ąųdįţǫŗę (mentori) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-06-12 10:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, dan smith, ezio auditore da firenze |
Who: Dan & Ezio
What: A hit on the hitman; Armand Heinz finds Dan. And shoots him~
When: Early this morning
Where: Mostly Ezio's place
Rating/Warnings: High for violence, injuries/blood, NPC death
Status: Complete
Wind off the Pacific Ocean had brought an unseasonable chill to the air that evening. The hitman from Chicago loved it. The weather in California was beautiful and warm, but it was dull. Same thing every day. Paradise was all well and good, but a little variety went a long way. Armand Heinz had been shadowing Dan Smith for a couple of weeks. When he’d first arrived, Heinz had believed that maybe wedded bliss had made him soft and sloppy. He found the exact opposite to be true. The marriage arrangement between Smith and his wife was unorthodox to say the least and Smith seemed to be in the prime of his career. Heinz had first planned on ambushing the man in his own bar, but that was quickly thwarted when Heinz did his first recon. The apartments on the second floor were also out. The way that damn floor creaked, a cockroach wouldn’t have been able to sneak across it. This was likely done on purpose, Heinz surmised. Smith was also particular about not sticking to any kind of schedule. Where he was and what he was doing differed vastly from one day to the next. From one hour to the next. It was annoying. But Smith was only human and humans had weaknesses and Dan Smith’s was good alcohol and attractive women. The basest of all vices and the easiest to exploit. Heinz used some of the money for “business expenses” Victor had given him to book a high class call girl for a night. “I’m going to surprise my friend,” he told her with a devilish, but charming grin. “He’s had a rough go of it lately and could use a night of fun, if you know what I mean. Just pick him up, he’ll do the rest.” He gave the woman a little extra cash and told her to buy top shelf. If she went over budget, don’t worry, she’d be compensated. He gave her further instruction to pick Smith up at his bar and take him to a certain hotel and while they got their rocks off in one of the rooms, Heinz waited in the lobby. Dawn was threatening to break through inky darkness outside when Smith finally appeared coming out of the elevator, gait slightly stumbling, but body visibly relaxed. Good. Heinz watched Smith cross the lobby and stumble out into the night air before discarding the magazine he’d been glossing through and followed close behind. The air outside was fresh and cool and electric. What followed was a long time coming. -- Dan was drunk, there was no doubt about that, but he had enough situational awareness to realize the light haired man who had followed him out of the hotel was making the same left and right turns he was as he walked the deserted sidewalk towards the garage where his car was. Who was it, he wondered. A disgruntled boyfriend? Ex? Pimp? If they had waited around until this ungodly hour, whatever their intentions were, they couldn’t have been good. Dan sighed. What a shitty way to end an otherwise fantastic night. Whatever the intentions the light haired stranger had, they were about to get a very rude surprise. Dan made a show about of stepping into the nearest alley he could find, commenting to the wind that he had to piss. Once he was inside the alley and away from any streetlamps, he drew his weapon from its shoulder holster and waited. As he expected, the light haired man followed after. Dan drew a bead on the guy’s forehead and in that odd lilt of his announced “Y’ave been followin’ me. Either ye got a shitty parkin’ spot too, or yer lookin’ fer an easy target t’ roll.” He grinned and cocked the hammer back. “Either way, ye’ve got some real shit luck t’night.” To Dan’s surprise the light haired man didn’t flinch or balk at having a rather large gun pointed between his eyes. In fact, when the man spoke, he sounded downright amused. “Cocky as ever, I see. You don’t even recognize me, do you? I guess I can’t blame you. It’s been a long time, Sal.” That was a name Dan had not heard in a long time and had never expected to hear again. The combination of alcohol and surprise caused him to waver. “What did ye jus’ call me?” The grin in the other man’s voice was palpable. “I have a message for you from Victor Montoya.” “Victor--?!” In the light of the street lamp at the mouth of the alley, Dan saw the flash of a gun muzzle, but he caught it a fraction of a second too late. Immediately, the sound of a gun’s report echoed off the alley walls and hit Dan’s eardrums hard, as if to deafen him. But that was the least of his problems. His attempt to jump out of the way may have saved him from getting a bullet in the chest, but it had found a mark in the left side of his gut regardless. Pain as loud as the gun’s report screamed through Dan’s torso. There was no time to find cover, not that the alley provided anything decent. Dan didn’t waste his shot on his assailant. Instead he aimed for the streetlamp, dosing the alley in utter darkness. Dan’s only hope now was to get away. Knocking over trashcans to both block his path and cause enough incidental noise to hide his footsteps, Dan ran under the cover of darkness to the other end of the alley. