’She brings a girl. She brings a girl along with us. I didn’t want company. I wanted a break. I didn’t want to baby sit.’
There was a quiet snap as Evelina closed the door to the hotel room, locking it shut. She pulled up the sleeve of her coat and stared, frustrated, at the silver watch around her wrist. The face of the watch showed a few obvious signs of wear: scratches against the miniscule pane of glass, as well as the fact that it was ahead seven minutes.
It was much later than she expected – than she had hoped – and she was annoyed for several reasons. She did not feel content with staying inside their lovely (not to mention, stolen) room, while Marena went out on a gambling binge. Truthfully, Evelina didn’t completely trust Marena, and sitting idly by wasn’t something she was ready to do. She would have rather lain down, despite her suspicions of the bronze-skinned mercenary, but the paranoid notion had nagged her enough to keep Evelina wide awake, captured by the wonders of European television and writing in her journal. It didn’t take long for it to become apparent that she needed to get out; be it to find Marena or just spend some time on the streets.
Then there was the kid. Outside the Nightriders, and a few other patrons of the Chatrani (not to mention Marena, who annoyed her less than most), she had a total distain for people, especially those who become involved when they shouldn’t. The idea of someone following her all the way to London was utterly unfathomable, but for better or, most likely, worse, it had happened. She wasn’t happy about that at all.
She lifted the duffle bag off the ground, having brought all their belongings with them for a reason. They had overstayed their welcome at the hotel, and it was time to head out and find less temporary housing, as surely, sooner or later, someone would have to pay the bill for the room, and it wouldn’t be them.
Marena carried around far too many goods, which made being the luggage woman a demanding task. She had a knack for keeping around too many useless items; things Eve had no real use for. Evelina didn’t have many keep sakes of her own, though. It would have been nice, but she often found it hard to decorate one’s life with simple possessions when your hometown is kind of lacking as far as shopping pavilions went. Which reminded her, had she any cash, she might have gone out on her first round of shopping in awhile. Maybe Marena would come in handy after all. That is, if she could be trusted.
Eve reached into her jacket pocket, pulling from it a few loose pieces of paper. Various phone numbers of places she had been to in visits past, addresses, tear outs from the room’s own phone book, and money that was of no use where she was.
‘Alright, where can we go to…?’ She fumbled through them, amazed at how horrible her handwriting could be, before accidentally letting her keys slip from her fingers and fall to the overtly fancy, carpeted floor.
Her brow winced, and she began to grit her teeth in agitation, slipping the scribbled notes back into her pocket. Muttering quietly, she bent over to retrieve her motorcycle keys. A figure quickly pushed past her shoulder, nearly hitting her against the wall, as she fell off balance. She quickly turned to a start, reaching into her leather coat and pausing, as her hand felt the end of her gun. A group of about five or six strode past her in the hallway, the one who pushed her giving no apology, nor any attention, despite the irritated look on her face.
‘Just calm down, Evelina…’ She drew her hand away from her gun slowly and quickly snatched up her keys, albeit, angrily. Standing, and lifting the bag from the floor, she brushed her hair away from her half closed eyes, letting out a sigh. “Fucking pricks.”
Most people in London were rude. Most Evelina had come into contact with, anyway. The prosperous economic center of England was definitely not without its criminals, and criminals – including her, ironically – seemed to disregard common courtesy.
Upon a second glance, they seemed to be familiar ‘criminals’, too. Not readily, but she had seen enough of them in her time to figure this bunch was up to no good. And the sneer on the face of the one who bumped her said they definitely were feeling cocky tonight. And cocky people always did stupid things.
She stood still for a moment, chewing on the side of her tongue lightly and glancing about. Eve was pretty much alone in thought, the troupe having rounded the corner and out of her sight. She needed to find Marena, figure out what they’d do with the girl (since ditching her was, morally, out of the question), and come up with a course of action for the rest of their stay.
She suddenly drew blood, biting down much harder than she meant to, as a small burst of gunfire could be heard from just around the bend. She reacted almost too swiftly, swinging herself and the duffle bag over to the far end of the hall, pressing herself against the edge of the corner and waiting a moment before peeking out. Her hand had, once again, found itself resting on the end of her weapon.
