One minute I was listening to William's voice over the earpiece. The next minute I couldn't hear anything at all.

In a tightly enclosed space, with no soft objects to absorb the sound or catch the impact, the din of a thousand bullets ricocheting around the storage bunker was pretty damn loud.

Instinct took over and I immediately dropped to my knees, back pressed up against the box. Even slamming both hands over my ears didn't help; dimly I thought I could hear William or Kaylan on the other side demanding to know of my status, but any answer I gave would have been lost in this furious cacophony of pure noise that I was currently in. 

It must have been no more than three seconds, but those three seconds were hell in my eardrums.

And then, just as sudden as it had come, it was just as suddenly over.  

Silence. The tinkle of bullets faded like the decrescendo of a dying symphony.

My heart was thudding a mile a minute in my chest, and the cardboard against my back was damp with sweat. Breathing shaky, I inched my eyes over the top of the box with agonizing slowness. I realized I was scared of what I would find.

Black and Tan were completely fine.

They stood, most of them unmoving in their original positions, though some hadn't been able to resist flinching and stumbling back a few paces. Out of the three large containers spanning the room, the middle had its door blown wide open.

And scattered all around it, were the bodies, the many, many bodies of men, dressed in black.

"Hayley!" William's voice was yelling in my ear. "Come in, Hayley! Are you alright? What was that gunfire?"

But I didn't hear him. I didn't hear him, because at this distance, I could recognize the lone man kneeling in front of the container, recognize that sandy head of hair and that scarred upper lip, a souvenir of his last Russian mission. Those same lips that had spent every year of my life making sure I knew exactly where girls belonged, and what happened to daughters who tried to step out of their rightful place. 

Those same lips that were now dripping fat droplets of blood.

I watched my father hover for a moment on his knees, before he keeled over and simply died. He breathed his last, right next to the mangled bodies of my Uncle Ian and Uncle Edward. A bloodied hand with a Blackcroft tattoo on the wrist was stretched out beneath Uncle Ian's torn apart chest; I realized that in his last moments, he had tried protecting his eldest son.

Do. I never knew his real name.

The first sound that broke the silence after the chaos was the sound of heels across concrete.

The Octagon chairman stopped just a little beyond six feet from the strewn bodies. Lifting a perfectly manicured fingernail, she tapped the empty air a few inches away from her right eye. And where there was nothing, suddenly there was something - I watched a shimmery, translucent rainbow ripple away from the first point of contact like the surface of a still lake after a dropped pebble. It spanned the entire width of the room, from left to right.

Like an invisible barrier cutting off the container from the rest of the storage bunker.

The woman took off her sunglasses. Underneath, her eyes were an intoxicating emerald green. She tossed the sunglasses forward, and when they hit the barrier, they bounced back right into the woman's waiting palm. 

The woman smiled. "This is impressive technology, Cognac."

Cognac.

A little boy that couldn't have been more than ten stepped out from behind Octagon's head security, Jesús Dimaggio. He was holding a Nintendo Switch and a very familiar jingle could be heard; it took me a second to realize that he was playing the game Fire Emblem. Three Houses, to be exact.

The little boy didn't look up. "Had it done in about a week or so. Could have done it faster but there was that piano recital I had to go to." Cognac's eyebrows narrowed into a scowl and he jabbed buttons furiously. "Stupid crit chance!" he shouted.

"Still," the woman said admiringly. "Most impressive. Well done."

"It consumes a lot of energy though. It won't last long - " There was a fizzling hiss, and I watched rainbow colors dissipated across air. Cognac pulled out an odd-looking device and fiddled with some levers. "Yeap. It's off. It'll take a while to charge up before it can start running again."

"No need. The job is done."

"Okay. Cool." Cognac sat down cross-legged, and returned his attention to the Switch.

There was the sound of a box being upended and I watched Blake Jones crept out from his hiding place. Out of everyone in the bunker - excluding me - he was the one who had been furthest from the container when the bullet storm occurred. Now he stood, face pale and shirt unkempt.

"What - what happened?" he asked.

"Ah yes. Mr Jones. The only person among us who doesn't know what's going on." The woman's smile reminded me of the reptiles we had studied in biology class. Specifically the viper. "Please, let us explain. Here, a seat. Some water for our shaken up man, please?"

Someone handed Blake a bottle of water. He hesitated before taking it. The Octagon chairman stood right in front of him, still smiling. I noticed Jesús had left the raised platform and was now directly behind Blake. The speed and silence at which that brute of a man moved was incredible.

"Now. Where to begin? I suppose first of all, I should introduce you to these men" - and here the woman waved her sunglasses at the container - "which have so rudely decided to barge themselves into our little meet-up. After all, you most likely have never ever seen them before in your life, and therefore have no idea who they are, don't you?"

There was just the smallest tinge of sarcasm in there that was sufficient to let me know that Blake Jones was a man that was well and truly, well, fucked.

Blake seemed to know this. His already pale face turned paler.

