Morgante's was busy, with couples and families out for a simple but delicious weekend meal. Separated from the chaos, Runa was in her private corner booth- her perk as one of the main investors of the restaurant. It was a space where she could speak privately without being overheard, and it was also her usual meeting place with Francesco. She was wearing a violet gown much fancier than her usual dress, and her hair was up in an intricately braided bun behind her head, revealing a pair of bare shoulders. An elaborate lace diamond necklace rested above a plunging neckline, and on her left arm was a decorative white-gold bracelet stretching almost all the way from her wrist to her elbow; wherever she was going next, it was certainly much fancier than Morgante's. 

It had been a few weeks since her last meeting here with Francesco; Runa found herself feeling lonelier than usual in the interval. Elle was so busy these days. Scarfo was... retired? Dead? Faro was gone, off doing some sort of work out of Philly. Even a new acquaintance like Billy Pilgrim had had to rush off to some business in Amsterdam. As she waited for Francesco to arrive, Runa was surprised to realize how much she'd missed him. Without ever intending it, Runa had come to rely and depend on Francesco, and he'd become one of the most important relationships in her life as they'd both climbed the ranks together- a climb that she had no doubt would accelerate soon for Francesco. When he walked in, a wide smile broke across her face as he headed back to their usual meeting spot. 

"Hey you. Ready to talk about that bank? I think I've got something ready to move on."

Ah, Morgante's! Amazing how that place had become one of Francesco's favorites in Philly. Its simplicity and kind service, the good and fragrant food, that always made Francesco remember, with a suffocating nostalgia, the rare moments of happiness he had from the childhood at his home - which were mostly moments when his mother was cooking for them while he was playing around.

Wow, he thought, as he entered the restaurant and spotted Runa at the corner. She was stunning, to say the least. He wasn't too bad either. Since his promotion, he had bought some new clothes. For the first time in his life, he had gone to a tailor and allowed himself the luxury of buying a few tailored suits, like the black one he was wearing, perfectly cut for him. His hair was considerably long, not unkempt, but neatly combed back, very black and shiny - just like his shoes. And not only his clothes had changed: Francesco looked more confident, even more strong and determined.

He walked over to her with a smile on his face, happy to notice that she seemed pleased to see him. Upon arriving, he slid smoothly into the chair across from her, giving her a wink.

"Hey, dear. I'm all ears."

In the next moment, he had a lit cigarette pending from his lips.

Runa raised her wine glass as Francesco entered. 

"I believe some congratulations are in order. A well deserved promotion, Francesco. I wasn't surprised at all when I heard. Looks like we've both been shopping."

She smirked.

"And speaking of shopping... I think I've got my way in."

Runa dropped her voice, despite the privacy of their back table.

"I've been seeing someone, for the job. A very big deal- a regional vice president in a string of banks located throughout Pennsylvania. He's about to get divorced, and he's determined to keep his future ex-wife from getting half. The guy is basically full-on midlife crisis, and I've got him eating out of my hand at this point. I've been dropping hints, and I think he's finally caught on. He thinks he thought it up himself, of course, but he's been talking about hitting a bank and making a run for it. Ditch the wife, start over with a fortune in Havana, Zurich, wherever... he changes the destination pretty often."

She leaned forward, fading sunlight reflecting off her necklace.

"This guy... he's got all the fucking codes and combinations... he oversees the damn security. So I figure Brently- that's the guys name- and I hit a bank in the middle of the night, and you're there to keep an eye on us, make sure things go smooth. If we get stopped by guards, you swoop in and get me and the money out of there. If we make it out clean, then you rob us. What do you think?"

Behind the smoke of his cigarette, Francesco watched and listened to Runa very carefully. His eyes widened softly, and he couldn't contain a smile of admiration. Runa always thought outside the box, always planned the best ways to do things. Her plan sounded like music to his ears and because of that, when she finished speaking, he pointed at her, his index finger dangling slightly in the air.

"You. You're the best, you know that, uh?" His smile was still wide when he lowered his hand and rested it on the table. "This is fucking beautiful. Brilliant."

