Aegates let out a slow sigh, the sound swallowed by the city's din. Inwardly, she shook her head at the careless buffoon. Were she not already late, she would have been sorely tempted to put a new hole in him for the insult.
But she merely let her gaze slide away and continued her stride, the impulse banked like a cold fire.
Aegates was a Soldier of the GBGs, a position of tangible significance marked by her silver GBG pin, and the three Initiates placed under her command.
She had arrived in Grayhaven three days ago, tasked with reinforcing Mr. Breaker, the Caporegime sent to deepen the organization's roots in this stubborn city.
But then, yesterday, the operation had blown apart.
Her face, a mask of neutral composure, twitched almost imperceptibly, as her mind churned through the gathered intelligence, fists clenching at the sheer, staggering cascade of flawed decisions that had paved the road to yesterday's disaster.
*Bang!*
The metal trash can reeled from her sudden kick, clattering down an alley.
Her eyes, for a fleeting moment, wavered with something raw and unhinged.
She came to a stop, drawing a deep deliberate breath, trying to anchor herself. But the fury was a live wire under her skin.
Resting a hand on a roadside tree, her teeth gritted as she stared a hole into the grim pavement.
If only I had been there earlier. I would have shut that entire farce down!
The memory soon surfaced; of yesterday's events, driving toward the celebration after the first panicked reports had trickled in.
***
The scene on the road had been chaotic. People fled. Cars braked or reversed, their drivers refusing to go farther.
She was just deciding to continue on foot when the loud, staccato rhythm of gunshots reached her—a sound her trained ears instantly placed the source.
The café!
The new front was under attack. And from the sheer panic on the faces around her, it had been raging for some time.
A deep frown etched itself onto Aegates's features. And a moment later, she snatched her heavy suitcase from the passenger seat, dismounted, and broke into a run.
A block away, she suddenly saw them: two men in garish beach shirts, moving with purpose, rifles held tight as they headed her way.
Beach Boys.
The name clicked into place. An American gang that had sunk its claws deep into Grayhaven's docks and beaches. Now, it seemed, they were bold enough to strike far from their home turf, venturing inland—into the business district, in a direct, and escalatory, challenge to the GBGs.
She felt a spike of adrenaline and her brows furrowed.
Had they seen me? Were they hunting for other GBG members?
But these thoughts were quickly quashed. Their posture was all retreat, not attack; they were fleeing the scene.
That soon changed as she rapidly closed the distance.
The lead man's eyes locked onto her, and surprise flashed in his face upon recognizing the uniform. But it didn't slow his trained reaction.
In the space of a single breath, his rifle came up, but Aegates was faster.
With a surge of explosive power, she hurled her suitcase forward. It was no gentle toss; it was a missile. It connected with the man's face with a wet, sickening crunch, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes.
His partner, momentarily blinded by her sudden appearance, had no time to aim. Instinct took over, and he swung the rifle like a club.
But Aegates glided like a ghost, her initial charge a feint, dodging the ruthless swing at her head.
Her true target was the suitcase now lying beside the first, motionless gangster.
Pivoting on a single heel, she snatched the case and swung it up in a fluid, brutal arc.
*Crack!*
The blow connected cleanly with the second man's jaw, and his head snapped back from the impact, feet lifting slightly from the ground before collapsing into a limp heap as his rifle clattered away.
The fight was over in seconds.
Aegates took a single, centering breath, her gaze already pulling toward the café.
She took one decisive step forward, and—
*BOOM!*
A concussive wave of heat and force slammed into her, and she raised the suitcase as a shield, the impact driving her a step back.
Peering around its edge, her eyes widened in stunned disbelief.
The café was an inferno. Its beautiful windows and doors were gone, replaced by a maw of fire that licked hungrily at the upper floors.
Her mind raced, calculating the loss.
Twelve. At least twelve GBG members had been inside. The Capo. People she knew.
This was a devastating blow, the kind the GBGs hadn't suffered in years.
As she fought to keep her composure from shattering, a detail snagged her attention: a figure, limp and still, lying outside amidst a glittering carpet of glass shards. Beside him, a black fedora smoldered silently.
