April 18, 2021. 15:09. Richmond.
"Thank you for the assistance," Dante bows his head in gratitude. "If it weren't for your quick arrival, I'm not sure what would've happened."
We're gathered around the remnants of Terminal C. Scattered luggage, shattered glass, and the faint smell of gunpowder hang in the air. Dante leans against a support beam, and one of his hands presses on a bandage wrapped around his shoulder. His suit jacket's draped over the back of a chair, stained in dark red.
Wissen crosses his arms, nodding once. "You made the right call contacting us. It would've been a bloodbath without our intervention."
"Yeah," Shock mutters while stepping over a few dead bodies. "I checked their phones and internal comms—same encryption as our guys from Naples. This is all internal, no doubt about it."
Remi scoffs, still holding the rifle he picked up. "Dawg, these guys got a hate boner for you. They really don't want you leaving Canada," he lightly kicks one of the bodies on the floor before grinning at the rest of us. "We sure showed them though."
Azure sighs, leaning against a baggage cart. "They had the numbers, though. If they'd been smarter, we'd be the ones in the morgue."
Dante grimaces. "They were sent to prevent my return to Italy. My rivals know that once I step back on Italian soil, I'll be one step closer to becoming the next Godfather. They can't afford that."
"So, what's the plan?" I ask, wiping down my SMG before stowing it.
Dante looks at me with a determined gaze. "No matter what, I will return to Italy. But my enemies are persistent, they will try to stop me at every turn." He glances around the group. "I will need your assistance once more. I'll pay all of you to protect me on the journey and ensure I make it safely. Originally I was to fly tonight, but I'll reschedule things so I'll leave on the thirtieth of April. I ask that you accompany my flight and remain by my side until this is over."
Silence falls as we consider his request.
"Godfather business, huh?" Remi whistles along at the thought. "Shiiiiit, gotta admit, sounds pretty dope. Say less, I'm down. Always wanted to visit Italy anyway."
Shock's eyes light up. "Wait, I get to go home? Like, home-home?" Her whole face beams with excitement as she squeals. "Oh my gosh! I can't wait to see the family again!"
Wissen looks thoughtful, then nudges Tetra. "We'll go. I have contacts over there, and I'll dig into more intel on Ras while we're on the move."
Tetra hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. "Huh… I've never been to Italy before... but count me in."
Mister remains silent for a moment, his faceless visor fixed on Dante. Eventually, he nods. "I need more resources if I'm going beyond Canada's borders."
Dante dips his head in acknowledgment. "You'll be compensated accordingly. I'll provide whatever you need."
Azure shifts uncomfortably, glancing between us. "I don't know... sounds a bit out of my league. Mechanics aren't exactly top tier when it comes to mob wars."
I shoot her a reassuring look. "Think it over. You don't have to decide now."
Azure just shrugs, still weighing her options.
I've considered declining as well, but then I check my phone's calendar for any upcoming appointments—August 4th, Milan photoshoot. Hmm… right, I forgot about that. I pause, considering the benefits of going to Italy a few weeks before my modelling gig. Although I'll be primarily working with the mafia, it wouldn't hurt to get familiar with the country and its culture ahead of time. Plus, a bit of on-ground insight and connections might make things smoother when I come back for work. "Fine. I'll go."
Wissen glances at me, subtly raising a brow. I ignore it and enter the details into my phone's calendar, setting daily reminders. April 30th, countdown on.
Dante relaxes visibly, bowing his head once more. "Grazie. Your assistance is invaluable. I promise you, the reward will be worth it."
Then, silence follows—no one speaks up. The airport ambience replaces our conversation. Emergency lights cast long shadows across the shattered windows and torn baggage claim belts. The scent of gunpowder still clings to the air, refusing to leave.
Dante shifts uncomfortably as he adjusts the bandage on his shoulder. One of his men brings him a half-ruined suitcase to sit on.
