was not it! The client wanted that monster to be humiliated all the while wording a threat to all of the other Saints. Interacting with his first client made the rookie realize just how a grieving mother’s ruthlessness was stronger than even the pure blooded rage of a-

“Berserker?!”

Benjamin did not mean to sound so outwardly surprised but this was quite the sight. Despite her multiple injuries that should have paralyzed any C-rank Fighter, and not kill her as per the instructions, Bonnie was visibly starting to heal and move out of the trap. 

So she was subconsciously snapping his bones back in place, thought Benjamin, I hate being right. He growled at the monster before him: “Be a dear and just make this easy for us, missy.” He tried to push her head back into the spike using his crutch. The plan was to stay out of her reach. 

Unfortunately, in his precipitation Benjamin miscalculated something: “For a smart fella, you’re quite short-sighted,” laughed Bonnie as she caught the stick, “Did you forget your arm was attached to it?”

In that moment, whatever quip he could retort did not really matter. With one fling of her wrist, she sent the crutch alongside its owner into a nearby wall. Benjamin found himself having another coughing fit due to the sheer force of the impact. His old wounds were reopening themselves.

Bonnie sighed: “You want my own two cents? I think it doesn’t matter if I’m predictable or not. You’re too weak to do anything against me.”

Her skin reddening already looked like trouble. Her power warping the air around her into something unbreathable was on another level.

Oh dear, this was quite the troublesome situation. 

Berserkers were the rarest variant of Fighters and its most dangerous. Trading sanity for power and a healing factor... Benjamin could not help but think this was a terrible deal. Even worse if the person in question had no morals.

Thankfully, I beat her in combat experience. I’ll crush her strength and her delusions.

Having regained his composure, Benjamin delicately put his crutch away. His balance was now off, but he had both of his arms free: “Cry! Scream! You could not get me to do this but I will! I will make sure this contract of yours is never completed!” yelled Bonnie Soules before lunging at him.

Despite his still leg and their power difference, Benjamin effortlessly deflected her first few strikes until he could find an opening. “I admit. I underestimated you.”

“Then surrender! I will be merciful!” A confident boast that she soon came to regret when she realized that he grabbed her arm… again.

Without any hesitation, he broke it, not perturbed in the least by the sound or the horrified yell of his opponent. “See why you do not sell someone short? With slightly more strength I already made you cry in agony.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Her arm only stayed dislocated for a few seconds before she put it back in place, “You’ll give out eventually. They always do.”

That last comment sounded more like the mad ramblings of an egomaniac than a real threat. “What a feat, missy. You overcompensate for your incompetence with a healing factor. Would you like some applause?”

“The sounds of your bones breaking will be enough!” Sheesh. How childish. Benjamin was the face of Saints who could not get access to healing quickly enough. Did she really think her power was enough to fight against a veteran? One that trained harder than any of those S-ranks beasts?

A telegraphed sucker punch.

Some more attempts at feigning hits.

Only their environment became a testament to her strength.

The more the fight went on, the less Bonnie could continue pretending to be a refined fighter. “Maybe if you were less of a beast and more of a skilled fighter, you’d do fine?”

“Shut up! Shut up!” gnarled Bonnie as she tried to speed up the rhythm of her attacks. 

Benjamin was impressed. Never in the history of mankind was arm-flailing this deadly. Unfortunately for her, the veteran had enough of her childish rage. “Listen, this is just embarrassing at this point.” His crude words were followed by another broken bone on her left arm, which he did not let go this time around. “You’re outmatched. Just give up.”

There was a brief moment of respite in their fight. For a fleeting second, Bonnie completely stopped fighting and moving. However, their eyes still matched each other’s. Their rage and emptiness were clashing to create a mixture of hatred and twisted enjoyment that only broken people such as themselves could understand. They were not just typical Fighters, something else was fundamentally wrong with them.

Fighters were empty thrillseekers given the power to act on their impulses.

But there was one more thing he kept from Maurice.

“I’d rather die than forfeit this opportunity.”

They were stubborn motherfuckers.

Rather than accept defeat, Bonnie ripped her arm off of Benjamin’s grasp. Blood splattered everywhere and every droplet seemed to be in sync with her deranged laughter. Her body and mind were united in the insanity which would have gotten to Benjamin too if his mind wasn’t already full with the mission.

The veteran offered no visible reaction to the grotesque antics of his opponent much to her dismay. “Well, aren’t you nonchalant?”

“Try thirty-six years on the job,” replied Benjamin before throwing her limb away, “Why should I be impressed? This battle will be over in two hits anyway.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure of that.” spat Bonnie before trying to sneak a hit into his chest.

Benjamin effortlessly blocked it, but he seemingly did not see that feral headbutt coming his way. He groaned. Tried to get his balance back, but a disgusting appendage collided against his shoulder. “You’re disgusting.”

“I don’t take kindly to being talked down upon,” laughed the madwoman while she proudly displayed the limp of growing flesh that grew from her injury, “I don’t overcompensate. I adapt. Something you can’t do with that broken leg of yours.”

 Seizing her opportunity, Bonnie clasped her arms against Benjamin’s and pushed him downward to break him. “I gotta thank you,” she mocked as she started to tower over the older man, “You taught me to be aggressive and strategic at the same time. That’s something I’ll take to my grave!”