That uniform!
Her breath caught, and she was sprinting before she even made the conscious decision.
Slowing her pace, she scanned the surrounding windows and rooftops, her instincts on high alert. Only then did she bend down, two fingers pressing against his neck.
A steady, resilient pulse thrummed against her fingertips.
His alive!
A relief, cool and sudden, washed over her.
There were cut marks across his bleeding face and hands, and parts of his suit smoldered, but he was whole.
At that moment, the rising wail of sirens cut through the air, clawing closer from a distance away.
The authorities were almost here, and they couldn't afford to be found at the scene.
She allowed herself one final, agonizing look into the heart of the ruin. At those she couldn't rescue, and her face fell, the professional mask dissolving into a moment of pure, weary grief as she released a long sigh.
***
Now, in the present, Aegates took another deliberate breath, forcing the memory and its fury back into the locked box deep inside her, when—
"Ms. Messmer."
The voice was calm, but it cut through the din of street activity like a blade.
Messmer—the name the organization had given her when she became a Soldier.
She turned, body tense as her eyes scanned and assessed the figure standing in the shadow of a building.
It was a young man, impeccably dressed in a white shirt and black suit with a coat draped over his arm. The bronze GBG pin on his fedora's grey band gleamed dully.
An Initiate.
"The Underboss is waiting, Ms. Messmer."
Aegates's gaze lifted from the messenger to the imposing building he guarded. Then she exhaled slowly, shutting her eyes.
When they opened again, the storm within was gone, replaced by the calm of a windless sea.
With a spine of steel and an air of unshakable dignity, she crossed the pavement and approached the deep, maple wood doors.
—❦—
The room within was a tomb, somber and dim. Light bled weakly through a crack in the curtains and pooled under a single, bare ceiling lamp, leaving the corners to the shadows.
Of the three couches present, only two were occupied; the other five figures stood in a silent, suited perimeter by the walls.
All were gathered around a surgical table, where the Champion lay unconscious, his body a pale island under the stark light.
The silhouette on the central couch shifted, and a low voice, hard as granite, cut the silence.
"You expect me to believe he alone survived that slaughter, Slick? When even Breaker, one of our most ruthless Capos, is dead?"
The man on the right—Slick, gestured with an elegant, dismissive hand. "My dear Underboss, it is… ill-fitting to suspect betrayal among our own family. Though, I must confess, the youth's name escapes me."
"He is an Initiate, Slick," the Underboss replied, his tone implying that was explanation enough for any strangeness.
Initiates were the newest family members, after all. Just above associates, who weren't yet considered family.
Slick grimaced, his eyes flicking toward the silent, watchful Initiates guarding before returning.
"Be that as it may—would it not be prudent to wait for Messmer's findings before we cast stones?"
A dissatisfied grunt was the Underboss's only reply, and Slick smoothly steered the conversation on.
"It is a profound tragedy, what happened to Breaker and his crew. And a most unfortunate blow to the organiz—"
"Ha!"
The Underboss barked out a sudden, humorless laugh, slicing Slick off.
"Unfortunate?!" His palm slammed down on the couch armrest with a sound like a gunshot.
"It is a catastrophe! Our first major conflict in years, and we are forced to eat shit! Our enemies are circling, Slick. They smell the blood in the water. We must restore our reputation immediately!"
Slick's smile was a placid shield. "That is precisely why I am here—"
"No! You were sent to support Breaker! Yet you chose to dally! If you had moved with haste, we might have—"
"Ahem."
The sound of a throat being cleared from the doorway was quiet, yet it silenced the room.
At once, all heads turned, tension spiking—who would dare interrupt the Underboss in full fury?
But the tension bled away as they recognized Aegates standing there, calm and dignified.
The Underboss's frown deepened, and Slick leaned forward, his features coming partway into the light, seemingly eager to hear her report.
Aegates's eyes performed a slow, deliberate sweep of the room. Only then did she step fully inside, her boots silent on the floor.
She walked past the seated men, her focus narrowing until she stood directly over the Champion on the surgical table.
Observing, her eyes grew cold, and deadly as the silence stretched...