"These men, my dear Mr Jones, are Blackcrofts. Or should I say, were Blackcrofts. And their plan, should it have succeeded, was to murder every single person in this room. Seeing as how we are alive, it would seem that their plan has failed. And I bet you're wondering why, aren't you?"

The woman came close to Blake. She crouched down, eyes never leaving Blake's.

"Why is it, that without a single weapon in our hands and oh-so-many in theirs, did these nasty Blackcroft thugs end up dying instead of us? Would you like to know why, Mr Jones?"

Blake did the only thing he could. He nodded.

"Because we won with technology. A beautiful, spectacular new-age technology, engineered by none other than Black and Tan's very own child prodigy. Can you guess what this new tech does, Mr Jones?"

Behind Blake, Jesús took a step nearer.

Blake swallowed. "It's a barrier ... that bounces things back."

The woman smiled so wide it seemed like her face had to split right there and then. "Bravo! Well done, you! Yes, indeed. Not only does it bounces things back, it bounces them back at the exact speed at which it receives them. Now that may not seem like much when all you're doing is throwing sunglasses at it, but when the thing you're throwing is a bullet that's traveling about two thousand miles per hour - well. That's a real cracker then, isn't it?"

Blake made to get up from his chair but a single hand on his shoulder from Jesús changed his mind. "Madame Debicki, I can explain - "

"Shh." Fingernails the color of belladonna pressed up against Blake's lips. "It's okay. It's fine! I understand. You asked for a pay raise a few months ago, and we denied it due to financial considerations." Madame Debicki paused. "Well that and also the fact that you had been misappropriating Octagon's brand name to secure personal invitations to lavish places. But I digress."

Cognac finished his game and tucked back his Switch into his pocket. He pulled up his knees to chest and hugged them as he watched the interrogation unblinkingly. Now that his head was no longer bent down, I could see his face.

His eyes were emerald green.

"The point is," Madame Debicki continued, "we gave you more than enough, but more than enough wasn't enough. So you did what any enterprising businessman would do. You looked for your opportunities elsewhere. And I get it! That's what anyone would do; that's what I did. I left behind my accounting firm because I felt there were better opportunities here at Octagon. So I understand."

Madame Debicki placed a gentle hand on Blake's trembling figure. Her gloves, like the rest of her suit, was pristine. "Your betrayal of Black and Tan is something that is completely justified and your actions well reasonable considered the amount they paid you. Eight million, was it? Eight million is not a sum to be taken lightly. I can see why you chose it after careful consideration. You did, consider your choices carefully, didn't you, Mr Jones?"

Blake nodded fervently, tearful. It was chilling, watching a grown man sob like a two-year-old kid. I recalled something I had once told Damian and William before.

Their power lies in information. Our power lies in violence. 

Looking at Blake and the dead Blackcroft bodies, I was no longer sure that Black and Tan were as blood-free as I had thought.

"I did." Blake was a blubbering mess at this point. "I did, I swear - I considered it properly - the money - what I had to do - I'm sorry I messed up - please - I promise I won't consider it again - "

"No. No you won't."

With a single flick, Jesús had the steel garotte around Blake's neck and pulled taut. Blake struggled, but it was no use; watching Jesús pull the garotte tighter and tighter was like watching a pair of double-duty castle doors closing - slow, heavy, and deliberate, but inevitable. 

Jesús looked up at the chairman. "You might want to step back a bit, Madame."

"Why? I like to see a traitor die."

"He might spit blood, Madame. And your suit is rather white."

"Oh." Madame Debicki thought about it for awhile. "Fair point." She took two steps back.

A few seconds passed where the only sounds that were heard were Blake's choking and gurgling.

Cognac yawned. "Why is it taking so long?"

"Sorry." Jesús grunted. "The steel's drawn blood and it's getting a bit slippery to hold on."

Blake's neck was a mess. I had to look away to quell my urge to retch. 

"I don't understand why you guys can't just use a gun."

Madame Debicki looked up at her son and smiled. "The same reason why a digital replica of Mona Lisa is in no way equal to its physical counterpart. You'll learn to appreciate it when you're older, Cognac."

"Whatever." Cognac pulled out his Switch again.

Shit shit shit. While I had no love for Jasper, part of our plan had rode on him actually succeeding. It was far easier to pick off the will from Jasper than from Black and Tan - and now what were we supposed to do? Jasper's plans were now in shambles and the will still tightly within the grip of Blackcroft's mortal enemy.

I sat there with my hands in fists and wondered how in the name of the Holy Mary was I supposed to extricate myself from this mess. I suppose firstly I had better update them on the current situation - 

Then, in only the second of that day's many plot twists, Jasper's laughter began to reverberate out from the opened metal container. 

|*|*|*|*|*|*|*|*|*|*|

As I promised, the shitteth hath hitteth the fan :)

any thoughts on what's going to come next? 

oh, and happy new year's! this one's for pleasurablefuckers ! great username 😬

11/01/2021 edit - I included a scene where the barrier gets switched off due to power running out