The elevator had closed, and whoever in the group had took the liberty of firing had just wasted a few rounds. It was apparent they were after someone and whatever was going on, it wasn’t good. Eve ducked her head away after a moment, retreating back down the hallway, and keeping her hand close to her chest, close to her Walther P22’s, hoping for once, in a long while, that it wouldn’t have to come to use.
The duffle bag swayed noisily as she strode through the corridors of the Wonderland hotel, looking for a route that would take her to the lower most floors. Fortunately for her, it didn’t take all that long to find the stairway passage that would do just that. She made her way through the door and reached up to her lips, wiping away a bit of the blood that stained the corners of her jaw from the self inflicted injury.
Evelina was beginning to get a sickening feeling inside. She was getting the feeling that Marena, and possibly their new, younger friend, has just gotten them into a greater deal of trouble than they already were.
‘I didn’t want company. I wanted a break.’
* * *
Gunfire streaked through the air, noise and mayhem and bullets moving in a congested swirl, as the second floor of the Wonderland London Hotel and Casino erupted into a state of total and utter chaos. The scene of casino security taking cover as Grav-Police units - the airborne authorities equipped with what could only be described as really loud rifles - tried to calm the civilians rushing for the exits, while engaging the dozens of mercenaries of The Agency that had previously, opened fire on Dante. Needless to say, calming anyone while firing a gun would be a fruitless effort, and trying it on an entire crowd was just a really bad idea.
Dante had managed to duck away from the attention of both sides, law abiding and otherwise. He sat silently; crouched behind the cover of a rather expensive marble planter (with equally expensive exotic flora), gripping one of his lucky firearms and the briefcase that was of dire importance to him, which as he found out earlier, packed a heavy punch when fending off attackers, as well.
He turned his head, looking out into the rest of the area, trying to figure out a course of action from where he was now. He found the spectacle slightly entertaining, which probably was strange, given the circumstances. Still, he’d been in worse situations before: his travel to South America came to mind, which was a great deal more frantic and definitely not his cup of tea. His visits to France had their fair share of problems as well. Their narrow streets, which seemed to still have an overabundance of ridiculously aged cobblestone, made several attempts of his at automobile getaways a chore. An expensive chore, at that; decent tires didn’t run cheap. And his standards for decent were high.
A stray bullet that clipped the edge of the large planter, passing a foot or so away from him, snapped his mind off the thought of his car. He needed to think of something, and quick.
There were rooms all along the floor he was on. Those rooms were separate from the main pavilion, and getting to the exit from there would be a great deal easier than running through the middle of a firefight.
“This’ll be easy Dante… Just cut around the corner, go down the hallway, past the rooms, and to the dining room and out the door. It shouldn’t be hard at all...”
He felt a tinge of pain in his wrist as he lifted the briefcase a bit, probably from swinging it so hard, but ignored the uncomfortable sensation for the time being. Dante was just focused on getting ready to run for his life-- again.
He really knew it wasn’t going to be easy; he had that feeling again. Without a word, he quickly swerved around the planter and jumped to a stand, dashing ahead towards the lengthy hallway, and trying his hardest not to lose focus and pause to watch the law enforcement engaging well armed members of the elusive Agency. There were enough of them to suggest they weren’t just after Dante; rather, this was an assault on the casino itself. And it seemed to be a bit of a stalemate between them, which was better than most smash and grab jobs, which tended to result in failure.
Dante suddenly lost focus, and it wasn’t because he had stopped to become spectator. A barrage of expended ammunition tore in his wake, his attempt at fleeing unnoticed not working quite as well as he had hoped, the cover of the hallway barely salvaging him from becoming a bullet-ridden blonde.
‘This isn’t going to work…’ The path would have directed him out quickly, alright, but he had been seen. On such a straight path, he’d have no cover, and in mere moments, another volley of gunfire would be sent down the course of the passage. Not only would he be an easy target, but he’d probably be dead before he made it halfway.
He had another option, though. Thinking and acting quickly, Dante pressed his back flat against the closest door in the hall, and aimed his Uzi at edge of the entryway, touching the fingerprint-scan lock.
