September 30, 2014
11:41 AM

Dallas was on the phone to Bain, a remarkably rare occurrence. “I got us a new job,” Bain began. “From the Dentist. He says it’s a direct link to getting Hoxton out. The tape should arrive at your place later today. I’ll let the others know.”

“You never were one for small talk, eh, Bain?” Dallas replied, laughing. “But it’s cool. I can’t imagine having another commander.”

“That really who I am to you?” They both laughed. “Anyway, how’s Rainbow doing?”

“She’s fine. Likes watching cartoons a lot on TV. Just finished another episode of Transformers. Wolf was right, she’s really into that.”

“How long ago was that?”

“About... five, eight minutes. Why?”

“Dallas. Listen to me. Go in there and turn off the TV. Right now. It might not be too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“Just do it!” Dallas dropped the phone and ran for the other room. What he saw in there surprised him. Rainbow Dash was sitting in front of him, but she was also on the TV, in a city made out of clouds. As the Rainbow on the TV declared ‘My life is ruined!’ he saw the one in reality mouth the words, exactly in time.

Without saying anything, Dallas walked back to the phone, which was still lying on the floor. “I’m gonna give you to Rainbow, Bain,” he said slowly, quietly. “I think you have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Yeah... Maybe that’s for the best,” Bain agreed. Dallas took the phone back into the other room, and silently handed it over. He left after that, making an excuse about needing to dry clean his suit.

Neither of them said anything for a while. Eventually, it was Rainbow who broke the silence. “How long have you known?” she asked.

“Since a few days after we found you. I wanted to know how to look after you, and the show was the only resource I had.” Bain sighed, taking a drag of his cigar before continuing. “I didn’t want to drop the existential crisis on you, but I guess it was inevitable once you started watching those cartoons.”

“...It’s weird, to see your life from outside... How did you guys even know all that? How did you record it all so perfectly, if our worlds have never had contact before?”

“This is what I was dreading trying to explain. It’s a coincidence, is the best answer I have. We drew, animated, and voiced a cartoon, and something exactly like it just came through. I’m still working on how that happened.”

“So... I don’t actually exist? I’m not real?”

“I don’t care what the people who made that cartoon think,” Dallas said as he came in. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re right here, and that makes you real.”

“Yeah. If you weren’t real, you’d never have been able to help us the way you have. And that’s something I don’t want to give up.”

Rainbow looked away from Dallas. “But... what happens when I have to go back? Am I going to stop existing then?”

“I think I know how to tell... Do you remember anything that’s happened since the Grand Galloping Gala?” Bain asked.

Dallas tilted his head quizzically, but Rainbow understood it perfectly. “Yeah, that was years ago. Lots of stuff has happened since then. There was that time we saved a royal wedding, and the time that I was shown up by a superhero who was actually all of my friends, and then Twilight accidentally screwed around with all our Cutie Marks and then turned into an Alicorn—”

“Then you’re real, your world is real, and more has happened in it than we, by coincidence, have turned into a cartoon here.” Rainbow took a minute to process Bain’s logic, but eventually nodded and gave the phone back to Dallas. “Is she okay?” he asked.

“Seems fine. I’ll just try and get some actual Transformers DVDs or something, so she doesn’t have to watch live broadcasts. Today it was her own show, next time it’ll be a cop drama or something like that...” He sighed and sat down on the threadbare bed. “I’m surprised you came so straight out with it.”

“Hoxton’s joking around the last time Rainbow had a crisis of that kind didn’t help at all. I decided not to try and pull my punches. I think she’d appreciate it more from the rest of you, too.” Bain hung up at that point, leaving Dallas to wonder about what he meant until he heard the van pulling up outside the store.

Hoxton and Wolf piled out as Twitch drove off, making an excuse for Chains being late that Dallas didn’t really pay attention to. Wolf was holding a large cardboard box, still taped up from the courier it had come to him from. Drawn on the front was a toothbrush, suggesting its sender was the Dentist. “Been expecting this,” Dallas said as he took it from Wolf. “Let’s get inside and open it up, see what we’ve got.”

