3rd Person POV

Shock was painted clearly on her face as she opened the door leading to the office. She never expected this. She expected they were neck to neck, fighting or either he was in trouble- but not this.

Lined up horizontally on the table were bottle of jacks at least five meters away from Giovanni and Frances. All empty but the smell of alcohol is flooding to her senses. They were playing a good game of shoot the bottle of jacks with a childlike "I'm gonna win" face.

With an assault rifle.

"Do you really think you can beat me?" BANG. Bull's eye. "I've had a lot of practice with the gang raid last week." BANG. Another bottle of jack shattered into millions of pieces. "How do you suppose to pay me if you lose-"

"Just shut the f*ck up and just f*cking play Francesco! If I win- I know Carlos' location, got it?" Giovanni was kneeling behind a chair, positioned with an assault rifle on his knee. He aimed at the bottle of jacks on the far end of the table. It was about ten meters away. For her, this was just a walk in the park. She doesn't know about him though. He looked like he was struggling to even carry the damn thing. Who shoots bottles with an assault rifle anyway? A plain rifle would have done just fine.

BANG. BANG BANG. BANG..... BANG. Shards of glass were flying from time to time and those two were still idiotically "playing". She would occasionally move her head mere inches from a flying shard or reflect it with her sheathed sword, casually grunting every now and then. She had noticed though, that little scratches and wound covered Giovanni's body. But what made her confused was Frances' didn't even have a single scratch.

It only added to her growing theory.

Minutes past and the game was over. Finally, she thought. Only pieces of the polished floors remained both from shards of glass that covered it and the damages it took from the stray bullets. Giovanni won by a single point. Apparently, he cheated by screaming when Frances was finally taking his turn to shoot the last three bottles, which in turn made him lose concentration, hitting the wall beside the bottles instead of the remaining bottle of jacks. She saw everything and managed to slip a small smile at the whole scene.

They started walking back to where the men were a while ago when Frances had opened his big mouth.

"You play dirty my friend. But I will let this pass if- and only if-" he switched his gaze to her "I get to spend the night with the lady, if you know what I mean-"

Without a second to pass, Giovanni's fist landed square in Frances's jaw, his face one of pure fury. If looks could kill, Frances would be lying face-first on the floor right know, stiff cold and dead.

Frances was shocked to say the least. His lip was busted. He never expected Giovanni to actually crack. He always tried but what made the difference now?

Her?

He snickered at the thought. He finally had something against him. Ah the legendary numero uno~ Someone valuable enough that he'll risk losing his somewhat of a friendship with him.

Someone like her.

This was all too good.

A human and a demon.

Oh yes. He knew it from the moment he set his eyes on her. It was  her. It would be stupid for him not to know her.

Soon enough several men came rushing to the door, weapons in hand. Obviously, they know the difference between a good, sportsmanship noise, from a shout of pure rage and fighting. Noticing the latter.

Frances dusted his suit and dress pants, stood up and motioned to his men.

"Sorry but, I don't take it lightly when people bust my face up." he said calmly, his face hinting no trace of emotion. "However, I'll let you play with my boys here, see how you enjoy their company, but I'm sure you'll handle yourself well la mia bella~" he said turning to her, then he turned a mocking smile at Giovanni and waved " Addio amico mio~"

They all took off from their places and charged head on with their guns and bars in hand towards them.

"Well sh*t, Giovanni." she heartily snickered "Look at what you've done"

Giovanni backed away the moment he punched France's face, shocked at what he had done himself. What have I done? His gaze landed on the man that calls himself his friend; on a casual pace to leave the rundown establishment they call a warehouse. Before turning a corner and vanishing completely off sight.

Why did he do it? What made him crack this time?

Maybe because he was pissed at the fact that he couldn't have won without cheating? He knew that. Frances was devastatingly and unbelievably good at shooting. It may also be the fact that he pissed him off more times than he can count? Yeah, he always seems to get to his nerves every time he flashes that smirk of his.

Or maybe,

Because of her.