Then Azure speaks, her voice thoughtful but firm. "Okay, I just realized something," She looks at the rest of us. "Not to ruin the mood, but… are we really going to let a mafia boss leave the country with a literal prototype railgun?" She gestures toward the heavily tarped weapon case safely stashed away near the exit. "In hindsight, we should've considered the possibility of Dante's enemies getting their hands on the railgun and using it against him or us. Because that feels like a bad idea."
The mood shifts the moment Azure brings it up. Even Remi's smile dims.
Mister adjusts his coat. "We may not need to worry about it as much, the prototype is incomplete after all. The power cell's unstable, and the targeting software's uncalibrated."
"A fair point, but that doesn't mean it can't still kill a dozen people in a straight line," Azure says, stepping forward. "I've seen military schematics for stuff like this before. The output's insane, even at partial charge. If Dante's enemies get a hold of it, we're all screwed."
Tetra folds his arms. "Yeah… she's not wrong… that thing is like, uh, a war crime with a trigger. I'm not sure how safe it'll be once it's out on city streets."
Dante raises his hands in mock surrender. "I understand your concerns. Know that I don't intend on mass producing it, nor do I plan to unleash it unless I must. But… my enemies won't hesitate to use worse. If it comes to a final confrontation, I'd rather have at least one ace left to play."
"So… one shot," Wissen says flatly. "This is how we'll compromise."
Dante nods. "Deal, I'll settle for just one."
"Fine, works with me." Azure then turns to Shock. "Wanna help me out with modifying it?"
Shock gasps exaggeratedly and theatrically. "Of course! I always wanted to see what security a railgun has."
The two of them approach the crate. Azure kneels and begins pulling the outer casing off with her finger tools, peeling back the sleek, carbon housing like she's performing surgery. She works with fast, precise motions, occasionally tossing scraps of damaged panelling aside. Shock works beside her, attaching a cable from her black box to the weapon's topside.
Remi crouches down nearby, watching curiously. "Shiii, we really messing with that thing?"
Azure doesn't look up. "We're trying to make sure it doesn't kill anyone it's not supposed to. After that, I'll leave the Mafia shootouts to the rest of Team Dante." Her fingers transform from screwdrivers to clippers as she digs through the remnants of the railgun. "Shock, can you hide our tampering on the weapon's systems?"
Shock smiles while her eyes and nails glow blue. "Yeah, Remi, call it a 'failsafe hack.' We'll give it partial functionality. Apparently there's a function for auto-fire, so I'll just turn that off." Her fingers tap and pinch the air. "Okay! The HUD's been altered to hide our modifications, we're golden."
I stand nearby, arms crossed, watching them work. I can't help but feel a bit of relief. The railgun always felt like a wild card, especially given its mysterious origin.
Eventually, Azure leans back and exhales. "Okay. One shot. Maybe. And only if you pray first."
Dante steps over, peering into the case. "That will suffice. I appreciate the compromise."
Shock detaches herself from the weapon, her eyes and nails powering down. She closes the casing and gives the top a light tap. "It should still aim decently, if the target isn't moving."
Azure rolls her wrist, flexing her fingers as they morph back into regular hands. "Great. So there's a lower chance of someone going into full meltdown with this."
A brief silence follows. We all share a mutual look—the kind that says, 'we did what we could'.
With the weapon addressed and the tension lowered, people start to move.
Shock and Tetra stick around to help Dante and his men clean up the aftermath. Wissen stays too, coordinating with his contacts to handle potential police interference and clear the scene. He's already halfway into another call, voice low and firm.
Azure pulls out her phone, checking her schedule. "I'm heading back. Gotta make sure my shop is doing fine before I even consider this Italy thing."
Remi puts his hands around his head, making his way to the exit. "Aight, well, I got the munchies so I'm gonna dip. Deuces!" He flashes us a peace sign before heading off.
Mister's already pacing off to the side, making a separate call. Likely locking in logistics for our trip across the ocean.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and glance one last time at the scattered wreckage. Everything's moving fast now, and my head's still spinning from the rapid change of pace. "Well, if things are settled here, I'm headed out. Gotta take care of something."
Azure gives a small wave. "Be seeing you."
