Delinquents And Dominos

Chapter 5: Two for one.

"Wha- you're buying me dinner? You?" Gaston couldn't help but gather himself and his composure after hearing his assassinator, the person who would end him for money, was insisting on such a virtuous act. He did not let his guard down, and rose up to his feet in quiet caution, watching out for Aureo's hands which had their arms linked in a cross.

"Yes," Aureo said slightly flatly, perhaps in a reluctant manner. "I'm a very understanding man, I can treat even my enemies to a meal together. But don't think of me as defeated, your pathetic bawling only made you dignify the saddo you are."

"I was about to die, what did you expect?" Gaston protested and picked up his almost-forgotten diary from the ground. "and wouldn't it be better if you killed me anyway?  That way, you get a good paycheck and then you can treat yourself to like...a fine Italian spaghetti or something."

Ka-chak. "Good idea, thanks for that." he thumbed down the hammer. Locked and loaded, the revolver's chamber rotated in place.

"Nonononono...I didn't mean it that way—"

BANG!

A dull wisp of gunpowder smoke slithered airily from the hole the sleek pill-like bullet had punched through the moldy brick wall.

"Spaghetti or lasagna?"Aureo's voice deadpanned.

"Huh?" Gaston's voice broke.

"Simple question, really." Aureo stifled a tight grin and slid his gun back into the makeshift holster in his hitman's coat.

"...", Gaston squinted and tried to comprehend everything he said, the tinnitus ringing in his ears after the resonating gunshot. "...I don't know...it's late at night, what restaurant would open at this time?"

"Mine, but only this time." He turned over his shoulder and walked away.

"You a chef?" Gaston paced after him out of the alleyway.

"Indeed," Aureo scanned the vacant lamp-lit street. "Has the wound on your hand stopped bleeding?"

"Maybe if you hadn't shot me in the first place, then maybe..." He cringed, lightly touching his knuckle, where the bullet had already seemed to be snuggled right in the wounded flesh.

"SO... spaghetti or lasagna?"

"I'm not hungry.", Gaston's voice flat as a black espresso.

"But I thought you were--"

"Well yes, but actually no." Gaston took the lead and strolled in front of Aureo. "it's 2050, we humans have changed drastically. Ever since that damn nuclear cataclysm, all we've been doing is breathing..."

"No shit, we need oxygen..." Aureo cut him off.

"...and killing." Gaston took a few deep, long breaths, like he was trying to demonstrate something.

"...So you knew?" Aureo leaned against the wall of the same building he'd blown a hole into. "...about the killings, I mean, regarding the masquerades and conspiracies."

"...what...no?" Gaston inclined his head, a furrow creasing his brows.

"Well, I thought France had the same thing going on, what with you being one of them."

Gaston rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Well, what about the crimes and conspiracies here?"

Aureo rose from his leaning position and started walking left along the curb, abandoned cars and deserted terraces lined the place. The both of them felt like outcasts touring a city with all its life and colours drained from it. "The crime rates here are...dangerously high but neat and tidy...is what I would say."

"There's a hierarchy of killers," He added. "the people at the top organise these systematic crime projects, either to assassinate certain targets or groups."

"I'd assume your employer's somewhere on that pedestal, am I not wrong?" Gaston slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers, suddenly invested in Aureo's storytelling, and also secretly burrowing the stolen gun deeper into the sleeves of his pants.

"I'm afraid I can't let you in on that,"

"That's ironic, coming from someone who betrays his own job because his client is an obnoxious crybaby." Gaston snarled and shook his head in disappointment.

He watched, from the corner of his eye, Aureo's left hand travel to the hidden holster under his coat, and then immediately change direction and go for another pocket. As if he was aware of the other male's discreetly prying eyes and instantaneously, his subconscious made a headway to hide it.

That's what I thought.

"So the rest of the ones below just carry out crimes or work for their superiors. It's like an underworld mafia that suddenly wheeled into the public eye and now has established total control over the masses."

"Scary, really." Gaston recalled the past moments where he had to accept deals and solicits from underground gangs and drug cartels because he was an 'experienced' and 'adept' thief, despite being a mere amateur.

"My employer..." Aureo stopped.

"Uh-huh." Gaston quirkily marched past him and turned around. "Then?"

The hitman's eyes scrunched up, narrowing in an expression that suggested shock and rage, but Aureo couldn't clearly deduce due to the opaque steel mask covering most of his face.

"He's a stronzo a too, isn't he?" Gaston tried to act smart with the only Italian word he could remember.

He raised a fisted hand to his head, quivering sporadically, a very un-hitman-like gesture.

He didn't know why, why this situation was beginning to overwhelm him. why a sudden thought could scare him to the point of exaggerated apprehension. Why his hands were shaking unnaturally. Why the man was standing there, on the balcony of an apartment opposite. Why he was wielding a sniper rifle and was ready to pull the trigger on them. A blinding white reflection from the rifle's scope gave Aureo a tensing feeling in his stomach, then traveled to his shoulders.

A swift burst of adrenaline surging through his nerves, Aureo aimed and shot him from below in a matter of a second. His sharp reflexes had saved Gaston's back and driven a bullet into the sniper's head.

"What the hell?" Gaston flinched at the bang and sheltered his head under his arms. "Why'd..."

He detected the sound of a body falling off a balcony behind him and hitting the asphalt below headfirst, a painful thud followed by blood spilling from the gash in his noggin.

"I saved your culo." Aureo slid back the revolver, which now had one more round to go. He walked to the body "There's no way a normal civilian could own such a heavy-duty weapon like that."

He fumbled through the dead man's coat pockets and then picked up the scarlet-red coated firearm, an unusual velvet texture on its trigger and buttstock. "Looks customised, pretty expensive."

"Are you seriously stealing from a corpse?" Gaston scoffed in utter disgust.

"What's the difference with stealing from a living person?" Aureo mused, and caught a glimpse of something shiny, another metallic object. He bent over and saw the carving of a ferret standing proud over a golden plate with latin engraved in it on his uniform's breast pocket.

"It's sanitary, I guess? If you--" Gaston started to explain.

"Cavalo!" Aureo exclaimed in Italian. He picked off the badge and inspected it with a closer look at its golden accents and its navy blue velvet foundation. Shortly after that, he turned his head to Gaston, his anxious expression silenced under his mask. "There's another hitman after you."

"...or you." accused Gaston bluntly.