Axel kicked the door open, submachine gun ready.
Inside, three men sprawled on the floor, struggling for life.
As Axel delivered precise finishing shots, he noticed a door along the restroom wall closing hurriedly, while a trapdoor in the floor was being forced open.
Half a man emerged from the trapdoor, gun raised as he froze under Axel's gaze.
"Damn it, don't push me! I'm going to die!" he screamed.
Da da da!
Axel fired casually, the man crumpling into the underground passage.
But two grenades were flung from below.
Axel turned instinctively to dodge, but the grenades exploded, slapping his face with fire and shredding fragments that embedded in his body.
His suit tore under the shrapnel, blood soaking through several holes.
"Holy f***… that hurts like hell!" Axel gritted his teeth, laughing through the pain.
Shrapnel was far worse than bullets.
Bloody but undeterred, he scrambled toward the trapdoor.
A hand reached out, firing wildly.
A bullet lodged in his calf, but Axel blocked the trapdoor from closing with his backpack and tossed a grenade into the opening.
Boom!
The explosion muffled the rest of the room.
Five or six gunmen rushed in, spraying him with bullets.
Axel, bleeding but unyielding, pushed open the trapdoor, grabbing its edge and plunging into the underground passage.
Gravity slammed him into the depths below.
"Ugh ah!"
Above, the Russians cheered, convinced he was finished.
"He's done for!"
"Kill him!"
"Why only one guy?!"
The gunmen concentrated fire, but Axel pulled his submachine gun from his bag and emptied a clip.
He didn't care who fell.
Moments later, Axel emerged in a spacious hall, submachine gun in hand.
Gasps erupted.
"It's a robber!"
"When did he get here?"
"Security guards! Stop him!"
Amid the chaos, Axel rolled his eyes at the rushing guards.
"Guess I'm unlucky, Buddy, ending up in a bank."
Bullets tore into his chest as the firefight escalated.
Axel exhaled sharply, then realized he wasn't in the bank after all—he was in the backseat of a car.
The bald man beside him… instinctively, Axel pressed his gun against him.
The man's pistol aimed at Axel's head.
The cold steel pressed against his temple made Axel chuckle.
"Victor Zsasz! Funny coincidence—landed in your car."
Glancing out the window at the familiar Gotham skyline, Axel grinned.
"Even more fun, are we both headed to Dimitrov's territory? Sorry, I already had my fun there. Their gunmen are enthusiastic little fools."
Axel retracted his gun and casually draped an arm over Victor's shoulder.
Victor's face twitched but he didn't fire.
Falcone's old hand, Zsasz, knew better than to oppose orders.
He suppressed the urge, reholstered his pistol, and said:
"Axel, don't pretend it's an accident. You deliberately came to warn me! What kind of accident lands you in my car? You're reminding me not to compete for Yuri Dimitrov!"
He gestured to a bewildered gunman beside Axel.
"Take another car. Let Axel and I catch up."
The subordinate obeyed without question.
Axel moved closer to Zsasz and patted his arm.
"Thanks, Buddy. Three people in the backseat is tight, but manageable."
"Stop joking. Tell me your plan. You didn't just come to mess with me!"
Victor pushed Axel's hand away.
Axel smiled, reloading his submachine gun.
"Relax. It's all a coincidence. Dimitrov's territory doesn't interest me… well, maybe a little. I just want to take Yuri's head myself."
"Is that why you sought me out?" Victor asked, eyeing the gun.
"And you're threatening me with an unloaded gun!"
"That's because I want you alive, Victor Zsasz," Axel said with mock sincerity.
"You know, before hitting the Dimitrov Family, I talked about you with Liv. You're the most admirable guy in Gotham. Don't believe me? Ask her—maybe she filmed me praising you.
I used an empty gun because I didn't want to accidentally blow your brains out. Falcone will grow old, but I'm still young. I want you to see him age, then decide whether you'll follow me, Zas."
Axel slid a loaded magazine back into the submachine gun, cocked it smoothly, and pressed the barrel against Victor's chest.
"Now, your choice: me or death. One chance, Zas. Be rational."
_____
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