- "An... Ability?" - I answered, stopping in my tracks to put my hand on the side of my head. An ability? Ain't that just what you're good at? - "I'm pretty good at raising cattle."
"No, no, no. An ability—you don't know what that is?" he said, facing me head-on, looking at me directly. Shade fell on his face in such a way that made his unassuming brown eyes glow. "An ability is cognitive, mental, or sometimes even physical, where you can do something that no other person can."
- "Well, what's yours, then, partner? Maybe an example could give an idea," - I said, hovering my hand over one of these valued revolvers, wondering if the ability could mean something important for this mission? For my larger dream? - "Nothing comes to my mind right now."
- "My ability is being able to disguise myself as anyone, I could turn into a woman right now, and you wouldn't notice it" - He said, and sure, he looked effeminate enough to pass as a woman, but does that count as an ability, just being a pretty boy? - "Another example is Leather-faced Tobias, no matter what you do, you simply can't kill Tobias, back in '68, '72, '84, and in '86, the one I witnessed, he came back to the Mansion with his leg chopped off, half of his face missing, a one-inch thick hole right below the brain, and with some muscles just ripped out. Well, I had to patch him up the best I could, but even then they had to take him to New Fleur to do some intensive surgery."
- "I... See..." - I said, a bit put off by the graphic description. But at least the definition of an ability was clear enough to me: Something that you can do, that is pretty supernatural, and no one else can... Speaking about what no one else can, it was just what I needed to maybe finally know about what really happened the night of two days ago between me and that man with a strange face. - "Speaking about which, you said he has... a 'Stitched-up face', right?" - I sighed deeply, looking very troubled. That must've been him. Just how common is a man with a stitched-up face around here? - "I think I met him, personally. I was just minding my business the day before the whole Plantation thing. I found someone dead in the street, and this man with the most gruesome face started chasing after me, so I had to ride away on a bike, and he... Hid in a manhole?"
- "Oh yeah, classic, matter of fact, I got a Polaroid of that specific kill he shared me." - He said, showing me a black and white picture, that was the man whose corpse I had the disgrace to witness, just off to the side a manhole, maybe where that "FLA" guy came from? - "Yeah, that sewer thing is a trick of his, the Chateau's basement has a door that sends you straight to the tunnels, FLA likes to pop out of manholes, do his thing, and then go right back down and into the Chateau, he says it's "to reduce witnesses" Me? I think It's fucking disgusting, so I did my missions like a regular person and not drown in people's shit"
- "So... He was after me?" - I asked him, already pretty worried, what if he pops out from that manhole right outside the gun store and shoots us both dead? - "Am I next? Does he know my face?"
- "No, probably, for sure." - He said, looking outside to the same manhole, before looking back at me with a shit eating grin - "Worried dead? That sewer's closed, I closed it with some quick cement I stole from the hardware store, now sewer-dweller Sharp can complain about two holes being closed, the degenerate." - He said so casually that kinda threw me off. Two holes? What was the second hole?" - The Mafia doesn't like witnesses, but we also don't like collateral damage, that was just him politely telling you to fuck off before he's forced to turn you into collateral."
We looked outside the window, which I just realized is a one-way mirror, and some strange words were still littering the glass. I always wondered, those clothes Andreas wore in that Plantation job, those aren't the kind he would wear himself, maybe he had more enemies than just those gangsters we had to face off against? Just how many enemies did Andreas make, and were these always for noble reasons like saving my life?
- "So, where're you from, Blondie?" - Dani asked, looking straight at me with his arms crossed across his chest - "I know you're not from here, nobody wears a fuckin' Poncho in Marlon."
- "Me? I'm from Solás Farm, near Lexingburg, in Bluehorse." - I told him, getting some memories about just how simpler life was, the air was cleaner, the water was fresher, and everything smelled like. - "How about you? Your name doesn't sound very... Columbian to me."
