My Archives: October 2003

Saturday, October 18, 2003

“Excuse me? Come with you?” the man said, not even flinching as Eve pressed the gun against his temple. He was a handsome man, golden hair glistening in its, now, chlorinated glory. In this weather he must have been extremely uncomfortable, being so wet. “Of course, I suppose I can. But we just met, and I don‘t even know your name...” he trailed off and smiled and Eve, using his head to push the gun aside to look at her. Instead of Eve, though, he found himself looking down the barrel of her gun. He didn’t blink, eyes which reminded of the sea, focused. “I’m Dante.”

Marena felt a shiver run down her spine. She recognized the man immediately, as they had met only moments earlier inside the hotel. She was, however, unsure if he had noticed her yet. She felt a twinge of guilt; assuming he was the Dante she figured he was (the picture in the wallet had been blurry), she had stolen his car, adding onto everything else that had happened to him. To top it off, she was using his jacket to keep herself warm, as he had left it behind when he’d raced off; the small red dress, along with leaving very little to the imagination, also provided little to no protection from the elements. The right arm was bloodstained, and she could feel the dampness against her arm. The air was frigid, though, and she was more glad than guilty.

“Clever.” Eve said, in response to Dante’s bold move. She shifted the large duffel bag in her hand which, hopefully, carried everything from the room they would need, including their weapons. She expected a big “thank you” from Marena and Kaori. She hated being the luggage lady.

He laughed. “Clever...nice name.” He then stopped looking at Eve and looked at Kaori. The girl had her arms wrapped around herself, any heavy clothing she had safely tucked away in Eve’s duffel bag. He turned his eyes then over to Marena. He stopped and stared at her, thinking, then smirked. He recognized her now. “Thanks for bringing my jacket.”

Marena smiled slightly and, despite the cold air, started to take off the coat.

“Keep it.” he interrupted, and Marena stalled. “Not to sound rude, but you don’t have much clothing on, I think you need it more than me.” He winked. Marena pulled the jacket closer around herself.

Eve decided to change the subject. “What the HELL was going on in there?” she paused, then turned to the side to look at Kaori, who was shivering, but focused on Marena, the gun still pointed squarely at Dante’s head. “And what were you doing, Marena? You first.”

Marena hesitated for a moment, trying to keep her teeth from chattering in the chill London air. “I was protecting her, and myself. I couldn’t tell what was going on, and I was trying to get out of there. It was a mess, why the hell wouldn’t I arm myself?”

Eve sighed. “They weren’t shooting at you. You should...”

“They could have been.” Marena interjected, but failed in stopping the lecture.

“...have not even stopped. Now they think you’re with him.” she waved her gun in Dante’s face. “I heard the police descriptions, and one sounded a lot like you, Marena. I don‘t know when they saw you together -- or why you were together -- but they did.”

“I ran into her. Literally.” Dante interjected. “It wasn’t exactly a planned meeting, so let’s try and be civil.”

Marena ran her hands down her dress, then looked back at Eve. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she hissed, “But you can’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

Eve didn’t disagree. She instead looked over to Dante again, still in the same place despite not being monitored. “Now you.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” he said defensively, but changed tones. “Well, actually it was.”

“What did you do?” Eve demanded.

“Adrienne.” he replied.

“What?” Eve asked.

“That’s what I did.” he said, bitterness lacing his voice. He shifted the briefcase to his other hand, clenching the now free hand. The light grey shoulder of Dante’s shirt had a considerably large bloodstain now, which must have caused him some sort of pain; at times he made a face of discomfort, moving his shoulder.

Marena gave a small laugh and crossed her arms across her chest, pulling the jacket tighter. “You must have done something pretty bad...” Marena trailed off, staring at Dante.

He gave her a sarcastic smile. “We‘re not going into that mess.”

“Well, that may be fine for you, but now WE’RE in on your little mess. Well, she is.” Eve butted in, eyes narrowing at Marena.

Marena shot Eve a look of disbelief and became defensive. “Then you are too!”

Kaori had been silent so far. Throughout the entire ordeal she had been unusually cooperative and quiet, so when she spoke it surprised the rest of them. “What about me?”

Marena was quiet for a moment. She didn’t think it was fair to force the girl to come with them, but she also had to realize that by following all them way to London that she had to know whatever happened she would have to suffer the consequences, if she wanted to stay with them. Marena decided to give her the choice. “Well, are you with us or not?”

Kaori nodded, with barely any hesitation.

“There you go.” Marena smiled. “You‘d better run too.”

Kaori nodded once again and looked down the street before looking back up at the group. “What about that?” she said coldly, gesturing to Dante.

Dante sighed heavily and shifted his eyes to the side. Eve shot him a look. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do with him. She knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to let him go. He was rich, she could tell. She had a feeling he could help them, and as long as he thought he was a hostage they could get what they wanted. For a little while, anyways.

“Well, maybe he can help us out, because we obviously can’t stay in the hotel anymore.” Marena said, as if reading Eve’s mind.

Eve pulled back the hammer of the gun.

“Seeing as I have no choice...” he muttered, looking once again at the gun pointed at his head. In defeat, he made a small grin. “What do you require?”

The three were silent; Eve unsure if she could trust him, Marena unsure if she should talk before Eve, and Kaori nearly frozen solid.

Surprisingly, Kaori was the one to speak up. “Somewhere inside.”

The other two nodded, Eve finally succumbing the extraordinary cold.

“Let’s move first.” Dante said, then walked calmly away with Kaori and Marena in tow. Eve, sensing that the gun was no longer pointing at anything, followed him as well. Dante walked quickly over to the side of the building he had jumped from and kicked a door in which, conveniently, led to the parking garage. The group ducked inside, relieved to be out off the street, even if the garage wasn’t heated on this level.

“So, where to?” Kaori asked, still shivering.

Dante began, “Well, we can’t exactly go anywhere private, of course --”

“Don’t you have any friends that can hide us?” Eve asked, irritation in her voice.

“Don’t you?” Dante said angrily. “If you want my help, then be quiet. I don’t have to help you, but I will, because I‘m a nice guy, see? And it’s my fault that your friend here is wanted as well.”

Marena looked over at Dante when she heard herself mentioned, but turned away again. This trip to London had been nothing but trouble. She’d barely had any fun yet, and she felt a twinge of regret as she remembered that at least in Prague she always had somewhere to go after her shitty day. It almost made her wish she had never left. Almost.

“Why don’t we just go to somewhere busy? What’s open this late?” Marena asked, her voice lethargic. She wasn’t sleepy, necessarily; just exhausted. In her book, they were two entirely different things. She could be exhausted but couldn’t sleep a wink.

