Undertow | Ekko x Reader

13

"Come in." 

The familiar rasp of his voice sent a chill through you, and you paused, taking a deep, steadying breath before twisting the doorknob. The door creaked open, and you stepped inside, your eyes immediately drawn to the dimly lit figure seated behind his desk. 

Silco didn't look up. His mismatched eyes were focused on the glowing ember of the cigar between his lips, a curl of smoke rising lazily into the air. In his other hand, he held a single slip of paper, pinched between his fingers with a casual precision that made it clear the note was more important than he let on. 

"Good," he said, finally glancing up. "You're on time." 

You offered no response, closing the door behind you as you moved further into the room. Your gaze flicked to the slip of paper, then back to him. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling a thin stream of smoke as his fingers turned the paper slightly, letting it catch the dim light. 

"This," he began, holding it aloft between his fingers, "contains directions to your targets' home." 

Your brow arched instinctively. Targets, plural. That was new. 

"You're sending me after more than one person?" you asked, keeping your tone neutral despite the flicker of unease rising in your chest. 

Silco's lips curled faintly, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. He took another slow drag from the cigar before speaking. "They've made quite the effort to stage a statement against me. It's only fitting that I respond in kind." 

You shifted slightly, trying to decipher his words. He spoke with that same cool, calculated tone he always used, but something about this felt... off. You pushed the thought aside as you stepped closer to his desk, your boots muffled against the worn floor. 

Reaching out for the paper, you caught sight of his hand lingering in place, the note still held aloft between his fingers. He made no move to release it, instead studying you for a moment, his mismatched gaze as sharp and unyielding as ever. 

"It shouldn't be a hard job," he said, his voice dropping into something almost casual, almost mocking. He finally extended the paper toward you, his cigar smoldering between his lips. "You're even familiar with the area." 

Your hand froze mid-reach, your confusion flickering across your face. Familiar with the area? The words caught you off guard, and your mind raced to piece together what he could possibly mean. 

He didn't elaborate. He simply released the slip of paper into your grasp, leaning back into his chair with a languid ease that felt anything but relaxed. 

The bad feeling in your gut twisted tighter as you glanced down at the directions scrawled across the slip. Still, you nodded, tucking it into your pocket without a word. 

You left his office as quickly as you had entered, the door closing softly behind you. Outside, the empty halls of the Last Drop greeted you, the quiet unnervingly oppressive. 

A job was a job. You'd done this before. But as you made your way into the Undercity streets, the unease gnawed at you, refusing to loosen its hold. 

The directions were clear, meticulously precise as they led you through the winding alleys and narrow streets of the Undercity. You moved swiftly, the note clutched in your hand as your mind churned with unease. 

Familiar with the area. 

The words had dug into you, needling your thoughts as you turned corner after corner. Of course you were familiar with the area—you'd spent your entire life here, learning every shadowed alley, every crumbling shortcut. What could Silco possibly have meant by that?