"MORELLO'S HEADED RIGHT FOR YOU! O'LAFFERTEY, I NEED YOU ON THAT LIMO AS SOON AS MOON TAKES OUT THE DRIVER! OVER!"
"Aye aye," Bryan replied. As he watched, the limo came careening around the corner. Like clockwork, Jun took his shot, splintering the windshield and painting it red. The limo spun out, bounced off of a wall and came to rest, with smoke issuing from under the bonnet. The moment the shot rang out, Bryan was moving, sprinting and leaping across the rooftops with his swords in hand. Each jump made him descend until he was atop a squat single floor building overlooking the crashed limo.
As he had been doing this, three armed men climbed out, taking cover behind the limo against Jun's sniper. The guy even had guards in his personal car. Bryan wondered at the man's paranoia. But then again, he hadn't exactly been wrong, had he?
They were more or less safe from Jun in their current position, but they hadn't expected Bryan. Jumping down onto the car's roof, he crouched low and slashed out, catching the first guard's throat with the tip of his sword. The man went down with blood gushing from his neck.
The second man, toting a compact shotgun, ran up the car's hood, pumping a shell as he went. Meanwhile, Bryan could hear the last guy moving into position behind him. Pushing off to the side, Bryan cartwheeled through the air as the shotgun fired, with the cloud of buckshot moving harmlessly past him, and not so harmlessly into the head of the man trying to flank him.
Landing on his feet, Bryan stepped forward and slashed, cutting clean through the leg of the man with the shotgun. Screaming, he fell to his knees and Bryan drove the other sword into his gut. Wiping his blades clean on the jacket of the nearest corpse, Bryan sheathed one of them and yanked the car door open.
The first thing he noticed was the sharp smell of urine. Morello had actually pissed himself watching Bryan go through the last of his men. His fear didn't stop him from acting though, because as soon as Bryan opened the door, Morello lunged at him with a gaudily decorated switchblade. Catching the man's forearm on his own, Bryan hooked his other arm around it and pushed, snapping Morello's arm like a twig. All he could do was howl like a ***** as Bryan hauled him from the limo by the scruff of his neck, dragging him away from the wrecked car and towards the nearest alley.
***
They had been moving through the backstreets for about ten minutes. Morello had been yowling until Bryan had stopped long enough to give him a few good slugs in the gut, and he had now subsided into a low whimpering. But now he peered around at Bryan as best he could.
"Hey, uh..."
"Hey what?" Bryan replied.
"Look, whatever your name is..."
"You can just call me 'sir'," Bryan replied. "Except don't, 'cause I want ya to shut yer fuckin' mouth."
"Look, whatever those Russo bastards are paying you, I'll double it."
Bryan laughed. "I don't want yer money."
"Please!" Morello whined. "There's gotta be something. Anything!"
Bryan shoved the man on to speed him up. "Aw, suck my dick."
"I--yeah, sure, just please--"
"Jaysus fuckin' Christ, I was tellin' ya to fuck off, ya greasy old cock socket."
"Come on, sir, everyone's got their price. I bet--"
"Shut up," Bryan said tersely, flicking his sword up to Morello's throat. The man fell silent immediately, his eyes drawn as if by magnets to the blade at his neck. Ahead of them, the alley forked out in three directions. Bryan watched and waited. The faint pulse of colour on his vision was one he recognised. There were men up there and he could hear them breathing.
"Nice job at stealth, fuckwits," he called out. There was a pause, and then four men stepped out of the shadows, toting assault rifles. "Alright buddy," said one. "Hand over the boss, and maybe we won't ventilate you."
"Fuck off and maybe I'll tell yer mummy to give ya some extra pocket money after I'm done ridin' her," Bryan replied. Seizing Morello's broken arm, he bent it up behind his back, making the disgraced crime boss squeal like a stuck pig. Bryan advanced slowly with his meat shield in place. The men raised their weapons but were unable to fire without cutting down their superior.
When he was about ten paces away from the men, he stopped. One of them took this opportunity to speak. "So where's this go from here? You got that pretty sword of yours, and we got guns. Unless you're some kinda Rambo, we'll gun you down before you get anywhere near that piece on your hip.
"The fuck's a Rambo?"
"Just give us Morello, you sing song voiced fuck face," another man snarled. To this, Bryan grinned. "Ya want him so bad, have him!"
Releasing Morello's arm, Bryan slammed a palm into the small of his back, sending him stumbling towards the men who'd come to rescue him. Following in close pursuit, Bryan whipped out his other sword and sped past Morello, falling into a combat roll. With the hostage out of the way, bullets passed through the space Bryan had occupied less than a second earlier as he rolled between the men, coming up, turning and beheading the nearest one with a single stroke. The others whirled to face him and he stepped up to the nearest, catching the barrel of the man's rifle on his crossed blades and throwing it off. It was too late for dumb mook not to squeeze the trigger, however, and all he succeeded in doing was cutting down one of his own comrades before Bryan cut off both his hands at the wrist and punched him to the ground. Turning on the spot, he threw one sword and then the other, skewering the two remaining men through their chests.
As he yanked his blades free and wiped them clean, he glanced at Morello, who was sprawled on the ground, whimpering. "I'd tell ya to hire better goons, mate, but frankly I don't expect you'll have the chance."
"Wha... wha... WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU!?" Morello screamed.
Sheathing his swords, Bryan drew his pistol, hauled Morello to his feet and spurred him on down the alley. "I'm Irish."
***
Not too long later, the two of them emerged from the web of alleys. Bryan could see the Russo hideout just down the street. Thumbing his radio, he said, "Alright guys, the pig is in the poke. Repeat, the pig is in the poke. Taking him in now."
Approaching the warehouse door, he holstered his pistol and rapped on it. A slit at eye level was pulled back to reveal a pair of squinting eyes.
"Password?"
"Cement shoes. Now open up, I got a delivery I need ya to sign for."
