Kathryn was dressed much different than usual; boots, jeans, a tanktop, and a thin, long coat. As she tied the coat around her waist she checked the safety on her revolver and slipped it in the right pocket before checking her wallet was safely stowed in the left one. Kezia, her receptionist, knocked on her office door.

"Miss Renford, Augustus is here to see you."

"Good. Show him in immediately."

She remains standing, hands in her pockets, as she reaches down a grabs a small bag from under her desk.

"I did. How's your recovery going?"

Kathryn raised an eyebrow and flashed a wry grin.

"Fucking isn't strenuous physical contact for you, huh? I would've expected more energy there... Relax, I'm teasing. And no thank you; I don't smoke. I'd like to go on a bit of a trip with you to Los Angeles and pay a visit to the hitman from Philadelphia. Would you be willing to kill for me, Augustus? Although considering this is the man who shot Merci, I don't think I'd be your only motivation..."

"Now, if you're ready."

She slung the bag over her shoulder. 

"I'm ready. We can swing by your place on the way to the airport."

Kathryn glanced down at the dynamite on the floor. 

"Well, you're certainly prepared. Here's the plan, based on what I heard from my contact at the airport. Our boy is named Oskar Lindberg, as I told you before. Swedish-American hitman for hire. Solidly middle of the road at his work: definitely a pro, but he's not world class either, which explains why I'm still alive. He's holed up in a bar at the moment: renting a room up top, and he's got a couple thugs down in the bar as security. Hey, look out the window for a second."

She unzipped her bag, removed her shirt, and took out a yellow dress that she quickly slipped over her head, covering anything Augustus would be interested in seeing. Pushing herself up from the seat, she slipped off her jeans, still entirely covered by her dress.

"I'm going to be your distraction. I'll head into the bar first and check it out, make sure there's still two of them. If things look good, then I'll try to distract the two thugs down there while you walk in and head upstairs. If not, I'll just hang out at the bar. I'll have my gun in my purse, so if you need help I should be able to take anyone by surprise. But basically, the plan is for me to walk in, grab their attention, you follow two minutes later and head upstairs for Lindberg. If you could find a way to do it quietly, you might be able to just walk out. But if there's noise, just expect to see them heading towards the stairs. I'll be there as well to help. And honestly, we'll be back here at the airport ASAP. No reason for us to stick around."

"Any questions?"

"Don't push yourself, though. You said yourself that you're not physically 100%. So keep your pistol ready too."

She grinned as the car came to a halt.

"Alright. See you in a couple minutes..."

Kathryn stepped out of the car, smoothing down her dress, and walked into the bar. It wasn't as bad as she'd feared, but it also wasn't as nice as she'd hoped. Not too rough of a crowd, which made the two hired goons stand out easier. She walked over, letting her eyes linger on them for an extra second as she leaned on the bar and ordered a glass of red wine. Of course, they both insisted on buying, which she fought with a perfunctory effort before giving in. Thanking them for the drink, she leaned forward, touching one of their arms.

"Either of you boys looking for a good time? Both of you?"

The men shared a look, silently communicating before speaking to her again, this time with a more focused interest, now that they knew what they wanted was for sale. As Augustus opened the door, she shivered loudly, drawing their attention.

"GOD it's cold. Could we go sit in the back while we talk?"

Their backs to Augustus, they never saw him slip upstairs.

Caesar crept upstairs, firmly gripping the hilt of his switchblade in his pocket. He stepped onto the landing and looked around for a while before identifying the correct door. Creeping towards it, he deftly picks the lock with a bobby pin and nudges the door open. The room is empty. Was he in the bathroom then? Stepping stealthily towards the door to the toilette, he notices a shaft of light underneath the door, and mentally confirms his deduction. 

"Right, just need to find a hiding place till he steps out." he thinks to himself, looking around the suite. The door to the kitchen seemed to be the ideal thing to hide behind. Crouching behind the slab of wood, he hears his target step out of the bathroom and walk towards the kitchen. The man's footsteps seemed to me moving normally enough, but his instincts told him that something was wrong. His feelings of misgivings were confirmed when a silhouette stepped in front of the door behind which he was hiding, and he heard the metallic click of a safety lock being undone. 

