"Give me a new one NOW!"

Rebecca blinked at the blonde woman, her straight eyebrows drawing together in exasperation.

"Ma'am, you've eaten two thirds of it. If it tastes as foul as you claim it to be, I can't imagine what induced you to consume so much in the first place."

The woman snorted and glanced about, vainly seeking help from her scrawny, bored-looking husband before locking her mud-colored eyes into a gaze with Becca's grass-green pair.

"Well--well, I didn't really like it when I was eating it...but I didn't want to complain."

"Really? What changed your mind, then?"

"I...well, you see, I just suddenly thought that since you're the owner and you're here...just get me a new one or don't charge me for this!"

Rebecca stared at the woman in exasperation. They had been arguing over the lump of lukewarm duck for almost ten minutes now. Finally, Becca simply shook her head and began to move on to the next table. As she opened her mouth to ask them if everything was to their taste, the blonde woman gave a sound of indignation behind her, finally spluttering into words.

"What are you doing?! Get back here and take care of me first! You can't just ignore me!"

Becca assured herself of the adjacent table's happiness with their course before twisting her head around and raising an eyebrow.

"No. If you don't like the food or service here, don't bother coming back. I think we'd be better off without you to be honest." She sighed and began to make her way back toward the kitchens. "And you will pay full price for your meal."

"...Please come back. Now. I need you to stand right here and sort this out."

Rebecca paused, tensing. There was a note in the woman's voice that was pleading with her for something much more precious than the price of a badly roasted duck. She turned slightly to see the woman looking frantically between herself and the window behind her. Becca swung her head to look out the window--there. There was a nondescript black car parked across the street, but she could just make out the outline of a man inside, pushing something out the window, toward the restaurant. She wended her way hurriedly among the tables, motioning hastily to her servers to convene in the kitchen.

As she bolted away, she heard the sound of breaking glass, a scream, and the thud of a body slamming to the floor. From the corner of her eye, she saw the blonde bleeding on the floor, her husband crouching over her, alarmed and trying to tend to her. Becca simply grabbed Dwight and shoved him roughly into the kitchen, where Adelaide and Cindy--the other, faster servers--were already waiting and rummaging about for the weapons hidden in the cabinets. Becca and Dwight soon followed suit, Becca slipping several knives into her waistband as well as a Colt into her garter. She occupied her hands with a shotgun, pumping it quickly and speaking to her servers.

"I only saw one gunman, and he's already shot one woman. I don't think they're after our customers though--she was working for them, I'm sure. But there are probably more where that came from. Keep your eyes and ears--"

She was cut off by a man bursting into the kitchen with a revolver in his hand and a wild look in his glittering black eyes. He yelled something unintelligible to Rebecca in a thick Russian accent and leveled the gun at her head. She pulled the trigger on the shotgun, exploding his stomach across the kitchen and sending him keeling backward. She hopped over the man's body and began to make her way around the restaurant, yelling at the customers to get down.

She watched her workers creeping along the walls, positioning themselves near the windows but out of range. Becca watched the customers carefully, pointing her shotgun out toward them. She glanced over to Adelaide, who was nearest the shattered window. She caught the young woman's attention and jerked her gun to the window. Taking the signal, she quickly whipped around and shot at the man in the car with her Springfield rifle. At the sound of return fire, the blonde beauty ducked quickly back down, letting the bullets fly harmlessly into the wall opposite. The woman flashed five fingers up to Becca, then motioned with three to the left and two to the right. Rebecca simply nodded and made her way to the door carefully, bolting its three locks deftly.

They were probably there for the coke. She had recently made a deal with a New York friend to ship a thousand pounds of the stuff down to New Orleans for half the profits. They had negotiated with a couple of groups, including these Russians who didn't like the high price of the product. Apparently they still liked the product, though. Liked it enough to shoot out its hiding place.

"Dwight, Cindy, how many on your ends?"

Two on the east side, three on the south. They seemed to be forming an assault from the front mostly...BAM!

