Chapter 4; Crossfire
Basement — Altair's House
The basement hummed with the low, metallic groan of the swaying body bag. Altair stood in front of it, shirt clinging to him, sweat dripping in steady intervals that matched the rhythm of his breathing. Bandages wrapped tight around his ribs—already stained from where Vittorio's rubber round had bruised and split skin—shifted with each punch. His knuckles were bleeding through his wraps.
He didn't stop.
Footsteps creaked down the wooden stairs.
"Shu," Altair muttered without looking back, and launched another barrage at the bag.
Kevin appeared at the bottom step, bundled against the winter outside, looking at Altair like a man studying a bomb he'd learned to live with.
"You've been at this for three days, man. Three days. It's New Year's Eve," Kevin said. "Come spend it with me and Helen."
Altair didn't answer. He just pivoted, drove another hook into the bag, and breathed through clenched teeth.
Kevin exhaled sharply and stepped forward. The deeper he walked into the basement, the clearer the madness became: a full wall lined with weapons—handguns, carbines, sniper rifles, grenades, blades arranged with clinical precision. Opposite that, a sprawling collage of New Lazarus City: photos, cutouts, hand-drawn routes, ropes connecting names and faces. Vittorio's. Altair's father's. Other ghosts.
"I told you to leave," Altair said, still not turning around.
Kevin lifted a bottle. "Brought you something. Glenmorangie Nectar d'Or," he said, putting on an accent so atrocious it cracked the tension.
Altair stopped. A small, involuntary grin pulled at the bruised corner of his mouth.
Kevin set the bottle and two glasses on the table. He poured carefully—one for Altair, one for himself.
"Thank you," Altair said quietly.
"It's not expensive," Kevin muttered, swirling the glass. "Still have no idea how you drink this stuff."
"For having my back. And remembering my birthday," Altair said.
Silence filled the basement again—settling heavy, like dust over a crime scene.
"No one else can handle your attitude," Kevin said.
A small chuckle escaped both of them.
Altair pulled a folded check from beneath a stack of files and handed it to him.
"What's this?" Kevin asked.
"I told you I'd make it up to you."
Kevin unfolded it—and froze. "Four million?"
"Yeah. And I need you and Helen off the street. Vittorio agreed to protect you. It's part of the deal."
Kevin's jaw tightened. "I don't need this. And I don't need protection from the people who wiped out both our families."
He set the check down but didn't push it back.
"I still can't believe you're going to work for him," he said.
"I don't have a choice."
"There's always—"
"Do you think I want this, Kevin?" Altair snapped, voice cracking through the room like a whip.
Kevin went quiet.
Altair ran a hand through his hair, breathing hard. "I'm… I'm sorry. I got my ass handed to me by a senior citizen. And he's right—if I kill him, I can protect myself. But what about you? Helen? And Selene?"
Kevin blinked. "Selene… that's your twin, right? I thought she was dead."
"There's a chance she isn't." Altair stared at the floor. "I know it sounds like bullshit. But if there's even a one-percent chance… I need to be strong enough to protect her. All of you. Dead or alive."
"Did you ever see her body?" Kevin asked softly.
Altair shook his head. "I was too scared to go back."
He refilled his glass with a shaky hand. Up above them, the clock chimed midnight—loud, echoing through the basement.
Kevin raised his glass. "Happy New Year, Altair."
Altair tapped his cup against Kevin's. "Yeah. Happy New Year."
New Lazarus City – An Alleyway
A tall, lanky man stood over a corpse—what was left of it. Large chunks of flesh were simply gone, as if something had taken careful, deliberate bites.
"Boss, I found the courier," the man said into his phone. "He's dead… and it looks like something chewed him up. Big pieces missing."
Don Vittorio exhaled on the other end, a tired sigh that carried more irritation than surprise.
"The third one this week," he muttered. "They didn't even bother laying the body properly. I'll send a cleaning crew. Inform the kid's parents he's gone."
"Yes, boss. Should I dig deeper?"
"No, Daimon. I've got someone else handling that. It's New Year's—go home to your family."
The call ended. Vittorio immediately dialed another number.
"Happy New Year. Who's this?" Altair answered lazily.
"This is Vittorio."
"Gotcha—you've reached the voicemail of Altair. Leave a message after the beep," Altair said, voice dipping into a painfully bad robot impression.
"Your imitation needs work, kid. Were you able to talk to Kevin?"
"Yes. He accepted."
"Good. I want to see you tomorrow. I have an assignment for you."
"So soon?"
"Take care, Altair." Vittorio hung up.
Alice's House – New Lazarus City
Alice's home looked like a postcard version of "modern happy family"—warm lights, polished floors, framed photos of vacations and birthdays. The kind of place that didn't belong in a city like this.
Maggie sat at the small round kitchen table while Alice pulled a roasted chicken from the oven.