* * *
Marena, completely caught off guard by the sound of thunder resonating from the other room, ducked down quickly, her hand on Kaori’s shoulder as she pulled her down as well. Realizing the bullets weren’t coming their way -- not at the moment anyways -- Marena stood back up quickly. Kaori, slightly confused, began to rise up slowly, checking over her shoulders erratically. Marena started to walk towards where the noise was coming from, but another roar of thunder caused nearly everyone in the casino to bolt for the exit, swamping the pair. Marena grabbed Kaori’s arm and pulled her over next to the front desk, ducking behind it.
Marena dug in her purse for a small handgun; it wasn’t anything special, but it’d be enough to keep her relatively safe as she attempted to weave through the people back to the room to grab her things; they would have to leave immediately and find some more suitable residence. As she got up to go, Kaori stood up with her. Marena kneeled back down.
“Where are you going?” Marena asked.
Kaori answered almost immediately. “With you...?”
“No, you’re not. This doesn’t sound like something I want to drag someone around in. I’ll get you killed and I’ll feel bad.” Marena replied, occasionally stealing a glance over her shoulder.
Kaori muttered a few incoherent sentences but then quieted, before speaking up. “I’m capable of taking care of myself, you know.”
“Of course I know. That’s why you’re going to stay here and take care of yourself while I get upstairs. I’ll be back, and if you move I’ll shoot you in the leg so you won’t be able to next time.” Marena said. Kaori’s eyes widened. “I’m kidding. But don’t move.” Marena finished before shoving Kaori, roughly, underneath the desk. Kaori let out a grumble and crossed her arms, squeezed under the desk.
Marena got out from behind the desk and began walking through the hordes of people. She figured the least crowded way to get to her floor was the stairs, but she was in no mood to climb nearly 50 flights of stairs. The elevators would have to do, regardless of how crowded they invariably would be. The elevators she wanted were not actually located on the first floor; technically it was the second, but the first floor gradually inclined, by way of a lavish greenhouse, into the second floor. Those elevators were reserved for the VIP rooms, which they had luckily taken, so were by default expected to be at least slightly less crowded.
‘Eve is going to blow a fuse…’ Marena looked back, for a moment, tentative about leaving Kaori alone, but ever determined to find Evelina and get her things. She made her way into the shuffling, panicked crowd, wondering just who the hell could have started this mess in the first place.
* * *
Dante closed the door behind him quickly. It didn’t shut properly, the broken and useless electronic lock having detached from it partially, getting jammed in-between the frame and the pallid door. They didn’t make locks like they used to anymore, but the best methods of breaking an entering had not changed at all.
He glanced, the first observation of his being that the area was very dark, and that it was unoccupied, as well. Which was a good thing, he thought. It saved him the trouble of dealing with some hysterical hotel guest who wasn’t expecting an armed businessman to waltz right into their room.
There was an eerie calm to the shadily lit space; a welcome change from the constant wail of ammunition just outside. Wonderland may have been in a state of complete disarray at the moment, but there was no doubt you could get a decent nights sleep there if you decided to stay. Sadly, his visit was coming to a close.
Feeling a little winded, and wondering what he was going to do now, he continued through the room past the bathroom door and around the pair of beds, feeling his way around with the end of his briefcase. As he passed the edge of a desk, it smacked into it, and he came to a stop.
His blue eyes tried to adjust a bit more in the dark, fixing on what looked like a lamp near the back of the writing table. The package was laid down momentarily on its surface, allowing him to reach over and turn on the small light for just a moment.
It wasn’t nearly as spacious as his suite, but it didn’t look half bad. There was nothing of notice in the room, however, except for a door not to far from his side. The room was connected to another, it seemed.
He heard noise coming from the hallway he had just left, now. The shuffling of, presumably, feet, as well as voices, were now passing through the corridor. Dante took that as a hint to keep moving; aptly shutting off the light and lifting the attaché case off the desk.
‘You’re making progress…’ He thought to himself, taking hold of the door handle and opening it swiftly, moving into the next room and closing the entrance behind him as he paced ahead.