Dante laughed. “Everything in London is open this late. Depends on what kind of place you want to be at.”

“Somewhere very busy, so we can‘t be pointed out.” Marena said simply, repeating what she had before. “I don’t really care after that.”

“You can’t think of one place we can go? Why can’t we just sneak into a dance club? I bet you know plenty of those; but please, somewhere halfway decent.” Kaori said, aggravation in her voice. As the weather got cooler her mood got fouler.

“You’re not very nice. At all.” Dante said, staring at Kaori. She smiled, putting her hands on her hips. “However, it isn’t a bad idea. I might know a place where we can stay at, depends on the management...” he trailed off, in thought.

Eve crossed her arms and started tapping her foot. “A nightclub? I was planning on sleeping a little.”

“Like I said...doesn’t matter for me.” Marena chimed in again, now leaning against the wall.

Dante began mumbling names and counting them off on his fingers before he stopped, waving his hand. “I’ve got it. As long as who I think owns the place still owns it, we may be in luck.”

“Then what?” Eve said, impatiently. “We can’t stay there forever, you know.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Dante said, slightly aggravated by Eve. “We’ll go there, stay there for however long it takes for this to cool down. Then we can all go our separate ways. That is, if I’m not still your hostage.” he grumbled.

“Let’s just go, okay? We can figure out what we’re gonna do from there.” Kaori said to no one in particular, as she was staring over everyone‘s shoulders. She sighed heavily.

“Okay, fine. Where is it?” Dante asked, looking at Eve.

Eve made a puzzled look. “Where is what?”

“Whatever you got here in. My car only has two seats.” Dante explained, his voice hardly above a mumble.

“Oh.” Eve said. “We came in on motorcycle, Marena and I. It’s on the top floor. I’m not sure about Kaori.”

Kaori shrugged. “I did too but...I lost it.” It wasn’t exactly true; it could have still been there, but she didn’t want to risk looking and it not being there; she would definitely get left behind. She could sense that Eve did not want her around, and Marena often seemed more concerned with herself than anyone else.

“Okay...” Dante said, putting his hand on his neck. “Well, two on the motorcycle, two in the car. Does that work?”

Kaori and Marena exchanged glances. Kaori raised her hand. “I call the car.” she said simply.

Marena looked over at her. “ I’m wearing a dress.” she said, in a way that suggested that her word was the law; a futile attempt to not get stuck with Eve on the motorcycle. It was too cold to go on the motorcycle. Ever.

“But...” Kaori began. “I don’t...” she wasn’t exactly sure how to word “I don’t like Eve” without sounding rude or getting killed. “I don’t really...” she finally just stopped and crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at Marena.

“Fine.” Kaori said. “I’ll go with Eve.” she turned to Eve, and with a hint of malice in her voice, asked, “If that’s okay with you.”

Eve shrugged. “Whatever. We‘ll wait outside until we see you go by. Honk twice.”

“Alright.” Dante said.

Eve, barely acknowledging him, turned towards Marena and shoved the heavy bag, full of their things, at her. “You carry this, it’ll be easier for you.” she said, then opened the bag partially to show one of Marena’s Jerichos sitting on the top. “And if he does something stupid, shoot him.” she whispered, then headed over towards the elevators. Kaori, resigned, followed the temperamental woman, grumbling the whole way.

Dante sighed and looked back over at Marena, who was struggling for a comfortable grip on the awkwardly heavy bag, while at the same time trying to zip it again. “Well, the ride there should be slightly more pleasant. You are friends?”

Marena looked over to the side. “Well...sort of.”

Dante nodded. “Right. Well, shall we?” he said, motioning towards the elevator, now closed; Eve hadn’t even bothered to hold it for them.

Marena sighed. “Actually, we’re going to have to make a slight detour across the street.”

Dante was puzzled. “Why?”

“Dante Lamoroch, right?” Marena said, hoping he would say another last name; she could hope the pictures were coincidentally identical. Instead, he nodded. “Well, Dante Lamoroch, I stole your car.” she said, simple and straightforward. There was no point in beating around the bush, she couldn’t avoid the situation forever.

Dante’s eye’s narrowed and he tightened his grip on the briefcase. He looked down, then gave out a strained sigh. He looked back up at Marena. It seemed he should be angry, but all Marena saw in his eyes was exhaustion.

“Where is it...?” he said, his voice tired.

“Across the street, at the Discotheque.” Marena answered, slightly embarrassed. “There’s nothing wrong with it, it’s --”

“Let’s just go.” he said, coldly.

**

“I can’t believe you stole my fucking car.” Dante said through clenched teeth as they sped out of the parking garage. As they merged into traffic, Dante honked twice. Immediately, Marena could hear the sound of a motorcycle starting and, upon looking in the rearview mirror, saw the familiar shape of a particularly uncomfortable black motorcycle following them.

“Look,” Marena said. “I opened the glove compartment and saw your picture. Seeing as this was your car, I figured you were a rich little bastard living off daddy’s money, and that I deserved this car more than you did. Am I really that far off?”

Dante was silent for a moment. “Not really.” he said, then looked over at her and winked.

Marena smiled slightly and shrunk down in the seat, suddenly very exhausted. She realized she still had his coat on now, as her face was practically buried in it. It smelled like copper. “Where are we going, exactly?” she asked, drowsily, resting her hands on the top of the bag in her lap. She could feel the sensation of something sharp pressing against her leg through the fabric.

“My friend’s place, like I said. Where that is, it really doesn’t matter.” he replied.

Marena nodded, not in the mood to argue. She looked over her left shoulder to actually look at Dante, who was focused on weaving through the insane London traffic. Marena was only marginally concerned about Eve being able to follow Dante’s driving; she felt more sorry for Kaori. She really cared less about Eve at the moment, as Eve seemed to take every possible opportunity to piss her off or demean her in some way. She needed a little quiet time away from Eve, and considering that they had known each other for only a couple days, Marena was afraid she had made the wrong decision in coming to London with her.

Dante turned and looked over at Marena. “I heard what Eve said. You won’t have to worry about that, I’m not in the business of going back on offers of help.”

“That‘s good. If you were...” she answered quietly. “I’d shoot you.” .

Dante nodded. “Well, like I said, don’t worry about it. I’m not generally the type to pass up this kind of opportunity.” he said, his voice hinting at things Marena didn’t care to acknowledge.

