As Loe, Mark, Gustav, and Vivian made their way through the smoke-filled halls, the tension grew with every step. They had gotten this far, but the escape was proving to be just as perilous.
Suddenly, Mindy's voice echoed in Loe and Mark's minds through telepathy. "Incoming guards" she warned.
The guards, already alerted to the commotion, rounded the corner. "Intruders!" one of them shouted.
Loe clicked his tongue in frustration. "Tsk, we don't have time for this." he muttered before launching himself forward, his body moving like a blur.
He lunged at the first guard, delivering a powerful kick to the man's chest, sending him crashing into the wall. Without missing a beat, Loe spun around, landing a sharp punch to the face of another guard, dropping him instantly. The third guard, startled by the sudden onslaught, barely had time to react before Loe drove his knee into his chest, knocking the air out of him.
"Move!" Loe barked, looking over his shoulder at the others as he took down the last guard.
Mark nodded, quickly grabbing Vivian by the arm as Gustav, now back to normal size, took up the rear. "We need to be faster. They'll keep coming," Mark said, his voice tense.
"I know," Loe responded, shaking off the adrenaline. "Let's keep going."
They pressed on, the sound of approaching footsteps echoing in the distance, but with each second, they were getting closer to freedom.
As Mark kept a protective stance in front of Vivian and Gustav, his eyes flickered with determination. He couldn't let anything happen to them, not after all they had gone through. In his mind, he thought, "I hope we can get through all of this."
Just as that thought settled, more guards appeared, one group flanking from the left, and another charging head-on from the center.
"Angel, take the center! I'll handle the left side." Mark shouted, his voice firm and unwavering.
Loe gave a sharp nod, already moving toward the center, fists clenched.
Mark immediately focused on the left side. With swift precision, he closed the gap between him and the first guard, delivering a powerful roundhouse kick directly to the man's face. The force sent the guard sprawling to the ground, dazed and unable to continue the fight.
Without hesitation, Mark drew his two batons from their holsters. He moved swiftly, slamming the weapons down on another guard's arms, disarming him before delivering a rapid strike to his side. The guard crumpled, clutching his ribs in pain.
As more guards rushed in, Mark spun on his heel, spotting two with weapons. Without thinking, he hurled one of his batons through the air, the weapon spinning like a boomerang. It struck one guard squarely in the chest, knocking him back with a groan. The baton, following its arc, curved back toward Mark's hand. With perfect timing, Mark caught it effortlessly.
As Mark stood ready for the next wave of guards, the atmosphere in the building shifted. The workers in the Chicago Outfit were beginning to panic. They shouted in confusion and fear, overwhelmed by the chaos that was unfolding around them. The sight of Mark and Loe cutting through their ranks with ease, combined with the smoke still billowing from the earlier confrontation, made the situation feel more terrifying than they could have imagined.
In the midst of it all, Mindy remained invisible, her form undetectable as she moved carefully through the shadows. Her flashlight's invisibility feature, which had kept her hidden for the past two and a half hours, was running out of time. She could feel the strain on her body and knew the effects would fade soon.
"Please let them be safe." Mindy thought, her heart racing with concern for her friends.
Using her telepathy, she reached out to check on the situation. Through the haze of thoughts and the chaos around her, she sensed Alphonse still pursuing Mark, Loe, Gustav, and Vivian. His presence was like a storm building behind them, filled with rage and determination. Alphonse was relentless, pushing through the smoke, his anger fueling every step as he got closer.
"I hope they can get out." Mindy whispered to herself. Time was running out for all of them.
With her telepathy, she sent a quick, silent message to Mark and Loe. "Alphonse is coming. You need to move faster. He's almost on you."
Mark, upon receiving the warning, gritted his teeth and glanced toward the way ahead. "We need to hurry." he muttered under his breath, preparing for whatever came next.
....
Alphonse Capone seethed with rage as he paced through the haze left by the earlier fight. His mind boiled with anger at the thought of losing Vivian—his leverage, his key to the information he so desperately wanted.
"No one takes what's mine." he muttered under his breath, his fists clenched tightly. He could still feel the sting of humiliation from being outmaneuvered by those two unknown vigilantes and the man who had stolen Vivian away from him.
Alphonse's thoughts grew darker as he recalled the countless interrogations he'd put Vivian through. Yet, despite his best efforts, she hadn't broken. "That filthy girl still hasn't told me about the 'thing,." he thought, the cryptic piece of information that had evaded him for so long gnawing at his patience.
He slammed his fist into the nearest wall, a resounding crack echoing through the room. "They'll regret crossing me," he growled, his voice laced with menace. "No one escapes Alphonse Capone."
Turning to one of his remaining men, Alphonse barked an order. "Send word. I want every corner of this city searched. Bring me Vivian, and I want those vigilantes found."
The henchman nodded quickly, rushing out of the room to carry out Alphonse's orders. Alphonse stood still, his mind racing with thoughts of vengeance. "They think they can humiliate me, take what's mine? They have no idea who they're dealing with." he muttered.
As the smoke in the room slowly cleared, Alphonse walked toward the shattered window, looking out over the city. Chicago was his territory—he knew its streets, its dark corners, and its secrets. He'd built an empire here, and no one would take it from him.
