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And so, she hastened towards the metal door. Paused a moment to steady her breathing, and then went shoulder first through the thing.
In a room full of mobsters handing out drugs, frisking patrons, and eyeing down anyone who crossed them, it was something of an unusual sight to see a woman in a black dress come out guns blazing.
She took out three of them before they even knew what had happened.
She hadn’t aimed for the ones closest to her, though. And she also avoided the man behind the podium. The closest ones, she could track with her eyes. The one at the podium was turned away from her and would be the most distracted.
But the figures up the stairs, she shot first. The distant ones would make easier targets when not moving.
The hand cannon wasn’t the most merciful of weapons to use, but then again, she also knew what the Karpov crime family was known for.
The weapon jolted and bucked in her hand with each bullet. She then transitioned to the three men closest to the door. But they were shouting. After the third shot, screams erupted from the dance floor. The music stopped. And by the time the thug behind the podium realized what was going on, the two other men behind him had painted the wall red.
She pointed her gun at the thug’s ugly face. His own hand gripped at a weapon on his hip. But as she approached him, the Desert Eagle pointed at his head, he froze.
“Alex,” she said coldly, “where is he?”
Kill-joy glared, ripped his gun up in hand.
She blew his brains out.
As he toppled, she turned, facing the dance floor. People were streaming past her, some of them clearly not aware of where the gunshots were coming from. Once they spotted the dead bodies, they doubled back, screaming.
Other figures were racing down the train tracks, trying to find an exit. Still others cowered beneath tables or launched behind the bar.
Cora tossed the Desert Eagle to the side. She needed something with a little less kick for a longer range exchange. The guards on the dance floor were now aiming up towards her.
Bullets skimmed off the ceiling, chipping pieces of glass and sending them scattering. She used the gun she had taken from the guard in the office. Much less recoil, far easier to handle.
Two men hit the ground, taking cover behind the podium. Wood chips exploded; bullets streamed into the podium.
She heard shouting. This time from up the stairs. Where she crouched, the podium provided cover from the dance floor and the three remaining soldiers there. But the stairs behind her exposed her completely to the guards now hastening down towards her.
More bullets skipped off the ground around her.
She aimed up the stairs, fired twice. Two more guards hit the ground and began to slip down the stairway.
Shouting, then hesitancy. For a moment, the dead soldiers stopped the tide of reinforcements.
But now the podium looked like Swiss cheese.
More than one scrape and stinging mark had been left across her arms.
Cora aimed through a hole in the podium and fired twice.
She killed another man on the dance floor.
And then, she cursed. More men were emerging from the train tracks, suggesting that there was another entrance.
This also meant the best way to look for Alex was to head down the tracks. But now, seven men armed with guns were approaching her. There wasn’t much time.
So, she made the only choice she could. Instead of aiming for a soldier, she shot the giant floating orb. The one source of light.
It was beautiful. Clearly designed with care.
And in her opinion, it was even more beautiful as it tumbled and smashed against the dance floor in a million little pieces.
Screaming, desperate shouts erupted.