- "Oh, me? I'm from the state of Tierraseca in Tlaxcala, also on some farm in the middle of God-knows-where. I got here 5 years ago." - He said, leaning over the glass confidently as he took from the ground a small piece of brass, which looked like a part of a bullet, examining some writing on the back of it - "Heh, 7.62x51mm, now THAT's overkill. And look at all of them littered across the floor, it's a wonder Andreas hasn't dislocated his shoulder with that shit." - He said, looking at me with a grin, that slowly but surely contorted to dry disappointment as if I didn't get the joke - "This thing fired from a gun, in here, would probably make you go deaf, the power in these tiny things is so much that you'd probably fly backwards from the recoil, and the penetration? This is an EUYROPEIAN cartridge, basically if you shoot at someone, the bullet won't stop on that someone, it'll go through, and God knows what's behind that man, dogs, children, elderly people, the brass doesn't discriminate."
- "So... What got you to work for the mafia, anyways?" - I asked him, not wanting to go into completely unknown territory. I always thought they just used the same ammunition for everything, I mean, why wouldn't they? It'd be so simple and easy to adapt. But I was always intrigued by the criminal mind, what led them to do what they did? - "I'm sorry for saying this, but you really do sound and look the part."
- "My dad was a soldier, like dead guts over there" - He said, swinging his sharp chin to the staff-only room, where Andreas had disappeared off for what felt like ages, but was most likely just 10 minutes - "Well, my dad showed us how to shoot a rifle, and of course, someone who can shoot is very reliable towards the bad businesses. Some of my brothers splintered to work towards the New Grenadine or the Tlaxcalan cartels as soldiers or bodyguards, but me? I started working with the Vitalians after my initiation. I quickly moved north to Marlon County. "Dani The Shotgun" was a name feared in these streets, and I didn't have to worry about being taken to court. No, sir! The feds don't dare peek their heads in here."
He rummaged through and found a bottle of some alcohol: "Rest: Katzenpi??* stil", which I have seen be hauled around by Andreas before. He cracked the bottle open with his perfectly white teeth and took a swig of it - "Toby told me it means "cat piss" in Theotsch, and he ain't lying, this shit tastes like cat piss. Beer's a lot better in Tlaxcala. Anyways, what's YOUR story, Leslie? How come you went to "the asshole of Bayou" instead of a prettier city like New Fleur, Lafaietta, or Le Baton?"
- "My own stupidity, I think" - I said, watching people walk along the streets, pointing at the vandalization of the store, some not paying any mind, some even adding their own insults, if only they could see who's behind the one way mirror... - "My brother works in New Fleur, when I told him that I wanted to visit the Bayou, he told me to go to anywhere BUT Marlon, because the city is engulfed with criminal activity. So I did the logical thing, decided to be the hero of Marlon by saving the people from the mafia, riding out into the sunset, and have a spaghetti western written about me like they did with Wyatt Earp."
- "Ha, that's a classic rookie mistake." - He said, gently punching my shoulder - "Cheer up, Leslie, if we pull this off, maybe you'll get your wish fulfilled, huh?"
- "That's what I think..." - I told him, I still don't really believe it, Andreas fears the mafia to death, and he cleared out an entire plantation by himself, and maybe another one I didn't get to see. Makes you wonder what kind of gunslingers the Mafia employs, if they're all on the same degree as Andreas, or maybe even better? - "I still don't think just us three and your 'allies' can destroy an entire mafia, I don't know what we're up against."
- "I'm your "informatore", rookie" - He said, leaning back to stare at the employee's only section, Andreas has finally left, his sleeve rolled back to reveal a fresh bandage wrapped around the spot he was stabbed in yesterday - "Andy doesn't know what we're up against either, but I do. And let me tell you, the reason Francois is squeezing the debtors is that Francois doesn't know how to manage his captaincy. The soldiers are sick, tired, and overworked, the only ones we have to worry about are FLA and Sharon."
- "Listen, are we killing Sharon?" - Said Andreas, grabbing the empty bullet from Dani's hand, before inspecting it and ultimately throwing it away - "If so, please do inform me of your plan."
- "Hey, Schirmj?ger, what's your ability?" - Dani asked Andreas, looking back at me - "Leslie here doesn't know what an ability is."
I suddenly felt tensions rise, the temperature dropped, Andreas' face hadn't moved a single inch, but I could tell that something Dani said had infuriated him deeply.
