Smooth Operator.

23. Now It's Really Done

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
NOW IT'S REALLY DONE

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RAPID GUNFIRE GRACED THE AIR LIKE RAINFALL. With a collective gasp, the group jumped around in surprise to find the gunman. Their surprise grew when they realised it had been a gunwoman.

The Diesel. The little girl who had given up Tangerine's life. The little girl who wasn't really a little girl at all.

Her innocent appearance had faltered this far in the journey: her knees dressed with bruises and cuts, and blood you wouldn't be able to tell where it had come from; her tie completely askew; the clips from her hair lost somewhere in the debris, making themselves part of the destruction; and her once-pristine expression now murderous.

Oh, and also the fat automatic in her grip.

"It's my luck that delivered my father's corpse at my feet!" She called out to the group, frame sagging, voice panting.

Ladybug shook his head. "You guys hear the narcissism on this chick?" He piped up with a sigh. "Absolutely untreatable."

Down the other end of the discord, the girl hauled the gun up into both hands, mastering her grip as she aimed the nozzle in their direction. "Now, I am—"

But, once again, The Ladybug decided to play peacemaker. He jumped forward. "Wait, wait!"

From beside Estela, Tangerine mumbled to her, "what's this guy and trying to be the hero all the time? We all kill people at the end of the day, none of us are heroes."

Estela let out a soft chuckle, but didn't reply. She knew he was right.

"If I may," Ladybug began. "You need some suggested reading, little missy; Surviving Borderline Personality Disorder."

"What!?" The girl growled from the other end of the discord.

"I highly recommend it! It'll do you wonders, I promise."

"Shut up!" The girl in pink roared, shooting a few rounds from her firearm into a pile of bricks off to the side of her. She readjusted her grip on the gun, once again wielding the gun up to them. "Now I am The White De—"

Poof! She was gone; just like magic.

Or maybe it had been the speeding grocery truck running her over, the tyres bumping over her body with a sickening crack. Out the back of the truck, a couple boxes of tangerines fell out, the spherical fruits landing on the girl's mushy head, almost as one final punch.

Estela let out a laugh and pointed over at the escaped tangerines, all the while the others flinched in surprise and the truck squealed to a stop.

"Look!" She grinned over at Tangerine – the real one this time. "You ended up saving the day!"

If she hadn't been so close to him, Estela wouldn't have been able to make out the way the corners of his lips quirked up in a soft smile under his moustache.

He looked down at her, eyes glistening. "Seems like I did," he replied, voice happy in a way she'd never heard before. And she thought maybe something would happen. But...

"Did you see that shit!?" An over-excited British voice filled the moment, footsteps following the voice up to the pair, and they both turned.

Lemon, albeit drenching in blood, sweat and tears, grinned up at his brother and The Black Cat.

This time it was much more noticeable when Tangerine's lips pulled up into a smile, revealing his pearly teeth. "Yeah, I saw that shit," he grinned, taking a step away from the woman by his side to pull Lemon into a tight hug.

When his brother pulled away, Lemon turned to Estela, holding out a hand for her to grasp. "You saw it, too, right? It was pretty sick, so you should've seen it."

Estela let out a laugh. "Yeah, I saw it," she grinned, her hand making contact with Lemon's in a firm handshake.

Sirens sang along the air, quickly approaching, signalling the group to disperse before they were met by the authorities and questioned. Even if they had been innocent, the true events of the past twenty-four hours would be almost impossible to describe, and the police would probably convict them anyway just to be able to close the case.

"Shit," Lemon muttered under his breath. "Do you guys have any idea where the fuck we can go?"

Estela pat her black waistcoat, only to find all her pockets empty, nothing that could've been of use to them on her person at all, and she doubted either of them had anything either.

"We run."