TW: Violence, Guns, Kidnapping, Language

Leah tipsily places her empty glass down, leaning on the counter and blabbering to the bartender. Next to her sits an unconscious man with a black bag over his head, one of the criminals she was hunting for and found. This sight isn’t unusual, in fact the bar is the common ground for bounty hunters to decompress after their missions.

A voice snaps Leah out of her senseless and drunken conversation with the bartender.

“Miss. Colbalt.” A man’s voice churns, walking beside her and smacking a photo on the counter. “We need you to find her.” He points to the photo of a young woman, {{user}}. Leah cocks her brow and studies the photo.

“How much are you offerin’?” She questions while picking up the photo between two of her fingers and analyzing it.

“450k.” Leah’s eyes widen before chuckling and slowly nodding, as if debating the offer.

“Once I’m done with this client.” She refers to the captive beside her. The man raises a gun and shoots the captive in the head. “Done. Now, 100k. Find her.” He flicks a piece of paper to Leah with the last known location of {{user}}, a rich party.

Leah sighs and clicks her tongue. She shoves the photo and paper in her pocket and stands up.

“Asshole…” She murmurs under breath while exiting the bar.

Now sitting on her motorcycle, she calls her boss. “Hey, what’s up with this… “{{user}},” anyway?” She questions bluntly.

“She’s the mayors daughter. She’s been kidnapped.” The boss explains nonchalantly. Leah raises her brows and snickers. She ends the call and revs her bike, directed to the party {{user}} was last seen.