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, blood was pumping out of the hole in his belly, but Dan did not stop until he thought he had put enough distance between himself and his assailant. Only now did Dan remember him. That hair. That voice. After all this time Victor Montoya had finally been able to track him down. The how, while a huge fucking question, was something he didn’t have time to worry about. Seeking momentary respite in the doorway of the long closed office of the garage, Dan took a second to decide what the fuck to do. He needed help, that much was obvious. Gamora, the woman who kept a gun in her cleavage, would have been his first choice. But as he listened to Heinz’s footsteps echoing off the garage walls and his taunting calls to “Come out, come out, wherever you are”, as if they were playing some kind of perverse game of Hide n’ Seek, Dan decided he didn’t have the time to call the alien assassin or wait for her to arrive. No, he had to get out of there. Ezio lived close by. Dan let out a shaky breath. He was loathed to drag the only other friend he had into this fucking mess, but he was painfully short on options. Ezio at least had some weapons at his disposal. Worst case scenario, Dan made a final stand holding something designed and crafted by Leonardo Da Vinci. Dan let out that shaky breath and summoned up what strength he had. He pushed two fingers into the hole in his gut and moved himself off the wall with a painful grunt. He just hoped Ezio wasn’t entertaining Elijah tonight. As it so happened, Ezio was alone. He hadn’t had Elijah over, mostly because he needed to concentrate on grading papers - something which he dove into, and something that took him awhile. He’d started in his office on campus and then just brought everything home with him, to be more comfortable while he read about his students’ take on gothic architecture. Some of it was very well done. Others...hmm. Not so much. He was up early, before the sun rose, in the kitchen preparing a pot of coffee - that was when his Eagle Sense prickled, hackles rising. More than that; it felt like he had been jolted with little electric needle points as he immediately abandoned the pursuit of caffeine and went to the door. Blood was what he smelled; not in the same way his vampire lover would, but more like - the Eagle Sense allowed him to detect the near-indistinguishable aroma of poisons lurking. To diagnose injuries. And he could tell right away someone had been shot. Ezio just did not expect it to be Dan, when he saw the man stumbling outside. A litany of swear words was his reaction. “What happened?? Come, come inside - “ He moved to help Dan into the house, though that feeling of unease did not dissipate. Someone else was out there. An enemy, Ezio could sense that too. Thank god Ezio was awake and Dan didn’t have to bang on his door to get his attention. “Sorry t’ bother ye this early, Ezio,” he managed to gasp out between labored gasps. Blood was pooling around the fingers in the hole and dripping down his palm to pool at his wrist. The wound, annoyingly, was not a clean through-and-through. When he moved, Dan could feel the bullet moving where it had nestled somewhere behind his ribs, hopefully not in anything important. It was going to have to be dealt with before Dan was able to do anything regarding the goddamn hitman after him. He groaned involuntarily when Ezio took hold of him to bring him inside. He didn’t really want to go into all the gory details, but his friend deserved some kind of explanation. “I got shot,” he explained as he staggered along. “So, yea, pretty shitty -- ugn -- Pretty shitty mornin’ awready.” He dragged in a ragged breath and noted it should not hurt this much to breathe. “Mind if I use yer bathroom?” He asked. “An’ some disinfectant, tweezers, gauze an’ maybe a needle an’ floss?” “That I can see,” Ezio responded darkly - because yes, it was obvious Dan had been riddled with a bullet. “You need a hospital, Danilo, but here...” He did his best to not jostle Dan too much as he brought the other man to the bathroom. Immediately, Ezio got him set up with the requested supplies - obviously it was not Dan’s first rodeo removing a bullet, and let’s just say Ezio was well-accustomed to treating injuries too. He’d dreamed of a different time period, a cruder time for doctors to be practicing medicine - but he visited them frequently, and paid them good money to heal his injuries. He also handed Dan a medicine vial, after uncorking it. “Take this too, it is a painkiller - something we used back in my Assassin days,” he