Chapter 16 Mission of an old acquitance

The warehouse loomed before Emerlda, a skeletal silhouette against the moonlit sky. The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of disuse. She dismounted her bike, the engine ticking as it cooled. Daniel's voice crackled in her earpiece."Any sign of Burns' crew?" Emerlda asked, her voice a low growl."Negative," Daniel replied. "But a whole lot of unexpected company. Ten cars just pulled up. Looks like the Bloods decided to crash the party."Emerlda's lips curved into a cold smile. She hadn't anticipated this, but it wouldn't deter her. Reaching into a hidden compartment on her bike, she retrieved a long, sleek case. With practiced ease, she snapped it open, revealing a high-powered sniper rifle."Looks like the game just got more interesting," she said, her voice devoid of emotion."Be careful, Emerlda," Daniel warned. "They outnumber you ten to one. I'm coming over. Need an extra pair of hands.""Don't worry about me," Emerlda replied, her voice laced with a dangerous confidence. "They're just flies about to get swatted."Across the warehouse, the car doors slammed shut, disgorging a group of men. Heavily armed and clad in the signature red and black of the Bloods gang, they looked around warily."Maybe she didn't show," one of them muttered, his voice thick with nervous bravado.The reply was a single, echoing gunshot. The bullet found its mark, punching a clean hole through the leader's forehead. He crumpled to the ground, a doll with its strings cut.A stunned silence descended upon the group. Then, all hell broke loose.Emerlda, a silent predator in the shadows, had found her perch. The warehouse offered a maze of crates and scaffolding, a perfect battlefield for her skills. Her enhanced vision cut through the darkness, pinpointing targets with cold efficiency. Each shot was a death knell, a bullet finding its mark with merciless precision.The Bloods, caught off guard and disoriented, panicked. Their return fire echoed through the warehouse, but it was mostly blind rage, bullets spraying uselessly into the darkness. They were unprepared for a ghost in the machine, an unseen enemy picking them off one by one.From his vantage point, Daniel watched the chaos unfold through a hidden camera feed. His heart hammered in his chest, a mix of fear and morbid fascination battling within him. He knew Emerlda was a force of nature, but this… this was something else.Emerlda became a whirlwind of deadly efficiency. From her hidden vantage point, she picked off the Bloods with surgical precision. Each shot rang out, a chilling counterpoint to the growing chaos below. But ammunition is finite, and soon, her sniper rifle fell silent.With a growl of frustration, she knew it was time for a different tactic. Launching herself over the railing, she landed in a crouch among the remaining Bloods. They whirled around, their guns searching for the source of the sound.A cruel smile played on Emerlda's lips as she activated a hidden device on her arm. It wasn't a bomb – not this time. Instead, it emitted a powerful electromagnetic pulse, a targeted disruption. The Bloods' weapons sputtered and died, useless lumps of metal in their hands.Confusion turned to panic. The men lunged for her, but Emerlda was faster. Her cybernetic arm whirred to life, morphing into a wickedly sharp blade. It became an extension of her, a deadly blur in the flickering warehouse lights.Daniel, watching the live feed from the van, felt a cold dread pool in his stomach. He'd witnessed Emerlda's ruthlessness before, but tonight, there was a new edge to it, a savage glee that sent shivers down his spine.He slammed the van door shut and raced towards the warehouse, the metallic tang of blood already thick in the air.By the time he burst through the doors, the scene was a nightmare tableau. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some still twitching, others eerily silent. The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid scent of ozone.Emerlda stood amidst the carnage, her black uniform stained crimson. Her robotic arm had retracted, but a bloodied dagger glinted in her hand. She was ripping a strip of fabric from her shirt, her face contorted in a grimace, seemingly more from exertion than pain."Oh my God, Emerlda," Daniel gasped, his voice choked with a mixture of horror and morbid fascination. "You… you are one mean woman."Emerlda glanced at him, her eyes red-rimmed and wild. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of recognition crossed her features, a hint of the woman she once was.Then, just as quickly, the light died. A cold, empty shell replaced it."They got what they deserved," she rasped, her voice devoid of emotion.Emerlda surveyed the scene with a grimace. The warehouse floor was a macabre canvas, bodies sprawled amidst overturned crates and flickering shadows. