****.
Don't panic checked the bodies of the bomber and the woman, knowing fully that they are goners.
That left himself and the drug dealer, who is struggling to his feet despite the multiple gunshot wounds.
As Don't panic begun to survey the damage done to himself and the drug dealer, the dealer stopped him. "**** that, we got the key and we know where the ****ing office is. Time to finish the ****ing job."
The drug dealer limped towards -- and up -- the stairs. Don't panic had no choice but to follow.
They soon reached the familiar hallway on the second floor. Without a word, the drug dealer took out the key. The door opened.
"We might not have much hope of surviving the night. There is, however, a hope that we will ask that some of you accompany us," a female voice came from the opposite end of the room.
One of the overturned chairs has been uprighted, and a bespectacled woman in a suit now sits in it.
"What the fu--" the drug dealer brought his gun around to aim at the woman.
"Ah," the woman laughed, "such roughness. The more intelligent ones were unfortunate to die prior to this time I regret to note. It would be nice having a... brief discourse with one of them."
"**** you, lady," the drug dealer begun firing. It was only a brief burst as he was suddenly interrupted by a bullet that buried itself in his neck, sending him sprawling.
****, ****, ****.
During this was happening, Don't panic panicked as his tried to fumble with his bazooka. Work, you piece of ****, work!
A laugh floated to his ears. The bullets missed the woman, every one of them.
A scream, a burst of gunshots and a shout later the goon who came in from the door on the far side of the room died, his final bullets flying all over the place.
"Any other ****ing presents for us, bitch?" the drug dealer shouted, amazingly standing.
Only the drugs kept him standing. Once the drugs wore off, Don't panic knew, the drug dealer would die.
"Oh well. Like I said, we don't have much hope. The Don is looking forward to meeting you," the woman smiled. "Oh, and one more thing..."
Suddenly, the woman stood up, bringing up her machine gun and raining the doorway with bullets. Many of them hit Don't panic and the drug dealer both.
The world wavered in and out in front of Don't panic's eyes. Finally the bullets stopped and the woman pulled the gun down for a reload.
This is your ****ing chance. You better ****ing work, bazooka.
Don't panic brought the bazooka up, took aim, and let loose...
Nothing.
Don't panic, panic-stricken, looked down at the bazooka and up.
"Shooting on blanks are we?" the woman smiled. Suddenly the smile vanished and a silent scream escaped her mouth as a series of bullets hit her throat and chest.
"**** you, bitch."
As the drug dealer, fueled by drugs, limped towards the dead body, Don't panic finally examined something that was tugging at his mind since he saw the woman.
A suit. Spectacles. Smooth talker.
It hit him.
What the ****? A woman?
They've killed the consigliere.
