The three towers of translucent, multi-colored chips swayed slightly as the Japanese man edged them to the middle of the table. “I think I’ll raise another two hundred.” His voice was calm, with an allusion of an accent. His tone and the smile across his lips suggested one of two things: he was enjoying the game, and confident, or he was going to lose. For Dante Lamoroch, this smile was easy to recognize. He was wearing it himself.
The game was a seven-card stud, and Dante was playing it like he had all night. Smirking from ear to ear and rarely pulling his eyes away from the table. He enjoyed the game, gambling was fun to him not because money was on the line – he had enough of that, and was decent enough at it to rarely have to pay debts – but the game itself was entertaining and different with every person who sat down at his table, all hoping the gods of fortune were on their side.
For the other three at the table, their hope was for naught. The jade eyed English woman, a rather husky Nigerian man, and an Australian who played the best of everyone there, had all been let down by their hands, folding as the game went on. All that was left was the young Japanese man, who continued to share the secure, all or nothing grin with Dante.
The dealer was a lithe woman with a thing for staring, something which Dante tried to ignore, but didn’t take to so kindly. She slowly turned to the young blonde male, who was watching the chips. Her eyes focused on him intensely, though not meaning to be impolite. From a distance, she seemed rather normal, but there was something eerie to her, aside from the habitual glaring. Upon close inspection, something about her could be noticed: chimera genes; most likely those of a hawk, which was fitting.
Fitting, but still annoying. If it had been anymore persistent, it’d have made him noticeably anxious, which wasn’t what he wanted at the turning point of a card game. The high rollers’ table was his playground. Someone making him nervous before going down the slide was someone better off not there.
She looked away, much to the comfort of Dante, looking at the Japanese man who seemed to be rather comfortable with his hand. Rather wasn’t good enough, though. The mix breed dealer spoke. “Show your cards, gentlemen.”
The Japanese man calmly laid out his cards, seeming quite alleviated. The three kings were sprawled out proudly. “Arthur, Gawaine, and Lancelot. Don’t feel bad, Lady Luck doesn’t pick favorites.” He smiled and reached for the pot. It was almost enough to make Dante’s smile fade.
He showed his cards, fixing his tie and looking across the table blankly. Five diamonds. “Lady Guinevere hasn’t abandoned me just yet. Diamond Flush.” And in an instant, the expression on the man opposite him had faded into a dull, apathetic glare. The onlookers shook their heads, impressed by the display, and trying their hardest to mask bewilderment at the young man’s fortune.
Dante Lamoroch closed his eyes and grinned casually to himself. The immense, blaring noise and energy of the Casino, that had been so prominent before, was slowly drowning out. In a world of lights, misfortune, chance and the chatter of people putting their wealth on the line, the only thing he could hear was the shuffle of chips as the dealer raked the pot over to him. And it was music to his ears.
* * *
“I’ll be there tomorrow night.” Dante spoke with assent, fixing his collar and staring at turquoise eyes hidden behind dirty blonde hair; at his reflection. Convinced he was looking decent enough, he switched off the light in the small bathroom and headed out into the bedroom of his suite.
“You’re always late, Dante, it’s not going to be tomorrow night. It’ll be next week.” Rivera’s voice was slightly raspy, and he wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Dante had a total lack of interest with staying on schedule with anything, especially business wise.
“Don’t worry. Things are going smooth here.”
“Hah, bullshit. What did you do now?” Rivera questioned intently, certain that the young man on the other end of the line had violated some kind of law by now.
“Not a damn thing. I haven’t gotten into any trouble.”
“After all the debts you’ve managed to make, I’m surprised trouble hasn’t bitch-slapped you in the face already.”
Dante laughed casually, adjusting the earpiece and mic, before pulling his coat from the edge of the bed and throwing it on. The late nights of London were especially cold, and if there was anything he didn’t like about his stay there, it was the abysmal weather. Thankfully, it had yet to snow, but that wouldn’t last for long. “Things are turning around. I’ll tie up all the loose ends in France and Hong Kong by the end of the month.”
“I would hope so, for your sake. We meet tomorrow night, Dante, and for once… Try not to get arrested. Set your goddamn clocks right for once, too.”
Time was always such a restriction. Rivera knew what Dante thought about restrictions. “I’ll be there.” A grin crossed his lips slowly, and the call ended, the mic pulling back into the bulk of the phone, which rested against the back crevice of his ear, hidden behind finely combed hair.
He quickly fixed the cuffs of his outfit, though he still managed to look rather disheveled. Not that he minded, of course, since a ride through town didn’t exactly call for anything fancy. His interest soon shifted from his attire, to the suitcase sitting open on the center of the bed.
Hundreds of thousands of dollars in American bills lined the bottom of the case. He normally would never carry around so much in cash – even his winnings from the last few evenings in the Wonderland hotel and casino had been wire transferred to his account over in Washington D.C – but this was different; it was the package, one that was to be delivered.