“Always a pleasure to distill life-long lessons.”

“What?”

“Sorry M’dame, this is gonna hurt.”

Without even having the time to register what was happening, Bonnie Soules felt her body giving out. The sound of the gunshot was perceived by her ears a second too late. Her eyes wandered in the direction of that second voice. It was the handsome fella she tried to crush a few moments prior. He seemed so weak then, but now, despite his gentle words, his eyes were narrow and he had not missed. Looking back at her opponent, he was smiling… at her.

Not once had she managed to break his facade beyond the reveal of her powers.

What a disappointment. “Fuck…” She passed out before even finishing her sentence. He truly outmatched her. Her vision darkened. Wherever that wound was, it was not healing well.

“Good job, Maurice.” Benjamin took a seat next to his opponent before his apprentice gave him his crutch back. “Do not announce your presence next time though. And don’t apologize. Part of our job is to inflict pain on others.”

Despite the praise, Maurice felt conflicted. “Merde,” he whispered to himself, “Her brain is all over the floor.”

“That’s a 12 gauge for ya,” commented Benjamin with a smile, “Ever so reliable.”

“Y-You,” Maurice couldn’t find his words nor his footing so he wordlessly handed the gun to M’sieur Hosmer, “Can you…?”

Benjamin did take it while letting his apprentice hurl on the ground. “Ah, that’s always a difficult sight for a first timer.”

“I… thought the test dummies were exaggerating.”

“Classic.”

“Yeah, evidently not.”

“Don’t feel too bad though. C-rank Fighters and above are almost entirely unaffected by small calibers from conventional weaponry, and tanks are straight up immune to them. So-”

The old man cut himself off when he realized his speech was doing very little to comfort his apprentice. Instead, he put the rifle over his shoulder, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It will heal, don’t worry.”

This information jolted the apprentice upward. “But you told her-?”

“Figure of speech. I was just being hyperbolic for a one-liner,” he explained while looking at Maurice expectantly, “Because-”

“I know. Fun and comfort. I get it.”

“Attaboy!” laughed Benjamin. However, beneath the empty warmth, Maurice could sense it. Over the course of this mission, he had gotten quite good at reading his mentor’s micro-expressions, especially now that his mask was off.

By the end of the month, you better have already discarded your remorse and those moments of weakness.

No word was actually exchanged between them while they were setting up the punishment their client requested. M’sieur Hosmer didn’t need to say anything.

Maurice had already gotten the message. His mentor already invested a month of training in him, and even if that first job ended up being more brutal than expected, Maurice would only be allowed to quit the organization with a bullet to the head.

“All right,” commented Benjamin while he tied Bonnie with a rope made to restrain even a B-rank Fighter, “Do you have the evidence?”

“Yeah,” answered the apprentice before he pulled the pictures of the drone out of his pocket, “Want me to write the threats?”

Benjamin pondered the question. They were running out of time, but he was unqualified to write convincing threats or any kind of emotional message. That part of the operation was foreign to him, which he tended to do mechanically to the detriment of the client’s happiness. Maurice was still fresh and very emotional… and everybody knows an unhappy client doesn’t come back.

“Sure,” ended up deciding Benjamin before handing him a black marker and a bucket, “though don’t forget to collect some of her flesh for the mural. I’ll set up the pulley.”

Maurice grimaced but proceeded. In a strange turn of event, he found himself doing to Bonnie what she inflicted on her victims. On her skin, he wrote all of the curses the grieving mother wanted to yell at her before removing a chunk of her flesh and placing it in the bucket. Ah, his previous disgust seemed much more hypocritical now.

Maybe he felt remorse or grossed out at this kind of violence, but he was paid for it.

Some could argue it would have made him worse if she wasn’t a criminal. Moreover, he knew the business they were in, how long could he continue to pretend he was only going to hurt actual monsters?

“Why… am I in my underwear?” asked the remnants of Bonnie’s head.

“How the fuck are you even conscious right now?!” 

“I’m resilient.” Maybe her laugh would have been more amusing if it didn’t sound like air being compressed into an ocean of blood.

Maurice wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream, put her out of commission, or let his morbid curiosity take over. He knew Saints could get crazy in terms of power but a C-rank pulling this shit? He wasn’t prepared. “At this point you’re not even a Berserker, you’re straight-up immortal.”

“Hope not. That’d be the worst torture imaginable,” commented Bonnie before letting what remained of her eyes wander to her lovely killer, “I already thought you were quite handsome with that mask but you’re even more beautiful like this.”

Maurice froze at the comment. A million questions were already traveling his mind thanks to her previous statement and the fact she was even managing to stay awake but this…? He touched his face and realized in horror the mistake he made.

“Oh no. Oh no!” Despite the procedure being so clear in his head just a second ago, his entire world was starting to get blurry. “We repeated this. We repeated this! How could I be so stupid!” 

“Oh, were your masks important?”

“Of course. Of course they were!” freaked out Maurice as his entire world seemed to spiral out of control, “I messed up. I messed up so much! Merde. Merde! Merde!”

“Hey, calm down.” reassured the tied-up corpse, “I’m not gonna tell anyway. You beat me. I’m a woman of honor, you know?”

This further irritated Maurice: “Bien sûr, and now I’ll trust the words of M’dame the Serial Killer!”