He took a long drag on his cigarette and when he spoke again, smoke was still coming out of his mouth.

"Where is this bank located? And what kind of man is this Brently?"

Runa grinned and mock- bowed as best she could in her seat.

"Well, we'll see if it works, but I am a fan of the plan. The banks are spread out through Pennsylvania, but the biggest one is in West Philly. I'd assume thatThe key is finding the right guy; I'd been looking for a while, made friends with some of the secretaries around town to keep their ears to the ground for me. They think they're helping me out become someone's second wife..."

She shrugged.

"Brently Davidson was pretty much what I was looking for. Troubled marriage. 42 years old- young enough to have ambition, but old enough to have a midlife crisis. He's not a happy guy- well, he wasn't before. His wife had basically stopped screwing him, his kids barely know him because he worked so hard... I dunno, it's kind of sad. I picked him up at a bar one night after scouting him out, and it's just... easy. Like I said, it's been a few weeks. I didn't meet the guy and say like..."

Runa dropped her voice.

"... Oh. Hey. Nice to meet you. Wanna rob a bank?"

She laughed, almost musically, before her normal voice returned.

"Just little hints, you know. The bank takes him for granted. The wife'll take half of everything and make his kids hate him even more."

Runa changed her voice again, now breathless and lustful.

"Oh Brently. If only we could get away to a deserted island somewhere..."

She shrugged.

"I dunno. I'm convinced that pillow talk is a kind of hypnosis. He's... well, he's fallen for me pretty hard. He's taking me to some fancy charity fundraiser- hence the dolled up version of myself. Hey, you're dressed pretty smart yourself there. You should sneak in. I can definitely work with this. Maybe steal me for a dance and make him jealous- not threatened, but jealous? What do you think?"

Francesco, who had been laughing heartily at some of Runa's comments - especially the 'wanna rob a bank?' part, suddenly became quiet upon hearing her invitation. He stared at Runa with wide eyes for a moment, astonished, before bursting into a delightful laugh. How could he say no to that? As if it weren't enough to steal the man, he would steal his beautiful company at some fancy event, for a few minutes. A little fun at work couldn't hurt, he thought.

He tightened the tie on his neck a bit, suddenly looking more formal.

"Alright, alright. I'll try and sneak in at the fundraiser..." he raised his hands briefly, his palms facing Runa, "but you know I can't be playing any roles, so if I feel anyone being suspicious about me and my presence, or anything like that, I'm out of there. You should be good, anyway, eh?"

Before she could answer, he added, while stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table and winking at her.

"But if everything goes right, I'll see how good of a dancer you are. Should be fun."

Two hours later, the smooth sounds of a jazz ensemble drifted through the brand new foyer/ballroom of The Franklin Institute. Women in gowns and men in suits mingled with each other, floating around the giant room like butterflies. There were dozens of beautiful women there, but Runa's violet gown stood out almost as much as how she carried herself. A girl who'd grown up in a tavern had been merged with a woman who'd learned from working tables in Velvet's lounge, and she found herself effortlessly comfortable impersonating someone who belonged in high society. Brently Davidson, her companion, could barely keep her eyes off her- and his hands. Well, as much as he could get away with a fancy charity event.

There were a few women who'd shot daggers at Runa- friends of the soon to be ex-wife, no doubt, but they seemed more a petty inconvenience than a real threat. After all, she'd dealt with actual daggers.

Tapping one manicured nail gently against the table, Runa waited for her drinks to arrive and glanced around, wondering when she'd catch a glimpse of Francesco. Or if she would at all. 

Francesco arrived at the event in a shiny black sedan he had decided to rent for the night. The rent had been very symbolic, almost for free, as Francesco knew the owner. Better yet, the owner knew Francesco - and obviously his fame, as a connected member of the Philly mob. He got out of the car and walked decisively towards the entrance, under the eyes of the two burly security guards, one at each side of the door. Act as if you belong there, Runa said to him earlier, and so he did. With his nose up, he went through the door, and none of the security guards dared to ask who he was. Francesco's good looks certainly helped, as he was well-dressed, well-shaved, hair well-aligned and perfumed.