She sighed but did not answer, drumming her fingernails on the side of the door. She looked out of the window at the streaming city life flying by at 80 miles an hour. The lights from the buildings were streaks in the sky, the floating electronic billboards, selling everything from cereal to sex, were only blurs in the sky. As they slowed at a red light, the world came into focus and she could see people walking by, technology dripping off of them like gems. Their rings, cameras; their earrings, telephones. Every building had shining lights and glittering advertisements. Marena couldn’t find a place that wasn’t illuminated; it was as if it was daylight outside. Marena was mesmerized by the city life she had failed to notice coming in with Eve; amazing what an increase of in temperature will do to someone’s awareness. Soon, though, Dante sped the car up to a fast speed, blurring the electronic wonderland back into a steady stream of light and decadence.

Marena sat back up in the seat, her drowsiness dissipating. “Where are you from, Dante?” she asked.

Dante, startled by the break in silence, jerked his head over quickly in Marena’s direction. He then looked back towards the road. “Washington D.C., in the Remnants.” he answered simply.

“Oh. That’s nice.” she said, taking the caustic way he said the name to be a sign not to press the issue further; not now, anyways.

“Sure.” he replied to comment, sarcastically.

A few minutes passed, in silence. Dante’s face was impassive the rest of the way, and Marena, caring not to initiate conversation, sat in mute thought as they slowed down and pulled into a parking lot. Dante waved his hand, gesturing towards the building. “Here it is.”

Marena looked out the window to find herself staring at a massive building, though not as large as the Wonderland. It was oddly shaped, as if someone had taken a cylinder and half way up the cylinder decided to cut it diagonally up. A beam of light came from the roof and pierced through the sky all the way up to the perpetually cloudy layer. Outside were droves of people, women dressed in short skirts and low tops, accompanied by men in all sorts of clothing, ranging from suits to general attire. It looked like every other club around here, that she had seen. By the amount of people in lines, however, it looked highly exclusive.

Dante pulled his car around to the front, near the entrance to the club. Marena heard Eve drive up behind the car and idle; she had not gotten lost. Dante honked three times, in a rhythm, and they waited as an usher gave them a of signal before running inside the club. A few moments later, a well dressed man came out and walked around to the driver’s side of the car. The man was very stern in face and large in size; he looked like a bouncer. Dante rolled down his window, and almost immediately the demeanor of the large man changed and he laughed heartily.

“Dante Lamoroch!” he said, his hand resting in the edge of the open window. His voice had an Irish lilt to it, but had the quality of someone who had lived in London for quite a while as well. “How long has it been?”

“Long enough, Steven.” Dante said, his voice more lighthearted than it had been all evening. “Listen, my f--” he paused, before correcting himself. “Some people and I need a place to stay for a little while, where we wont be easily spotted. Say, perhaps, a club you happen to own.”

The man, Steven, continued laughing. “I won’t even ask, I know you too well.” He looked around over his shoulder before inquiring any further; every time he did a favor for Dante something bad happened, it seemed. “How many friends you have with you?”

“Three.” Dante said. He leaned back in his seat and motioned to Marena. “Here’s one of them. The other two are on the motorcycle”

Steven looked inside the car. Upon seeing Marena, he smiled once again. “How did you get messed up with this punk?” he said, his voice having a tone that was far too serious to be joking around.

“Didn’t mean to...” Marena said, trailing off. She looked away from Steven and stared back at the impressive building. As the night went on she got angrier and angrier at the situation. She didn’t feel like yelling at anyone, though, so she tried to focus her thoughts on other things.

“Alright then, alright then.” Steven answered, standing back up. “Okay, Dante, but if you guys do anything here that causes a ruckus I will throw you out on your asses, and it’s fucking cold out here. So don’t be a jerk, alright?”

Dante nodded. “Of course.”

“You know,” Steven sighed. “I don’t even known why I help you.”

“I’m a nice guy, Steven. Besides, I pay too goddamn well for you to turn me down.” Dante said, flashing him an award winning smile.

“Right, right.” Steven said, and he waved for Dante to pull around to the side of the building. He drove around, the puttering of the motorcycle close behind them. On the side of the building was a fairly nondescript door at the top of a set of stairs and not much else, save a dumpster. Dante pulled his car up between the dumpster and the stairs, and a garage door opened; a clever chameleon effect. Dante pulled in the garage and parked in the only available spot of four spots. Eve drove in and parked right beside Dante’s car, nearly blocking the door. Marena heard the engine shut off for the car and at nearly the same time heard the motorcycle switch off as well.

Dante got out of his car smoothly and effortlessly, and Marena couldn’t help but notice that his fine leather seat was covered in a layer of water, smelling faintly of chemicals. She opened the door slowly and, grabbing the heavy bag by the strap, got out of the very low lying car. She slung the bag over her shoulder, and for some reason it seemed a lot lighter than it had before.

Within moments, Steven walked through a door at the top of another staircase and motioned the quartet in. The group walked slowly and apathetically up the stairs; no one was in a good mood, it seemed. They all walked single file through the door which, despite being dull a grey, led to somewhere very different.

The group walked into a large room, painted in reds and golds. Large, overstuffed couches and leather chairs were spread around the room, as well as a bed of sorts; more like a futon than anything.

“Well, this is the VIP lounge. I’m usually in here with clients, but I’ll make an exception for Dante Lamoroch and treat the clients to my private lounge, I suppose.” Steven laughed lightly, before reverting his tone to a passive, tour guide type. “It’s not actually bedroom, but there’s plenty of chairs and couches. No one will bother you unless you want them to. At any rate, have a nice time and feel free to stay for...well, not as long as you want. We’ll see. But do feel free to enjoy my club.” he said, before waving to the group and exiting through another door across the room, into the club. The moment he opened the door, a blast of sound and bass rang throughout the room, making everything in the room vibrate with every jolt. The room was quiet again, however, when he slammed the door shut.

In fact, quiet was an understatement. The room was completely silent as the four strangers stood in the room, unsure of what to do next. Marena dropped the bag and it landed with a thud on the carpet, weapons jangling about inside. She sat down on the chair next to the bag and unzipped it, rummaging through the contents until she found her weapons. Without thinking, she pulled out the dual katars and sat them on her lap, using a sweater she had also pulled to wipe them off, regardless of if the sweater was hers. In fact, she was pretty sure it wasn‘t.

Dante had been fairly distant and quiet towards the group since they had gotten to the hotel, but his expression immediately changed as he looked over at Marena polishing two very intimidating pieces of weaponry. “Whoa, whoa.” he said, walking over to her. “What are those?”

“Katars.” she paused, then continued. “They’re melee weapons.” she added, in the voice one would use talking to a six year old.