insisted. Obviously, it would not heal him instantly but it would clear his head a little, enough so he could focus on treating what he could in the bathroom here. Ezio had received plenty with the rest of his weapons and goodies that went onto the belt of his armor. Now, regarding the other matter at hand. “Who followed you here? I will take care of them,” he moved to leave the bathroom, but not before hearing Dan’s response - though really, there was no way he would leave whomever did follow Dan still able to breathe. ”No!” Dan lashed out and grabbed Ezio hard by the wrist with the hand that had previously been trying to keep as much blood inside his body as possible. From where he sat at the edge of the tub, he looked up at his friend with hard set red-rimmed eyes set into dark circles. “This isn’t a part o’ the Dreams, Ezio. There is a real hitman out there, with a real gun ‘n with real orders t’ kill me. He will not have any problems with shooting ‘n killin’ you either.” That was the last thing Dan wanted. His bloody grip tightened around Ezio’s wrist. His wound didn’t let him pull the Italian back into the bathroom proper, but Dan refused to let go. He tasted blood in his mouth and it was becoming harder to draw a proper breath. “I don’ wan’ ‘im t’ ‘urt ya,” waning energy caused his lilt to become almost indiscernible. “I can’ let ‘at ‘appen.” Oh, is that so, a real gun? Ezio certainly hoped so. It would not be much fun if the enemy was carrying a water pistol. He smiled crookedly, carefully prying Dan’s fingers off of his wrist. “He will not hurt me,” the Assassin promised. “He would have to catch me first. Now, per l’amore di Dio, keep this towel - “ One was given to Dan, at the very least, something to sop up the blood, “...on your wound and take what’s in the vial I gave you. I will call the paramedics on the way out.” It wasn’t like that was a shoulder wound - a bullet in the torso could very well have hit organs, and the last thing Ezio wanted was for his closest friend to bleed to death internally. Or externally. Or to die at all. He was extremely curious as to why a hitman was after Dan though, but these questions could be asked later - not right now. True to his word, Ezio did call the paramedics on the way out. He also broke the back door, busted the lock rather nicely - may as well make it look like a home invasion gone wrong when the authorities got there. Eagle Sense would lead him to the aforementioned hitman, he knew that. He hadn’t had time to slip into his hooded robe, but he did grab his Hidden Blade - it was latched onto his arm in a flash, and he found that he was itching to use it for the first time in this world. How odd - like multiple something’s just clicked into place. He did not have to go far to track the target, so close to his home. It was dark, but the world around him lit up in a wash of crimson when the man he was after came into his sights. This man had a gun but Ezio was one with the shadows, a ghostly outline; he melted in so seamlessly, he traveled so stealthily, so silently, it was next to impossible to even hear him breathe. And he moved quickly - there went the Hidden Blade, thwick, on both sides. A dual mechanism, and he sliced into flesh as he breezed past - one minute not there, the next minute...he’d killed someone. Literally, all it took was a minute. Seconds, even. A quick and silent strike. The body hit the ground, the red in his vision fading away, and Ezio knew what he had to do. It was what he did each and every time he’d taken a life in his dreams, too. “Requiescant in pace,” he recited as he closed the man’s eyes. Rest in peace. Then he fled. Dan tried to stop Ezio, but the attempt made him take a tumble off the edge of the tub and onto the bathroom floor and by the time he was aware of himself again, Ezio was long gone. Dan remained where he was breathing liquidy breaths and fighting to summon the energy to move again. Finally he was able to push himself up into a sitting position, back against the tub and legs splayed out in front of him. He had that towel Ezio had handed to him and, yes, it was pressed against the wound. Dan frowned at it. Hope this isn’t one of his nice ones. He’d replace it, because that stain? It wasn’t going to come out. Ezio had better come back, Dan didn’t want to hang the replacement over a gravestone. Dan let out a breath that turned into a cough that sounded as though he was gargling water. He leaned his head back against the lip of the tub and closed his eyes. He kept seeing that grin on Ezio’s face. He will not hurt me. He would have to catch me first. Dan knew that grin. It was the same type of grin he got when he was on a job, when things got exciting, when they got violent. It was the grin of a killer, but not just any killer. A trained killer. A killer who took pride in the work he did. “Will wonders never cease,” Dan mumbled to the empty bathroom. They were going to have a few words, Dan and Ezio. But first, Dan felt as though he