Francesco walked slowly around the place, making a quick recognition. All he could do was follow Runa's advice and act at his best, because he definitely didn't belong to the place. His eyes occasionally rested on some expensive watch, some gold necklace or diamond ring, in what appeared to be an ostentatious competition. How many of those would he take to his home tonight if that was the purpose of his visit?

A waiter passed by him with a tray full of champagne flutes and he nimbly took one for himself. While savoring the delicious sparkling drink, his eyes scanned the place more closely, this time looking for Runa. He was expecting to find her more easily. After a few moments standing there, his right foot tapping softly to the rhythm of the music, he saw Runa, seated next to his companion. She was stunning, really, and she knew it, and so did the people around her.

Francesco finished drinking his champagne and left his flute on a table on the way to Runa's table. As he approached, he had an exaggeratedly gentle smile on his face. He nodded, first to Brently, and then to Runa. The man held his gaze in a not so friendly way, which Francesco playfully pretended not to notice. 

"Good evening! I hope I'm not disturbing. I was just back there now, watching and wondering if you...", he bowed his head a bit, both to show some false respect but mainly to control his urge to laugh, "...sir, would borrow me your beautiful lady for a dance?"

Runa did a double take when Francesco walked through the door. Despite her experience with infiltration and her natural talent for dissembling, she couldn't help herself. When she'd met Francesco, he was a kid; hell, she was probably still considered a kid by most, even though she was a few years older than him. But as they'd grown up and worked their way up the ladder of Race Street, they'd both changed a great deal. She looked at him now and barely recognized him as the same kid who'd been wiping down the bar at the Cat. Seeing him like this, out in a crowd, it was easier to barely recognize him. 

Runa returned her attention to Brently, but he'd noticed her looking off; fortunately, Francesco seemed to have melted into the crowd. She put her focus on Brently, deftly navigating the conversation with him, even as she slipped off one stiletto heel and ran her bare foot up his calf. With Brently under control, she risked another scan of the crowd and saw Francesco over the edge of a champagne glass. She'd just managed to subtly get her shoe back on when he approached the table.

Brently, obviously, wasn't thrilled with the idea of letting his girl go off and dance with someone else, particularly someone who looked like Francesco. But as much as he wanted to say no, he couldn't; he had to pretend like he'd be comfortable with it for the sake of appearances.

"Go on, son. Becks, you'd better get warmed up; I'll cut in as soon as I finish my discussion with Mr. Rhodes here."

And he'd lock up every other dance after, his tone seemed to imply.

With a polite smile, Runa stood and gave Francesco her hand as he led her to the dance floor; for now, they were still in ear shot of Brently.

"Good evening, sir. Rebecca Kinsey. I... appreciate the dance, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm here with my boyfriend..."

She smiled back at Brently and was able to read his eyes when Francesco's hand fell to her waist. Barely listening to the band, Runa dropped her voice as she turned to face Francesco.

"Seems like it's working so far. Try to find that sweet spot where he gets a little jealous but doesn't come over to fight you, huh?"

Runa grinned. 

"I assume you know how to dance, Mr...?"

Her voice seemed to suggest that she could lead if needed, depending on whether or not Francesco knew how to dance. 

"Charles. Charles Bretz." he said, his eyes seeking approval in her eyes, for he had thought too much of a name other than his own to use that night. He ended up combining the name of two classmates from the old school days. As for dancing? Francesco was no dancer. He knew just enough not to be totally ashamed. "I'll follow your lead, Ms. Kinsey."

A little stuck, Francesco - or Charles Bretz, started dancing with Runa, concentrated to not step on her feet. She, in turn, guided him with delicacy, moving with extreme smoothness and grace. Francesco's arms held Runa firmly, and in one motion, he suddenly brought her closer to his body, on purpose, of course, but trying to make it look like a slip. Not that he wanted to ruin everything by getting into a fight with Runa's 'boyfriend', but part of him just couldn't resist a small provocation. The other part was perhaps enjoying the dance too much.