Dante was not amused. “I know what they are. But you shouldn’t have them out, Steven will get pissed if he sees any weaponry from you guys.” he said, running his hands through his hair, which was still wet from the night’s excursions. He shook his hand back and forth separating the strands, making his hair a matted, golden, mess.

Marena sighed, then poured all of the clothing out of the bag. She dutifully placed all of the weapons strewn across the floor back in the bag, zipping it up and placing it behind the couch. It irritated her being ordered around, but regardless, she and the others were guests. She took his orders with quiet compliance, not saying a word.

“Thanks.” he said. He walked over to a large closet across the room and swung the doors open roughly. He pushed clothing every which way, some of it falling off of the hangers and he ripped through it. Eventually he stopped, pulling out a suit similarly colored to the one he had on now, but a lot drier. “Old.... Good shape though, and should still fit.” he said, talking to himself. He walked over to the bathroom -- or at least, what was assumed to be a bathroom -- and walked in, shutting the door behind him. Moments later the sound of running water, presumably a shower, could be heard.

The rest of the group stared on at the sight in bewilderment, before Eve broke the silence by falling down on one of the couches, staring up at the ceiling. Kaori continued to stand there, as if she hadn’t heard a word since they had left the Wonderland, or didn‘t care to. She eventually migrated over and sat on the futon, before falling back on it.

“I’m bored.” Kaori declared, out of nowhere. She started kicking her legs back and forth against the bed, and put her hands behind her head.

Marena looked away from her task at hand at over at Kaori, though it really didn’t matter since Kaori couldn’t see her anyways. “Well, we are in a dance club. Go inside it.” Marena said.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t dance much, really.” Kaori said.

“Well, it’s not really dancing. I’m sure you’d be very popular, at any rate.” Marena replied, then turned to focus on her pile of clothing and things.

“Go out there, Kaori. There‘s nothing better to do.” Eve said.

“Then why don’t you go out too?” Kaori replied, still not actually looking at anyone as she spoke to them.

Eve shook her head. “No, I don’t dance.”

Kaori sat up. “I said I didn’t either, but you still insisted I do it. Is your word the only law?” she sighed. “I’m glad I didn’t ride all the way here with you.” Kaori said, her voice low but vindictive.

Eve bit her lip and looked away. “Well, alright. I can see what the general consensus of this room is.” she said, the stood up abruptly. She walked over to the door and flung it open, causing a wave of trance to flow through the room before she slammed it shut, once again causing an eerie, awkward silence in the room.

Marena looked over at Kaori. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“You feel the same!” she said defensively, crossing her arms across her chest. She then sighed heavily. “Oh, I know. I’m just...I don’t know. I should go apologize.” she said, her voice changing tones almost instantaneously.

“If you can; it’s a mess out there.” Marena said, looking out the window and the writhing mass of people, sticky and covered in sweat. As disgusting as it looked, Marena was contemplating joining them; she had always enjoyed dancing, even if what was going on out there usually wasn’t considered dancing.

Kaori wrung her hands nervously. “Oh, I know. But...ah, I’m gonna go.” she said quickly, before exiting and entering the room in same fashion everyone else had.

And so it was that Marena was alone. Seeing as she was the only person in the room, she took this time to change into a pair of dark colored jeans and a black tank top. She was thankful to be out of the dress, which had become more annoying than attractive. She was insistent to herself never to wear those shoes again; it would never happen, but she knew tonight she would not wear them. She slipped on the black boots, the ones she had taken from Eve, and reached into the bag once again, searching for something to tie her hair back with. She was successful, and soon had put her hair in a low bun, small pieces of coffee colored hair falling out from the elastic band.

She walked over to the door and without hesitation flung the door open. A rush of air flowed over her as the door opened, and the music began pounding in her ears. She stepped down the stairs that lead up to the door she was at, immediately bombarded by dancers not caring who or what they danced with.

As Marena walked through the mass of people towards the bar, she felt someone grab her arm and pull her back into the mass of people. Whoever it was -- some man, slightly drunk -- decided to dance with her, placing his arms around her waist and pulling her against his as he moved along with the beat, in tempo despite his obvious intoxication. At first she tried to pull away, but seeing as no one seemed to care about anyone else, she decided to keep dancing with the man. Soon, she found herself so immersed in the sound that she didn’t even realize who she was dancing with, and by the end of the song was with a completely different person. She realized that perhaps the people were more intoxicated by the music than anything else.

After what seemed like an eternity, the DJ came over to the microphone, and the loss of beat brought her out of her trance. She wasn’t sure who she was with or where she was, but a quick glance around the room showed her that she wasn’t too far from the bar, which had been her original destination. She thanked whoever she was with at the time, and he replied with an “Anytime,” as he slung his arm around another girl’s waist, inviting her to dance as well.

Marena pushed her way through the mass and eventually found herself at the bar. She balanced herself on the counter, and the very attentive bartender asked her if she would like anything to drink. Unsure, she replied with, “Give me what you like,” defeated by the mass of people she had been a part of just a few short minutes ago.

The bartender sat a brightly colored drink in front of her and she took a sip, unsure of what to expect. It was better than she had expected, however, and she soon found herself with an empty glass, ordering “one more for the road.” A couple drinks later, Marena could feel a decent buzz, but it was alright with her; she wanted to feel happier, as her trip so far had been a complete and utter failure.

Suddenly, Marena felt someone come up and stand behind her, just off to the right. She felt the person deliberately rub against her, but was still behind her enough to not get a look at her face. Even if he had tried to see her face, Marena had turned her head the other way, avoiding his gaze and instead looking down the bar at the bartender. She’d been through all of this a hundred times before, and right now she just wanted another drink.

No sooner than she had thought it, the bartender sat another drink in front of her. It was lavishly decorated with orange zest and all of the other lovely things to try and hide the fact that she’d might as well just be taking shots, it’d be the same thing. But didn’t this look far more classy?

“Let me get that one for you.” the man behind her said, though the music was so loud she could barely hear him. And so it began.

She decided, however, to simply cut to the chase. Perhaps her drinks had a little more alcohol than she had originally assumed. She was afraid she might have to stop soon to avoid anything embarrassing. At any rate, the alcohol had made her feel like she should be far more direct.

She looked out of the corner of her eye, but could not see him. She could, however, feel him standing closer and closer with every beat of the music. He was practically on top of her already, and they had yet to even see each other’s faces. She began to turn around to face him, talking exasperatedly along the way, “Why don’t you just ask ‘Want to fuck?’ and get it over w--”

As she completed her turn, she found herself face to face with none other than Dante Lamoroch. Her blood boiled and she felt her arms cover in goose bumps, contradicting.