Only to trip and stumble over an unseen object in the dark, losing his grip on both the gun and the case, before striking his head against the floor hard. Clothes – he stumbled on clothes, he deducted, having to shake his foot a bit, freeing his leg from the bundle of strewn attire. For a moment, he rolled over in pain, grasping his forehead, his tie bunched up around his neck and the jacket of his suit twisted and wrapped around his waist. He let out a low groan, and would have cursed, had he not been startled. He wasn’t the only person in the room groaning.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me…’
The bed not far away from him was rocking and jolting with the obvious, rhythmic movements of a couple feverishly having sex. He couldn’t exactly tell what was going on, still trying to raise himself to his feet and finding the task somewhat difficult, but he assumed it was a couple. Whoever was there, one of them were surely female, and one hell of a screamer.
Dante came to a stand in the dimly lit, scarlet tinted room with his back to the showcase of ecstasy. His hand was still holding his aching forehead, eyes shut from the stinging headache, and it was awhile before he reacted to the presence of an arm around his waist. The blonde raised an eyebrow and immediately opened his eyes, moving his hand away from his head. Turning his neck slightly, he began to inspect the woman who had approached him unnoticed. She was young, slender, luminescent, seemingly violet (in this light, it was difficult to determine) hair, and fingers that had a habit of brushing his thigh.
“Mr. Anderton, we had no idea you’d be bringing a friend…That’s going to cost you boys extra.” She cooed playfully, standing to the side of Dante, running her fingers along his leg. It wasn’t exactly the welcome he expected, leaving him a bit confused, before quickly turning around. It didn’t take him long to figure that ‘Mr. Anderton’ was the middle aged male laying back on the bed. He was being straddled and ridden feverishly by an older, equally slender woman with vibrant red hair. Dante didn’t exactly see much of her other than her nude backside, but he noticed one thing: she was the screamer.
Hands that were not his were now undoing his tie, while continuing to speak in a devilish tone. “He looks like he needs to loosen up, alright… You can call me Crystal.” The girl in front of him quickly pulled Dante by the tie, bringing him closer to the bed and grinning widely. Her unnamed friend paid them no mind; still fucking away on the aging man like there was no tomorrow.
Dante rolled his eyes and pulled his tie away from Crystal’s grasp, looking impassive. They were hookers.
Before she could protest, the door was pushed open once more, startling the two. Whoever the armed man was, he recognized Dante instantly. Meaning he had tried to shoot him. Both of them reacted rather quickly; Dante dragging the young call-girl down to the floor, shrieking, as the long haired mercenary fired off a couple of rounds from his automatic in the spot they had previously been standing. The girl on the bed, no longer focused on her job, was startled greatly by the gunfire in the room. Her reaction was no different from her friend’s, as she sought refuge under the blankets of the mattress, and began to do what she did best: screaming.
Dante rolled away from the violet haired woman, briskly snatching up his Uzi and shooting the attacker along the arm with the last of his rounds. The gun began to click uselessly, his ammunitions expended, and he leapt to his feet. The injured man raised his weapon with the other arm, still not down, only to have Dante’s foot meet with his chest. He stumbled back, dropping the machine gun to the floor, and Dante brought his foot down on end of it violently, sending it into the air, into his hands, and aimed directly at the assassin.
He unloaded the weapon into the room ahead. The continuous stream of fire clipped the doorway, tore through the abandoned beds and ravaged the previous owner of the weapon, the dead man crashing into and through the desk, to the floor. Dante Lamoroch dropped the gun to the ground, walking back over to his Uzi. He picked it up slowly, examining it and ejecting the finished clip, and searched through his pockets for another.
Crystal, and her friend were still in shock; but they weren’t screaming anymore. Mr. Anderton was off in his own little world, understandably. The brief shooting having ended, the room was now fairly quiet, and still fairly dark. Having reloaded his gun, Dante quickly fixed his tie and grabbed his briefcase.