As they progressed through the pleasant music, Francesco became more confident in his steps.

"I'm not so bad after all, am I?" he said, in a mocking tone. And, in a light twist, he turned his back on Brently. They were not so close anymore, but he still lowered his voice. "Your friend didn't take his eyes off you for a second. You weren't kidding, uh", he completed, arching his lips and nodding briefly, in a sign of admiration.

The music started to slow down, indicating that it was getting to the end.

Runa smirked as she helped surreptitiously guide Francesco's hand to the proper spot on the small of her back. Their other hands laced as they began to move in rhythm with the band. Runa was a practiced dancer, and from a combination of moving Francesco's hand and her hip, she was able to direct him until he got the hang of things.

"Well... Charles."

As Francesco brought her closer against him, her voice dropped so only Francesco could hear her. 

"No, you're not so bad a dancer after all."

Her emerald eyes gleamed up and focused on Francesco before she forced herself to look away, glancing over to where Brently was staring daggers. Though Francesco had backed off, Runa once again closed the distance between them on the turn. Her voice purred in Franceco's ear.

"Brently is... rather attached to me. I can be very persuasive, you know. Based on how he's glaring at you, this should herlp nudge him into making a move soon."

Runa blinked and looked up again at Francesco as they danced. It seemed like she was struggling to find the right words, but she was interrupted as Brently's hand roughly pulled Francesco's shoulder and spun him away. 

"Thanks for warming her up. I'll take it from here."

Brently moved in to dance with Runa, who looked at Francesco over his shoulder. After a brief pause, she winked, then laughed at whatever Brently had said.

Two days later, Francesco was startled by a hard knock on his door. A musclebound brute of a man stood there, well over 6 feet tall and dressed in black. He smiled at Francesco and handed him a note, written in Runa's familiar handwriting.

Francesco,

This is Tony- my bodyguard, fight instructor, and friend. (Elena's brother, Little Tony's uncle... he's Big Tony.) You can trust him with anything.

We're moving tonight. Address is attached. Brently is raring to go. He's set up a gap in security coverage: we're entering the bank through a side door, heading down to the vault, emptying it, and walking out. 

If everything goes smoothly inside, then you and Tony can "rob" us on the way out. Grab the money and get lost- I'll get away on my own.

If we get stuck inside for whatever reason, then come in and get us- or me, at least.

If we can't get inside at all or if it's a trap... well, I'll scream for help and we'll see what happens, but don't feel like you have to rush in immediately. I'll have my gun- if you hear me shooting, then please do rush in because it means things are really fucked. 

This is a huge payday for us if it works. 

Drinks are on me.

R

When Francesco was done reading, Tony smiled.

"You ready for some fun, son? I figure we'll wait for the sun to go down, then find a rooftop where we can keep an eye on things. One with a fire escape so we can get down quick if we need to."

Francesco recognized Runa's handwriting on the note and that reassured him. The man who had delivered the note, Big Tony, was an intimidating figure, not the kind of man that someone wants knocking at their door at random. Francesco could never beat such a man in a fight, not with his hands, at least, he concluded. Not that Francesco was weak or didn't know how to fight, but the man was a giant. It was comforting to know that he was on their side.

"Alright, Tony. You can call me Frank. I'll be ready in a moment."

Francesco went back inside the apartment, leaving Tony waiting outside. He quickly changed clothes, wearing a casual black suit, black shirt and no tie. On his head, he put a black fedora. He took a quick look in the mirror, on his all black outfit. The black color suited him. Plus, as they would act during the night, it could always be beneficial, allowing him to sneak or just disappear more easily. Picking up his pistol and two extra cartridges as he left, Francesco met Tony again outside.

The drive to the appointed location was a quiet one. Frank or Tony would eventually made a comment about something, but not exactly engaging in conversation. Francesco lit his cigarette, smoking and looking out of the car the entire way.

Big Tony drove slowly in front of the bank.

