23-04-2019, 03:49 PM
So Night Follows Day Pt. 24
"I'd like to help you, Tom, in any way I can.
I sure appreciate the way you're working with me.
I'm not a monster, Tom. Well, technically, I am.
I guess I am."
-Jonathan Coulton, "Re: Your Brains"
Leonard Whyte CBE paced around his suite as the sounds of gunfire and explosions thundered from one floor above him; in the La Contessa Suite at the Seattle Hotel de Società Finzione. He wore a blue suit, identical to the one he'd given the vagrant before sending him to his death the night before. This helmet was for his own use, though, and didn't contain an incendiary device like the other one.
There were still ropes hanging from the balcony of the suite above, down onto the balcony of his own suite, from the grappling hooks that the mercenaries had used to climb to the floor above and plant C-4 charges on the steel shutters that protected Contessa Helena de San Finzione from them about a minute ago.
There was a frantic knock at the door. He picked up his pistol from the table. If the Ultimados had won the fight upstairs and figured out where he was this quickly, they'd have kicked it in and chucked grenades, rather than knocked. Leonard looked over at the frightened sign-language interpreter that he'd hired to relay his orders to the men. He pointed the gun at the man.
"Be a good chap and see who's at the door, would you?" Whyte said, cocking the hammer.
Whyte had been terrifying the sign-language interpreter over the past few days with the instructions that he was giving and the fact that Leonard wouldn't allow him to go home. The absolute certainty that, at this point, he "knew too much," and there was no way that Whyte was going to allow him to live after killing this woman, did not help either. Because of this, Whyte added to his instructions.
"Don't just open it, use the peephole. And remember that I have this aimed squarely at your back if you try to make a break for it."
The interpreter gulped and did as he was told, knowing that trying to open the door and flee was probably his one chance at survival; but also that the man who had the mercenaries prevent him from escaping and made his life a nightmare since he accepted the job was completely serious in his threat. He knew now that Whyte would absolutely shoot him in the back if he thought he'd try it.
"It's them." He said, after looking through the hole. "Three of them, anyway."
Whyte looked dumbfounded. He'd been skeptical about their chances of success, but never imagined that any of them would make it back alive. He let out a "Fuck!" under his breath as he realized he'd probably have to pay them now. From his own pocket, no less; since his companies' assets were done for. After he dealt with Miss Parker, he'd have to rebuild his empire on what would be left of his own fortune, so every cent mattered now.
"Well, let them in, I suppose." Leonard said. The men were wearing body armor, but he might still have enough bullets to kill four men, if he could use the lack of hearing of three to his advantage and catch one or two in the back of the head before the others noticed what was happening.
He opened the door. The three men stormed past him into the room. The interpreter realized that they were now between Whyte's gun and himself, and this was his one chance at self-preservation, so he bolted out the door and around the corner while he had the opportunity. The three men continued walking directly toward Leonard Whyte CBE.
"What are you..." Whyte started to ask, before realizing that they couldn't hear him anyway, and seeing the look in their eyes. He aimed for the one in the middle's head and fired, putting a round through it. The man's body dropped to the floor, and the other two continued toward him, seemingly oblivious to the loss of their teammate. Leonard turned to another and was able to shoot both, dropping the second, before the third was upon him, yanking the gun out of the old man's hand.
Whyte's scream changed from coming out the speakers of the helmet to directly from his mouth as the last mercenary pulled it off of his head with the last of his strength before succumbing to his wounds.
"Hi, Leonard." A familiar voice said, from the balcony behind him. He started to turn before the voice added "Don't move." He immediately found himself unable to compel his body to complete the action of turning around and froze in place. Seeing, just out of the corner of his eye, Contessa Helena de San Finzione and Mander standing on the balcony, guns pointed at him.
"Also," She added. "Dun-dun-DAAAAA!!"
* * *
"I'd like to help you, Tom, in any way I can.
I sure appreciate the way you're working with me.
I'm not a monster, Tom. Well, technically, I am.
I guess I am."
-Jonathan Coulton, "Re: Your Brains"
Leonard Whyte CBE paced around his suite as the sounds of gunfire and explosions thundered from one floor above him; in the La Contessa Suite at the Seattle Hotel de Società Finzione. He wore a blue suit, identical to the one he'd given the vagrant before sending him to his death the night before. This helmet was for his own use, though, and didn't contain an incendiary device like the other one.
There were still ropes hanging from the balcony of the suite above, down onto the balcony of his own suite, from the grappling hooks that the mercenaries had used to climb to the floor above and plant C-4 charges on the steel shutters that protected Contessa Helena de San Finzione from them about a minute ago.
There was a frantic knock at the door. He picked up his pistol from the table. If the Ultimados had won the fight upstairs and figured out where he was this quickly, they'd have kicked it in and chucked grenades, rather than knocked. Leonard looked over at the frightened sign-language interpreter that he'd hired to relay his orders to the men. He pointed the gun at the man.
"Be a good chap and see who's at the door, would you?" Whyte said, cocking the hammer.
Whyte had been terrifying the sign-language interpreter over the past few days with the instructions that he was giving and the fact that Leonard wouldn't allow him to go home. The absolute certainty that, at this point, he "knew too much," and there was no way that Whyte was going to allow him to live after killing this woman, did not help either. Because of this, Whyte added to his instructions.
"Don't just open it, use the peephole. And remember that I have this aimed squarely at your back if you try to make a break for it."
The interpreter gulped and did as he was told, knowing that trying to open the door and flee was probably his one chance at survival; but also that the man who had the mercenaries prevent him from escaping and made his life a nightmare since he accepted the job was completely serious in his threat. He knew now that Whyte would absolutely shoot him in the back if he thought he'd try it.
"It's them." He said, after looking through the hole. "Three of them, anyway."
Whyte looked dumbfounded. He'd been skeptical about their chances of success, but never imagined that any of them would make it back alive. He let out a "Fuck!" under his breath as he realized he'd probably have to pay them now. From his own pocket, no less; since his companies' assets were done for. After he dealt with Miss Parker, he'd have to rebuild his empire on what would be left of his own fortune, so every cent mattered now.
"Well, let them in, I suppose." Leonard said. The men were wearing body armor, but he might still have enough bullets to kill four men, if he could use the lack of hearing of three to his advantage and catch one or two in the back of the head before the others noticed what was happening.
He opened the door. The three men stormed past him into the room. The interpreter realized that they were now between Whyte's gun and himself, and this was his one chance at self-preservation, so he bolted out the door and around the corner while he had the opportunity. The three men continued walking directly toward Leonard Whyte CBE.
"What are you..." Whyte started to ask, before realizing that they couldn't hear him anyway, and seeing the look in their eyes. He aimed for the one in the middle's head and fired, putting a round through it. The man's body dropped to the floor, and the other two continued toward him, seemingly oblivious to the loss of their teammate. Leonard turned to another and was able to shoot both, dropping the second, before the third was upon him, yanking the gun out of the old man's hand.
Whyte's scream changed from coming out the speakers of the helmet to directly from his mouth as the last mercenary pulled it off of his head with the last of his strength before succumbing to his wounds.
"Hi, Leonard." A familiar voice said, from the balcony behind him. He started to turn before the voice added "Don't move." He immediately found himself unable to compel his body to complete the action of turning around and froze in place. Seeing, just out of the corner of his eye, Contessa Helena de San Finzione and Mander standing on the balcony, guns pointed at him.
"Also," She added. "Dun-dun-DAAAAA!!"
* * *
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