Dante looked at Marena, his face masking surprise a lot better than Marena’s. “Well, hello.” he said, his voice nearly swallowed by the pounding bass. “I must say you like quite different out of your little red dress.” he said, then nonchalantly tugged at a belt loop in her jeans.

Marena narrowed her eyes. “Well, you look the same. A little drier.” she said, the end of her sentence only slightly slurred.

Dante stared for a moment, then a smile crept across his face. “Are you drunk?”

Arrogant bastard. “Not quite drunk enough.” she said. She smiled an irritated smile at him and he rolled his eyes.

“You’re the one bringing it up.” he said, then leaned over the bar to summon the bartender. He ordered something, but the combination of elements and sounds in the room had caused Marena to practically go deaf.

She instead leaned against the bar as well, her hand resting lightly around a drink she wasn’t sure she wanted to finish.

“Enjoying yourself?” Dante asked, looking over in her direction.

She kept her focus ahead of her. “I suppose this trip has only been slightly less than depressing.” She looked down at her hands. “But only slightly.”

“Is it better than where you came from?” Dante asked.

Marena hazily answered, more pieces of chocolate colored hair spilling from her ponytail as she turned to face him. “The more and more I think about it, the less inclined I am to say yes. At least in Prague I had somewhere to go.”

Dante focused his attention on his drink when she said this, then turned back. “Prague.” he said the name as if he had never said it before. “Isn’t Prague just a wasteland?”

“It’s...” she trailed, unsure of how to answer. To most people it seemed so, and to someone of his affluence it most certainly was. Even sometimes to her it was. The problem was the uneasiness she felt about saying a place she called home only days ago a wasteland. She turned her gaze away once again.

“It’s okay,” he said, apologetically. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She didn’t answer, not directly, but motioned that she had heard his apology with a simple nod of the head.

“You’re more interested in that drink than anything else here.” Dante said, and he edged closer to her. “There are plenty of things -- and people -- to do here. Everyone comes to these places for the same reason. Why don’t you go enjoy yourself?” he said, his voice casual and low.

Marena turned away from her drink and towards him. “What exactly are you suggesting, Mr. Lamoroch?” she said, her voice smooth.

“Doesn’t matter.” he said “Despite the circumstances, you should try and have a little fun.” he paused, running his hand through his hair and smiling. “Of course, last time you had ‘fun,’ you stole my car.”

“I said I was sorry.” she said, not taking her gaze off of him. He needed to get the point, then get over it.

He stared right back. “I know you said you were sorry.” he leaned in closer, too close. “But I had a strange feeling you were more sorry you had to give back the car than you were sorry you’d taken it in the first place.”

Marena didn’t answer at first, but slowly a smile crept across her face. She hated to admit he was right, but it was fairly obvious. The car was damn hot.

“I figured as much.” he said. He stood for a moment, then stood to walk away. He started back out onto the dance floor, but doubled back and stood by Marena again. He leaned over next to her again, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. It was almost obscene. “Do you want to have a good time or not?”

She didn’t speak, but instead nodded silently, staring ahead at the dancers on the other side of the bar; all the while rocking back and forth, uneasily, to the beat.
[more]

Posted by Liz @ 12:00 AM CST [Link]

Wednesday, October 8, 2003

“But Natalie…aren’t you worried about her?”

“Maruska can take care of herself, Julia,” said Ghost, pausing to take a bite out her sandwich. She and the slightly younger brunette were sitting in the Chatrani food court, if you could call it that. The large, circular room didn’t seem so large when it was crammed with hundreds of people, most of them waiting impatiently in line for miserably small portions.

It was really more of a Cafeteria, but the term “food court” seemed so much more appealing, and carried with it a certain essence of what used to be considered normal in cities around the world.

“I wish you’d stop calling her Maruska—she has a first name, you know,” snapped Julia. The young woman wasn’t meaning to be rude, but one could only handle so much of Ghost’s cold demeanor. She sighed and lay her sandwich down on her plate, muttering something about losing her appetite.

Ghost raised her faux-blue eyes to meet Julia’s deep blue ones, and for a moment neither said a thing. “Okay, then. What do you want me to do? Convince her to quit the Nightriders? We both know that’s not possible.”

“Why? Why does it have to be impossible, Natalie?” Julia persisted. She glanced to the side, hoping Ghost wouldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes. “Damn it, why do you people have to be so stubborn? Nothing is worth risking your life over!”

Natalie shook her head and stared at the girl, who was so desperately naïve it was almost pathetic, but Ghost softened her tone when she spoke. “Julia, a lot of people wouldn’t agree with you on that. Maruska believes that her purpose is to protect this community. I happen to feel the same way, and that’s why I’m willing to risk my life.”

“Well it’s stupid!” Julia persisted, and several people looked over to see what the commotion was. Embarrassed, she lowered her voice. “Look, maybe I can’t…be as detached and as logical as you, Natalie, because I care about Evelina.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow.

“Not that you don’t,” Julia added quickly. “What I mean is…it’s not just because I care about her. It’s because I’m worried about her, you know? She’s been acting different lately. I think the job is getting to her. If anything, shouldn’t she at least have some time off?’

“Maruska would never go for that. You know that.” Ghost said matter-of-factly.

Julia pressed forward across the table, looking desperate for something to say, but there was nothing. She ran her fingers through her long, thick hair, pulling it back from her forehead and causing her eyebrows to lift slightly. Natalie tilted her head a bit and watched her friend struggling for words. All around them were the sounds of dishes clattering, people talking and laughing, and the smell of food cooking. Since there were no windows down here, steam filled the room to the point of slight discomfort.

“I don’t know what to say,” Julia confessed, standing up hastily, the flimsy orange chair scraping against the cement floor. “But I’m going to convince her, somehow, to stop before something terrible happens. As her friend, you should do the same.” With a resolute nod she turned and walked out of the room.

Ghost just shook her head and finished her meal in silence.

Just days later, Julia had been killed while following Evelina on a dangerous mission. Natalie, sitting alone in her room, couldn’t stop thinking about it. The eerily prophetic statement of Julia’s parting words turned over in Natalie’s mind. She kept wondering if she should have listened to Julia, asked Golem to give Evelina some time off, even locked her in her room if necessary…anything to get that woman to take a break. Or perhaps she could have talked to Julia, found out her plans, and convinced her not to do anything stupid.