"That's the place." he said, without looking at it. Francesco quickly scanned the bank as they passed by, visualizing in the distance what appeared to be the side door mentioned by Runa, and immediately began to observe the buildings around, looking for the perfect spot. The sun was already setting and the bank was already closed. Tony drove around the block, as they looked for the perfect spot. Together, they decided that the best roof was one right in front of the bank, a two-story commercial building with a fire escape on it's side. Mostly buildings around were commercial, which was actually good for them. Probably not many witnesses, in case things got loud.

Tony parked the car at the entrance to the alley, on the street parallel to the bank. Separately, they got out of the car and entered the alley, first Francesco, then Big Tony. When Tony reached the rooftop, Francesco was already down on one knee, looking at the bank like a predator watching a prey. Tony joined him. They were practically invisible to anyone passing by on the street and had a very good view of the side of the bank where the door was.

In total silence, they waited. Runa and Brently were supposed to arrive at any time.

"You know the worst thing about this? Staking out a place like this outside, I mean? It's the perfect fucking opportunity to smoke a cigarette, but you can't light one. Would we probably be safe? Sure. But I don't feel great lighting a damn match or blowing smoke. I shoulda brought some pepperoni or something, you know?"

Tony wasn't exactly the strong, silent type. Strong? Yes. Silent? Not so much.

"I need to get some of that... what do you call it? Bubble gum. See, I was in the big house for most of the last ten years. Some of this stuff is just new, ya know?"

The evening passed slowly. As the sun set and the moon climbed higher, even Tony ran out of things to say, so they took turns leaning against the waist-high wall of the room and napping as best they could. 

At at ten minutes to 2, Tony shook Francesco awake. A car, a new looking Ford, had parked on the street half a block away from the side door. 

"Nothing's happening. Hope the fish isn't getting cold feet in there... maybe Runa's tryna talk him into going through with it. If they aren't out in five minutes, then I say we- Oh Christ. Maybe more than talking."

The Ford had started rocking back and forth slightly. Tony turned away and, despite the limited light, he could have sworn that the big man was blushing as he muttered under his breath.

At the stroke of 2, one of the rear car doors opened and Brently walked out, looking around multiple times. Runa slid out of the same door, buckling her slacks and taking a black beanie from her pocket and tucking most of her hair underneath it. She was wearing a black blouse, black pants, and black boots. 

Brently and Runa entered the side door and disappeared inside. Nothing happened for a long time. Too long. 

"How long did she say to wait?" asked Tony. "We'll give her a few more minutes, at least."

Five minutes passed. 

Tony sighed, stood up, and removed a shotgun from one of the two large bags they'd lugged up.

"Let's go get her out, huh?"

After a silent nod from Francesco, he and Tony quickly descended the fire escape and walked through the alley, heading to the street. Francesco led just a couple of steps forward, so he checked both sides of the street, giving Tony the signal that it was clean. Both, then, crossed the street with long and fast steps, and quickly arrived at the Bank's side door. Francesco tried the handle, thinking that maybe Runa would've managed to let it open for them, but it was closed. 

"I got it." he heard Tony say, while handing him the shotgun, which Francesco took before taking a step back, to give the big man some space.

Tony had come prepared. The brute pulled a lockpick out of his pocket, which curiously seemed too small for his hands, and got down on his knees in front of the door, immediately trying to pick de lock. Francesco kept looking at their sides, watchful, holding the shotgun to the side of his body.

A drop of sweat ran down Tony's temple, and it wasn't due to the weather, as the night was cool. No, Tony was apprehensive, because every second that passed, could mean more danger to Runa, and many had already passed. Francesco was also impatient, tapping his fingers against his leg, starting to question Tony's skill with the lockpick. Or perhaps that particular lock was really difficult, after all it was a bank door. Come on, come on, he heard Tony murmur.

After what seemed like an eternity - obviously they were only there for a few minutes, but the tension was enormous - when Francesco was about to ask Tony to get out of the way and just blow the lock with the shotgun, Tony picked the lock, clicking the door open. The big man sighed with relief and stood up. 

"Shit, this one was hard!" he exclaimed, in low voice, as he rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead.