owed it to the Italian scholar to not die in his bathroom before they had the chance. Ezio had been right, this was not the first bullet wound Dan had ever treated. He’d done quick first aid on a partner back in the day while waiting for an EMT. He’d also patched up a through-and-through in his own leg after an early job had gone a bit sideways. Call it part of the learning curve. So, while Ezio was plying his trade as an assassin in the darkness of pre-dawn, Dan set to work on cleaning himself up. As if it were a shot of alcohol, he knocked back that vile that Ezio had insisted he take. He let the vile fall from his hand and waited for the medicine’s effects to set in. It didn’t take too terribly long, much quicker than any kind of painkiller Dan had taken in this world. When he was able, Dan removed the towel from his gut and pulled up his shirt to get a better look. Dan used the towel to clean the blood from his skin. The wound was deceivingly simple looking. Jamming his fingers into it to plug the bleeding had widened it a bit, but not dangerously so. Setting the towel aside, Dan reached for the bottle of disinfectant first, unscrewed the cap with his teeth and poured a liberal amount over the wound. He bit down hard to keep from screaming and forced the reaction out through the rest of his body: legs kicking, back twisting, fist clenching and pounding the floor and side of the tub in a fit. Fuuuck!!! He should have had Ezio get him something to bite down on. He let himself rest a few moments while he caught his breath again and willed himself not to pass out. Then Dan moved on to step number two: digging the bullet out. He reached for the tweezers and dunked them in the disinfectant as well. That was going to have to be sterile enough for the job. Step number two, however, was proving to be easier said than done. Dan’s hand was shaking too much to get the tweezers to do what he needed. He needed a steadier hand. So when Ezio returned, mission accomplished, he would find Dan still seated on the floor of his bathroom waiting. Merda, had he really returned before the EMT’s arrived? It appeared so, when Ezio got back to the house - well, perhaps that was good. Gave him a few extra seconds to knock over lamps, literally flip a table or two, add to the scene that was the staged break-in. Then he went to the bathroom, only to find Dan ashen and pale as a ghost - though it looked like he’d managed some work on treating his wound. Ezio would feel better once he saw a proper doctor, and they made sure that he hadn’t suffered any internal injuries, but this would do for now. “See, he did not hurt me,” he said as he knelt to take over where Dan left off. His hands were steady and he added more disinfectant to the tweezers just in case. The Hidden Blades were retracted, completely unable to be seen beneath the sleeves. Later, he’d clean the blood off. These blades had been soaked in a lot of blood - a lot of it washed off, though the stains did not fade from Ezio’s conscience so easily. In this case, however? He did not have much sympathy. “You’re going to be fine,” he murmured, to reassure both of them, as he worked on removing the bullet. “But for the future - is this something I should expect to happen often, Danilo?” Dan nodded weakly, but with a smirk. “Yea, I see,” he said, teeth beyond his lips stained with pink. “Yer tha real deal, Ezio. ‘M sorry I ever doubt’d ye.” Then Ezio was digging for the bullet. Dan felt the tweezers slid up under a rib in their search. This time he grabbed the towel to bite down on instead of screaming in Ezio’s ear, or twisting his body in such a way that would only have made the bullet hole larger or cause the tweezers to do more damage than good. He would be fine, yes, once a doctor got a hold of him. He’d probably be laid up for a couple of days, the bar was going to have to remain closed, but provided Dan didn’t die (and Ezio didn’t have to burn the bar down) it’d reopen soon enough. Death was not a thing Dan feared, but he was in no rush to meet it either. When there was a pause in the bullet retrieval so Dan could catch his breath, he looked up at Ezio. The question of whether or not he could expect this to happen often was a tactful way of asking what the fuck had happened. Dan grunted a painful chuckle. “I don’ wan’ it to,” he said. “But in my line o’ work things like this sometimes ‘appen.” He paused to draw in ragged liquidly breath. “This was a li’l dif’ren’ though. This was revenge fer sommat I did a while ago.” “Your line of work - which I take is not exactly related to just owning the bar, is it?” Ezio asked, and plink - there went the bullet, dropped into the sink (which was stopped up, he wouldn’t let it go down the drain. That would be a plumber’s nightmare). He applied more disinfectant to the wound on Dan and did his best to bandage him up for now; it was sufficient for the moment. It’s not like he was upset at not being told - mostly he was just curious, and hoped that the