But I shrugged her off, and she died…if I had listened to her, she might still be alive, and Evelina would be her old self again. Natalie, who was hardly accustomed to feeling guilt, found herself quite uncomfortable with these second thoughts she was having, and had been having difficulty sleeping. Julia had seemed so…innocent. All she wanted was for everyone to get along and for no one to get hurt. But that wasn’t the real world. That wasn’t possible; Ghost had tried to tell her. And she still, in part, believed that.

Still, Julia’s words, and her covert attempt to stop Evelina, were undeniably haunting. The corruption of her innocence, her purity, her goodwill, in yet another senseless conflict of revenge had left Ghost with many questions. One being if there was any good left in the world at all; another being, Is this really worth it? For now, she had to believe that it was.

These thoughts were becoming more and more common for Natalie; the worms, the flies, and the vultures of reason were coming to prey on the corpse of the ugly truth, as it grew more putrid by the day.

“Yo, sweetheart…Natalia,” interrupted a familiar voice.

At the very sound of that voice Natalie Stanford cringed, swiveling around in her chair to face the doorway. “Yes?” she replied in the iciest tone she could manage.

It was Killswitch, a fellow Nightrider in name only, as far as many were concerned. He leaned casually in the doorway with his arms crossed, ubiquitous cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth along with a poorly concealed smirk.

“Is that the best you can do?” he chided, looking forlorn. The cigarette wagged as he talked, threatening to ash on his shirt, but somehow he always kept that from happening. “You could at least pretend to be glad to see me.”

“I’m not here to reinforce your delusions, Killswitch,” she said bluntly. His green eyes widened in mock surprise. “And unless you have something important to tell me, I recommend you leave...immediately. Your very livelihood may depend on it.”

“May, hmm?” said Killswitch, his face turning dangerously serious. He took a few steps toward her. “Perhaps I should take my chances then, my dear.” Natalie stared at him, incredulous. She and the fiery-haired Russian had never gotten along, and that was…an understatement. When Natalie had traveled from London with Evelina and first joined the Nightriders, Killswitch had made the “friendly” gesture of grabbing her ass and joking about having “never felt up an Albino chick before.” Although that had resulted in his week-long incapacitation, his behavior only worsened.

I’m not gonna let him get to me, she though fiercely, and promised herself not to show the slightest sign of discomfort. Thus she remained expressionless, as usual, and tilted her head to look blandly at the swaggering man before her. “So…do you have something of vital importance to tell me or not?”

The shit-eating grin on his face was unbearable. Dropping his cigarette carelessly on the floor, Killswitch took a few slow strides toward the desk where Ghost was sitting, resting his hand on its worn surface. She glanced from his hairy knuckles up to his looming, angular face, inches away, and their eyes met. Killswitch, although an excellent fighter in his own right, was nonetheless tempting fate with this maneuver, and he knew it.

“Why are you here?” Ghost asked coolly. Her arm, which had been lying casually at her side, slipped a few inches beneath the chair without notice.

“Does that really matter?” Killswitch smirked. “Well, I must say, to have not broken eye contact yet is…commendable on your part. After all, it must really suck to be reminded of your own inadequacy.”

“Wow, that’s the way to go,” Ghost replied tiredly. She was really getting fed up with his unconscionable behavior. “When you can’t get a girl to like you, you end up having to force yourself on her, and when, surprise of surprises, she still doesn’t like you, it’s gotta be her fault, right?” Natalie couldn’t resist an eye roll. “Give it up, jackass, and tell me why you’re here. If leering at me is your only reason, you had better get out, now.” Without a sound she had removed her trusty switchblade from her boot and now had the blade firmly pressed against the inside of his thigh.

Taken aback, the redhead shot her a nasty look before heading toward the door. He had taken a step into the hallway when he seemed to remember something, then said casually, “Oh yeah. Your friend Eve and that mercenary woman took off, I’m sure they’re gone by now. Thought you might want to know.” With one last wicked grin he was gone.

* * *

Within minutes Natalie had made her way across the vast underground complex toward the security station, which was maintained by the Nightriders and monitored by various Chatrani workers.

She strode into the rather small, dimly lit room. The lack of overhead lighting was more than made up for by a dozen or so television sets—in color, nonetheless—displaying various parts of the huge complex. At least half of the cameras had been trained on the community’s invaluable light crops.

The first thing Natalie observed was the two Chatrani currently watching the monitors were both on their feet, clearly agitated about something. As she stepped into the room, one could be clearly heard to say, “Look, I wasn’t gonna shoot Evelina Maruska. Not on your life, buddy.”

“What about Maruska?” Ghost asked calmly. Inside she felt a whirl of panic, but she’d spent the whole jog over here trying to suppress her nerves. The young man looked embarrassed, and the older guard, who had been speaking, shot him an accusing glare.

“It’s just, uh, you see…” stammered the young man.

He was interrupted when the door opened behind Ghost and in walked Golem, Vesper, and their latest hire, a Palestinian man named Ren. Golem, in all his seven-foot-tall glory, looked positively distraught. He was frowning and his eyes appeared small and watery. A moment later Killswitch slipped through the door.

“What happened?” asked Marcus, looking from the security guards to Ghost, who shrugged, and back to the guards. “Did Evelina and Marena really leave? Coz if they did, you know…I dunno…I feel like it’s my fault.”

“Yeah, Marcus, they did leave,” said the older man, who was called Eagle Eye for obvious reasons. He was excellent at spotting anything even remotely odd with security. “There wasn’t anythin’ we could do. Although Pete here seems to think it woulda been a brilliant idea to kill those two ladies, I figured, we just had to let them go.”

“Only following protocol, Marcus,” said Pete anxiously. He turned to address the Nightriders. “Let it be known that as soon as we…made our decision…the proper notification steps were taken.”

“How long ago was it?” asked Vesper, finding his voice. “Maybe we can go after them?”

“’Bout fifteen minutes ago—“ said Eagle Eye, at the same time that Killswitch and Golem exclaimed in unison, “No,” and “I don’t think so.”

“Why the hell not?” asked Ghost, putting her hands on her hips. “Maruska is my best friend.”

“Hey, I know I just got here, but…you guys barely know this Marena person,” added Ren. “What if Evelina is in some sort of danger?”

“No,” said Ghost. “I know her. There’s no way she’d let herself be tricked. Especially not by some new girl.”

“Hey, she’s all right in my book,” Golem said testily. “Would I have hired her otherwise?”

“You’ll hire any filth that gets carried in with the wind,” said Killswitch hotly, glaring at Marcus.

Golem fumed. “By the way, you two,” he said, addressing the security guards. “Why was this guy notified before I was?”