Ignoring the scene on the bed, he crouched down and retrieved his wallet. Pulling out a good amount of cash, he slid the money across the floor, over to the violet haired prostitute. “Thanks for the good time, Crystal.” Her reaction was simply a blink in confusion, before slowly snatching up the cash. Having retrieved his things, Dante slowly backed out of the room and closed the door tightly. He stood quietly for a moment, thinking to himself.
‘This night just keeps getting weirder…’ He glanced over to the fallen, bullet-ridden hired gun at his feet and sighed. He was just going to have to take his chances in the lengthy passageway.
* * *
As Marena pressed her way through, she was shoved violently by large, corpulent man. She toppled on her heels and would have fallen over if not for the wall she had been moving along. She heaved a sigh of frustration, before bending down to take off the shoes. The heels were pointed and sharp, therefore very hard to walk on. She stared at the shoe, and as she hooked them onto her purse, decided to keep one in her hand; it was nearly enough a lethal weapon and she was more experienced in melee combat anyways.
She continued her struggle through the people, and as soon as she reached the entranceway into the other room, she immediately felt as if half of the people vanished. The bulk of the people had already left this area, and by the looks of things this was also not the place the shooting had taken place; the casino must carry sound well, she thought grimly, as now she would have trouble avoiding the shooting. And with only a very small handgun and a stiletto heel, she wasn’t exactly in the mood for confrontation.
Ahead she could see the faint curve of the hallway, and she sighed with relief. Her feet, now bare, had stepped on quite a few unpleasant (and sharp) things on her way in, and for only being bare for a few minutes were surprisingly tender. She limped slightly over towards the curve, staring down at the ground as she made her way. As she walked, she started to hear footsteps, faint, but running. She didn’t think much of them at first, but soon realized they were gaining on her at an alarming rate. Even so, she took her time raising her head to eye level and looking, which was obviously too slow; around the corner came a man racing towards her and, barely looking up himself, slammed right into her, knocking her off her feet and causing her to drop her handgun. The shoe, however, was still firmly grasped in her hand, armed and ready.
* * *
The bullet grazed his shoulder, tearing through the jacket and abrading the skin, as Dante pushed the circular dining table onto its side, blocking a few of the aggressors shots and allowing the Uzi wielding blonde to weave around and take him down with a couple of his own rounds.
He swerved, more shots were fired, narrowly missing their target, and Dante emptied every round he had into the last of his pursuers, knocking the burly man against the cold wall of dining hall, before sliding to the floor in a bloodied, unresponsive heap.
He winced apathetically at the wound on his shoulder, not wasting a moment to check it, and instead, dashing to the end of the banqueting hall and straight through its double-doors, in a stumbling rush. The hunted blonde was doing his best to retain his composure, but the seemingly endless onslaught of Adrienne’s resources was beginning to wear him out physically, and it was starting to show.
He paused for a split second, wiping his brow with his sleeve and staring at the floor, breathing heavily. His arm had limped and the suitcase stood resting just against the floor. The suitcase, the package, had become a burden, and every time he was forced to continue moving, the straining in his arm would worsen. He ignored it, however, smirking despite himself and lifting it hurriedly, trying to continue onward despite his fatigued condition.
He didn’t see her in time to stop. In fact, he didn’t really see her at all until he collided head-on with the distracted woman, sending them both sprawled to the ground amidst shards of broken marble and trampled carpet. The impact had flung the briefcase from his hand, its leather casing sliding along the floor and away from them as they fell to the mat.
The noise and gunshots from afar were still ever present in his mind, but when he opened his eyes, a fairly different scene came into view. The woman lying on the ground at his side met his stare, narrowing her eyes in wonder at Dante. Her lips were parted as if she had attempted to say something, before thinking against it, her look fixed on blue-green eyes hidden partially under dirty blonde hair.
She was, without a doubt, remarkably attractive, and it completely blindsided him, especially considering the fact that he had been running and gunning for his life, the last few minutes or so. It was her eyes that caught his attention more than anything; the reflection of the shimmering chandeliers above them creating an intensely captivating, dazzling array of gold amongst hazel. Her skin was a moderate tan that greatly complimented her eyes, and strands of thick, dark hair ran down the length of her neck and shoulders. There was not one fault in the looks of the coffee-skinned woman, and had he not soon realized he was still the target of assassination, Dante would have continued with his silent admiration.