Francesco opened the door slowly, peeking inside, unsure of what he would find. To his surprise, there was only a flight stairs, leading underground. He glanced at Tony, who had his eyebrows raised, looking at him. 

"Ok, follow me." He said, returning the shotgun to Tony. 

Before Tony could protest, Fracesco went down the stairs, descending slowly to avoid making any noises. The only option Francesco left was to follow him - the big man would have preferred to go first - and so he did, closing the door behind them. Tony wielded the shotgun at half height, prepared to use it if necessary and Francesco had his hands free. As they were about to reach the bottom of the stairs, Francesco raised his hand, as a sign of stop. Voices could be heard, coming from the room to which they were headed.

"Are you sure we shouldn't call the cops, boss?" someone in the room said. Francesco looked back, staring at Tony.

"Hell no, Johnson. WE made this happen, and we're going to get all the damn credit for it. We've got them pinned down in this storage room, and it's just a matter of time before the boys upstairs find the right key to unlock it and get back here." Once again, Francesco glanced at Big Tony, at the mention of the boys upstairs. Things were bad and instinctively Francesco reached for his gun, just touching it for some kind of comfort or reassurance.

"But they've got a bag full of money from the vault..." they heard Johnson's voice saying.

"And they're not going anywhere as long as the five of us are standing right here with guns pointed at the goddamn door, so can it." the boss replied, in a resolute and final tone.

Francesco leaned against the wall slightly, trying to process everything he had heard. Five armed men and God knew how many more to come. They had to act fast. He, then, carefully went down the rest of the stairs in order to take a peek at the place. The bottom of the stairs did not provide a direct view of anyone. By the previous echo of their voices, they were on the right side. He peeked in and confirmed it to be true. Excepct for the men, the rest of the room was almost empty, with only a table and two chairs, put against a corner.

Big Tony was right behind him, ready for action. Francesco glanced at him, while pondering what to do next. They could easily shoot at the five men and kill them all in seconds, but that was not ideal. The gun shots would certainly alarm the guards that apparently were above, as their boss mentioned, and they could try to deal with the situation themselves, depending on how many they were, or even call the cops. If there was a bank robbery call, Francesco was sure that the street would be infested with police in a few minutes. He could even try to engage in a corporal combat with them, but, as he had seen, they were already with their guns in his hands. Nothing could stop them of just shooting at him and Big Tony, no matter how big and strong he was. They would be able to take one, two, maybe even three of them by surprise, but the chances of one of them reacting were too high. Plus, from what he had seen, two of them had a decent physique and could offer even more danger.

No, Francesco thought. They would have to act differently. He turned to Tony again.

"Give me your pistol." Francesco said silently, only moving his lips exaggeratedly so that Tony could understand, but not really making any sounds.

Big Tony quickly drew his pistol and handed it to Francesco, who closed eyes and crossed himself before drewing his own too. With one pistol in each hand, Francesco motioned with his head for Tony to follow him, and they both left the stairs and entered the room. While the vault door was on the wall facing the stairs, the door the guards were aiming at and guarding was a door on the right side wall. Francesco and Tony walked in so quietly that they didn't realize it, allowing the two to position themselves, side by side, and point their weapons at their backs, Francesco with the two pistols and Tony with the dreaded shotgun.

"Ok, cowboys", Francesco said, feeling the adrenaline rush through his body, increasingly. He alternated his pistols slightly between the heads of the guards while talking. "Any sudden movement and we shoot. Don't try to play heroes. I know you have family and want to see them again. I have no intentions to prevent it, unless you do not cooperate."

Despite the tension of the moment, Francesco's words sounded so calm and yet so firm, that even Big Tony glanced at him, briefly. The guards were patrified, guns still pointed at the door.

"Here's what you are gonna do." Francesco continued in the same calm tone. "From the right to the left, each one of you is gonna drop your gun and kick it back to me. Nice. And. Easy. Now."