As I make my way out of the terminal, I can't help but think of the chaos this new job will bring. My mind quickly shuffles between what I'm supposed to do tonight with the Dead Kings and whatever bar Blake wants me at, and then it changes to the uncertainty of Dante's protection detail. I'm usually paid to kill people, not really protect them—let alone a godfather to be.
Regardless, I push the thought away for now. One job at a time.
…
April 18, 2021. 19:40. Burnaby. 12 days left till Italy.
Neon lights and signs flicker occasionally. Muffled hip-hop music seeps out into the evening suburban streets. Dusty windows sit in front of me. What a vibe. I look around the Vix Lounge, taking in the environment as the evening air brushes my backside.
Funny coincidence that I've been posted here.
A hand-painted sign above the entrance reads The Vix Lounge in crimson letters, its glow clearly visible under the soft, amber street lamps lining the block.
The lounge itself sits on the corner of a narrow street, tucked away from the busier avenues. The only other buildings that reside on this street are mostly suburban houses and apartment complexes of both old brick buildings and newer glass-fronted buildings trying to gentry the area. Coincidentally, further down the street is Azure's garage-slash-workshop which takes up half a block, crammed with spare parts, refurbished machines, and old vehicles she's restoring for quick cash.
I glance at the nearby Dead Kings moving furniture alongside the bar staff into the building. Multiple vehicles are parked on the street, with many people moving items back and forth, stocking up the newly opened business.
People pass by without giving the bar much thought. Some people mind their business, some couples head off for dinner, and a few rough types smoke on the sidewalk. Despite the somewhat worn exterior, The Vix Lounge is apparently one of the nicer joints around Burnaby—surprisingly good cocktails and plush leather seating, or so some say.
It's a decent-looking place, I'll give credit where it's due, especially since it's more laid back than other places I've been to as of late. It's not directly on the busier streets, but it's close enough that enough attraction can be found while still being cozy.
I approach the entrance, my eyes scanning the sidewalk for anything out of place.
During the time it took for me to prepare my gear and arrive here, Blake sent additional instructions—meet with the guards, report to Mister, and make sure no one takes over this bar until it closes for the night. Nothing too out of the ordinary and within my expectations.
Thankfully, I went back home to change into clothing that wouldn't attract nearly as much attention compared to earlier today. I wasn't exactly told what the dress code would be so I opted for a simple white shirt and black sweatpants alongside my pair of boots. On top would be a grey hoodie and black cap. Anymore running in that dress would've probably resulted in me ripping it. It's already a miracle in itself that I didn't earlier.
While I still have no clue what exactly it is that I'm gonna face, I brought weapons and gear with me that can handle highly armoured mechanical targets. Anything more complicated than that and I'd probably have to call up someone more proficient in implants.
A few rough-looking guys linger near the door—Dead Kings—but they don't give me any trouble when I nod in acknowledgment. They step aside, nodding and saluting, as if they were expecting me.
The inside is surprisingly refined. Low dividers separate plush dark red leather booths that line the walls. Vintage chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a dim, golden light across the polished hardwood floors. The bar itself is long and sleek, stretching across the back wall, with bottles lined up in neat rows behind the desk. A faint scent of leather, tobacco, and a hint of cologne fills the air. A little intoxicating.
Inside here, the music is a careful blend of low jazz and modern trap, keeping the place feeling laid-back compared to the outside noise. The conversations are kept at a low murmur as the patrons and staff sit hunched over with drinks, occasionally glancing toward the entrance.
I spot Mister first. He's leaning against the bar, looking completely at home amongst the chaos. His face is completely masked as usual, but I can tell he's scanning the room as he quietly exchanges words with one of the Dead Kings. As I walk closer, Mister turns to me, giving a small wave.
"Surprised to see you here early," I say quietly. "Thought you were supposed to come later."
Mister shrugs. "Blake wanted a second opinion on the security here. To make sure the hired hands weren't just for show."
"Any good?" I ask, eyeing a few of the younger guys by a pool table, nervously clutching their drinks.
Mister takes longer than usual to respond. "It's a mixed bag. Some of them are competent. The rest… well, Blake's got work to do."