“Is everyone okay down there?” Dante said somewhat casually, looking over her shoulder for anymore assailants, before coming to his feet. He extended his hand, offering to help her to her feet, and she continued to eye him carefully, though with equal interest. Smiling slightly at his comment, she moved to take his hand; only to realize she was holding one of her high heels, as if ready to bludgeon him.
Looking rather sheepish, she sat the shoe down and brought herself back to her feet, with his aid. She brushed her hands down her skirt to smooth it out and dust it off. She leaned over and picked up the gun and putting it into her purse, then went for the shoe, immediately switching her grip on it to a more natural, non confrontational grasp. “I don’t usually try and attack people who help me...it’s been kind of a rough night.” she said, smiling, as the silence between them had become slightly awkward. “Though, I don’t think I should be complaining...” she trailed off, staring at the disheveled man in front of her.
Dante didn’t quite understand where she was coming from until he looked down; examining his clothing just as she was. He was a mess, quite frankly; his tie was slightly undone, his shirt was hanging out in front of his pants, partially, and his jacket was slumping off of his shoulders. Smudges of dirt and dust from contact with the ground had coated its expensive black fabric, giving it an almost smoky-grey color. Not to mention it being torn along the shoulder and soaked slightly with blood from someone he shot at too close a range.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right… Why are you still here?” He smirked slightly, not particularly interested in how he looked at this point. Dante simply brushed back his hair and scanned his eyes over Marena once more, before glancing about for his suitcase. He definitely wasn’t about to lose it now, after all he went through to keep it unharmed.
Marena watched him looking around, confused. He was looking around hurriedly for something he had dropped, she assumed. He seemed very distressed as he looked around, then she suddenly noticed relief wash across his face as he reached around the corner he had come from, a black suitcase in tow.
Marena was going to ask why that suitcase was so important, but seeing as people were after him and, she figured, the suitcase, she decided against it.
They stood in silence once again; the man’s demeanor had relaxed considerably but she still couldn’t think of a thing to say. She looked at his shoulder, noticing the hole. “Are you okay?” she asked, motioning to said shoulder.
Dante quickly snatched up his fallen Uzi from the ground, the weapon having left his hand from the fall, and he looked up at her, unsure of what she meant. Her eyes were fixed on the gash in his arm; the near miss of a bullet that tore through his jacket, and the only real injury he had sustained all night.
“Oh, right,” He gave his shoulder fleeting look, before lazily shrugging off the slightly bloodied coat and dropping it to the ground. “I’ll be fine, just a normal day at the job... You didn’t answer my question,” He grinned, walking over to her and checking the side of his gun, checking the ammo gauge. “Why aren’t you part of the stampede?”
Marena looked down at the gun, then back up at the man, who was considerably closer to her now. She looked over at his shoulder; he might have been calm about it, but it had been bleeding quite a bit, enough to cause a fairly large stain to form. “I was...going to go get my stuff from my room.” she answered, looking back to make eye contact with the man. “I can’t leave without it.”
“Determined… Nice…” He grinned and looked up at the ceiling in untailored thought. “You must have some pretty important stuff...” Dante slowly lowered his gaze to her, his brow twitching as he noticed a figure just a few yards away from her back, rifle raised and being reloaded. They just didn’t stop coming. “Get down!”
“What- Hey!” Marena protested, as Dante quickly grabbed her and pulled them both to the side, away from the first fired shot. The shoeless woman stumbled and fell to her knees, her face smacking Dante in the stomach, as he raised his weapon and retaliated with a short burst of shots, hitting the would-be killer in the leg and stomach, sending him to the ground.
Another began to approach, a good distance from the fallen man’s left, apparently injured from the excursion with the police, and armed with a mere handgun. His efforts were quickly dashed, as Dante fired square into his chest, expending a few more rounds of the last of his on-hand ammunition, all the while holding the stranger still. She was yelling, albeit, stifled greatly, before he backed away, spinning around swiftly. His weapon was still raised, ready to end someone else’s career if they felt compelled the approach him armed.