“Uh, because I happen to be in charge of security, Golem,” said Killswitch. “Or have you been so lax in your leadership you just completely forgot about that?”

Golem looked like he was about to attack, and sensing danger, Vesper stepped not in front of him but Killswitch. “Hey, back off. It hasn’t been an easy time, and Golem’s been doing his best.” Vesper, as with the other Nightriders, was fiercely loyal to Golem, who had helped so many of them when they had nowhere else to turn.

“Hey, Marcus, I’m real sorry. And if it’s any help, I’ve always been damned grateful to ya and the Nightriders,” said Eagle Eye, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, which looked rather amusing as the short, fat man could barely reach it. Natalie observed this, and for the moment, she felt secure and proud in her role as a guardian of the Chatrani.

“But we really need to get back to work now,” Pete interjected. He had been watching the monitors since discussion had began, and he was clearly frustrated with the lot of them.

“Of course, guys, sorry about that,” said Golem quickly. Five pairs of feet shuffled out the door and down the clanging metal steps.

“I’m not just going to sit around here, totally clueless…” muttered Natalie, walking briskly ahead of the others down the hallway.

“Natalie, we can’t lose anyone else right now, do you understand?” Marcus nearly shouted, rushing up beside her. “Natalie…”—she stopped and stared at him—“Don’t go, please. It’s not safe out there, they—they could have gone anywhere.”

“Marcus, you feel guilty, don’t you?” she asked. Flustered, he nodded. “Well I feel guilty, too. I should have seen this coming…that she’d get fed up with this kind of life…”

“There was nothing more you could have done to comfort her,” said Killswitch, who along with Vesper and Ren had caught up to Ghost.

“What would you know about sympathy?” she snapped. Turning back to Golem, she declared, “I’m going after them, Marcus. Please understand. We just lost Julia.” Marcus winced. “Kaori ran off as well. Maruska was the one who brought me here in the first place. I owe it to her to be worried, Marcus. I owe it to her to help her out.”

“She left with a total stranger,” said Ren, sighing. “Assuming she did so willingly, don’t you think she didn’t tell you for a reason?”

That proposal hit Natalie like a kick in the stomach, and she clenched her jaw in frustration, seeing sympathy and also determination on Marcus’ face. “You owe it to the Chatrani to stay here and protect them, Natalie. Which, for whatever reason, Evelina feels she can’t do right now. Just let her figure things out. We need you here, now more than ever.”

Ghost sighed. Had Evelina really…ditched her? Such a silly phrase, she thought, but I feel like a fourth-grader whose best friend just ditched her for the new kid.

After a tense moment, Natalie said bluntly, “I’m going. Unless you plan to have me shot, Marcus, I’m going after them.”

“Well, this isn’t a prison,” said Golem dejectedly, “And although I’m disappointed, I guess I understand where you’re coming from. I'll let security know that you’re leaving.” Everyone chose to ignore an exasperated sound coming from Killswitch, who muttered a few obscenities and proceeded to storm off.

“I’m going to pack a few things,” said Natalie.

When she arrived at the cargo lift about a half hour later, she was rather surprised to see Vesper standing there waiting for her with a suitcase of his own. The Chinese-American man looked at her with a nervous, tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been asked to escort you,” he announced, looking almost worried for his life. “Marcus, uh…thought it would be the best thing, if Ren stayed behind to protect the Chatrani, and if I went along with you. For safety’s sake.”

“Safety’s sake, huh?” Ghost repeated, repressing a laugh. As much as she felt amusement, or sadness, or any other strong emotion, it was her instinct to keep it locked up inside. Even though the Chatrani had accepted her with open arms, always in the back of her mind were the haunting words: Different. Freak. Weirdo. These were the words her insensitive parents and cruel peers had inflicted upon Natalie growing up because of her pale skin and crimson eyes, and those words had left scars no eyes could see.

She looked at Vesper and nodded, understanding how Marcus reached this decision. He’s always been like a father to me, she thought. So it makes sense.

“Well then, milady, shall we go?” said Vesper, extending his hand. She playfully ignored it but made sure to bump into him--probably a bit too hard, as he stumbled back a few feet--as she stepped onto the cargo lift.

“Let’s,” she said anxiously as Vesper closed the iron gate behind them and they began the slow ascent to the surface.

* * *

Posted by Sylpheel @ 04:00 AM CST [Link]

Monday, October 6, 2003

’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.”

* * *

Posted by Jubilation Link @ 11:40 PM CST [Link]

Thursday, October 2, 2003

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.

* * *

Posted by Jubilation Link @ 11:39 PM CST [Link]

Wednesday, October 1, 2003

Alix sat quietly on her couch, her legs hanging limply over the edge, her toes grazing the carpet lightly. For one reason or another, her first stop coming into the room had been the couch. She had originally planned on watching television, but the moment she hit the couch her mind vacated and she stared mindlessly at the blank screen, her arms and legs limp with apathy. She stared at the screen for a few more moments, then pulled her legs up on the couch and leaned over, her head on the armrest of the couch.

She felt sick and...something. Something hadn‘t felt in a long time and did not like to feel. Combined with sick, it was almost too much. She lay in silence for a for moment before the feeling overwhelmed her and she found herself sprinting into the bathroom and looking down into her toilet bowl, coughing and sputtering. She grasped the side of the bowl until her fingers were a ghostly white. After a few moments, she let go of the bowl and swallowed hard, pressing her palms to her forehead. She knew what this feeling was. It was humiliation.

She felt another emotion sweep over her, but she was well aware of this one. She stood up quickly and another wave of nausea nearly overcame her, but she suppressed it. She then proceeded to pick up and throw a large container of liquid soap, in a fragile crystal bottle, against the wall. The glass screamed along with Alix as it shattered and rained on the floor, the soap crawling down the wall. She turned quickly to her right and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes and face were stained with eyeliner and red with fury; she looked horrible. Horrible and humiliated.

Alix picked up a heavy, glass candle holder and threw it, with all of her might, against the mirror. It smashed into a thousand tiny pieces, littering and mixing with the other glass around Alix’s feet. This was how she would deal. She would hide her humiliation with anger, if that’s what it took.

As she stared at the blank wall of her bathroom, outlined by what use to be a mirror frame, she felt her anger subside and was once again overcome with apathy. Subconsciously, she turned on the knobs for her shower. The water was heated immediately and Alix felt the mist burning against her face. She slipped her hands, crossed, under the loose straps of her thin-strapped shirt and pushed them over her shoulders. As they began to fall, she self-consciously grabbed onto them, before letting out a soft sigh and continuing to disrobe, albeit slowly.