Before I can respond, a loud voice cuts through the background noise.
"Yo! Lily!"
I turn to see a familiar face—Dreadhead, the guy I knocked out at AXIS' apartment and the one that was hitting on me. He's sporting a bandage on his arm and on his head, but he looks healthier than the last time I saw him at least. Beside him is the other one—the buzz-cut guy, who's sporting a fresh tattoo of a serpent winding around his neck. They look healthier than the last time I saw them, standing a little straighter, and less beaten down. Both of them give me a slightly awkward nod.
"Hey," I say cautiously. "Didn't think I'd see you two again." I walk up to the two, curious to know why they approached me.
Dreadhead scratches his nose while avoiding eye contact with me. "Yeah, we got released pretty early. Normally, we'd be taking it easy but we still wanted to help out with some lightwork tasks still."
"Oh really? How's that treating you?"
"Well, uh… we also heard that you were gonna be heard working here tonight." The dreadhead awkwardly shifts in place.
I raise an eyebrow, curious while slightly cautious about his demeanour. "Uh huh…?"
The guy with the buzzcut interjects, lightly jabbing his friend in the side. "Dude, you sound like a simp. We just wanted to air out any bad blood between us." He looks at me sternly. "Y'know… no hard feelings about what happened in the past. You fight like a fuckin' demon though, gah damn."
Dreadhead nods in agreement. "Y-Yeah! Deadass, we thought you'd just kill us back there in AXIS' apartment and also in Blake's office. Most solos don't leave witnesses. We wanted to actually ask why you didn't kill us off," He then raises his hands, hoping to defuse any incoming negative situation. "Not that we're complaining of course! Just wanted to know."
I sigh, and shrug, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. "Well, you guys weren't the problem. Y'all just happened to be in my way. I… saw no reason to kill you, besides, I was the careless one for not checking guard routines in a rush to grab AXIS' Porsche. Cat's out of the bag now but I was scoping out his place for a while, figured I'd grab it after getting paid to off AXIS." I fold my arms together, my eyebrows scrunching as I cringe in recollection. "It wasn't really professional on my part, I got pretty greedy and it nearly cost me. I just felt bad, besides killing you guys would've made it messy for me since I only had a knife and gun at the time. As for what happened in Blake's office, all I wanted was to defuse the situation with you guys and Remi. I might've made it worse in hindsight… but I guess everything's okay now."
Buzzcut gives a somewhat large and forced grin. "I can respect that honesty. Like… I'd probably do the same in your position, or something like that." He gestures to his friend's bandage. "We lucked out though, doc says our recovery will be smooth."
"Oh by the way," Dreadhead interrupts, clearing his throat before continuing. "We uh good? Didn't want to just leave what happened earlier awkwardly to dry."
I chuckle and give him an amused smile. "You guys forgive fast. Are you sure this is alright?"
"Well, maybe, but you're on our side now and you seem alright based on what happened in the gauntlet. We got no reason to hold onto a grudge now."
Buzzcut laughs and pats Dreadhead on the shoulder in agreement. "Oh yeah, also, this guy's been bragging about how he's survived two encounters with you ever since. Says he's got the 'luck of the devil' or whatever."
"Aye, man, she doesn't need to know that yet."
"Literally everyone knows about it man, she would've found out sooner or later."
"Gah damn my big ass mouth."
Before the two get any more distracted, I cut them off. "Right, well," I smile earnestly at the two. "If you guys are cool then so am I. Glad we cleared this up." I extend my hand out, pausing only for a moment as I wonder if this is a good idea but ultimately I follow through on the notion of comradery. "What are your names by the way?"
The two then look at me, flabbergasted, like I was a celebrity that was asking two random fans to be her friends. They blink at me and then at each other, processing what I just said.
"Name's Kane," Dreadhead finally says, shaking my hand. "Nice talk with you, Lily."
Buzzcut follows up, shaking my hand shortly after. "And I'm Ryker."
I smile while retracting my hand, a little thrown off by their surprisingly docile demeanour. "Yeah, nice to talk with you both." I guess the gauntlet really did win over the gang's respect.
