NANA

A two-story building, seemingly abandoned and weathered by time, its dimly lit lantern barely lighting up the entrance. I approach it, and the men sitting on the ground stare. Two pieces of dice clatter as they roll on the ground to reveal two sixes. I push open the door to see a casual inn, a facade of normal business when there is no need for it. It's not like enforcers bother coming out here. "A lamb walking into the lion's den."

I make my way towards the bar, listening in on the noises from upstairs where they hold their bets and games. "A glass of wine." The bartender glances behind me as if waiting for orders, then puts down two empty glasses on the counter before pouring wine into them. I pick up the glass, and a man sits beside me, brushing my hair over my ear with his fingers. "I am guessing the drink's on you?"

He smiles wickedly. "Everything's on the house for someone like you." His small green eyes study me from top to bottom in a predatory gaze. He is wearing a white silk shirt under his black waistcoat, the way rich merchants do, but he behaves as lowly as a common tavern creep. Just like Junior said he would. "Never seen you around before."

I gulp down the glass of wine, calming my nerves somewhat. "I just moved here, right across the street." He turns to look at the building across, a worn-down apartment where I saw a woman earlier picking up random men into the building to earn a living. "Won't be staying long though." He turns as the door opens but pays no mind to Miche as he takes a seat at one of the empty tables.

"I don't judge women on how they earn their coins." He takes out a pack of cigarettes before lighting one, taking it in deeply before puffing smoke my way. "Do you smoke?" He offers the cigarette in his hand.

"Pour me all the drinks you want, and you still won't find me in your bed." I turn to face him, offering an open palm, and he takes out a fresh cigarette from the box. But he does not hand it over to me. I lean forward and part my lips as he places it between them, lighting it up before he puts away the lighter and pulls out a knife from the same pocket.

"Would this get you into bed?" He smiles.

I suck at the cigarette before flicking it away with my fingers, and it lands in his glass of wine with a brief sizzle and a subtle wisp of steam. "I don't get scared easily." Smoke puffs out of my lips as I get off my seat to walk away, but he places the tip of his knife on my chest with a wicked smile. I turn my body sideways with a step, shoving his hand away and holding it by the wrist as I rotate on the ball of my feet, extending my elbow out at the end of it and landing it on his jaw with a crack.

He falls off his seat, his head crashing against the stool I was sitting on with a thud before he falls to the wooden floor, his knife clanging against it. One of his thugs rises from his seat, but I lunge for him, lifting my knee up and slamming my heel against his face. His head whips back before he drops to the floor as well. I stare down the rest of the table as silence hangs in the air. "Anyone else?" My tone playful as I raise a brow.

Then a big man in a tank top stands up, bald with a lot of piercings on his face, pulling his shoulders back. Chin down, eyes staring intently with a frown. I run a hand through my hair with a smirk before taking gentle steps towards him. He is almost as big as Ben and half as intimidating; it will be easy work. He takes off his tank top, and as he is throwing it off to the side, I rush forward.

My kick lands on his stomach, and he staggers back with a smile, seemingly unaffected. He lunges forward, and I drive another kick straight down the pipe; he braces for it, and I stagger back from the impact of my own kick, and a smile escapes me. He is tough but a fool. 

He takes his first swing, my eyes wide in surprise; he is faster than he looks. My arms raise to block, but the blow sends me off balance, though I regain my footing swiftly. He swings another hook, but I duck under it, his punch glancing over my head as it misses, and I ram an elbow against the side of his face as I rise up, sending him reeling off to the side.

He grits his teeth, frown deepening as he charges forward. His swings heavier and faster, but I dodge them regardless. I lunge in with a knee; he lurches forward as it lands on his stomach, and I follow it up with an elbow, whipping his head back. I rotate, throwing a kick as I do, the back of my leg crashing against the side of his neck, but he grabs hold of it. 

My eyes wide, feet off the ground as he tosses me off to the side, my back crashing against a cabinet and its glass windowpane shatters. I push myself back up with a grunt, the broken pieces of glass on my jacket clinking as they fall to the floor. I shut my eyes, running both hands through my hair as I inhale deeply; my eyes open with renewed focus at the exhale. I take my fighting stance with a smirk.

Squared up, one foot forward, knee slightly flexed. Chin down, elbows tucked, and hands slightly away from my face at chest level. He lunges forward; I rotate as I swing my leg against his, landing just above the ankle, and he stumbles slightly. I leap forward with two straight punches before shoving him back. 

I lunge forward with another low kick, this time landing on the side of his knee, and he falls to one knee. I lift my other foot off the ground and drive another kick straight down, driving my heel through his face, his head snapping back before he crumples to the floor out cold. 

Several thugs climb down the stairs, and Miche slams his glass bottle against the table. "Two against the world?" He walks up next to me, aiming the broken edges of the bottle against the thugs. "Two against the world." He smiles.

ALICE

The warehouse looms ahead, and as expected, there are more guards here than the night before, and it's all my fault. Should I have let Arthur kill him? Despite the drugs and trafficking of women, Frederick claimed innocence and only admitted to associating with shady people, which led to him being used and tortured.

I look out from behind the wall and to the church. Would I make it there before getting caught? Would they chase me that far? I turn to look behind me where Arthur and the others await. Would they save me if I am caught halfway to the church? Playing bait isn't as easy as it sounds in my head.