Placing a bundle on money on Justice’s scales, he led the crew, along with Rainbow Dash, down into his basement. He set up a table in front of his laptop, which Bain had hijacked for the duration in order to communicate with the crew. Everyone sat down around it as he opened the box, first taking out a cassette tape and a player.

“Hey guys, I’m here,” Chains suddenly called out from the top of the stairs. “What did I miss?” He came down the stairs, followed by a man in a black suit.

“What’s the deal, Chains?” Dallas asked. “We can’t bring new people down here. Who the fuck is this guy, anyway?”

“Name’s John Wick,” the man introduced himself. “I’m an old friend of Chains here, from back in the military. He had some trouble with the police on the way here that held him up. I helped him out of it, and told him I was looking for a crew.” Chains nodded, confirming the story.

“That doesn’t change the fact that we can’t really trust the guy,” Dallas retorted. “How do you know he’s not gonna betray us?”

“I don’t see any profit in doing that,” Wick replied. “Besides, if I have a choice of which crew to run with, I’d rather go with someone I already know.” He looked down at the table, and at the photo of the Commissar. “And you guys don’t already have a hitman, correct? I watch the news; I know you guys don’t normally do assassinations. I can help out with that.”

Everyone looked back and forth for a few seconds before Dallas said, “Fine. You’re gonna need a mask, though.”

“I already have one.” He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on. “This is what I’m comfortable with. Good enough as a mask?”

Dallas wanted to protest, but Rainbow was the first to speak up. “I think it looks cool. As long as you don’t mind getting found out, y’know...”

“Facial scans don’t work on me. Better people than you have tried.” He looked down and removed the sunglasses again, taking in Rainbow for the first time. “Well... people, as in...”

Rainbow waved him off with a hoof. “Don’t worry, I get it all the time here. Not having any other ponies around leads to that sort of thing. So what’s the job?”

Dallas put the tape in the player, which began, “Greetings. As Dallas may or may not have told you already, I have a plan to release your former colleague Hoxton from prison. This plan has steps, and you are instrumental in the first: to eliminate the mobster known as the Commissar.”

Dallas took a photo out of the box, of a man in a tacky green suit with a cross drawn over his face with a red marker. “Mikhail Kraminsky is known to most of the country as a socialite and celebrity. To the underworld, he is the Commissar, a ruthless mob boss who runs many operations on the East Coast. I have learned that he has a hotline that leads directly to the District Attorney of Washington D.C. By killing him, we will be able to use this hotline to apply leverage to the DA.

“His current exact location is unknown, but I have no doubt you will be able to devise a solution to this problem. Find the Commissar and eliminate him, and you will be one step closer to the release of your friend.” The tape ended, and Dallas took a few more papers out of the box. They seemed to be addresses in Washington, though he didn’t recognise any of them.

Confused, he read them out for Bain, who replied, “I think these are the locations of his operations in D.C. Though why the Dentist would tell us about them...” He went quiet for a while before saying, “I’ve got an idea. I’ll e-mail Kraminsky a hotline to us, as we disrupt one of his operations here. We’ll be able to trace him, go to wherever he called from and kill him.”

“Sounds good. So which one of these addresses do we go after?” Hoxton asked.

“One after another until he finally mans up?” Wolf suggested.

“That’ll take too long, and he’ll surely up the security after a while. We need a place big enough to get his attention in one night.”

“What do you suggest?”

“There’s a motel in Georgetown that’s full of his people. We go there, kill everyone we see, and do whatever the heck else we have to to get the trace going. Not the most complicated of plans, but if it helps gets Hox back...” Everyone nodded, even the current Hoxton at the table. “If you guys are all okay with it, we’ll do the job tonight, at about 9 PM.”

“I’m not planning on anything else. I’ll come to the party, sure,” Wolf said first.

“I can cancel dinner for one at that Italian restaurant,” Hoxton continued.

“There’s nothing good on TV that late at night.”

“I never have anything to do after dark these days.”

“If the rest of you are going, I might as well tag along.”

“Okay, then. Oh, yeah, you might wanna check for one more thing in the package.” Dallas dug around underneath the papers and found a set of car keys. “The Dentist rented a car especially for the occasion. Don’t ask me why.”

