8am: Senneca woke up at the safehouse in Orggrimar, and tried to shake the groggy haze of sleep from her eyes. She dressed herself, and poured a strong cup of tea as she skimmed the latest headlines in the Redwood Times. Her mind was occupied by the various business ventures and schemes that were in play that morning, and she needed to make the ship back to Booty Bay from Ratchet if she was going to be on time for the first meeting of the day. She left the safehouse, climbed into her goblin turbo-trike, and sped down the familiar roads out of the city.
She rumbled past the Wyvern’s Tail, where she had shared so many drinks with friends. She didn’t even give Gravy a second thought as he stood his eternal vigil behind the bar she and her rowdy friends had trashed after many nights of excessive drinking and socializing. She passed the Auction House and Hall of Honor, where various citizens of the horde were busy plying their wares, and jostling for the highest bid, and cruised out the main gates of the city.
8:30am: Senneca took a deep breath of the fresh air of the open road. Her trike sped down the dirt road leading to Ratchet, and her hair whipped freely in the warm air of Durotar. The sunshine warmed her face, and she felt relaxed as she anticipated the various tasks she had for the day.
9am: Suddenly, as Senneca crested the hill, she saw two male goblins with their vehicle broke down and blocking the road in front of her. She began to slow down, but something didn’t feel quite right. As her trike slowed, she noticed two vehicles in her rearview mirror pulling onto the road behind her. At the same time, she saw the silhouettes of several armed figures skylighted on the crest of the hill to her left. Senneca felt an acidic burning in her gut as she realized what was happening. She was being ambushed.
Senneca cranked the wheel of her trike hard to the right as the two goblins in the road pulled automatic rifles from under their coats and opened fire. Senneca could hear bullets impacting her trike, and the ground around her as the vehicle careened off the road and into a ditch. She felt the “thwack” of a projectile slam into her left shoulder and another impact her left abdomen, but the adrenaline was already pumping through her veins and she shrugged off the burning ache of pain that was beginning to set in.
Gritting her teeth, she rolled out of her crashed trike, and the hiss of bullets flew through the air and popped and pinged into the dirt and metal all around her. Her left arm seemed heavy, as if it was weighed down, but she managed to free her tommy gun from it’s brace on the back of her vehicle, and racked back the charging handle. Senneca took cover behind the vehicle and began spraying rounds at her assailants on the road and charging down the hill. There appeared to be at least 7 of them, and Senneca’s left arm was beginning to droop uselessly as the effects of muscle trauma and blood loss set in, causing her aim to jump wildly around her targets. Despite this she was able to hit at least 2 of her assailants, but felt the sickening pop of another bullet tearing through her right shoulder.
Senneca dropped down behind the safety of her bullet riddled vehicle. The pain was beginning to cut through the adrenaline and green blood soaked her white blouse. Senneca desperately cried out in pain and anger and attempted to load a fresh magazine into her submachinegun. Her vision was beginning to blur, she was lightheaded and nauseous from blood loss and the creeping effects of shock. Her hand trembled as she desperately tried to jam the magazine into the chamber, finally finding the alignment and clicking the magazine into the slot.
She was too weak to lift herself over the edge of the trike. She could hear voices coordinating tactical instructions growing nearer as she tried to shake the ringing from her spinning head and just try to focus. The sun beat down on her and she heard footsteps approaching. “This can’t be how it ends”, Senneca thought to herself. There was so much more she had left to do. All her hard work and everything she had done, slowly spilling out of her into the dirt of a ditch by the side of the road in Durotar.
Suddenly, a goblin came into view from around the wreckage of the vehicle, and Senneca summoned the strength to whip the barrel of her gun around and riddled the assassin with a hail of bullets. His limp body crumpled into the dust and she head the other voices calling out instructions she couldn’t make out over the ringing in her ears.
Her heartbeat was filling her head, her vision was becoming a tunnel. Senneca was aware of a shadow standing over her. With the last of her failing strength, she lifted the barrel of her gun and squeezed the trigger, but the gun clicked uselessly. She was out of ammo. The shadow said something, and kicked the gun out of her hands. There was a flash as a barrage of over 30 bullets tore through the small body of the goblin Trade Princess at point blank range.
Senneca’s head slumped lifelessly to her chest, her crumpled, bullet riddled body propped up against the wreckage of her vehicle. The assassins gathered their dead, and their vehicles kicked up a small dust cloud as they tore off down the dirt road away from the crime scene. The tiny goblin was left alone, her green blood soaking the parched earth of Durotar, her auburn bangs matted to her forehead. She could no longer feel the gentle breeze that carried away the lingering smell of gunpowder and reclaimed the now quiet air. Her business was finally finished.