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her arm throbbing with the dull ache of exertion. The metallic tang of blood hung thick in the air."Seriously?" she snarled, her voice hoarse. "Another freaking convoy?"Daniel peeked through a shattered window, his voice tight with apprehension. "Looks like it, boss. But this isn't Burns' muscle. This is… different."A chill snaked down Emerlda's spine. Different how?Through the window, she saw a group of men emerge from the lead vehicle, their faces grim and determined. At the forefront stood a tall, imposing figure – a Black man with a shaved head and a confident swagger. His hands were raised high above his head in a gesture of surrender."Hold your fire!" he boomed, his voice deep and powerful. "I mean you no harm, Master Borstov."Emerlda's blood ran cold. Master Borstov? That was the alias she used in the criminal underworld, a carefully cultivated persona to mask her true identity. This stranger, whoever he was, knew her by that name.Daniel hissed into her earpiece. "That's Luther. Leader of the Dragon Clan in Gotham. Ruthless, cunning… and why the hell is he here?"Emerlda didn't need to ask. The answer was chillingly clear. News of her attack on the C.I.A. building, of her defiance against Burns, had spread like wildfire through the criminal underworld. Luther, ever the opportunist, smelled an opportunity to exploit the chaos.A storm of emotions warred within Emerlda: exhaustion, anger, and a sliver of morbid fascination."Let them in," she rasped, her voice laced with a dangerous calm. "But keep your hand on that sniper rifle, Daniel. We don't know what games this Luther is playing."Emerlda tossed a bloodied rag onto the table, the metallic tang of blood clinging to the air. Luther flinched slightly, his gaze lingering on the discarded daggers before meeting her eyes."Sit," she said, her voice a low growl. It wasn't an invitation, but a command.Luther straightened, his posture a mix of respect and defiance. He took a seat across from her, the only two figures amidst the carnage."The last time I saw you, Luther," Emerlda began, her voice devoid of emotion, "you were still a skinny kid running errands for your uncle."A flicker of pain crossed Luther's face, a brief glimpse of the boy beneath the hardened exterior. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile."Times change, Master Borstov," he said, his voice smooth as polished obsidian. "Just like people."Emerlda's gaze held his, searching for something beneath the surface. But all she saw was a ruthless ambition, a mirror of her own reflection."Spare me the pleasantries, Luther," she snapped. "What do you really want?"Luther reached into his pocket, pulling out a small device. With a tap, a holographic image flickered to life – a video of Emerlda escaping the C.I.A. building, her agile movements a blur against the cityscape."I must admit," Luther said, his voice laced with a hint of admiration, "I've never seen someone pull off a stunt like that and walk away alive. You've certainly grown to surpass even your old man."Emerlda's jaw clenched tight. The mention of her father was a raw nerve, a reminder of the life she'd lost."My past has nothing to do with this," she snarled."Perhaps not," Luther conceded, "but perhaps it does. You see, Master Borstov, I have a problem."He tapped the device again, and a new image appeared – a schematic of a high-tech weapon, its sleek lines and intricate details radiating a dangerous aura."This," Luther explained, "was stolen from me. A prototype weapon capable of unimaginable destruction. And the trail leads straight back to Burns."A cold glint entered Emerlda's eyes. Burns. The name hung heavy in the air, a shared enemy weaving an unexpected alliance."So, you want me to steal it back?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion."Precisely," Luther confirmed. "But consider it a business proposition. Get me back my weapon, and I can offer you something valuable in return. Information about Burns perhaps, or even… resources you might need."Emerlda leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. This was a gamble. Luther was dangerous, a predator with his own agenda. But information about Burns, a chance to cripple his operation… it was a tempting offer."What guarantee do I have you won't double-cross me?" she challenged, her voice steady.Luther offered a tight smile. "Mutual destruction rarely benefits anyone, Master Borstov. Besides, a weapon like that in the wrong hands… well, let's just say the consequences would be dire for both of us."Emerlda's