The tension between the two finally eases, as Kane leans against the bar while Ryker crosses his arms.
I purse my lips, analysing the two before recalling our brief interaction in AXIS' apartment. "Oh, actually, there was something I wanted to say." I lock eyes with Kane and he looks somewhat concerned when I do.
"Y-Yeah?" He tenses up, back arching straight when I put my hands on my hips. I stare at him with curiosity for a few seconds, giving him a once-over.
"We're 'buddies' now, so I'm willing to overlook it." I point a finger at Kane, my tone being more of a nudge than a reprimand. "You definitely need to drop that creepy hitting-on-girls act. If it was anyone else, I have no clue if they'd be okay with what happened." I pause, thinking about our fight that's almost comical to me now, and then cringe once I remember a specific word he used on me. "Oh, and don't use 'choombait'. I'll let that go since you were pissed and things got heated back there."
Kane nervously nods his head, almost like he's a kid being grounded. Ryker snorts and lightly jabs him again in the side. "Yeah, told you, man. That shit ain't slick."
"Sorry about that," Kane scratches the back of his head and shoves Ryker off of him. "I'll keep that in mind for next time." The tone of his voice suggests he was fighting the urge to stammer but I let him be, satisfied that my warning will stay with him.
I clap my hands together, satisfied with what I said. "Well, anyways, we're cool though, don't worry." I look around the lounge, trying to find any more familiar faces or anything out of the ordinary. "I need to get back to work though, I'll be seeing you guys." I wave at both Kane and Ryker before turning around.
The two wave me off. "See you!" Kane calls out.
"Yeah, we'll be here if you need us!" Ryker's voice follows shortly afterwards.
I smile softly. It's nice, the tension from earlier surprisingly absent. In any case, they definitely seem more respectful now. I walk around a bit more, carefully inspecting the windows and lounge, making sure everything is safe.
Once I'm satisfied, I go back to Mister, who's been on his phone for the last few minutes. I report back to him my findings, relaying my impressions of the security. What started as a quick report became a full in-depth discussion of how to improve the lounge's security for when we're not working. Countless minutes pass by later, we walk around practically everywhere. From the entrance of the lounge to the back of the building, we're inspecting every nook and cranny.
We eventually finish our round in the front of the building. While he heads inside, I stay out just for a little while longer. The streets aren't the busiest but have a consistent flow of traffic going to and from both ends of the street.
Just then, I catch sight of Remi on the sidewalk loudly chatting with someone. What the hell? I squint, double-checking to see if I'm hallucinating or not. Beside him is Azure, looking half exasperated and half amused as they walk from her mechanic shop towards where I'm standing.
They both wave at me and I return the gesture. As they walk closer, I start to overhear their conversation.
"So what I'm hearing," Remi says, trailing just a little behind Azure, "is that if I buy you a drink, you'll think about not charging me double for the repairs?"
Azure doesn't even look back. "If you buy me a drink, I'll consider not setting your fuel line on fire."
"Shit, choom," Remi clutches his chest like he's wounded. "You flirt like a frag grenade."
"And you survive like a cockroach." Azure spins on her heel briefly to smirk at him. "You're persistent, mildly annoying, and somehow still alive."
I sidle up to them, raising a brow. "You two flirting?" I shoot Azure a knowing look, one built on shared experience. "Or should I call pest control for someone?" To my surprise, Azure just shakes her head at the comment, though a flicker of humour dances in her eyes.
Ah, it's one of those dynamics.
Remi grins at my comment. "Hey, you know what? Now that I think about it, I should be the one owed a drink. Shawty's the one who left me bike-less for a week."
Azure snorts. "You left yourself bike-less when you tried to 'test your suspension' on a stairwell."
"I was chasing someone!"
"Into a fountain."
A laugh slips out before I can stop it. "Okay, that's actually impressive." I cover my mouth with one hand, trying—and failing—to stifle the rest.
Azure smirks, pointing at me with her thumb. "See? She gets it."