gaps could be filled in. “Mi dispiace,” he added a second later. “I can always badger you with questions when you are laid up in bed and unable to escape.” There was a twinkle in his eye at that - a little bit of it was a tease, but a good chunk of the statement? Completely serious. He was also certain that Dan wasn’t going to die. Ezio would help tend the bar for him in his absence, if his friend wanted - with summer vacation hovering, it wasn’t like he was gearing up to be extremely busy anyway. Dan’s head had lolled back again against the lip of the tub and his eyes had closed. Not having a bullet or a pair of tweezers in his body as a great relief. He opened one eye as he heard the bullet drop into the sink and roll around until it settled against the stopper. He thought he’d kind of want to keep that. Another middle finger to Victor Montoya and his fuck-ass son. Dan grunted. “I’m not goin’ anywhere right now,” he said tiredly. Ezio was a smart man and Dan figured he’d have a lot of questions for him. And honestly, Dan didn’t mind answering them. He figured Ezio more than deserved a straight response. Plus, there was some truth to what Gamora had told him not long ago about having at least one other person know. Dan tried to lift his hand to make a go-on sort of gesture, but instead his hand merely flopped onto his thigh. “Ask ‘way.” They did not have a ton of time, and Ezio had many questions - but the good thing about it was that he had put two and two together relatively easily here. So he would stick with some of the most important facts. “‘Nothing is true, everything is permitted,’” he stated. “It is our creed - our Assassin’s creed. One of our greatest Assassins would say that the creed did not command us to be free, but to be wise. You are an Assassin too?” Obviously not of the same order - but he felt like if there was a Brotherhood here, their own chapter, Dan would understand the creed and what it meant. He would understand that they all must live with the consequences of their actions, whether glorious or tragic or somewhere in between. It was not a simple profession, was the point. “How long have you been in this?” Dan understood that creed very well. He was currently living it as a matter of fact. But he never would have described what it was he did in such romantic terms. “Assassin might be a bit too generous a thing t’ say ‘bout me, but, yeah, I kill, when I hafta. I’m also a spy, a thief, a saboteur, a blackmailer, an extortionist, wha’ever my clients need or wan’ me t’ be.” He paused to drag in another liquidy sounding breath. “I’ve been doin’ this fer a few years now. Long ‘fore I wound up ‘ere.” He was quiet a moment, watching the edges of is vision blur and grey. “That guy out there, ‘e was sent by the Montoya Crime Fam’ly in Chicago. I killed their son. Their son killed my da. That’s ‘ow I got started. I didn’ set out t’ be a vigilante or anythin’. I was a cop. My da was a cop. There was no justice fer either o’ us. I ‘ad t’ make my own. So I did. An’ I foun’ I was good at it, so…” another attempt at a vague gesture resulted in his hand just kind of flopping. There was a banging on the door to Ezio’s home, making Dan suck in a tight breath and lurch forward a little. He grasped at Ezio’s arm. “What’d ye do wit’ the body?” He gasped. “I understand,” Ezio said quietly, and he did - he truly did. “No justice for my family - that was how I got started too.” Then he closed his mouth when he heard the banging on the door, quite loud in the dawn of a new day. Well, this one had certainly been interesting to start with. He patted Dan’s hand, not wanting him to worry, as he rose to go meet the new arrivals - undoubtedly actual medical help, thank the fucking saints. “Ditch,” he said; oh, of course, where else would a dead body be? There were plenty of decent ones around here, behind houses, to stuff a corpse into as well. Helpful that the man sent from Chicago had been prowling around in the dark, obviously not expecting to be discovered. Ezio would spend more time on a tidier disposal later, but eventually what happened would reach the ears of the Montoya family. How delightful that would be, when they found out about it. “Now we must get you to a doctor, mio amico,” he insisted. “And I promise - no matter what happens with this Family, I am on your side.” The banging on Ezio’s front door was becoming insistent, now accompanied by muffled shouts stating the paramedics were outside. Convinced that they were not Heinz, somehow back from the dead, Dan released Ezio’s arm and sagged back against the tub. He wasn’t going to worry. He trusted Ezio knew what he was doing, so he left the issue of body disposal -- or discovery -- in the Italian Assassin’s capable hands. Dan owed his friend a huge debt. He and Ezio may not have been a part of the same Order, Dan may not belong to any Order, but he believed Ezio when he said he was on his side. Before finally passing out Dan gave him a smile. “Thank ye, Ezio.” |