Becca jumped back from the door, leveling her gun at it. They were pounding on it with the force of a battering ram. She motioned to Dwight and Cindy to take care of the men waiting outside each of their respective windows. Gunfire erupted and clanged through the air, almost covered by the heavy, steady thumps on the door as they tried to break in. Becca crept forward and quickly undid two of the bolts, jumping back as they slammed once more into the door, busting the final lock and staring in surprise at the young woman standing before them. The three men were soon bleeding their guts onto the brick entrance and Becca was throwing her shotgun down, pulling her Colt out instead with a fierce look in her eyes. Adelaide had managed to wound another man outside, and it appeared that the final man out front and a couple of his cohorts from the east side were retreating to the car. As they began to push the body out of it, Becca picked up her skirts hurriedly and chased after them, managing to send one collapsing to the ground before the last two men squealed their way down the street. She panted and took a vain shot at one of their tires before glancing over to the wounded man near her feet. She kicked him roughly and made her way back into the restaurant, glancing about to make sure her servers were all right--besides looking badly shaken, there was no blood. She then spread a wide smile to the cowering customers and shrugged.

"Robbers. Whatchya gonna do?"

The sound of sirens began to echo through the open door behind her. She sighed and went to the till, opening it up and quickly taking out some cash to make sure the investigation got chalked up to just that. Just a simple robbery and a businesswoman defending herself. She smiled back to the shaken customers.

"All of your meals are on the house, by the way."

After the police reports were taken care of, the ambulances had carried away the last of the bodies, and the guests had cleared out of the restaurant, Becca sank into a chair with a sigh, mentally calculating the damages done to her business. That Falcon bastard would be paying for at least some of this. She rubbed the back of her neck and turned to her workers as they finished cleaning up.

"You guys were great, by the way. Went seamlessly...go on home, guys. I'll finish up in here."

The group slowly finished the tasks at hand and gathered their things to go, asking Becca several times if she'd be all right. Once the final reassurance had died from her lips and Dwight had gotten into his car, cursing Falcon to the skies, Rebecca muttered in a frustrated way to herself.

"I just wish I could've gotten those last two guys..."

There was a sudden creak at the broken door. Becca leapt to her feet, immediately reaching for her pistol. As the figure at the door resolved itself in the twilight, the young woman just as quickly dropped her hand, embarrassed.

"Oh, it's you, Grandmere." She gave a slightly sheepish smile and went to hug the woman tightly. Pulling away, she nodded to the kitchen door. "The kitchen's still quite intact. Do you want me to fix you something to eat? Maybe those salmon latkes you always ask for? We should have the ingredients..." Becca had soon whisked away through the swinging door. When the older woman chuckled and followed her in, she saw her granddaughter already deftly paring some potatoes. Kates sat at a small table toward the back used for breaks and shady late-night meetings. She watched the 23-year-old moving about the kitchen, in complete control of not only her slender, hard body, but the nimble movements of her hands as they prepared the food.

"Becca, what exactly happened today?"

The girl turned her head and gave her grandmother a half-smile before relating the tale.

"It all happened in less than fifteen minutes, probably, but now I get to pay for all sorts of repairs. This drug deal's going to cover it, though, with plenty left over."

Kates nodded slowly, her eyes still focused on her granddaughter's back.

"And you're sure you're all right?"

Becca turned around, the spatula clutched in her hand.

"Yes, of course Grandmere!"

A smile cracked up the older woman's face, and she rose to her feet and crossed the room to hug her granddaughter.

"You're right. Of course you're all right. It's in your blood, I believe." After pulling away from the young woman, she gave her a wink. "You just grew up before my eyes, though, didn't you? Weren't you just asking me to do your pigtails yesterday?"

The pair chuckled and Kates kissed Rebecca's cheek quickly.

"You're quite proficient at your work, you know. More competent than most twenty-three-year-olds are at much less stressful jobs. I'm proud of you, dear."

A smile spread up Becca's face and into her eyes before she planted a peck on her grandmother's forehead.

"Thank you, Grandmere. You know me...I always do my best."

The two women smiled at each other for a moment longer before Becca suddenly snapped her attention back to the almost-burning latkes on the stove. Kates chuckled and went to sit back down, watching her granddaughter busy at the stove, her eyes flicking cautiously to the windows in nervous, almost imperceptible movements. She'd been trained well.