The mist from the shower had filled the room like a fog. Alix felt soft little pricks on the bottom of her feet as she walked across the broken glass and stepped into the shower. It was a gorgeous bath, but almost too large for her; she figured she could have shoved another three or four people in here easily, if she had wanted to. The shower itself, however, was almost like a waterfall and a summer rain together. From one wall gushed water so plentifully that Alix’s feet were always slightly submerged; from the ceiling water gently fell, in an amount too little to be used alone. They complimented nicely, and Alix had wondered who would think of such a thing; however aesthetically pleasing, it was unnecessary. She would be just as content with one spout.

Alix ran her hands through her hair to soak it, feeling the waterfall run down her back, scorching. Alix stared down at her hands and, without thinking, grabbed a sponge and began scrubbing underneath her fingernails. She only realized what she was doing when she reached her wrists. They were swollen and red from being gripped so tightly by such unusually strong hands, and the soft sponge felt like steel wool.

“Get the hell off of me.” Alix said through clenched teeth, though it was hardly intimidating nor convincing. She at least had to try.

Eric narrowed his eyes and grabbed both of her wrists harshly, pulling both arms over her head. He held them tightly, and she could feel his blunt fingernails biting into the soft underbelly of her forearms. She let out a small noise of protest, involuntarily.

“Or what Alix?” he replied simply. It was an unimaginative answer, yes, but also one she could not answer. Because she would have to say nothing.

She turned her head to the side and he let out a small laugh, then began tracing kisses down her jawbone. “You know, Alix, I don’t mean to be so harsh, but you make me sometimes.”

“I don’t make you do anything.” she spat.

He smiled and nodded his head, agreeing. “I know.”

She snapped out of her unpleasant reverie and bit her lip nervously. She then, hesitantly, pressed her wrists underneath the burning water. Her raw skin felt as if it was on fire and she had to force herself to keep them under there as long as she did. When she pulled them back they were even redder than before, if it was possible. The swelling hadn’t really changed, but when she pressed lightly on her skin she felt a tingling, numb sensation quickly replaced by a sharp, stabbing pain. She smiled, despite. Eric had told her cold water would dull the pain and ease the swelling. Forget dulling. I’ll burn you off of me, you bastard..

Alix stood motionless for a while, then, as if someone had flipped a switch, she shuddered and realized how very hot the water was, so turned the dial down to cold, the water running over her wrists. She felt her wrists one more and, sure enough, they did not hurt nearly as bad; whether it was the initial numbness of the cold or actual healing she was not sure. She cursed silently.

Alix sighed heavily and shut the water off, not in the mood anymore. She stepped out and, leaving small, damp footprints, walked over and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around herself. She walked out, zombie-like, into the front room and to her bedroom, still dripping wet. Her bed was stunning; God knows how many count sheets and a comforter she absolutely adored, all in a beautiful creamy gold color. Now, however, none of that really mattered to her, so she sat down, still dripping wet, onto the edge of her bed, soaking the beautiful fabric.

She shivered, from either the cold or her th0ughts. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Eric; not usually, anyways. She was angry. She had a right to be angry, didn’t she? Of course, it wasn’t as if this was an unnatural occurrence, the actual act, Alix thought grimly. But when he felt it was right to embarrass her like he had, she couldn’t stand it

Her wardrobe glared at her, and as she stared she remembered Eric mentioning, as he practically kicked her out, that he would be down soon. Soon for Eric wasn’t soon for most people, but it did mean tonight and by no means would she be caught like this. She didn’t even want to think about that.

She stood up quickly and rummaged through her clothing before finding a pair of black slacks and a white top, which ruffled slightly. She quickly put on her clothes, now paranoid that Eric would walk in on her in some form of undress. Alix ran over to her dresser and pulled out a brush and hair tie. She pulled the brush roughly through her still damp tresses, slicking back her jet black hair into a sleek, low ponytail. She inhaled deeply.

Eric sat in a chair across the room from Alix, lazily smoking a cigarette and staring out at the magnificent view from his top story suite. He had previously told her to leave, then left the room himself. Alix, however, simply stayed on the couch where she had been this whole time. Eric had walked back into the room a few minutes later, a cigarette and lighter in his hand. Not even bothering to look at the couch, he sat down, lighting the cigarette and staring.

Alix stayed quiet. Not out of fear, really, but she had nothing to say to him. She didn’t want to talk to him, she didn’t even want to see him. Why she had stayed in his house she wasn’t sure.

Eric turned slowly and blew smoke in her direction, making little rings as they floated over to her. She smelled the smoke and grimaced slightly.

“If you don’t like it, leave. I already told you to anyways.” Eric said coldly.

“You taste like smoke.” she said, a disgusted tone in her voice.

Eric laughed and took another long drag. “Good.”

Alix looked up from the top of the dresser into the mirror in front of her. Her eyes were still slightly bloodshot, the circles under her eyes prominent. She grabbed a small bag on the dresser and poured out the contents. Dozens upon dozens of tubes and cases and bottles and compacts of makeup fell out, and she scrambled to find what she wanted and, at a furious pace, began applying it. She tried to convince herself that this was because she never looked disheveled in front of anyone, but she had a hard time getting the notion out of her head that she was doing this so Eric wouldn’t see what he had done. She didn’t want him to have the satisfaction.

Alix stared at herself again and, pleased, walked out of her bedroom and into the front room. She barely had time to do anything before she picked up the slightest hint of smoke. She spun around to her doorway and found herself facing Eric. She walked over to him and grabbed the cigarette out of his hand, throwing it into the small garbage can. He then promptly blew smoke in her face. She stared for a moment, then slapped him, hard.

“I told you never to smoke up here.” Alix growled.

“Alix, please.” Eric said. He paused, then continued. “You‘re angry, and I don‘t know why.”

Alix stared at him, trying to mask her disbelief and confusion. She began to think he wasn‘t exactly sure what he did was hurtful. And as long as Alix had something to do with it, he wouldn‘t. “You could at least ask.” she replied coolly.

“Come on, Alix. Are you saying I hurt you?” he asked, using the word like a curse.

Alix was hesitant to answer. “No. I’m just saying you should at least show me the decency --”

As if he had totally disregarded what she had said, he had walked over to her until he was uncomfortably close. He grabbed one of her hands roughly and pressed it against his back. He stared at her, and she knew what he meant. She slid her hand up the back of his shirt. She wasn’t sure what she was being forced to do until it was too late. Her hand faltered as she felt the small cuts littered across his back, in all directions. She remembered, briefly, her fervent, subconscious scrubbing to ge