I take another peek; there are guards on every perimeter with no room for anyone to slip past unnoticed. And there are still a few loitering around, gambling, probably waiting for their shift or the reserve. Playing bait is foolish; why would they chase me knowing someone is planning an attack? My eyes widen, heart skipping a beat as I stumble forward from a shove on my back.

I catch my balance, turning my heel to see Arthur running back into the shadows. "Hey!" My heart races, body stiff with fear as I turn my head slowly towards the voice. All the guards at the front are staring at me. A chill runs down my spine, my mind begging me to run, but my body refuses. Frozen in place.

They approach me slowly, their frowns curling up into a smile as they grow near. It is a tall and muscular man, the right side of his head bearing a burn mark, leaving only the left side with hair that he keeps short but messy. "What are you doing here?" He lifts his spiked club over his shoulder, puffing his chest out as if he wasn't already fearsome enough.

"I was merely taking a stroll." My words come out in a nervous rush, throat dry, and I swallow hard as I regain some composure. "But I'm afraid I got lost." I glance at Arthur to see they are already missing. My brow furrows, did the plan change? Did they sneak in through another point of entry?

"What are you looking at?" I return my attention to Scarface, forcing a smile. "You must think I am dumb to believe you'd take a night stroll in a place like this." His voice is hoarse, crossing his heavily tattooed arms as he eyes me from top to bottom. "I think you're lying." He smiles widely as he stops chewing the gum in his mouth, revealing yellow and jagged teeth.

"Am I?" My voice shaky, knees weak. Do I still need them chasing me to clear out their numbers? Would another flimsy excuse save me? My lips part, but my voice refuses to leave my throat. I force a smile instead, turning my heels and bolting away from them, my steps echoing in the empty street.

"Get her!" The pounding of boots trails behind me, my jaw tightens as I pick up my pace to put more distance between them. "Everyone, we've got a runner!" The shout is distant yet audible; he is dumb after all, calling for more people to chase after me. I glance at my back, eyes wide as my heart pounds in my chest. They are closer to me than I thought.

I run faster and faster, my heart feeling like it might just explode as the Church lies a few meters away. My legs ache as they slow down and eventually stop. My head burning, breaths coming in ragged gasps as I put my hands over my knees. I inhale sharply and deeply, taking deep breaths to control my beating as they catch up. Panting as they stop.

"You're quite the runner, aren't you?" He wipes a hand across his sweaty face, hunching over as the weight of the pursuit bears down on him. Their chests heave with every breath, sweat glistening on their foreheads. "Give it up, or you'll make things worse for yourself." His feet shuffle along the pavement with a heavy thud, the sound of his labored breathing punctuating each step.

My eyes flick back and forth between the gang members; they are clearly more exhausted than me, and Scarface isn't here. I take out my baton; with a flick of my wrist, the metal extends outward with a satisfying click, the joints locking into place with a sharp, metallic snap. A smile escapes me; I love the sound of it. I take a few steps back, and they follow. "Come on, you pricks!"

"I told you, don't make this any harder." He draws his knife, and more men appear behind them, and my smile withers. He charges forward; I slam my baton against his wrist, feeling the reverberations as the metal connects with bone. The knife falls out of his hand and hits the ground in a sharp and metallic clink. "Bitch!"

I lunge forward, striking him on the neck with a satisfying thud that sends him falling down to his knee, reeling in pain as he presses an arm against his throat, suffocating from the blow. Another rush forward, but my baton finds him first, hitting his head with a sickening crack, a nauseating crunch that echoes through the air.

I lunge backward. "Any moment now..." I whisper to myself. Is he really perched up there? Two men rush forward, one on my left and the other on my right. I inhale deeply, and one lunges forward. I smack him on the jaw, and his head snaps to the side. A whistling sound of an arrow pierces through the air, bolting past me followed by a grunt behind me; the thug falls on his back with an arrow on his forehead.

I snap my attention to the man in front of me; he lunges forward but staggers off to the side, gagging as an arrow catches him on the side of his neck with a sickening squelch. I wince from the sight of it, turning my face away as he puts pressure to stop the bleeding as he drops to the ground.

I jump backward, avoiding a coming blow. Then another rushes at me, but an arrow pierces through his face. I parry a coming blow, coming back with a swing of my own, my baton slamming and snapping his face to the side. Another arrow slices through the air, and another thug crumples to the ground.

The remaining thugs turn tail and run; another arrow pierces through, taking one down. Then another slices high into the air before falling onto one of the runner's back, and finally, the last arrow flies but did not reach the thugs. I turn to look at him as he climbs out and down the window, smiling as he approaches me. "What do you think?"

"I believe you could've started firing sooner."

"I wanted them closer." He shrugs. "Nice moves, by the way. We should go to the Warehouse; they must have already cleared out the front gate."

"Just a moment, I've just run all the way from the warehouse." I fold my arms in protest, staring back defiantly at him.

"We'll just walk then?" I roll my eyes but turn my heel regardless, walking back to the warehouse where Evander and Kenny await. The guards at the front gate are littered around them, some dead, but most are unconscious. My brows furrow as Scarface approaches them nonchalantly.

"If it isn't our brave little bait, almost got cold feet huh?" He smirks; it didn't occur to me that he was Junior's inside man. He wasn't dumb after all.

My brows furrowing as I turn to a whistling sound, eyes wide in terror as my lips part in surprise. A spear is coming at me hard and fast, and my memories flash before my eyes, Strangler Ben is here.