- "I am not a paratrooper, I was a military advisor to the 5th Military region of communist N'gola in Namib as an Oberleutnant of the Landstreitkr?fte. The Fallschirmj?ger conducted morale boosting operations on safe territories, while us Landstreitkr?fte conducted operations in hostile territory with hand-me-downs from WW2. I am not, and will never be, a Schirmj?ger." - He said, towering over Dani like a Shire next to an Arabian. I saw Dani back up, throwing his hands in the air. And then Andreas turned to me, the temperature rose back, and the tension dissipated like gas after opening up the windows. - "I can get a tell for detecting people around me in exactly 5 seconds from where I use my ability. It is very reliable, and has helped me during many missions, including yesterday's, where I used it on the 2nd floor to gauge out how many enemies I would be up against."
- "So... Are we going to train, y'all?" - I asked, looking at Andreas and Dani, who looked at each other, then back at me - "My place's got a pretty nice backyard."
- "Well, that's nice, but what are we even gonna hit at the backyard?" - Asked Dani, looking back at me before side eyeing Andreas, walking over him to pick one of the rotting corpses in the store, the same one Andreas left with his eye hanging out by some tendon and muscle - "Can't we use one of these as targets? Surely the smell won't be too bad, whole city stinks like death anyway."
- "If it satisfies you, we have way better options than rotting corpses, I have bottles of Rest." - He said, swatting the corpse off Dani's hand, handing him a bottle of Rest instead - "This will do for a far more suitable target."
- "Okay, that's all I guess, let's head back and start practising before storming the Chateau, I'm just saying this will not be quick at all because the Mafia expects me to be there by midnight or next day's morning" - Said Dani, Starting to walk out of the gun store, checking if anyone of importance is outside before stepping out into the streets - "Okay, coast's clear, let's go."
Dani, Andreas, and I started to walk out of the store. The walk was short back to my house, Dani strutted with confidence, flashing a grin at anyone that pointed out that... Rifle? He was carrying, and Andreas looked back at him like if Dani robbed all of his chickens, scanning around with his left eye, and maybe his right eye, if it can move. And after a short strut north of the gun store, we landed on my house, and after fumbling with the keys, we were finally in.
Andreas set down the rifle he slung on his shoulder by the table, and even helped me put down the many boxes of revolvers I hauled. Dani took off his coat and hung it on a coat rack alongside one of my ponchos. Andreas took hold of one of my revolvers, and with what seemed like magic, flicked it open and pulled out an ammo box from under his jacket, reloading quickly the revolver before with another flick of his wrist, shutting it close again. Doing the same for various of my revolvers, pulling out some bullets that sound like alien names, what kind of name is 9x19mm Parabellum? Or 11.5x27mmR? They looked so similar, the yellow body with the orange tips.
- "You don't understand these, do you, Blondie?" - said Dani, leaning over me and putting his elbow above my shoulder, when I looked back at him he took two of the bullets and handed them to me - "Let me quickly explain these to you, it's just competition and logistics, mostly. For competition: Back then a lot of people made their own gun brands, gave them their own calibers, and then sold them to the market. Eventually most competitors either died out or became big, lifelong competitors lasting longer than entire lifetimes, making their calibers the standards instead of the thousands they had back in the 19th century. And unless you bought a certain version, or had a conversion for that gun: Barrels, cylinders, and/or frames, which is a work our dear Andreas does, it won't shoot anything that's not specified within the gun, which is often found right here" - He said, taking out the revolver from my holster, and holding it up to me so I could read the side of the barrel, the one opposite of that little lever thing on the side. Within it, some Vitalian words were marked on, alongside some understandable ".45 Kuld" - "This one's a clone, an original would've probably either not have these markings, or have them but very differently. However, see this? Some Vitalian companies still uses calibers like the .45 Kuld even though they didn't originally make it, but since it's so widespread and popular for these kinds of guns, that making up a new caliber for it would most likely result in a complete net loss because of mainstream caliber standardization and the subsequent interchangeability, and potential lack of demand. So that's the caliber they use, that's the logistics side."