eyes narrowed. "Eat shit, Luther," she spat, her voice dripping with disdain. "Why should I risk my neck retrieving your stolen property?"Luther remained unfazed, his gaze lingering on the crates stacked around the warehouse. "Financial woes seem to plague even the best criminal organizations," he said, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I hear the Evolution is facing some… challenges lately. Isn't that right?"A flicker of anger crossed Emerlda's face. The Evolution was her network, her lifeline in the criminal underworld. News of its struggles must have spread faster than she anticipated."Burns was a fool to mess with the devilish angel," Luther continued, his voice laced with a dangerous amusement. "But then again, most underestimate you, Master Borstov."Emerlda slammed her fist on the table, the metallic clang echoing through the warehouse. "Don't play coy, Luther. Get your own damn package back. I'm not your errand girl."She pushed herself out of her chair, her movements fluid and predatory. "I have my own agenda," she stated, her voice cold. "But I'm willing to consider a… mutually beneficial arrangement."Emerlda leaned back in, her gaze fixed on Luther. "I'll offer you triple the value of everything in this warehouse. Enough to soothe those financial woes of yours, I'd imagine."She paused, a predatory glint in her eyes. "And I can even offer you something extra. My men can handle the Bloods. Consider it a token of… goodwill."The offer was tempting. Three times the value of the warehouse was a significant sum, enough to stabilize the Evolution and perhaps even give her an edge against Burns. Yet, a nagging suspicion gnawed at Emerlda."The Bloods are my business," she hissed, a possessive edge creeping into her voice. "Stay the hell out of it."Luther's smile widened, revealing a hint of something sharp beneath the veneer. "Business is business, Master Borstov," he countered. "But perhaps we can find a way to accommodate both our interests."He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, ornate box. "This… is what you took from Burns, isn't it?"He flipped open the box, revealing not a weapon or a fortune, but a simple photograph. A picture of a young girl, her face filled with an innocence that contrasted starkly with the grim scene around them.Emerlda's breath hitched. Her eyes widened in recognition, a flicker of vulnerability flashing across her hardened exterior.Emerlda watched with narrowed eyes as Luther's men marched in, two burly suitcases thudding onto the blood-stained floor. The metallic tang of money mingled with the acrid scent of death, a grim cocktail filling the air.She reached for her dagger, the familiar weight a comfort in the chaos. With a swift flick of her wrist, the sharp point plunged into the splintered table, pinning a photo Luther had placed there."What game are you playing, Luther?" she snarled, her voice laced with suspicion. "You think two suitcases can buy off the Borstov name? You can't wash your hands of this mess that easily."Luther held up his hands in a placating gesture, his smile strained around the edges. "Believe me, Master Borstov," he said, "I know my limits. This package… it's cost me sleepless nights, arguments with my wife… hell, I haven't slept a wink since it went missing."He pushed the photo closer, revealing a young man with a cocky grin. Luther's son.Emerlda's gaze flickered to the photo, a flicker of something akin to pity crossing her features before hardening once more."No wonder the wife's pissed," she scoffed. "Every angle I look at this mission, it screams suicide, Luther. You're practically sending me to my grave.""There's another way," Luther countered, his voice taking on a desperate edge. "Get my son out of Westside Prison. That's where the package is."Emerlda let out a harsh laugh. "Westside? You're asking me to waltz into a maximum-security prison? Luther, are you daft? Or suicidal yourself?"Luther slammed another photo on the table, this one a gruesome tableau of bodies in military uniforms, their faces contorted in death."I lost half my men trying to get that fool out," he growled, his voice raw with emotion. "Trust me, I've tried everything – legal, illegal, you name it. Every avenue's a dead end."Emerlda stared at the photos, the weight of his desperation hanging heavy in the air. A sliver of doubt crept into her hardened exterior. Luther's desperation was genuine, his reasons, however murky, were personal.But venturing into Westside was a gamble she couldn't afford to lose. It was a heavily guarded fortress, a death trap for anyone who dared enter uninvited."Why me?" she finally asked, her voice low and dangerous."Because," Luther leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "you're