The first two were impeccable at following Francesco's instructions. One by one, they dropped their guns and pushed it back with the feet, their pistols sliding across the floor and landing at Francesco's feet. The third man, however, hesitated. He was shaking. Both Tony and Francesco noticed it and both recognized it. It was the typical tension that a man had before screwing up, the clear picture of an internal conflict. Tony was quick to act. In one move, he shortened the distance between him and the man, and in another, he violently hit the back of the head of the guard with his shotgun grip, holding it as a piece of wood. The guard groaned and fell, faint, and Tony bent down to collect the man's gun.

"Wasn't he clear enough, you fool?" Tony whispered to the man while picking his gun from the floor.

"Are we gonna have any more trouble, gentlemen?" Francesco asked, when Tony got back to his side.

As an answer, the other two guards dropped their guns and kicked it back. The others just shook their heads. Francesco glanced at the stairs before continuing, just to be safe. Tony, meanwhile, started picking the other pistols from the floor and putting them in his jacket pockets and on his belt.

"Any hidden guns I should know about?" The four men shook heads again, in a negative. Francesco decided not to believe them and looked at Tony. "Search them."

Tony quickly and skillfully started searching them, the four of them that were still standing and the one laying on the floor.

"Nothing. Not a single backup. And they are security guards! How disappointing!" He said, after searching the last one.

Francesco nodded.

"Ok, on your knees, all of you. And keep your hands behind your heads." He commanded and watched them obey quickly. Francesco then tucked one of the pistols into his belt, keeping only one in hand. He got near Tony, talking only for him to hear. "Keep them out of the stairs sight. See if you can tie them. If the guards up there go down, we'll try to surrender them too. If not, we will shoot to kill. Eyes open."

After a nod from Tony, Francesco walked around the guards, going to the door they were aiming at earlier - the door of the storage room. It surprised him that Runa still hadn't said anything or even walked out the door, but maybe she still hadn't heard his voice. He knocked on the door three times.

"Who's in there?" he asked, decided not to call for any names.

"Great. Prisoners to watch." Tony grumbled, but he still followed orders from Francesco. Then his eyes lit up. "I've got an idea, kid. Let me take these guys to the vault. They can fill the bags for us, then I lock 'em in. Toss me your satchel?"

Grabbing Francesco's bag, Tony slung it over his shoulder and marched the line of guards down the hall; they carried the groggy one that Francesco had hit, who appeared to be the leader. Without him, the guards seemed downright compliant. 

"Be right back. See if you can pick the lock for the door? But keep an eye on the stairs. I'll just be a minute."

Tony marched the guards down the hall towards the vault as Francesco moved to the storage room door and knocked.

"Who's in there?" he asked.

"Charlie?"  The voice was muffled, but it was clearly Runa. "If it's you, Charlie, what's your last name?"

Francesco thought for a moment. "Bretz."

The door opened, and Runa walked out with a bag of money slung over her shoulder. Francesco saw passed her into the room, where Brently Davidson was lying facedown in a large pool of blood. His throat had been slit was one swift, clean stroke.

"This is fucked, Frank. Either we go unlucky, someone ratted... maybe Brently, but I doubt it, or... where's Tony?"

Like a hunting dog bringing a game bird to its master, Tony emerged from the vault on the other end of the hall with one satchel over each shoulder and his shotgun in his hands. He closed the gate behind him, but it made far too much noise. Francesco and Runa moved toward the stairs and Tony, and they both saw the trio of guards heading down toward them and going for their guns. With no time to do anything else, Runa drew her gun, instinctively stepped to her right in front of Francesco to shield him, and started firing wildly at the stairs.

The first guard received a bullet in the shoulder and, at the speed that was running down the stairs, fell and came beating his back down the steps until he reached the bottom. He had drawn his gun, but in the impact of the fall, it had been thrown away. The other two faltered, but it was too late. Runa was already shooting at them too, positioned in front of Francesco, who already had a pistol in his hand and also decided it was time to use it. Amid deafening shots, the other two guards were quickly slaughtered by Francesco and Runa, their bodies tumbling down the stairs, against the side walls, that were now full of blood marks.