Dante wasn’t a delivery boy. But then again, this wasn’t a typical delivery. The reward would be more than worth the trouble.
The pockets of the felt case interior displayed a hobby of his that was almost as interesting as his bottomless wallet. Dual, recoilless, laser-sighted Uzis, stainless steel Sais, and his personal, favorite section of the handheld armory: a rather hefty number of pulse grenades and explosives. Not that he needed such a great level of weaponry for protection, though. He just liked having it on hand.
‘I’ll just leave the package here. Not like I won’t be back.’
Dante continued to examine the open briefcase. He needed to deliver it tomorrow night, on time. If anything were to happen to it, he’d be shit out of luck. The kind of deep, repugnant shit that not even seven hundred thousand in cash can aid your struggle out of.
‘…Don’t get into trouble, Dante.’
“…You never know.”
He slowly closed the briefcase and secured the locks on it tightly, lifting it by its handle and fixing his tie once more. He was just going to go out for a cruise, and for one of the first times since he could remember, Dante privately hoped his night wouldn’t hold too much excitement.
* * *
Dante quickly pushed the green, down arrow on the small panel. A chime was heard, and beyond the steel doors of the elevator, machinery could be heard groaning along, though rather quietly. It was actually more of a smooth hum than a groan.
He sighed deeply. He had only left the room for about a minute, and already the suitcase felt cumbersome. Granted, it could hold all his violent materials just fine, but it wasn’t as if he actually needed it.
He was rather restless, as well, and waiting for the elevator only made him edgier. Elevators were hundreds of years old, and the best the owners of the Wonderland hotel and casino could do is installing the oldest ones they could find. Some luxury accommodation this was.
Another, more constant series chime came a few seconds later, but it wasn’t for the elevator. Someone was trying to reach him. For a few moments, he was hesitant to answer, but anyone who would go to the trouble of speaking to him on his undisclosed line obviously needed to talk about something important. Dante turned around and began to pace ahead, away from the elevator.
Slowly bringing his hand to the back of his ear, he accepted that call, only to be greeted suddenly.
“Hello… I see luck is on your side tonight.” The voice on the other end of the line was clear and feminine, and had a seemingly genuine, thick French accent. She spoke very softly, and very quietly, and had a rather enchanting tone. Had the interruption not been so sudden, she would have been more welcomed by his reply.
“This is a private channel…” Dante spoke into the phone, coldly. He paused, mid step, his briefcase rattling at his side at the abrupt stop. He was both intrigued and pissed, wondering if the person he was talking to was trying to just fuck with him. After such a good and rather lively night, he wasn’t looking to play any games without a dealer. He wanted to relax.
“Nothing is private about you, Monsieur Lamoroch, not to moi.” The accent sounded as if the person was very attractive, yet, it was familiar. And it wasn’t the good, friendly kind of familiar. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“Oh really…? It’s always nice to have a fan...” He said sarcastically, grinning, and looking about the empty, extravagant upper level hallway. No one was around, save for a couple at the far end, looking over a balcony, that seemed to have no interest in him.
“Let us just say… I am not happy with the autograph you have left.”
He paused for a moment, fixing his tie and looking up at the bright, fancy lights on the ceiling. It was obvious that he had know this woman at some point in time, but it was still unclear to him who she was exactly, or why she decided to “Well, I never mean to be a heartbreaker, but my condolences…”
“You can break more than a girl’s heart, Monsieur Lamoroch. Like my wallet. And now I will be forced to break you.”
‘She’s feisty. Now why isn’t she memorable…?’
“Just who are you? I like my secret admirers to have names.”
“It’s a shame, really… I hate putting bounty’s out on the cuter ones.”
Dante narrowed his eyes after a moment and looked off to the side, his hand against the earpiece. He twitched. Dante hated being caught with his pants down, usually, but he didn’t expect it to be her this time. “Isn’t that a bit extreme, Adrienne?”
“You do remember… Of course, you must also remember the financial trouble you put me through-”
“You always had a knack for being difficult.”
“And you, mon ami, always have a knack for being lucky. Monsieur Lamoroch…”
“Listen, Adrienne, if its money you want…” He trailed of, not wanting to say something that would put himself in a worse position that he was already in.
“Se taire, Dante…” He quieted, though not because she asked ‘politely’. She had something to say.
“…What, Adrienne?”
“I hope it is your lucky night… Don’t die. Au revoir. ” The transmission ended. And Dante quickly turned around.
‘What the fuck is she…-?’
It was one of those moments where time seemed to slow. His mind could comprehend everything going on, but his movements seemed to react slowly. It was almost like being a deer in the headlights. Except three our four men in coats, rounding the corner near the balcony where the lone couple stood, removing weapons from the concealment of their attire, was a bit different than a truck rolling at high speeds.