a ghost, Master Borstov. A legend. They say bullets bounce off you, that you can slip through bars like smoke. If anyone can get my son – and that package – out of Westside, it's you.""Only you can complete this task," Luther pleaded, his voice laced with desperation. "Westside is a labyrinth. My men wouldn't stand a chance."Daniel scoffed, his voice tight with disapproval. "This mission's a suicide run, boss. Not worth the payout, no matter how big."Emerlda slammed the suitcases shut, the metallic clang echoing through the warehouse. The weight of the money felt heavy in her hand, a stark contrast to the emptiness in her eyes."Money's just one part of the deal, Luther," she said, her voice cold. "I want a cut of the Gotham drug market. Burns won't be the only one hurting after tonight."A flicker of surprise crossed Luther's face, quickly replaced by a strained smile. "A bold request, Master Borstov," he conceded. "But a fair one, considering the circumstances."He paused, his gaze flickering to the photo of the young man – Leo. "There's one more condition," he said hesitantly. "I need him back… tomorrow night. It's Leo's birthday."Daniel sputtered, disbelief coloring his voice. "Boss, you can't possibly…!"Emerlda silenced him with a steely glare. "I have my hands full, Daniel," she rasped, her voice devoid of emotion. "But maybe seeing a bunch of old geezers on their birthdays isn't the worst thing in the world."Luther sighed, relief tinged with a hint of unease washing over his features. "We have a deal then," he said, extending his hand. "But remember, Master Borstov, this partnership benefits us both. Double-cross me, and the consequences will be dire."Emerlda grasped his hand, a cold smile twisting her lips. "Don't worry, Luther," she purred. "I wouldn't want to disappoint Anya on her son's birthday. Tell her… Emerlda sends her regards."As Luther handed her a worn leather briefcase, its contents a mix of blueprints, keycards, and files on Leo, a flicker of something akin to a memory flickered in Emerlda's eyes. Suppressing it with a ruthless efficiency, she turned towards Daniel."You heard me," she said, her voice cold. "Get me ten of your best men. We have a prison to break into… and a birthday party to crash."Luther's men shuffled in, a motley crew of hardened criminals with faces etched with violence. They hefted heavy duffel bags, the metallic clinking echoing in the warehouse. Emerlda eyed the money suitcases with a calculating glint, a flicker of something akin to satisfaction crossing her features for a fleeting moment."Alright, Daniel," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "Seems you've got a new babysitting gig."Daniel shot her a look of concern, a silent plea etched on his face. "Boss," he began, his voice tight, "you are the only family I have left in this crazy life. We can walk away from this. The damage isn't permanent. We can rebuild what we lost. It's not too late to break the deal."Emerlda's lips curved into a humorless smile, a stark contrast to the cold glint in her eyes. She flexed her cybernetic arm, the metallic whirring a chilling counterpoint to her words. The hidden blade snapped into place, a deadly extension of her will."Daniel," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "sweetheart, I haven't survived this long by being average. I appreciate the concern, truly. But let's look at the bright side, shall we?"She gestured towards the suitcases. "Get Leo back alive, and not only will I recoup today's… setbacks, but we can finally focus on my mission. Maybe even a vacation afterwards. How does that sound?"Daniel knew better than to argue. Emerlda, once he might have called her a friend, was a force of nature now, a whirlwind of vengeance fueled by a past he dared not pry into. He sighed, a weary acceptance settling on his features."Just remind me again," he muttered, eyeing the suitcases with a mixture of apprehension and morbid fascination, "never to get on your psycho ass's bad side."A genuine laugh erupted from Emerlda, a rare sound that startled even Daniel. It was a chilling sound, devoid of mirth, but a laugh nonetheless.One of Luther's men, a hulking brute with a shaved head and a cybernetic eye, cleared his throat, his voice a gravelly rasp."Alright chuckleheads," he rumbled, gesturing towards the highlighted sections on the map Luther had provided. "Let's get this prison breakin' party started. Just remember, lady boss likes things quiet and efficient. Got it?"Emerlda met his gaze, a steely glint in her eyes. "Quiet and efficient," she echoed, her voice laced with a dangerous promise. "And fast. Let's not keep Luther's precious son waiting for his birthday bash, shall we?"