Smooth Operator.

22. It's Done

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
IT'S DONE

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"GHOST TOWN" WOULD PROBABLY BE THE BEST WORDS TO DESCRIBE THE ATMOSPHERE. No birds flocking the sky, no chattering of people, not even any car alarms blaring after being crushed by a huge bullet train. Something didn't feel right.

Side by side, Estela and Tangerine stepped through the rubble, flames and dust, the dagger from Estela's boot now in her grip. Tangerine, unfortunately, had no weapon, save from his fists if you count those; but he would have to leave the slicing up to the kitty if the duo were to get ambushed.

As they began to venture further through the destruction site, a familiar voice bounced off the walls of train remains, and the two pushed forward. He didn't sound like he was in any sort of good situation.

When she saw him, Estela Guerrero decided that The White Death didn't look as intimidating in person as he sounded. Sure, he stood opposite a seated Ladybug with a gun held square at his face, but he was bleeding out and wobbling on his own feet. Frankly, if Estela were in that situation, she felt she'd find an easy way out of it; one that wouldn't result in her death.

"The Carver, I want The Carver!" The Russian boss moaned out, his voice pained and lisped. "I hired The Carver!"

Opposite him, Ladybug winced and shook his head, crossing a leg over the other. "Yeah, no, he had a stomach thing, man," he shrugged as if he almost pitied the human incarnate of death before him. Although Estela didn't understand the context, it appeared there had been some sort of misunderstanding.

The Russian's frame deflated, and the pistol in his hand changed direction – instead of The Ladybug's head, the barrel now aimed at his own, the tip pressing into his bloody, aged skin.

"For what it's worth, Carver is a dick," Ladybug continued, leaning back against the demolished bench he'd seated himself on. "The most cunning assassin, probably also the laziest—"

In a flash of a moment, the gun was back on him, and Ladybug reacted quickly by shielding his face.

But no bullets came, not even a gunshot.

The White Death's hand shook, his grip faltering in disbelief. Maybe he was utterly enraged by the fact this Carver guy was no where to be found; or perhaps because his gun was out of ammo, and Estela thought that could possibly be the most embarrassing thing as an assassin.

Just imagine: you've got your target right in front of you, they've already seen you, you and your gun pressed into his head, and you pull the trigger. But nothing happens. So many things could go wrong after that. Like, the target notes this moment of weakness and strikes back, leaving them with the upper hand; or even they make a run for it, and now you know you're toast unless you find a new way to draw blood.

Out from the wreckage climbed two more figures, keeping quiet behind The White Death and his deadbeat pistol. These two figures, Estela recognised as the Kimuras.

Beside her, Estela tugged lightly on Tangerine's little finger, drawing his attention away from the insect-versus-mafia boss scene before him. His eyes looked down at her fingers, mouth open ajar, but looked up at her quickly and pulled his hand away.

His gaze followed Estela's gesture, her pointing at the two allies escaping the destructed train car.

As he helped his elderly father down to solid ground, the messy-haired Yuichi Kimura scanned the area in order to make sure there was no one to ambush them and spoil their cover. His dark eyes found where Black Cat and Tangerine stood, and beckoned them over.

Together, the cat and the fruit snuck over.

With a grunt, The White Death discarded of his dead firearm, losing it somewhere unknown within the wreckage, and reached under his long coat to the waistband of his pants, revealing a second gun.

As Estela and Tangerine joined the Kimuras, they could finally see the scene in high definition. She hadn't seen it before, but now it appeared that The White Death had been stabbed, greatly through his body by a long katana blade, and the new gun he held owned a glittery pink hair-tie wrapped around its base.

Watching his attacker cock the handgun, Ladybug released a long groan, his face contorting into an overly depressed expression. Estella understood why.

"Just let it go, bro!" He scoffed.

At this, the Russian man seemed to seethe, completely a jittering ball of fury. It appeared that just nothing had gone his way today. If maybe he weren't a great danger to them all (although definitely currently less so than usual) Estela could have felt sympathy for him.

"Do not call me bro!" Was the final thing The White Death said before pulling the trigger.

Unfortunately, it was the final thing The White Death was able to say ever. What a poor choice of final wording, Estela thought, her jaw dropping as the gun redirected its fire.

When the bullet should have exited the neck, and found itself home inside Ladybug's, it soared out the other end of the gun, tearing up the gun upon holding down the trigger; and The White Death's head.

Here, The White Death bled into a red death.

Flesh and blood sprayed everywhere, blowing off his head in a loud explosion, his hand tearing off his wrist also, and landing somewhere beside The Ladybug.

Now a lifeless body, holding no authority that he did during his reign of the underworld, the Russian man crumbled to his knees, and then to the floor amidst the rubble.

Covered in The White Death's blood, Ladybug groaned in disgust, wiping as much of the excess off his skin as he could.

"What a show," Tangerine muttered in astonishment from beside Estela, his own jaw dropped.

Hobbling without his stick, the elder Kimura approached The Red Death. One bloody hand placed itself on his shoulder, and the other found the hilt of the katana in his chest, and pulled it out with ease. Some sick grandpa!

"It is done," he stated, standing up with the help of his sheathed katana.

Estela released a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding in, and turned to look up at Tangerine. From the side, she watched the slope of his nose, and the pores along his skin, and the dust that sat in his brunet moustache. He stared ahead, chest heaving.

Her hand nudged the back of his own, causing him to look down at her.

"So it's done?" She asked in a small voice, repeating Shigeru's statement.

Part of her wasn't ready for it to be over. Usually in missions, she didn't meet people, or team up with anybody. This mission had been incredibly different than normal, to say the least.

Tangerine's lips thinned, and his broad shoulders shrugged. "I guess it is."

Except it wasn't.