eyes on {fire} // malia vs calypso

She'd first heard of the funeral from a scout, breathless and panting but her face glimmering with triumph.

And even before said scout had regained her breath and launched into her tirade, you had already guessed as to what news, exactly, she had brought.

News of a gathering of Delacroixs, mixed in with a pair of representatives from the Seraphims, another gang that occupied a section of the underworld outside of the Vindicta realm of influence and, until recently, interest as well.

News of a funeral for their two members dragged away by the one enemy that no one, not even the combined forces of Vindicta, Delacroix, and everyone else could possibly hope to defeat.

News of Calypso Delacroix herself initiating the funeral procedures, lighting the spark that would envelop the body of her sister in a brilliant blaze of reds and oranges, beneath the dying light of of an eternal fire. 

Despite everything that had once transpired between them, she could not bring herself to feel joy at the news. Yes, it was a key strategical opportunity - rarely was her rival ever seen so brazenly out in the open, and so vulnerable to boot. 

But to lose one you considered a sister was a pain that was matched by little, and it was a pain that she would wish on no one. 

Not even Calypso Delacroix. 

She had dismissed the scout with perhaps a bit more harshness than usual, but politeness was the last thing running through the whirling storm of her mind at the moment. Besides, the girl was a Vindicta by choice if not by blood - she would simply shrug it off if she had even noticed.

She had sat there for perhaps fifteen minutes, lost in thought as she slowly absorbed the true weight of the scout's info. 

The leader of their biggest rival, along with the bulk of her closest confidants, was vulnerable and open to attack. If she wished it, she could have the entire place surrounded and the number of bodies in the area multiplied exponentially within the hour. 

Her father wouldn't have hesitated at such an opportunity, but whatever honor he had lacked had immersed her in full force. There was an unspoken rule of honor regarding the gangs of Nine, and attacking anyone, even bitter rivals, during a period of mourning was in clear violation of that rule. 

And the last thing Malia wanted was to be compared to her father in any way that might set them as equals. 

But even with that in mind, the logical part of her had realized that a chance like this would likely never appear again for several months. 

And, to be quite frank, she was tired of the volatile stalemate that had emerged between Vindicta and Delacroix over the past few months. 

The war between the two families was inevitable, that much was for certain. And although she would never have given the order to turn a funeral into a slaughter in a million years, she was also the leader of one of the most powerful gangs in Nine, and to not take advantage of the situation in some form would be pure folly.

That was how she found herself on the roof of an abandoned building that evening, watching from afar as the funeral played out.

She'd sent Severus with a sizable force to claim a chunk of territory that had the misfortune of lying on the border between Vindicta and Delacroix territories. She had no doubt that her second-in-command was more than capable of executing the move flawlessly.

What she hadn't told anyone, aside from Severus herself, is that the territory grab was only half of the plan. 

***

She watched as someone who could only be Calypso herself set a solitary pyre alight, igniting a new source of light in the dying sun.

She watched as a second girl, one who could only be a Seraphim, lit the second one, burning away the ashes of the fallen Delacroix and the fallen Seraphim in twin blazes of glory. 

She watched as the flames eventually died down, watched as the sun was replaced by the moon and stars, watched as the vibrant pinks and oranges faded into cooler blues and blacks. 

Only when the blaze had reduced itself to mere embers did she break her gaze. 

***

She watched from the shadows, waiting, as the small crowd began to disperse in pairs and trios, watched as the sisters of Delacroix faded into the dark of night in their quest home.

That night, she could care less about the fate of stray wolves alone in the dark, for she only had eyes for the alpha herself. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Calypso emerged. Her face was obscured by the lack of light, but she knew the girl too well to know that it was bereft of tears. 

She watched as the alpha wolf began her journey home, trailing behind two of her underlings down a road. 

She waited until her form was merely an outline against the backdrop of night before she moved. 

She trailed, staying close enough to keep her in her sights, but far enough to deflect suspicion. 

Gradually, the young wolves in front of them faded from both sight and ear. Almost subconsciously, her hand dropped to the hilt of the throwing knife hooked on her belt. 

She could have brought a gun to this inevitable knife-fight, but had ultimately decided against it. Guns were too quick, too loud, too final for such an occasion. 

No, for this fight, she wanted to take her time, saver the fear and pain drawn from a well placed knife that were disappointingly absent from a gun. 

Calypso's gait abruptly stopped, and Malia tensed. Her grip on the knife tightened, and her heart spiked. Did she...?

But instead of turning around, her target instead changed directions, ducking into a nearby alleyway. Whether it was a shortcut or a challenge was beyond Malia's knowledge, but the actions brought a hint of a smile to her face regardless.

No time like the present.

And, drawing her first knife from her belt, she quickly followed suit. 

The alleyway was illuminated by a single lamp, bathing its yellow glow across the otherwise barren pathway. The road itself extended about thirty feet inwards, before veering to the right in a ninety degree angle.

Calypso herself was almost to the corner, still blissfully ignorant of her tail.

Not so fast.

She took a deep breath, before throwing her first knife at her target.

It sunk into the wall across from her with a satisfying thunk, but not before it had whistled past Calypso's right ear with mere feet to spare.  

Just as she had intended. 

"Hello, Calypso." Her voice was strong and even-toned, powerful and projecting while simultaneously revealing little emotion. 

She stepped into the light, drawing a second knife from her belt. 

No, she would not take the easy way out and strike her in the back.

"It's been a while." She continued, almost casually. 

No, when she finally struck Calypso Delacroix down, it would be while she was staring her right in the eyes. 

She launches her second knife low, towards her arm. 

After all, it'll be harder to fight back if you can't grab anything.