She brought out the worst in him. Just thinking about her in another man's arms had caused him to vibrate with so much anger it scared him until finally, eventually, his patience cracked. How can he care so much for a woman who he hasn't even known for more than a day? He looked at his hands and pondered on the same question.

Why not? He smiled mentally.

Because, she's going to kill you, answered his subconscious.

He didn't notice the loud, heavy footsteps of thick, leather boots that marched towards them, until a man was pointing a gun directly at his face. He was still idiotically stuck on his own little world, a sloshing sound barely audible in his hearing range.

"End of the line bub-" the large man pointing the gun grumbled out. His breath brushing his face, smelling like that of decay and cigarettes.

With little time to react, he snapped out of his thoughts and punched the man in its stomach. It recoiled in pain and the gun fired, missing his stomach by a few inches. He inhaled deeply and breathed out; the man was still struggling to stand up-right. He took this as a chance and connected the man's face to his knee, grabbing its head for impact.

The man was unconscious.

That was close. Too close.

Speaking of the devil, where was she? I thought she was supposed to protect me?

He transferred his attention from the man he had rendered unconscious to his surroundings. His gaze travelled to find several bodies on the floor, and a falling one just in front of him. A sword was pierced from the front of the man, evidently protruding the other end of the sword from its back. The whole basement floor that was once somewhat of a dirty cream in color, was now a crimson red. And behind the body severed from a brutal attack, revealed a cloaked figure in quick motion, belonging to none other than -

"Freid" He mumbled. He couldn't believe his own eyes.

Her head was hidden from view as her gaze was fixated on the crimson floor of the worn-down warehouse. Splashes of red decorated every inch of the place as light had finally seeped in with the morning rays. Her sword was slowly being taken out of the corpse's body. It made a guttural sound as more flesh tore at the process. She tilted her head upwards, connecting her gaze with his meters away, with the sea of corpses keeping them apart. She wore a complete, monotone expression as her sword was now completely corpse free. Very slowly, the corners of her lips tilted upwards and created a bone-chilling smile.

Who was this woman?

This side of her, if not new, was troubling to him. To say he was scared was an understatement.

It disgusted him.

That smile of hers was nothing like the smile she wore for the first time they met, the smile that radiated warmth and seduction. It was nothing like the cold, crazed one she's wearing right now. How could she kill with no remorse? Even for a moment, he thought he was wrong, that this woman was no demon. That something good was inside of her. But he was wrong. God, he was so wrong!

She even managed to smile through the evident smell of dead bodies in the air.

It was making him sick. So sick that he struggled to keep the bile from rising up in his throat. He was frustrated with her, and mostly with himself.

He was a f*cking idiot.

He almost forgot what she truly was.

He had never seen so much death in all his life. It was revolting.

She wiped the blood off her blade on the dead man's suit. Her eyes were partially hidden but a smile was still plastered on. She made her way towards him in slow, elegant strides- careful not to slip on the bloody scene.

"What the f*ck Freid!?!?" he shouted with evident demand. "What the actual f*ck"

She understood it as clear as day. "My job G." she simply answered. A few meters separated her from him. His eyes darted to the blade she was holding, bits of blood was still evident on the sword.

"I never told you to f*cking conduct a massacre!" he shouted frustrated.

"You didn't have to." She replied.

This is useless. She's just a cold-hearted b*tch. His mind shouted. Get away from there.

"What the f*ck... You- You f*cking monster...." His voice reducing to a whisper.

Her body went rigid for a while, but regained composure.

Then as it sank in, she chuckled menacingly. Although she was shocked that it hurt her, it doesn't mean she should show it. But it did.

It freaking hurts and she doesn't know why.

"Tell me something I don't know" the sound of her heels were the only sound heard in the spacious room as she turned and walked away, a constricting pain in her chest continuously growing.

She paused at the entrance, "I protected you like I said I would, and I never break my word. You're no exception." then in a blink of the eye, she vanished completely off sight. He was left to face the scene in front of him alone. He thought he saw a flicker of guilt in those red eyes. He hoped that there might still be a piece of humanity left inside that cold, life-less heart.

He regretted the guilt gnawing at him when he called her a monster. He didn't mean to call her that at all. It was all the effects of the past events.

