The five Red Blood Raiders crept closer their rifles raised, eyes scanning the shadowed storefronts around them for threats, unaware they were already within Raven’s trap. Raven stood still, her hand on Alara’s shoulder, fingers brushing against the side of neck intimately. But her eyes were locked forward, studying the five men as they emerged fully into her view.
The one in front wore a worn, blood-colored trench coat with a fur-lined collar and mismatched boots. His AK-47 was held steady, but even from this distance Raven could see the rust around the barrel. She’d seen better quality guns at garbage dumps. The four behind him had their own mix of hand guns, machetes, and cheap-looking shotguns, all dyed red in what they thought was an intimidating color. To Raven, it looked stupid.
She said nothing as they halted in front of her. Alara, standing at her side, looked at the ceiling with her red eyes, perfectly still, as if this encounter wasn’t even happening.
The lead Raider tilted his head and let his gaze crawl across Raven’s body, lingering on her exposed stomach and long legs. His expression turned lascivious as he said with mock charm, "Well, well, well... what do we have here? Two little girls all alone in a zombie infested mall. Looks like you’re unarmed, too. How about we take you back to our outpost? You will be safe with us. We have plenty of food, and we will provide protection… as we have plenty of fun."
Raven didn't blink. She just stared at them, her lips, forming a polite smile that never reached her eyes. The insult wasn’t in his words—it was in his assumption.
She tilted her head. "You’re with the Red Blood Raiders, aren’t you? I’ve heard the stories. I have to ask though, where did you get all the red clothing? Seems excessive for a bunch of raiders."
One of the men behind their leader, a wiry one with sunken cheeks and a toothpick in his mouth, chuckled and said, "You’d never guess. Our boss had a whole warehouse full of this shit—"
The leader in the red coat Derrick Jones snapped his head back with a glare. "Shut up," he growled, before switching tones. "What he meant was, we dyed these in the blood of our enemies. A symbol. A warning to all who dare to oppose The Red Blood Raiders."
Derrick puffed his chest out and nodded at his own words, pleased with their delivery.
Raven raised her eyebrows slightly. "That’s was very theatrical. Did you rehearse that speech, or is it off the cuff?"
Derrick ignored the sarcasm and motioned to her again. "So what do you say? You and your quiet little friend there want to come back with us? We’ve got a warm fire and a warm bed—"
"Is Adam Carter at your outpost?" Raven interrupted him and asked casually.
The question landed with a dull thud on his head. Derrick answered instinctively, caught off guard. "The big boss? Hell no. He’s back at HQ—the old New York Public Library."
The silence that followed stretched too long. Then Derrick blinked, realizing the information he just gave away.
His eyes narrowed. "Wait. Who are you?"
Raven’s response was quiet. "The person who’s going to kill you. Goodbye."
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