Dante looked over his shoulder at Marena, who was back on the floor and cursing under her breath in a language he didn’t understand. “Sorry. It’s not been my day.” he said. He then winked at her, before taking off in the direction he had been headed in the first place.
Marena stared for a moment, before yelling after him. “Hey! Do you not have a name or --” she cut herself off and sighed. “Asshole.”
* * *
He had exhausted every bit of ammunition, every single bullet he had. Dante cursed and tucked away his spent Uzi, striding ahead, briefcase swaying back and forth as he ran. Running through unarmed would get him killed. Though, even if he had been, getting caught in the ongoing skirmish between riot police and a seemingly insurmountable force of Adrienne’s expendable soldiers would have resulted in him occupying a closed casket before the nights end.
Gripping the handle of the briefcase as tightly as he could, the lone, expensive gunman skidded to a stop against the end of the wall, looking around the corner. He was almost there; at the very end of the long expanse ahead, the second floor spilt into the first. All Dante had to do, was make it over the balcony beyond the gunfire and the bodies.
The piece of luggage fell to the floor. Dante undid the locks in the blink of an eye, flipping it open and browsing through its contents. The money was undamaged. But the money, right now, wasn’t important. Reaching into the felt interior, he slowly began to tear at it, shredding an entire section of it away and slipping it into one of his shoulder holsters, along side the automatic gun. The suitcase was closed quickly, locked, and Dante stood once more, fixing his tie and gliding a hand through his hair.
‘I’m counting on you one more time tonight, Guinevere. Don’t let me down.’
The all too familiar smile that began to curve on his lips would have suggested one of two things, had anyone been observing it. He was either exceedingly confident that his luck would hold out, and he’d make it through, or tonight was just a very good night to die. But to Dante, it meant something else: either way, he was going to look damn good doing it.
He veered sharply around the corner and into the hellish swirl of smoke and bullets flying from all sides. Immediately, still holding the package tightly and as close to him as he could, Dante reached into felt pocket in his holster, slipping one of the pulse grenades from the torn felt case pouch, and flicked the dial on it with his thumb. Immediately, the small, silver, spherical explosive began to glow azure and flicker at an ever increasing pace. Still dashing as quickly as he could, he tossed it hard to his left, sending the device into the closest group of mercenaries, holding their ground in a final standoff against the law enforcement.
The gunshots continued. And then, an ear shattering tremor ripped through the air around its targets, the glass ceiling overhead shattering at the resonance, and Dante pushed ahead further, tossing another away. The next charge left a torrent of flame in the surrounding area, and Dante let them fly. The crossfire lessened. The walls of the décor, once beautifully designed upon and masterfully crafted, cracked and splintered under the unrelenting gunfire. Each detonation started by Dante became louder, drowning out the yelling and the cursing and the shooting, and his view began tunneling; focused completely on making it to the end.
Dante Lamoroch flipped the last of the explosives over his head and behind him, rearing his arm back and launching the briefcase ahead, over the edge of the hotel foyer’s balcony. He sprinted to the end, leaping over the railing, and winced in pain.
His shoe caught the edge of the mahogany balustrade. The blonde gunman fell forward, flipping and cursing, the force of the final blast sending him just barely clear of the upper circle and careening down into the cold, undisturbed blue below.
Dante just let his body sink for a few moments. He peered up, glancing at the light shimmering outside the cold pool’s water, before taking a quick look down. His shirt was billowing from the bubbles expelled from the floor of the fountain. He was completely submerged.
Moving his arms slowly, Dante lifted himself ahead and grasped the edge of the pool, dragging himself out to the waist and coughing slightly. Staring at the mineral-tiled floor beyond the pool, and the case lying against it, slightly dampened by his freefall and splash, Dante let out a sigh. After a short moments rest, he hauled his soaking build out from the water and picked up his suitcase slowly. He let out a breath of air in a vain attempt to move away a loose strand of wet hair, and straightened his tie. Lady Luck, once again, had saved his ass.
And far too abruptly, the barrel of a gun pressed hard against his temple, and the quiet, calm voice of a woman instructed him with a simple demand.
“You’re coming with us.”
* * *
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