- "I should really carry around my diary around you and start taking notes about all of this" - I said, taking my gun back from her, I quickly find some ".45 Automatic Kuld Pistol" bullet, and naturally, open that other little flip-up thing near the cylinder and try to insert it, before I'm quickly interrupted by Andreas, who stopped his reloading to place a finger over the hole of the cylinder.
- "You do not insert that cartridge in that hole, Leslie. .45 Auto is completely different from .45 Long Kuld, the former is rimless, the latter is rimmed, and the pressures and lengths are also completely different from each other. A mistake like this, at best, the bullet simply won't fit, at worst the cartridge does fit, the gun explodes, blowing up your hands, blinding you with shrapnel, killing you, your family, your neighbor’s dog, every single one of your immediate ancestors, and Rasputin too." - Said Andreas, taking off that "cartridge" off my hand, placing it back in the box he brought with him, and opening another box a .45 Kuld, placing in a bullet, rotating the cylinder, and placing in another bullet.
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- "Andy's right, you best get your ammo sorted by either Andreas or me for the time being" - Said Dani, whipping out a pistol I was sure was never there before, and loading it with Andreas' box of .45 AKP - "That's what these are for, semi automatics, see the name, .45 Automatic working for semi automatic pistols and SMGs, that's something the Long Kuld won't do for you, because the only use of that cartridge is for revolvers like yours."
As I was thoroughly corrected on some words I never thought I'd ever hear in my life. I pick the box of ".45 Kuld" to see if I'm correct, on the label there was "Jacketed hollow point, 230 grain", I pick it up, under the judgmental and watchful eyes of Andreas and Dani, as I slowly rotate the revolver's cylinder counter-clockwise. No, it didn't spin that way, and after spinning it clockwise, I placed the bullet inside the chamber, and then closed the little side-swinging thing.
- "Good, you're learning" - Says Andreas, turning to the back door, signalling for me and Dani to leave out into the backyard. He started putting down 3 plastic foldable tables that I had in my basement, which I planned to use for outdoor camping. Dani put 9 bottles of Rest in total on the tables, 3 across each of the tables, 3 for each one of us to shoot.
Dani began, sliding the foregrip on her shotgun back, and shooting from the hip, the bullets completely shattering the bottle. Andreas was up next. he put the rifle on his shoulder, leaned in, and shot. The bullet, again, shattering the bottle with no hesitation.
When it came to my turn, I did what looked natural, put my right knee after the left knee, arching my back, gripping the revolver with the entire might of my two arms, pulling the hammer as back as it would let me, before winking hard with my left eye, and shooting.
When the smoke of the barrel subsided, I saw that the bottle... Was completely unharmed, I missed, not only did I miss, but I ended up putting a hole in the middle of a perfectly good table. I looked around, Dani looked like he was about to burst into laughter, while Andreas sighed, I could tell he felt very disappointed.
- "In which western did the use THAT kind of shooting? " - He said, going straight up to me to try and "fix" my posture - "Girl, you ain't hitting the biggest target if it was still and 1 yard in front of you with that posture."
Dani put me in a strange position, my right leg was still in front of my left leg, but in a strange, kind of "wedge" shape, with my legs slightly bent, my back almost completely straight, my right arm straight, and my left arm flexed. He also fixed my hand placement, putting my left hand parallel to my right hand, and my left thumb on top of the hammer. And when it came to my right hand, he fixed my finger positioning on the trigger, letting only the tip of my trigger finger in touch with the trigger at any point. Dani made a mock-up of how I should be firing by pressing the hammer until it went all the way down with my left thumb, letting it naturally slide up against that half-circle thing that's up against the cylinder, holding pressure there. And then holding the hammer himself as he let me shoot, but no shot came out as the hammer never went down into the cylinder. Instead, Dani slowly put the hammer back into its natural position. This felt strange because no cowboy ever in the history of westerns ever assumed such a pose.
- "This one was taught to me by Andreas' dearest sheriff. It's called the "Weaver Stance", it allows you to shoot quickly and precisely" - said Dani, revealing to me that this was, in fact, never used by cowboys, rather by... The police force? That sheriff who seems to be oh-so obsessed with Andreas? - "It was made popular around the same time Sharp-nosed Toby came from Zuidafrika, it allows you to shoot quickly and precisely."