Remi groans. "Y'all ganging up on me now? Damn." He pauses, then throws up his hands. "Fine, y'all win. I'll retreat gracefully."
Azure eyes him. "Please, you don't 'retreat'. You orbit back around like a fucking satellite." There's a hint of amusement and annoyance in her voice.
"That's cuz I'm powered by spite and charm, baby," Remi says with a wink. He forms a gun with his fingers and fires a shot at Azure, only for her to dodge the shot.
I snort. The corners of my mouth pull apart, and I fight the urge to laugh. "One of those ran out a long time ago." This is the goofiest thing I've seen in a while.
"I still got charm, though, right?" He wiggles his brows.
Azure raises an eyebrow. "You've got something. Can't say it's 'charm', but it sure is loud."
"I'm a work in progress," Remi says, giving a little bow. "Besides, y'all need me to keep the mood light. Y'all chooms are brooding all night like someone you cared got flatlined."
I chime in, unable to help myself. "At this rate, I'm surprised you haven't been flatlined yet." Part of me finds it hilarious that someone like Remi exists but at the same time, this guy's got such a fat mouth that he almost got us in trouble multiple times. I'm not sure if it's the fame or spunk of someone that recently left their teenage years that makes the bulk of his cockiness. Maybe it's both.
"You never know when a handsome rogue might be just what the crew needs." Remi straightens his jacket. "Such as yours truly."
Azure crosses her arms, leaning against the lounge's exterior wall. "Keep dreaming."
"Dreams come true all the time, choom. You ever seen a mechanic win a beauty contest?"
"You ever seen a toaster win a marathon?" Azure fires back, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.
I stifle a laugh as we enter the lounge. "Pretty sure the toaster has better odds."
"Shit dawg, you wound me," Remi says, clutching his chest. "You're both cruel. Funny, but cruel."
Azure flashes a smirk. "Cruel builds character."
"And concussions," I mutter, nudging Azure. "Seriously though, you're really not giving him even one shot?"
She shrugs. "I gave him a shot. He tripped over his own ego, fell into my workbench, and knocked over three toolkits. That was date one."
Remi groans, palming his face in embarrassment. "You make it sound like I haven't grown."
"You haven't," Azure and I say in unison.
There's a pause—and then we all laugh. It's brief, but genuine.
Mister's quiet voice cuts in from behind us. "Remi, if you're done harassing the mechanic, don't forget we're still in a public space."
Remi shoots him a look. "Yeah, yeah. I won't ruin the vibes."
I share a glance with Azure, who just rolls her eyes.
It almost feels like we're just regular people hanging out at a bar. Almost.
That is until something outside catches my attention.
Is that… screaming?
I turn to one of the open windows, checking if my paranoia is getting the better of me—only to confirm that it's real.
The muffled sounds of chaos filter in from the street, and I strain to hear. A few of the Dead Kings stationed near the windows glance at each other, muttering in confusion. Kane nudges Ryker, pointing at a window for him to take a look.
"The hell's going' on out there?" Kane murmurs, scratching his head. "It's hella loud."
Ryker squints through the glass, his jaw tightening. "Shit, cars are flipped. Looks like some kind of wreck. Wait... is that gunfire?"
I push past them to get a clearer view. "Move real quick." I lean toward the same window Ryker had been looking through.
Out on the main street, vehicles lie overturned, metal twisted and smoking. People are scattering, some ducking into alleyways, others lying motionless on the ground. A distant series of gunfire echoes through the night, and above it all, I hear it again—the unmistakable sound of someone screaming for help.
Mister checks his phone, his expression still and unreadable. The screen's glow reflects off his visor as he pulls up some kind of news feed. After a second, he swears under his breath, then stiffens.
"What's going on?" I ask, turning to him with a voice low yet firm.
He doesn't answer at first. Silence envelops the lounge as he just stares at his screen like he's processing something incomprehensible. Finally, he speaks, his tone being unnaturally rigid. Even with his helmet's voice filter, I can detect a hint of nervousness. "Cyberpsycho incident. Just reported. Burnaby, main street."