“DMC?” Dallas said, reading the label on the back of the keys. “He rented us a DeLorean? That’s... How are we all gonna fit in there?”

“Ain’t my problem. If anyone needs me, I’ll be getting that flight suit back on.”

“Hey, Bain, is Ilija free tonight?” Chains asked. “He’ll probably come in handy. I can cover the cost myself, if he is.”

“I’ll take a look. Maybe Rainbow can spot for him instead.”

“He’s never needed one before. And I don’t know if we can trust him with keeping her a secret.”

“Well, he never shot any of us.”

“True enough...”

“So if that’s all settled, let’s all get ready for the job. Synchronise your watches on my mark...” Dallas took off his wristwatch, and everyone else followed suit. “Mark.” Five beeps sounded like one in perfect harmony. “I’ll have Twitch pick us up at eight to get to the rental company, then take the DeLorean over to the motel by nine. Until then, do whatever preparations you have to.

“Gentlemen...” He pulled on his mask for dramatic effect. “The Commissar must die. Let’s make it happen.”

~~~

It had started out as such a lovely evening for the Commissar. He’d gone to a party at a house on the waterfront, owned by someone who was paying him for protection after losing his counterfeit plates to a group of rival criminals. Messrs Wilson and Mitchell were all too happy to have him bless the party, and the fact that they hadn’t cheaped out on the vodka was a nice bonus.

While there, he’d met a very good-looking young lady, who he had invited back to his ‘palace’, as he called his penthouse apartment. She’d been very drunk at the time, and was likely to regret her decision when she finally woke up the next morning. The man in the varsity jacket was also starting to regret his decision to try and kill him, particularly after the extremely relaxing torture session that he’d delivered.

When he arrived at the penthouse, he was surprised to see an e-mail had come. Despite being a junk e-mail, it had somehow slipped through the filter:

Angry? Need to relieve stress? Call 1-555-468-5463 to help cool down!

He was about to delete it when his mobile phone started ringing; a call from one of his underlings. Turning away from the computer for a moment, he pushed the ‘answer’ button and said, “What is it? I am very busy right now!”

“Boss, you gotta do something!” the man screamed. “They’re tearing up the motel! We can’t stop them! These four guys in masks...” A gunshot was heard, and then a few seconds of silence before a flat dial tone. He scratched his forehead, wondering about the call. It seemed real, but who would be stupid enough to try and attack one of his operations?

He looked back at the computer screen, and read the number again. Running his call through as many points as possible, he dialled the number. “This is Mortimer at Hotline. How can we help you?”

“Your e-mail arrived at a very convenient time,” the Commissar replied. “I just now had a motel that I own attacked by gangsters. Would you happen to be behind this?”

“You’re too clever for me, Mr. Kraminsky,” ‘Mortimer’ replied. “Or would you rather I called you Commissar?”

That gave him pause. Someone knew exactly who he was, and yet was still attacking him. “You and your masked friends have a lot of balls, tovarich. Who are you, really? Who sent you after me?” he asked. “Wait, no, don’t tell me. I will enjoy extracting it from you—as I enjoy extracting your fingernails!” With that, he hung up.

With another call, he was through to the Washington D.C. police department, through the same number of points. Forcing himself into an American accent, he began, “I have heard gunshots at the motel next door to where I live.” He gave the motel’s address and added, “It may well be nothing, but it is the duty of a concerned citizen to report such things, correct?”

“Uh... Yeah, I suppose so,” said the police operator. “I’ll send someone around.”

“Please do. It will bring me great peace of mind.” He hung up again and sat back in his chair, sending a text message to the manager of the D.C. operations to send his own people around to investigate. Now it was only a matter of time before everything could be returned to normal.

~~~

A little while ago, at the motel...