- "That's a lousy position" - countered Andreas, already moving to, yet again, like if I were a mannequin, started to straighten fully my spine and twisting me completely so I was more off to the side, my right side pointing completely towards the enemy. He removed my left arm from the revolver, instead handing me a knife for my left hand to grip. And lastly, he showed me how to fire, but not by manipulating me, but by pulling out a revolver he had hidden inside his beret, and showing me how with my right thumb, I can bring the hammer down so I can then shoot. When he spoke again, he sounded more commanding, like a commander boosting up the morale of his troops - "This one I taught to hundreds of insurgents, straighten up, to the side, and aim. You can hold a flash light, a knife, anything. Being to the side makes you a smaller target to the eyes of the enemy, it has worked for two world wars, and it surely will work for the next."
- "Eh, I guess that works too, you know what? That method will carry you far with a single action revolver, but once you switch to a double action or a pistol, you change to the position I taught you, it's just better for semi autos" - said Dani, shrugging as he took out that rifle, who now that I look at, is very similar to Andreas' rifle he used in the plantation job, and shot from his hip, utterly decimating the poor bottle of Rest - "Ain't seen your ability yet, newb, try again."
And as such, I did as Andreas told me, and aimed, but as I was gonna take my shot, Andreas told me "your legs' too stiff", so I flexed then a bit, and I took aim again, when I was ready to fire, Andreas said again "press the trigger with the tip of your finger" to which I removed the middle section of my trigger finger, letting the tip of my finger slowly press, and...
BANG!
The shot had gone straight through the glass bottle, shattering it in a few pieces, Andreas looked to me, and while his face never changed, I could tell he was proud of me, and Dani was openly celebrating.
- "Now you can properly kill folk" - said Dani, lightly elbowing my shooting arm - "didn't see any ability though."
- "Stress does not force out your ability, it means that your ability is not passive unlike Sharon's" - observed Andreas, lightly tapping his own chin, before checking his watch - "Either your ability must be an active ability, like mine's, or you simply haven't awakened it yet. If it's the latter, your ability can still be a passive."
- "So, you can shoot a static target, congrats, but how about a moving target?" - said Dani, quickly taking one of the bottles of rest by the neck and throwing it upwards, quickly unholstering his rifle and shattering it mid fall - "Like that, think you can? We need to make sure you can at least survive the whole ordeal."
I gulped, shooting a bottle that was still was hard enough, but one that was moving? If I knew anything from the time my dad took us both duck hunting, is that shooting at small things that are flying away from you is pretty tricky.
- "Using a shotgun is unfair, makes the demonstration easier since I know you're using buckshot." - said Andreas, stepping over the broken glass, the shards crunching and grinding beneath his boot as he handed another bottle to Dani - "Throw this one, let me demonstrate how even a handgun can do it."
As Dani shrugged and threw the bottle, Andreas quickly unholstered a revolver from god knows where, aiming and precisely shooting the bottle just as it's about to curve downwards, I felt time slow down as the bullet went through the bottle, in less than a second the bottle went from completely intact, to blowing up in a million pieces when the bullet made contact with the bottle, sending shards flying all over the ground and the tables, luckily none of the shards fell on me nor Dani.
- "How did you do that?" - I asked, careful of not stepping in front of the glass, not because I didn't want to hurt my feet, but because these boots costed me both arms just to ruin the soles - "How is your aim so accurate?"
- "Practice and experience, rookie. And with practice comes learning, you must hold your breath before you take the shot, but don't hold it in for a long time, else you'll run out of oxygen and your aim will get sloppy." - said Andreas, correcting my position - "I believe Yankees call this "B.R.A.S.S.": B R AS
I tried to take this advice in mind as Dani threw a bottle, the hammer was already all the way back, and I looked at the bottle through the sights with determination, I breathed out, and right as the bottle stood still in the apex of its arc, I fire.
And... I missed. The bottle fell harmlessly to the ground for Dani to pick up again. dammit! This was my moment to shine, but oh well, Andreas is right, stuff takes a lot of time and practice, but we're gonna storm a... "Chee-Taw" or however Dani called it, maybe it's like Sharakee for like a very big compound? I don't know. But either way, I need to be prepared, and pronto.