The guard at the bottom of the stairs was still alive, his face molded in a grimace of pain and his hand grasping his injured shoulder. When he realized a big figure overshadowing him, he even tried raising his hands, trying to beg for mercy, but to no avail. Big Tony shot with the shotgun on his head, making half of his skull explode horribly, chunks of flesh sticking to the wall and floor, just like the blood. Francesco's face showed pure disgust at that shocking image, while Runa was still pressing her ears, a little deaf from all that noise.

"I thought you both weren't going to leave a little fun for me." Tony said. "Time to get out of here!"

Saying this, Tony passed over the bodies of the guards, running up the stairs and was immediately followed by Runa and Francesco. He opened the door and stuck his head out, watching both sides before stepping out. A police siren was already echoing in the vicinity, which was a bad sign.

"Hurry up!" Tony shouted as he started running towards the direction where the car was parked.

Runa and Francesco were following him closely and when they finally hit the street and were about to cross it, some car headlights hit them. The fucking police. The car's tires slipped after a sudden brake.

"Freeze!" They heard a man's voice shouting from behind the lights.

With his pistol still at hand, Francesco fired into the light, an unpretentious shot. Maybe one of the policemen would get hit, maybe it would serve to slow them down. They continued to run and he fired again as he ran, hearing the sound of his bullet piercing something metallic, without even looking at the target. With a racing heart, he watched Tony launch himself into the alley in front of the bank, where they had come down from the fire escape earlier, two bags full of money on his shoulders, Runa in pursuit. The car was not far from the alley, parked at the other end of it. They were about to actually make it, and escape.

Bang!

Francesco felt his leg weaken and his body spin, falling to the ground and dropping his gun in the fall. Runa only noticed it when she was already entering the alley, but she looked back and stopped immediately. So did Tony. The two policemen at this point had already gotten out of the car and they were already approaching Francesco, guns drawn pointing at him. Francesco barely had time to give an abrupt signal with his hand towards Tony and Runa, which clearly meant that they should continue without him.

Another car came in the opposite direction to the first, the siren echoing across the street.

"They went to that direction!" One of the first police officers to arrive said, pointing to the alley. And when he saw Francesco trying to get up, he landed a violent kick against his ribs. "I should kill you right here, you piece of shit!"

Almost blinded by pain, Francesco heard more gunshots. Eyes half closed, he was only able to see the two newly arrived policemen shooting into the dark alley before they got back to their vehicle and went in pursuit. 

While being handcuffed, with the little clarity that remained in his mind at that moment, Francesco only hoped that Tony and Runa would succesfully escape.

Runa's eyes flashed wide as she saw Francesco hit the pavement. Immediately, just like she'd moved to protect Francesco before, she took a running step towards him as she prepared to spring to his side. She was interrupted, however, by Tony's arm snaking around her and grabbing her around the waist.

"Let go of me, Tony. We can..."

Her voice faded and she stopped struggling.

"Nothing we can do for him now, Runa, except get away. You go out there shooting, and he probably gets hit again in the crossfire and bites it. If we get away, we can try to help him."

Runa blinked as Francesco got kicked, and she raised her gun only to receive a hail of bullets. Tony grabbed Runa and lifted her off the ground as he ran.

Hair blowing wildly behind her, Runa spared a look over her shoulder back at Francesco.

*

Chained to his hospital bed, Francesco blinked awake. His leg hurt like hell, but at least it seemed to be healing?

A man was seated in the chair in Francesco's room. He was leaning back and flipping through a file, but he closed it when he noticed Francesco was awake. The man had a square jaw with a 5 o' clock shadow, neatly trimmed brown hair, and an athletic physique. However handsome he might be, the man in question was wearing an ugly expression of disgust as he looked at Francesco.

"Good morning, Frank. Busy night for you, huh? I should probably introduce myself."

He leaned forward, lacing his fingers like a cat who'd caught the canary.

"My name's Thomas Roberts. Detective Thomas Roberts. And I've got a lot of questions for you. About your work. And about your associates."

He stood, tossing the file on the chair he'd just vacated.

"But don't worry. Where you're going, we're going to have a lot of time to talk."