The DeLorean pulled up near the motel’s driveway, and the four criminals inside got out. Following from above, Rainbow Dash flew into an open window on an apartment across the street. There was a man inside assembling a sniper rifle, his face covered by a hood. “Dobryy vecher. I have been told of your arrival. Do not be alarmed; I am entirely capable of keeping a secret.” He turned to face her for a moment, rubbing a pistol in a hidden pocket for a moment. “My name is Ilija. Your name is Rainbow Dash. Now that we are acquainted, allow me to work uninhibited, if you please.”

His brusque nature pushed her off at first, but there was something about him that she couldn’t quite place. Either way, she could tell she was safe with him, and so she started to relax, looking through another window into the parking lot. The crew were masking up behind the corner on the far left side, and nodded to one another. Hoxton went around the back of the motel, turning a corner to the left and disappearing, while the other three entered the parking lot.

Wolf fired the first shot, the pellets from the shotgun tearing through the torso of one of the men in white suits standing around. He quickly pumped it and pointed it again, but dived for cover behind a pickup truck as bullets began to fly from the far end of the lot. Anyone who didn’t make cover in time was taken down by Chains’ machine gun, as bullets bounced harmlessly off his new armour. Dallas kicked open the door to the nearest room and let off a burst of fire inside. One of the men in white began sneaking up on him, but suddenly flew backwards as a loud gunshot went off next to her.

“One down,” Ilija said as he pulled back the bolt. “It has begun.”

Once again, Rainbow found herself unable to watch any more of the carnage, and she pulled her head down below the windowsill. She could tell when Wolf and Chains were firing, but Dallas’ rifle blended in with those of the men in white. Another shot rang out next to her, and she started. “Two,” said her companion, quickly loading the next shot before firing again. “Three.” Some more distant automatic fire, then another shot from Ilija. “Four. You can look now.”

A few doors had been kicked open or completely destroyed, and several windows were either boarded up or broken through. About five bodies lay in the middle, but she suspected that most were hiding in the rooms. Hoxton and Wolf were clearing the upper layer, while Dallas and Chains made a final check downstairs. “Hey, guys, look what I found!” Wolf suddenly shouted.

“A meth lab!” Bain shouted. “Looks pretty well-stocked, too. Burn it to the ground. That should make the Commissar mad... Oh, hold on, I’ve got a call. This is Mortimer at Hotline. How can we help you?”

A man Rainbow had never heard before answered. “Your e-mail came at a very convenient time. I just now had a motel that I own attacked by gangsters. Would you happen to be behind this?” The man sounded like Ilija, but where the sniper was collected and brusque, this man seemed... slimy, like he was trying to get a rise out of Bain.

If that was the case, though, Bain didn’t rise to it. “You’re too clever for me, Mr. Kraminsky. Or would you rather I called you Commissar?”

There was a pause before the Commissar replied. “You and your masked friends have a lot of balls, tovarich. Who are you, really? Who sent you after me? Wait, no, don’t tell me. I will enjoy extracting it from you—as I enjoy extracting your fingernails!” The other phone hung up as the crew congregated in the meth lab.

“Okay, got his attention, check. But he ran the call through a lot of terminals. I didn’t get an exact location, so we’ll need to think of something else.”

“Hey, guys, don’t torch the meth lab,” Hoxton said quickly. “It only caught fire because Bain was getting directions off that Arabic website. I know how to cook meth, and I should be pretty safe in here while that’s going.”

“What about the rest of us?” Wolf asked. “We need you, Hox.”

“Probably not for this next part. See that gas station on the far side of the motel? Get some gasoline and douse the cars in the parking lot.”

“That’s not gonna work with the owners already dead,” Rainbow cut in. “Whoever this Commissar is, he probably doesn’t care so much about the cars.”

Unexpectedly, Wick entered the call as well. “Sorry I’m late, everyone. I was picking up some C4. Might come in handy somewhere...”

“Perfect timing, John. Get that C4 on the petrol pumps. I have a feeling the Commissar owns that gas station as well; let’s send it up like Sputnik,” Bain ordered. Wick came down the street past the DeLorean, running with a yellow bag over his shoulder. As he arrived at the gas station, Bain suddenly said, “The police are sending someone over! Neighbours must have heard the shots! Don’t know exactly when, but be ready!”