It frustrated him.

She had a bad process for doing things. But a somewhat of a good reason for doing so. She did promise to keep him safe, he just didn't think she can. What she did was even affecting his reasoning it scared him.

A lot of things did.

He finally left the building. He checked each and every one of the bodies on the way out and cringed ever so slightly when one was sliced too severely. Its gut wrenched open like a sack of potatoes for thanksgiving.

He let out a breath. Not one of them was Francesco's. How he managed to escape, remains a mystery. Besides the fact that he drove him mad all the time, he never really knew anything about the man. He just knew there was something off about him, but he can't quite put his finger on it.

He sighed. It's been a long day. He checked his wrist-watch. It was thirty minutes past 4 p.m.

The cops would probably arrive soon from all those noise they made and he didn't want to be left here standing in this mass of corpses. He knew better than to stay standing here and get blamed for this mess.

He wasn't stupid.

He wouldn't want to get imprisoned for years, or months if he's lucky, for the crimes he did not commit. Miraculously not a strain of blood got in his clothing as he walked all the way home. He was cautious, being careful to slip out of the scene undetected. He burned the warehouse down afterwards as a precautionary measure. He finished just as the fire department and the police arrived minutes after.

The trouble that woman caused him. Now he will never know Carlos' location!

He grunted subconsciously. Carlos was the only lead he had with his brother. Now that this happened, he has to start from scratch once again.

He walked all the way back to his house.

The house was not actually bought. It was a gift from Harold- a friend who died during his service in war in Porrocco, Mhuaygnon. Having no family relatives left after years of working and saving, it was given to him upon the will and testament of his deceased friend. And who was he to say no?

It was Harold's dying wish and it wasn't really something you can just say no to. Besides, the place was f*cking huge!

Upon the ding  of the elevator doors opening, he entered through the front doors, and locked it afterwards. He slumped in front of the door, still in shock. He brought his calloused hands to his face and wiped it down, exasperated with the past scene.

So much blood... Too many corpses...

He heard footsteps nearby.

"You okay there G?" an angelic voice hummed. So contradictory, he thought.

Freid.

He refused to face her, afraid all sense of right in him would vanish if he saw just a glimpse of her beautiful face.

Monster, his mind whispered.

He just looked at her but refused to answer. He continued to walk up the stairs, to his bedroom without uttering a single word. He stripped naked and continued to step inside the bathroom stall for a steaming shower.

To keep his mind off things.

He turned the shower faucet; warm water met his trembling body as the images replayed over his mind. Images of cold, lifeless bodies on a heap on the floor.

Damn.

He heard faint footsteps inside his room then it vanished. He felt the door to the bathroom slowly opening and a presence inside there with him. He looked for something to grab as a weapon but he couldn't. The best he could probably find was a scrubbing brush at the far end of the shower stall, but he couldn't really clean the intruder to death. He quickly opened the curtains but surprisingly, no one was even there. The door wasn't even opened.

Was he just imagining?

He continued to take his shower light headed. He was going insane.

He can't take those scenes off his head. It kept replaying over and over. He went out of the shower after being there for more than an hour or two. He quickly dressed and proceeded to bed. He didn't bother to turn off the bedside lamp standing on his nightstand.

Speaking of the devil, where is she? Surely she must be watching, right? Lurking in the dark shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to claim his soul.

Then it finally sunk in.

It was staring him directly at the face and yet he refused to believe it!

She didn't care about the welfare others, and he was no exception. She only cared about getting what she wants, and sadly what she wants is his soul.

He positioned himself unto the bed and slipped in-between the covers, then laid his head on the soft pull to dreamland. He pulled the blankets once he was inside. He wondered about many things but he was mostly confused at the majority of the situations but he was not to complain. After all that he'd been through and done, this was still nothing compared to it.

His head floated and his eyelids drooped, he was getting heavy with sleep. No sooner he fell asleep. Last thoughts directed towards her.

The devil that was Freid.

"Mine" he mumbled subconsciously, before falling, completely and utterly unconscious, drunk with sleep.