There was an informal chime once again as the elevator slid open, and he wasted no time in making his way into the readied transport, closing it hurriedly and meeting the eyes of the closest of the group as the steel entryway silently closed. They had been heading to his room, whoever they were, and had he been any slower to make his leave, the weapon raised in his direction would have had something to fire at.
“Don’t get into trouble Dante… Right...”
His hand hovered over the key for the first floor. If Adrienne had the Agency after him, they’d be at the first floor. He pressed third.
The briefcase hit the cold floor as the elevator went into motion, his hands quickly, yet calmly, undoing the locks along the front end. One at a time they came unfastened, and he lifted its top open, removing his guns. He gripped them tightly, shutting the briefcase and looking ahead, watching the elevator doors carefully.
‘You’re going to have to chase me, Adrienne.’
Dante stood slowly, and despite his displeasure at situation, grinned slowly. Still holding his guns tightly, he tucked the briefcase under his arm and watched the display panel overhead, above the door. The numbers continued to wind down on the electronic screen, in a painfully slow countdown.
Dante ceased watching it, closing his eyes and waiting patiently. He was smiling, and it wasn’t deliberate, either.
‘Don’t lose the package.’
A few long moments later, the elevator slowed to a complete stop, and the doors slid open, followed by a familiar chime. He opened his eyes and stepped out onto the third floor of Wonderland. Bustling machine noise, lights, and the chatter of people on the brink of hitting it big and losing it all suddenly replaced the silence of the elevator. The lavishness of the social establishment was displayed wholly, here.
After a few moments of glancing about, he broke off into a dash, weaving himself through an opening in the sea of gamblers that played onward into the endless night. He could hear the announcement of dancers coming to the stage not far from him, and as he sprinted ahead, the shrill voice of a middle aged woman who was frustrated about her drink rang in his ear.
A hand suddenly pushed against his shoulder, bringing him to a halt. The man it belonged to was large and Caucasian, and his uniform was familiar. It was casino security. Dante’s guns slowly slid into his coat, away from the man’s eyes. Had the move been any slower, he would have been seriously screwed. “Excuse me sir, you’re going to have to step off the floor. Come with me.”
‘Christ, get out of my way.’
“I was just about to leave, now if you’ll excuse me-” Dante tried to shuffle past the man, but locked between his arm and the ever moving crowd, and doing his best not to unwittingly brandish his firearms it was next to impossible. The cold stare he was receiving said that obviously, security was sent on the look out for him as well. They were trying to slow him down.
“Come with me, sir. I’m going to have to escort you off the floor.”
He gripped the Uzi’s tight under the veil of his suit jacket, and the crimson clad guard noticed something odd about his posture. His eyes fixed on Dante’s hands, shifting as people hurriedly made their way past and around the two. “Sir, are you… What are you trying to conceal?”
‘This is really not good.’
“I’m not concealing anything, I just need to leave, now if you’ll excuse...” Dante trailed off for a split second, a flicker of red crossing the path of his eyes for just an instant. He looked down at his tie, and against the white of his shirt, was a steady beam of red. When his mind put two and two together, the realization hit him pretty hard: someone was aiming at him. He shouted suddenly and pulled back from the laser sighted rifle’s objective and away from the security officer. “Get down!”
The shot was suppressed, but the whine of the bullet cutting through air was loud enough as it passed through the locks of the diving blonde’s hair. The sniper had jerked slightly at the movement of the intended target, instead firing the round into the confrontational man’s arm, sending him to the ground. A mist of blood hit Dante’s shirt and suit, who was in close vicinity of the wounded security officer. Flesh and bone did not stop the shot meant for Dante, however, as it continued and crashed into the heel of a civilian woman in a gown, resulting in her hitting the ground, shrieks of pain and panic, and the speed of the rush around the floor of Wonderland accelerated tenfold.
In mere moments, the casino third floor had become drowned in chaos, and words accusing the businessman of being armed, and someone firing randomly at people, were being yelled amongst the incoherent cries of sudden fear.
The suitcase left the underarm of Dante Lamoroch and he rushed to a stand, wielding his silver firearms and raising the in the direction of the single figure poised at the edge of a balcony dozens of yards away. He unloaded, a stream of continual bullets rushing upwards along the stone wall, sending shards of marble falling to the ground below. The hail of fire easily found its way to the sharpshooter, blazing through him and causing himself, along with his perched gun, to fall lifelessly to the floor as well.
“It’s going to be one of those days…” Dante quickly jerked his guns in the direction of everyone ahead of him, tucking one into the cover of his jacket and rushing through a mass of terrified gamblers doing the exact same as he was: making a break for it. “Move it! Get out of the way, everyone get out of the way!” He sped forward, as the crowd began to disperse and avoid the eye of his automatic weapon, and suddenly more gunfire could be heard whizzing through the air. This new clamor, however, was not suppressed, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see what was pursuing – and shooting – at him. Adrienne had the Agency after him, and an assault of gunfire was sending many of those unfortunate enough to be around him, to the ground.