Rainbow turned her binoculars down the street to the right, keeping an eye out for any flashing sirens. “Hey, what are you guys still doing here?!” Dallas shouted, not over the radio, drawing her attention to the gas station. As Wick was doing something with the pumps, he was pointing a gun at a pair of men who had their hands raised. “If you want to stay alive, then get the hell away from the gas station! Come on, follow me!”

One started to run in the opposite direction, but tripped and fell to the ground when Dallas let off a burst from his rifle just over the man’s head. “Don’t act dumb! C’mon, you get on the ground as well!” He pointed his rifle at the ground, and the second man quickly lay down on his face. Dallas pulled out two cable ties from his pocket and bound the men’s wrists together. “Hey, Wick, don’t set the timers too short! We gotta get these two out of the blast zone first!”

As Wick moved away from the last pump, he picked up one of the men and started shoving him back towards the motel as Dallas moved the other. Rainbow turned her binoculars back down the street, and suddenly saw the distinctive red and blue flashing lights. “Cops on the way! Be ready!” she called out as the car pulled up, stopping in front of the gas station.

As he got out of the car, he suddenly dived away from it on some instinct just as the C4 exploded. Again, Rainbow was forced to pull her head away from the window as a deafening explosion seemed to tear through the wall. Even Ilija ducked down to the floor, only looking up after it had quietened down. The entire gas station had been replaced by a sizable crater. “That is the effect of C4,” he explained. “What once was, now is not.”

“Whoa...” Rainbow poked her head back out the window, but this time she didn’t even need to use her binoculars. “Uh, guys, we’ve got a problem,” she said. “There’s this black van coming...” The van wasn’t that strange in and of itself. What was strange, though, was that it didn’t have any SWAT markings, and it had arrived a lot sooner than she’d expected. Everything seemed explained when four of the men in white piled out. “More of the Commissar’s men are here, near the gas station. Or where it used to be, anyway.”

“Well, we’ve really kicked the hornet’s nest now. Time to reap the whirlwind,” Bain said. Suddenly, he added, “Wait a minute. Commissar’s calling me back, hang on...”

“Why, you snivelling shopa!” the Commissar screamed. Now he just seemed impotent, especially in comparison to Ilija next to her. She almost laughed at the display, picturing the man in his office somewhere. “Do you have any idea how many dollars I sunk into that place?”

“Do enlighten me.”

“Enough to pay for all your heads ten times over, you ublyudok! You are fucking with the wrong man tonight. Mark my words.”

“Consider them marked, Mr. Kraminsky. But you might have a bit of difficulty with that.”

“You aren’t the first masked asshole I’ve dealt my revenge to, ‘Mortimer.’ You will regret this.”

The Commissar hung up again, but this time, Bain’s response was rather more jubilant. “Okay, and it looks like the Commissar is in... Miami!” He paused, then added more slowly, “I can’t do any better than that, I’m afraid. But maybe there’s a clue somewhere in the motel. As the Dentist might say,” and he dropped his voice to impersonate the man, “any secret worth keeping is likely to be well hidden.”

“Nothing in here but the meth lab,” Hoxton reported. “And a whole lot of wooden planks, and some Claymore mines. That should keep them off me. I can handle myself, guys.”

“Hey, there’s something here,” Wick called out as he moved his hostage into one of the rooms. “This carpet’s clearly been rolled over something recently.

“What’s under it?” Dallas asked as he followed Wick inside.

There was a pause, which Bain filled first. “Whoa, that’s one hell of a hatch! I think I have just the thing for it, though. Let me get Bile on the horn.”

“Gonna have to wait,” Rainbow said. “The police must have heard the explosion as well. There’s...” A siren came into her hearing, followed by a few more as the cars’ tyres screeched to a halt. “This is madness! I can’t even tell how many there are!”

The sirens filled the air, but one of the officers’ megaphones came in over the sound. “Whoever is in there, you’d better come out with your hands up! Make no mistake, you are not in charge of this situation!” He was about to say more, but Ilija took a shot, knocking the officer down.