Without thinking twice, Caesar swung the door forwards, hard and heard a grunt of pain as the shotgun clattered away across the room. The man before him was blonde, and roughly the same height as Caesar, although having much greater bulk. Seeing his switchblade, the Swede pulled out a FUCKING machete and swung at Caesar with a roar of rage. He immediately ducked as the blade smashed into the wall where his head had been a second earlier, but the effort caused his wounded ribs to protest wildly. 

Stiffling the cry of pain, Caesar swung upwards at the huge man, and his switchblade left a deep cut in the bastards's arm, causing him to drop the machete. However, in the process, Caesar had left his flank unprotected, and the hitman struck him square in the ribs with his massive fist. Yelling in pain, Caesar toppled over and dropped the switchblade, and was immediately picked up by the assassin, who held him by the throat. "Is this the best that bitch can do?" he roared into Caesar's face while throttling him. 

Gasping for breath, Caesar tried his best to break the choke-hold, but it was no good. His would-be killer was now laughing. "You cannot even speak weakling! Any last words?" In his arrogance, the Swede lessened his grip on Caesar's throat to allow him to gasp out a few words. "I.....got....a...gun!" He had reached into his pocket with one hand, and had aimed his revolver at the man's torso from within. He now discharged the weapon, and it blew two holes, one in his pocket, and the other in the Swede's stomach. 

Roaring with pain and spraying his clothes with blood, the assassin dropped Caesar, who got up, clutching at his throat. "You brought your hands......to.....a....gun fight.....you bastard!" he gasped at him before emptying the five remaining chambers of his weapon into the Swede's torso. With the job done, Caesar reloaded his weapon with great difficulty, and staggered towards the stairs, his ribs keeping him in a perpetual state of agony..........

The noise from upstairs was audible throughout the bar. Both thugs pulled out their guns and Kathryn made an exgaerrated show of being terrified as she leaped off the lap of one of the men.

"We'll be right back, honey. Don't go anywhere."

The same moment that Augustus turned the corner of the stairs, obviously injured, Kathryn fired. Three shots each in the back that they never saw coming. Ignoring the screams and stepping over the bodies, she puts Augustus's arm over her shoulder to try to help support him, though she wasn't particularly strong. They made their way as quickly as they could to the car and were soon speeding away. Kathryn looked steadily at Augustus.

"What happened? Are you okay? Tell me you got him."

Due to the recent constriction of his trachea, Caesar was still having difficulty speaking. He pocketed his bloody switchblade, and handed her the finger he had cut off from the dead man. It still bore his very recognizable ring. They rush out of the hotel in time to hear sirens wailing in the distance. The party van was here earlier than usual, bearing its cargo of insufferable, uniform clad gate-crashers. He had Kathryn get into their vehicle as fast as they can, and the driver immediately kicks the engine into life and sets a course for the airport, before the cops spotted them.

Caesar leans against the soft leather seat of the car and closes his eyes, sighing softly. It was done, at long last. Before he could register what he is doing, he leans over and kisses Kathryn, before breaking away and looking at her horror-struck. "Sorry.....It was the adrenaline....." he mutters under his breath.  

Kathryn immediately slapped Caesar in the face, regardless of how injured he was. She glared at him.

"Do it again and I'll be harsher, Mr. Adrenaline. We have to get back to Vegas and have Grace take a look you. Maybe she can check your goddamn brain while she's at it."

She snapped at the driver.

"Hurry it up! I'll pay you double."

Caesar lay back in his seat chuckling. The slap had awoken him from the haze of pain he had been in, which had numbed his brain. "Heh, I wonder if Grace will prescribe me with some whisky. I'll need it." he tells Kathryn as he wipes the blood off his hands with a handkerchief, and looks out the window once more. 

Kathryn was still smoldering. He was lucky he was injured.

"Well, you've got a long way to go- and it's longer now than it was before- before you prove to me that you have anything resembling good judgment in every matter, but you've certainly proved your loyalty and your willingness to kill for me. We'll talk when we get back to Vegas. Right now if I look at you I'm liable to put a couple bullets in your legs."

It would be a quiet flight home.