Member
LugubriousA small black car quietly wound its way through the side-streets of the northeast, as the sun gradually descended towards the horizon. The blazing orb was a ticking timer, for nightfall heralded the descent of death itself, but still the vehicle moved slowly, for its destination today was an unusual one, too specific to leave to chance.
In the passenger seat, Martin Brady ground his teeth together for the hundredth time that day, as he waited for something to go horribly wrong.
He'd been doing pretty well, before. Starting out as little more than a common thug, he'd risen to become a competent and ruthless ringleader among the Irish mobsters, with prospects of becoming a major boss himself one day. So long as he'd kept on performing well, and stealthily undermining his competitors, he might have climbed up to being one of the most powerful people in the city.
And then his fucking boss had decided to pick a fight with the K9.
Yeah, technically they hadn't declared an all-out war just yet. But with murderers and sociopaths like them, it was only a matter of time. The killers would be coming for blood, and Martin had no doubt that they would get what they wanted, one way or another. The only choice for him and his men now was to fight, and hope that the entire Irish Mob could take down nine people before it was too late. Given who those nine were, he had good reason to be afraid.
When you made an enemy like them, the whole city seemed to grow a little darker, a little more menacing. Every rooftop could hide a deadly accurate sniper, every shadow a grinning madman with a knife, every door a towering thug brandishing a shotgun. Ghosts lurked throughout Las Vegas, and nowhere was safe anymore.
After what seemed like an eternity of following the map, the car stopped, parking up against the side of the road. Martin and his driver stepped out, doing their best to glance around without looking suspicious. With a quick nod to one another, they shut the doors, and strode down the sidewalk together.
Their target was only a few meters down- an empty, bright red Nissan Altima. A quick check of the number plate confirmed that this was indeed the car they were looking for. Stepping back, Martin glanced at his driver, who took a deep breath, and pulled open the trunk. It wasn't locked, and slid open easily, revealing a fairly large cardboard box within.
Martin's cell phone buzzed.
He pulled it out, and flinched when he saw who it was. The Dragonfly was calling, which meant that she was watching, possibly with a weapon trained on him. Swallowing, he picked up. "Hello?"
The voice that came through was cool, even soothing. "Hey, I see you found my package. Instructions are inside, you'll follow them to the letter, understand? Hunker down, get my stuff in position, and maybe some of you will survive the night."
The words drew a frown from the Irishman. Maybe his boss had chosen to hire this woman, but he didn't appreciate being ordered around like that. But then, what was he to do? He'd never met the Dragonfly, he had no idea where she was, and she was supposedly good enough to give the K9 a run for their money. Antagonizing her would be foolish, as would disobeying.
"Got it."
"Good." The call cut off.
Slowly, Martin walked up to his driver, and carefully opened the box in the red car's trunk, taking a look inside. His eyes widened. He hadn't been sure what to expect, but this was... quite high-end stuff.
The two men carefully carried the box back to their own car, and drove off, feeling optimistic for the first time that day.
In the passenger seat, Martin Brady ground his teeth together for the hundredth time that day, as he waited for something to go horribly wrong.
He'd been doing pretty well, before. Starting out as little more than a common thug, he'd risen to become a competent and ruthless ringleader among the Irish mobsters, with prospects of becoming a major boss himself one day. So long as he'd kept on performing well, and stealthily undermining his competitors, he might have climbed up to being one of the most powerful people in the city.
And then his fucking boss had decided to pick a fight with the K9.
Yeah, technically they hadn't declared an all-out war just yet. But with murderers and sociopaths like them, it was only a matter of time. The killers would be coming for blood, and Martin had no doubt that they would get what they wanted, one way or another. The only choice for him and his men now was to fight, and hope that the entire Irish Mob could take down nine people before it was too late. Given who those nine were, he had good reason to be afraid.
When you made an enemy like them, the whole city seemed to grow a little darker, a little more menacing. Every rooftop could hide a deadly accurate sniper, every shadow a grinning madman with a knife, every door a towering thug brandishing a shotgun. Ghosts lurked throughout Las Vegas, and nowhere was safe anymore.
After what seemed like an eternity of following the map, the car stopped, parking up against the side of the road. Martin and his driver stepped out, doing their best to glance around without looking suspicious. With a quick nod to one another, they shut the doors, and strode down the sidewalk together.
Their target was only a few meters down- an empty, bright red Nissan Altima. A quick check of the number plate confirmed that this was indeed the car they were looking for. Stepping back, Martin glanced at his driver, who took a deep breath, and pulled open the trunk. It wasn't locked, and slid open easily, revealing a fairly large cardboard box within.
Martin's cell phone buzzed.
He pulled it out, and flinched when he saw who it was. The Dragonfly was calling, which meant that she was watching, possibly with a weapon trained on him. Swallowing, he picked up. "Hello?"
The voice that came through was cool, even soothing. "Hey, I see you found my package. Instructions are inside, you'll follow them to the letter, understand? Hunker down, get my stuff in position, and maybe some of you will survive the night."
The words drew a frown from the Irishman. Maybe his boss had chosen to hire this woman, but he didn't appreciate being ordered around like that. But then, what was he to do? He'd never met the Dragonfly, he had no idea where she was, and she was supposedly good enough to give the K9 a run for their money. Antagonizing her would be foolish, as would disobeying.
"Got it."
"Good." The call cut off.
Slowly, Martin walked up to his driver, and carefully opened the box in the red car's trunk, taking a look inside. His eyes widened. He hadn't been sure what to expect, but this was... quite high-end stuff.
The two men carefully carried the box back to their own car, and drove off, feeling optimistic for the first time that day.