- "Let's try that again, cher, how about a bigger target? Ain't like the regular Marlon man's the size of a bottle. And in the range that they look of comparable size, you'd be using something like Andreas is" - Said Dani, pointing at Andreas' large, wood-adorned rifle, I haven't noticed it before, but compared to Dani's rifle and the one Andreas used in the plantation, that rifle was enormous, it looked like it would be around the same length as a baseball bat. No wonder such a thing is used for long range fire. - "Say, you got anything that's bigger than this? I'm sure you don't have a clay pigeon, but maybe a dinner plate could work?"
- "A dinner plate?" - I asked, my eyes widening as I grip my gun tighter, does he seriously think that I would ruin the fine qina? - "No, I don't think we can, let's look for another alternative"
- "Another alternative? Girl, if we pull off this just right, the mansion has more plates than you'll ever need in your entire lifetime" - Said Dani, accentuating it by extending his wingspan completely, before leaning forward and pointing a finger at me - "come on, best case scenario we end up with at least 12 more than what we began with, and worst case scenario we all die, and then the qina is not that much of an issue, is it?"
- "I guess so..." - I said, right as I did Andreas was already off to gather some plates, they were the size of the clay pigeons my dad used to teach me how to use a BB Gun way back when I was 9. - "Okay, I'm ready, throw them, Dani."
and as Dani threw one, I aimed, remembering what Andreas told me, exhale, hold it, but not for too long, aim, and with a single trigger squeeze right as the plate stood still between the moment it goes up and goes down, I fire
And.... I hear see the plate falling onto the glass harmlessly. It didn't shatter, am I really that bad of a shooter that I can't shoot a big plate from this distance? But as I lean in, I see that I did as a matter of fact hit it, it was chipped off one side, which probably meant that my bullet hardly hit the target.
- "It's an improvement" - Said Andreas, taking the plate and examining it briefly, turning it from every angle before passing me the plate again - "Your shot was good, if we approximate this to how you'd shoot a human torso, you'd be sure to fatally wound a man center mass at around 3 yards."
- "3 yards?!" - I ask, what, is my aim seriously that bad? But I was able to shoot coyotes just right when I was little, how come my aim got so horrible coming down to this place? - "Throw the plate again, Dani"
Dani gladly complied, throwing it again, this time, I knew that I had no time to fool around, I am Leslie K?nig, and I'll get that bullseye no matter how many tries it'll take. And as I line up the shot, I keep both of my eyes open, my sight on target, the tip of my finger in the trigger, the hammer already to the back fully, and Bang! I saw the plate fall down to the ground, and a piece flying off a bit offset. Andreas did the courtesy of grabbing the plate, it was chipped in such a way that made the plate look like three quarters of a circle. Andreas pieces back the rest of the plate (minus the part I chipped from earlier), and pointed a finger to where my bullet had pierced, it had pierced almost halfways, if not a little bit closer to the center of the plate.
- "So, how's that?" - I asked, that's a pretty good shot if I seen one myself, as I move to touch the plate, right on the part where I shot at, I accidentally burn my finger, how come this ceramic got so hot when all I did was shoot at it!? And the rest of the ceramic wasn't even hot! But that's a question for a future Leslie, for now, I think I grasped the basics of shooting - "It looks alright."
- "It is alright, this performance is how I'd expect you to perform, not great, not terrible, just... As to be expected." - He said, his gloved hands not fearing the terrible burns of the plate as he touches it, slowly putting it back down on the table, looking back at me with his unsettling, unchanging face - "You won't miraculously start to shoot faster than your own shadow and more accurate than an atomic clock. But you're doing decent enough. Now I'd value that you'd be deadly with that gun, shooting center mass, to about 10 yards, and listen, you must keep those 10 yards of focus no matter how stressing, hard, or painful your current situation is, understood?"
- "Understood" - I said, leading to Dani bringing out another piece of the fine qina, throwing it up, I was completely unprepared, I had to bring the hammer all the way back before aiming and firing, my bullet hitting again on the relatively same spot - "Hey, I wasn't ready!"