“That’s five,” he said as he pulled himself down to avoid retaliatory gunfire. He pointed at the door and added, “You might want to watch the door. I do not need a spotter forward, only one to cover my back.” Rainbow moved in behind him as he reloaded his rifle.

“This is Bile,” the helicopter pilot said as he entered the call. “I can hear and see the sirens. About thirty seconds out.” Chains started firing wildly out the window of one of the rooms, giving Wolf an opportunity to sprint out of it and behind the motel, where Chains followed him after a moment. More gunfire was heard behind the motel, and the pair came out behind a wall, entering room 108 from the rear window.

“Happy birthday, everyone. Your present’s coming down,” Bain reported, as a duffel bag fell out of the helicopter, which flew off as soon as the bag was out. “There’s a heavy cable in there. Hook it up to the pickup truck outside and the hatch.” Once again, Chains’ machine gun forced the cops to hide behind their patrol cars as Wolf headed for the middle of the parking lot. Wick followed halfway, taking cover behind a car and shooting anyone who popped up with his twin pistols. Ilija started shooting again as well, increasing his count to eight.

“I got it, I got it!” Wolf shouted as he started carrying the bag back, slowed down by the weight of the cable.

“Nine.”

“Shit, someone’s—” Hoxton shouted, before being knocked out by a loud noise. As Wolf laid the bag down in front of the truck, Wick jumped on top of the car and climbed up to the second floor from there, entering the meth lab and firing two shots.

“Cloaker’s down!” he reported. “You okay there, Hoxton?” Wick began to carry Hoxton out of the meth lab, moving him towards a ladder. Hoxton pushed off the assistance at the ladder, sliding down and landing.

“Ten down.”

Meanwhile, Wolf and Dallas had set up the cable. “Alright, who here knows how to hotwire a car? Get that pickup running, and we should be through in less than a minute.” Hoxton waved Wolf back inside as he dived into the truck. After a few seconds, the engine started roaring, and he climbed out of the car, only to take a bullet through the back. “Hoxton’s down!” Bain shouted, and Chains stepped out to help, only to be forced back by a sudden deluge of gunfire.

A SWAT unit, who had arrived while Rainbow wasn’t looking, started heading for Hoxton. Ilija shot one of them down, but the others all took cover behind the truck, forcing him down as well with a few shots. “You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say will be used against you as evidence in a...” they started, only to be cut off by Dallas’ shout.

“Hey! We’ve got two civilian hostages in here! Let him go, and we’ll send them out! If you don’t let him go within a minute, or you try to take his mask off, we will shoot one of the hostages and ask again! What’s it going to be?!”

The police stopped, and started to converse with one another. “Picking up a lot of chatter here. That was a hell of an ultimatum,” Bain said. “Okay... Looks like they’re letting him go. They’re keeping the guns, but there shouldn’t be any fingerprints, and you can probably scrounge some more off the dead Russians.”

The SWAT officer uncuffed Hoxton and shoved him back towards the room, where he was moved in by Dallas. A second later, Chains shoved out the two hostages, one by one. Suddenly, the pickup truck jerked back. “It’s open! Everyone get down here, let’s find out what they’ve got!” Dallas cried.

As everyone piled downstairs, Rainbow said to Ilija, “You probably won’t be doing that much, now that they’re not actively fighting.”

Another shot. “Eleven. And they’ll still be trying to get in there. And in here.” A loud pounding on the door followed immediately. Ilija let go of his rifle and turned around, facing the door. Two shots were heard, and the door fell down off its hinges. Seeing a small object get tossed in, Rainbow quickly backed away from it, looking for any cover she could find in the apartment before it exploded in her face.

The white flash and ringing noise in her ears had convinced her she was dead for a moment, before they both finally started fading out. “Are you alright?” Ilija asked as she shook her head quickly. She didn’t hear it entirely under the ringing in her ears, but managed to make out the intention. “Give it a minute. Stay out of sight, down here.” He led her into another part of the apartment, and put his hand up to his ear. “This is Ilija. It’s getting a little hot up here. I’ll need a minute to secure the area before I can cover you again.”