....
Meanwhile, outside the building...
Mark, Loe, Gustav, and Vivian dashed through the darkened streets, their breaths heavy, but their pace relentless. They had made it out, but the sense of danger lingered like a shadow behind them.
Mark glanced back, his eyes scanning the alleyways for any signs of pursuit. "We need to keep moving. We're not safe yet," he said, his voice calm but urgent.Mark looked at his watch. "We've got to get to a safety place. Mindy's holding up our exit, but she won't be invisible for much longer." He turned to Loe, eyes sharp. "Think you can handle a few more of Capone's men?"
Loe grinned. "Bring 'em on"
With that, the group pressed forward, knowing Alphonse Capone wouldn't stop hunting them until he got what he wanted.
....
Lenore Van Ryn sat in the dimly lit office of her private villa, surrounded by an array of meticulously organized documents. Her sharp eyes skimmed through the pages, analyzing the contents with a critical focus. The villa was sleek, old modern, and reflected her taste for luxury, with large windows offering a view of the Chicago skyline in the distance. Despite the looming business event the next day, her mind was set on finding ways to maximize profits for the Chicago Outfit's ventures.
Leaning back in her chair, Lenore's fingers drummed rhythmically on the edge of the sleek mahogany desk as she contemplated her next move. "The fashion line is doing well," she murmured, flipping through a report on the Outfit's latest fashion investments. "But it's not enough. We need more. Expansion."
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sleek design plans for tomorrow's meeting with key businessmen and investors. The Chicago Outfit had shifted from purely small operations to more legitimate businesses, especially in high-end fashion. Lenore, known for her connections in both the underworld and the elite fashion circles, was tasked with managing this growing empire.
She muttered softly as she calculated the risks. "Fashion trends change quickly. We need a steady influx of capital, but more importantly...we need to stay ahead of the curve."
A sharp glint flashed in her eyes as she thought of the potential deals she could make tomorrow. She needed to secure partnerships with more influential fashion houses, or better yet, crush the competition and dominate the market. Her mind raced with strategies.
"If we can push for more visibility in Europe," she thought, eyeing the contracts from Milan and Paris fashion houses, "we can tap into a broader market. But to make this profitable long-term..." She paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "we need a bold move. Something that screams exclusivity and prestige."
Lenore picked up a pen and made a few notes on the margins. "Limited edition lines. High-end collaborations with top designers. Create a demand so high that it becomes a status symbol."
A small smile played on her lips as she leaned forward, flipping through the contracts, thinking of how Alphonse Capone's criminal empire had evolved into something far more sophisticated under her guidance. "Tomorrow, I'll secure those deals, and we'll cement our place not just in Chicago, but globally. The Outfit's influence I make sure it'll be admired around the world."
As she reviewed the remaining documents, her Mcall device buzzed on the desk. She glanced at the name—it was a reminder from one of her assistants about tomorrow's meeting schedule.
"Time to prepare for another successful day," Lenore whispered, her confidence unwavering. "And maybe...if I play my cards right, Alphonse won't even realize who's really running the show."
...
Litzo Tatum's sharp eyes narrowed as he approached the building, noticing the chaotic exodus of workers fleeing from the Chicago Outfit's headquarters. The normally bustling hub was in disarray. People were rushing out, some with blood on their clothes, others coughing violently from the smoke that poured out of the building's windows.
"What the fuck is happening here?" Litzo muttered under his breath, his hand instinctively brushing against the hilt of the dagger strapped to his side.
As he moved closer, his steps steady and calculated, Litzo's mind raced with thoughts of the mission ahead. "Angel...someone will die in my arms, huh? But who the hell is Angel?" Atlas's cryptic words weighed heavily on him, but Litzo was not one to question orders. He was a soldier, and his role was simple—deliver vengeance.
Suddenly, he spotted Alphonse Capone stumbling out of the entrance, coughing violently as he struggled to catch his breath. The old man looked battered and furious, his clothes disheveled and his eyes wild with anger. Litzo had heard of Alphonse—a relic of the old crime world, a man with power but no longer at his peak.
"Capone," Litzo murmured, his voice low as he approached the coughing man. "What the hell is going on in there?"
Alphonse wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring up at Litzo with bloodshot eyes. "They...they took...," he rasped. "Those bastards took something from me."
Litzo's eyes flickered with mild interest. "something? Don't tell me you've gone soft, Capone. Losing a what... a thing now?" His tone was cold, almost mocking.
Alphonse growled, straightening up despite his obvious discomfort. "They came for her... no that ...and they'll regret it. But there's someone else."
Litzo's expression remained impassive, though his mind sharpened at Alphonse's next words.
"One of them called himself 'Angel.'" Alphonse's voice was bitter, laced with rage. "A vigilante, some kind of hero act. He thinks he can get away with crossing me."
Litzo's heart skipped a beat, his hand tightening around the dagger's hilt. "Angel..." The name echoed in his mind, lining up with Atlas's prophecy. "So this is the one."
Without a word, Litzo turned his back on Alphonse, his focus now solely on his target. "Where's Angel?" he demanded.
Alphonse spat on the ground, still furious. "They escaped through the back, but they won't get far. Not on my turf."
To be continue