- "You kept them 10 yards on check while being stressed, now THAT's progress" - said Dani, holding one of the shards of the plate with one hand, and with the other propping herself up to one of the tables - "Say Andy, I think she's ready to storm the Chateau, what hour do you have?"
- "1636 hour, that's 4:36 PM" - said Andreas, looking back again at his peculiar leather-strapped watch. - "I suggest we go back for a few minutes so we can discuss your plan on storming the Chateau."
- "Sure thing," - said Dani, leaving all of the bottle and plate shards on the table, which are probably to be cleaned after the whole "Choe-Taw" ordeal - "come on, let me tell you all the juicy details on the inner workings of the mafia and how we can exploit them."
So we were back at the same dining room where I discussed with Andreas about meeting with Dani, he was right after all, and I'm thankful that it was such a way. But for now, Dani sips from a water canteen, preparing to give us a master plan,, taking a piece of chalk I had on the table to start sketching: First are two "S" shapes together, and a bridge connecting them, that's East Marlon and West Marlon, separated by the Marlon River and connected by that bridge. Then, Dani mapped out a big highway from east to west, crossing the bridge, and going further, that was Bridge Street. The west side of the highway spiked upwards into Chifres Street. Then, there was a square, going north from the highway, suddenly went west, Dani was quick to write "park" down, then, the highway on the east also went upwards into its own street, which connects with the other street (the one labelled "park" to meet at a central point, the mystery compound Indian word was then written by Dani, "Chateau". What's with the little backwards V above the a? Anyways, she kept drawing on streets, along West Marlon she pointed out the location of the sheriff's office, a hotel, and the restaurant we were dining in.
(pictured above, Dani's chalk map)
- "So, here's the plan. This WILL have to happen at nighttime, when Sharon gets tired of patrolling and goes to sleep. I will go and stay at the hotel first, Andreas will go along the bridge and go north until park street, where you see all the greenery, then Andreas will go to the 3rd store on the road straight to the Chateau, one called Mickey's Warehouse. That store is fake, and the back leads to a sewer used by FLA, first, you must ignite that sewer, throw a matchstick at it, the sewer is filled with so much gas that it will explode everything, that should easily cripple FLA. Then, that will call the attention of Sharon, I will deal with her from the hotel, which then leaves you, Leslie, you will wait at the hotel with me, so I can guide you through the sewer entrance to the Chateau. Andreas' job is to traverse the sewers for FLA, while we both storm it from the inside. First, we'll kill any guard within, after all of this, Francois will lock himself into the panic room, but I know a secret button that overrides the panic room, then, he'll be dead, with the sewers gone, FLA has nowhere else to run except to show himself, my assassins will keep watch of any man with burn marks and a distinctly fucked up face, then all of the Francois mafia is dead, we steal everything from the Chateau, and get a permanent retire in your favorite Caribbean Island." - Said Dani, detailing his plan with great detail and pride - "I hope it's clear, because once we get this going on, there's no re-explaination."
- "Listen, what now?" - said Andreas, fixing his clock to match to the hour the clock has on the wall, 4:40 - "I suggest we train more, eat, then start the operation, Leslie may have passed the first concepts, but we need to give her drills so that no matter what situation she's in, she knows exactly what to do."
- "Sounds fine to me, but for now, I'd love to get some lemonade, this hot Bayou weather is the worst, at least it's not raining everyday unlike the south" - said Dani, fanning himself with a fan that most likely came from the pocket on the side of his jacket - "Say, Andy, can you make some lemonade for us? I'd love to help but my hands are all sweaty and slippery, I didn't even see you sweat once during training."
- "I'd love to" - said Andreas, closing his left eye as the dark shadow cast by the mask covering his right eye probably helped sell the effect that he wasn't winking, but blinking - "Sadly, I am a very terrible cook, anything edible that I touch becomes poisoned, burnt, and stale. I'd much rather not run such risk."
- "That ability drawback must suck, but oh well, I guess that means Leslie's gonna be the one giving us some lemonade, and after this, we gotta drill it into that pretty little head of yours how to shoot, just repeat training what we taught you, and hope that my and Andy's voice start bouncing in your head whenever shots start being fired AT you, capische?"