“Hey, guys, I just picked up a status update on the police radio,” Bain reported. “They’re not heading inside after you; too scared of the bottleneck, I suppose. They’re setting up sniper teams on the nearby rooftops, and they’re gonna wait for you to come out first. This could get hairy, but you should at least have enough time to do what you need to down there.”

“Hey, look at this map. Bunch of East Coast cities, paired up with all these supplies... What the hell does it mean?”

“Maybe they’re being shipped out to those locations. And all these crates must hold all the stuff to be shipped out later. No wonder the Commissar was mad about us coming here.”

“I found a crowbar in the meth lab. I’ll get those crates open, hang on...” Wood creaked loudly enough to come through the earpiece for a second. “Whoa, these are some rockets. Stolen from the military? Even Gage can’t get stuff like this. And there’s a barcode in here...”

“Don’t bother. Those rockets are headed for New York, according to this map. Open another crate, keep looking.”

“Looks like Cuban cigars. Probably more weed than tobacco in ‘em, though.”

“Unless they’re headed straight for the Commissar... Nope, looks like Baltimore.”

“Look for vodka. That’s what’s listed as going to Miami here.”

“Where do I even put the barcode once I’ve found it?”

“There’s a reader on the bench here. Rip it out of the crate and put it under the scanner.”

“More meth chemicals. Police are probably all over the meth lab, though, so it’s not really useful.”

“Found another crowbar here. Let me help out, Hoxton.”

“Thanks. More of those cigars...”

“Found it! Crate full of vodka! Let me just grab that barcode.”

“I’ll boot up the computer here. Scan it in... and we should know where he is in just a moment.”

“...Any second now.”

“...What the hell is up with this thing? It’s slower than traffic on a Sunday.”

“Did he import this from the Motherland too? Slow Russian junk...”

“Worse than the drill.”

“Why do we still have that thing?”

“Probably because nobody’ll sell a drill that’s compatible with that OVKL operating system.”

“Maybe that’s what causes the drill to break.”

“Hey, guys, what’s that noise?”

“Oh, shit, Cloaker!”

“Sorry I’m late! Now go on the forums and cry like—”

“Damn, Wolf, that must have hurt. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. But now we have to restart the fucking computer...”

“Sorry, I didn’t notice they were sending in a Cloaker. Guess you’d better watch the ceiling vents from now on.”

“You think, Bain?”

“Faster to get to the DeLorean and go to an electronics store to read this barcode.”

“Stop bellyaching, it’s already done.”

“Hmm... Yeah, that address seems to match up with the trace. Find any loot you can get out of there and get ready to fight your way back to the car. Ilija, you there?”

“I’m here,” Ilija said. Before returning to his rifle, he gave Rainbow a few small cylindrical objects. “Rainbow, take these. Go up to the roof, take out the pin and throw it at the sniper up there. Then get back down here, as quickly as you can.”

“What are these?”

“Flashbang grenades, like the one you saw earlier. Non-lethal, but it should distract the sniper that landed on our roof just before. I can handle the ones on the motel from here.” Though she didn’t really want to, she swallowed and left the apartment, heading for the stairs marked ‘roof access’. As she pushed up the trapdoor, the sniper turned around, and before he could say anything, she quickly pulled out the pin on one of the grenades, threw it and ducked.

The loud explosion followed, but it was muted by the distance, and she didn’t see the flash. When she looked up again, the sniper had been killed, presumably by the gang as they came out. “Fourteen,” Ilija suddenly said, then, “Fifteen down. You guys should give me a mask, too, I reckon.”

“We’re heading around the back of the motel,” Dallas reported. “We’ll be leaving pretty soon. I’d suggest you get out as well, Rainbow. It’s not gonna be pretty for the next few hours.”

“Alright. Should I go to the safehouse?”

“Spend some time above helicopter level, then meet up with the van,” Bain corrected. “Those crates in the basement gave me an idea...”

Author's Note

Sorry about the delay; had a lot of things going on as I build up to a family holiday. I'll try and get Hotline Miami day 2 up before we go, but I'll have to put this on hiatus until I get back in January after that.

The first one to guess the significance of the phone number Twilight gave the Commissar gets to prompt an omake chapter.