"You didn't have to do all this, Alice," Maggie said.
"I would've gone home, but Ma and Pa are out of the city. I didn't want to spend New Year's alone." Alice leaned in and kissed her. "Besides, I didn't want you alone either."
Maggie softened.
"Is something wrong?" Alice asked
"No… it's just nice to have someone who appreciates you."
"Well, no one does it better than me." Alice struck an exaggerated superhero pose. They both cracked up.
"Alright, let's eat," she said, slicing into the chicken.
A scream tore through the air.
"Help me! Someone!"
Both women froze.
"What the hell?" Alice yanked open a drawer, pulled out two handguns, and handed one to Maggie. They rushed outside.
A woman lay on the pavement, trembling. Three men in black jackets approached—two with baseball bats, one with a pistol. All around, neighbors retreated, locking doors and killing lights. Classic New Lazarus City hospitality.
"Nowhere left to run, mi amour," one man said. "You're coming with us."
"I told you—I don't know where Kevin is!" she pleaded.
"How wouldn't you know? Aren't you two—" he made a crude gesture.
"Back off," Alice barked.
The leader turned. Slowly. "Or what?"
"I ventilate you. You're under arrest."
He chuckled. "You really don't know who you're talking to. You must be new."
A new voice cut in.
"And what's going on here?"
Rico Morreti stepped out of the shadows like he owned the night. A chain leash hung from his fist, attached to a massive pitbull with scarred jowls and hungry eyes. A cigarette dangled from his mouth. He wore a white singlet and low-slung trousers—casual, like this was just another stroll.
"We don't want any trouble, officers," Rico said.
Alice didn't lower her gun. "Then why were your men after her?"
"Her boyfriend owes me money. I sent my boys to collect. Hardly a crime." Rico nodded at the dog. "You like her? Her name's Iris."
Alice stayed silent, muscles tense.
"Your boys were about to assault her in the open," Maggie said. "So yes, they're breaking rules."
Rico sighed—the long, disappointed kind, like a teacher dealing with a stubborn student.
"Rookie officers and their sense of justice. So damn naïve."
Alice's grip on her gun tightened until her knuckles whitened.
"Let's go, boys," Rico said, turning away. "Pleasure meeting you, officers. Next time, I won't leave without my money."
Rico walked off, his men trailing behind him like loyal shadows. Iris growled once at Alice before trotting after her master.
Alice sprinted to the fallen woman.
"You okay?"
"I—I need to go home. I need to warn Kevin." She shivered violently.
"Warn him?" Maggie asked.
"That was Rico Morreti. The craziest person in New Lazarus City. And he's becoming a powerful drug lord. If Kevin's tangled with him… he's already dead."
"Alright," Maggie said carefully. "But you need to come to the station first."
"No—Kevin needs to know."
"And if he does? What can he do? Take down Rico? You two will need help."
"Altair," she said, forcing herself to her feet. "Altair will help us."
"Altair…" Alice muttered, suddenly light-headed. She pressed a hand to her temple. "I—hold on."
"You okay?" Maggie asked.
"Yes. I'm fine."
"Let's take my car," Maggie said, guiding the shaken woman toward the driveway.
New Lazarus City Police Department
The lobby buzzed with the usual chaos—phones ringing, officers hustling, suspects arguing. Altair and Kevin stepped inside, both looking out of place in very different ways.
"Crime never sleeps in this city," Altair muttered, scanning the room.
Kevin wasn't listening. "I hope Helen's okay." His voice cracked just enough to betray how terrified he actually was.
"She's fine," Altair said—calm, almost relaxed. "If something happened, we'd know."
They approached the long reception counter at the back. A clerk hammered away on his keyboard without looking up.
"Hi," Altair said. "I'm here looking for someone who was brought in today. Helen Ivanova."
"Family?" the clerk asked, still typing.
Before Altair could answer, Alice strode up to the counter, all business and sharp edges.
"Detective Vey sent me to check if anyone's come for Helen," she said.
Altair turned, smiled immediately. "Well… aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"
Alice blinked. "Excuse me? Do I know you?"
"No," Altair said, still smiling. "But I'd definitely remember if we'd met. You're the one who brought Helen in, right?"
"Alice Munroe," she said flatly. Her eyes shifted to Kevin. "And yes. I did."
"Is she okay?" Kevin finally blurted out. His hands were shaking, and he tried—and failed—to hide it by shoving them in his pockets.
Alice softened just a fraction. "She's safe. Shaken, but safe." Then her face hardened again. "But whatever the two of you are mixed up in? You need to walk away. Before things get worse."
Kevin swallowed hard. "Worse?"
Alice didn't answer. The look she gave him was the answer.
Altair's smile faded as he studied her, realizing the situation was bigger than he'd thought.