Doing his best to avoid joining them, he noticed an exit, to his far left, and he pivoted and sprinted ahead, weaving between the slot machine area, as bullets clanged against steel and glass, sparks cascading into the air from machinery being hit. He quickly spun and ducked around one of the glimmering slot machines, his back pressed flat against it. After a moment of respite, and resting the valuable suitcase in his lap, he turned and reached around, firing the rest of his clip into the closest of his tails, killing the bounty hunter and causing him to drop his AK-47 and hit the floor in a dead heap. The other three took note of this, moving around and crossing the other side of the rows littered with machines that read ‘Ruby Fortune’. He wouldn’t have been able to reload quickly enough.
As fast as he could, he leapt upward and around his metallic protection, suddenly raising and swinging the blunt end of his suitcase against the temple of the short haired, armed male. There was a violent, loud crash as it nailed him, and the blow sent the man stumbling in semi consciousness to the side, only to crash and fall in-between a pair of stools, reeling in pain. Dante dropped both luggage and Uzi, rolling away from a burst of gunshots and snatching up the shotgun of the recently fallen foe. The male and female after the blonde now met him face to face. They broke off in different directions, the more determined, and obviously pissed off (though well dressed) gentleman standing his ground and trying to discharge the remainder of his weapons ammo into the hunted.
His attempt was made with little success, as a shotgun round quickly crashed into his chest, sending him just off the ground and onto his back, leaving only the female to deal with. Dante aimed to fire at her, despite the obstruction of the slots shielding her, only to find that the Shotgun was empty, and her, remarkably similar, Uzi’s, were not. The slender assassin’s aim from around the bend of the slot machine was remarkably precise. The barrage of bullets clipped the edge of the shotgun barrel, knocking it from his grip and forcing him to dash down the aisle to avoid being fired at again. He quickly snatched up one of his fallen guns and took refuge between two of the abandoned gambling apparatuses.
He pulled the other half of the duo from the confines of his jacket, ejecting the used clips and reloading hurriedly, swinging his head to the side to take a look at the position subordinate of Adrienne’s. Locks of dirty brown hair fell in front of his eyes, and close examination of the spot she had previously been at, he could no longer catch a glimpse of her.
‘Shit, the package…’
Dante looked over into the opposite direction. On the ground, to his right, lay the seemingly untouched briefcase and its valuable contents. It needed to stay untouched, and he couldn’t reach it without risking other, more valuable items; like his own ass, for one.
“How much are they paying you?” He shouted out, rather casually, edging closer from the guard of the slot machine.
“There’s more than enough on your head, hotshot…” Dante blinked at the sound of an unknown object hitting the steel machines that surrounded him. He didn’t need visual conformation to know it was a good idea to move the hell away. Dante pulled himself away from the still position, rushing ahead and doing his best to snatch up the briefcase, despite the burden of being armed. It didn’t take long for the tossed explosive to finally go off; a vehement, damaging detonation tearing through steel and the cloth of the awnings just overhead that littered the casino floor. Burning wreckage of a good number of the gambling machines was expended into the air and the surroundings of where Dante had just previously been standing. It sent the would-be businessman stumbling ahead and doing his best to avoid another excursion of bullets from the, obviously resolute, female hired gun.
The gunfire suddenly ceased. Instead of ducking away to reload, she headed towards the somewhat dazed Dante, rather rapidly.
‘Bad idea…’ He quickly let his Uzi’s fall to the ground, and as she approached, the blunt end of the suitcase once again swung upward, striking her jaw line and nearly knocking her over in one fell swoop. Still as persistent as ever, and looking rather displeased, she rushed at him in a fit of anger. Dante ducked the coming punch, grabbing her arm and swinging her around and right into a nearby blackjack table. Her legs hit the edge rather violently, sending her sliding across and through the neglected game, her head slightly bumping its wood-framed corner. A torrent of cards and chips were thrown about into the air, many of them landing quietly on her back or on the carpeted floor.
She let out a low groan, either from exertion or just pain, before rolling over and falling clear off the edge of the table, unconscious. Dante paused, fixing his tie and looking around for the coming onslaught of security personnel who would be on his tail as well. The area seemed to be pretty clear of activity, (few people were still anywhere near him, though that would change, once the police arrived, in full force) allowing him to take a moment and crouch next to the fallen bounty hunter, patting her on the forehead gently.
“Sorry Hun, you understand.” He smirked, promptly finding his Uzi’s and hiding him in his jacket once more, away from view. Without any further ado, Dante Lamoroch continued towards the closest staircase exit, and promising privately to try a bit harder not to get into trouble.
* * *
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