(Maryland Casualty Auditorium)

John's footfalls sound out dully on the wet asphalt as he runs for the end of the roof - seeing nothing as he approaches. Reaching the edge, he steps up onto the stone ledge running the perimeter of the roof (a couple feet wide and about a foot higher than the roof proper) and carefully checks over the edge, looking down to the turnabout several stories below. He doesn't see anything remarkable - just stone and rain, receding toward the ground.

Rhiannon actually sees movement before John does. He turns back to signal Rhiannon, and a shadow slips up over the edge to rise just behind him. With a shout, Rhiannon trains her weapon on the indistinct figure and fires - somewhat concerned about hitting John accidentally, but fairly certain that she can at least avoid doing that.

The shot goes a bit wide (largely due to poor visibility), but John gets the message quickly enough. He leaps forward and spins to face his presumed assailant, hearing some kind of blade hiss through the air behind him as he evades. His shoes scrape across the asphalt as he does his about face and brings up his cane in an en guard stance - coming face to face with the man from downstairs.

A black overcoat drapes the man, hanging open over a pale suit of rather nice cut (though all is soaked through and marked with soot and oil from his clamber across the outside of the building). His face and build defy description - John just can't seem to measure them up, his mind skittering away from any such categorization.

No gun is visible (but could easily be somewhere under that coat), so the only weapon of note is a five-inch stiletto in his right fist. He casts his gaze beyond John, half-crouching and attempting to maneuver to keep John between him and Rhiannon and King.

"Doubt it. Only thing under here is likely the beach or the water. But there still might be a way out. How do you wanna do this? He's either trapped in there waitin' for us, or he might've already slipped out in the confusion." Blaine unhooks the drum from the Tommy Gun and examines the remaining rounds.

"I know which way I prefer..."

He slams the clip back on and croons in a quiet sing-song voice. "Tommy boy...oh Tommy boy..."

"Goddess curse you!" Rhiannon hisses, flicking the fingers of her left hand at the Monk in a cursing gesture before bringing up her gun and firing at him, trusting in John's natural dexterity to keep him away from bullets.

John glares darkly at the Monk, booming,

"You have made a grevious error, foolish man. Your life may well be forfeit. Unfortunately for you it is too late to turn back, much too late"

As he is speaking, John slowly moves around the Monk in an attempt to give Rhiannon or King a clear shot. On his last word, John sweeps the cane low, trying to get the Monk's feet out from under him.

"I may be battered and bleeding but I can lend some support from behind cover if you gents plan on charging in there. Either way I'm going to need a doctor fairly soon."

"Jameson, you are bleeding to death. Get in the car and we will be with you directly."

"Locky, you can cover us. Blaine, you and I will move up on the door. I will go through first and you shoot anything in there that isn't me, okay?"

Blaine nods his agreement as he continues to sing.

"Oh Tommy boy..."

(Maryland Casualty Auditorium)

The Monk moves toward John in just a couple long paces as Rhiannon's gun barks out and Tony's heavier weapon booms out a deeper counterpoint. The man is dangerously quick, easily leading the bullets and vaulting John's cane with a quick skip in his stride.

Almost too quickly to be met, the Monk is right up in front of John - his bland, indescribable face showing no particular interest in the proceedings. The stiletto thrusts forward without warning, seeking a place to slip between John's ribs. Twisting, John tries to step away, bringing up the handle of his cane to strike aside the bloodthirsty blade.

The Monk keeps up the pressure, crowding under John's reach and harrying him with the small, light blade. They are several paces away from the edge of the roof, now, and the Monk has managed to keep close in John's shadow - successfully using John as a shield against Rhiannon and Tony.

Tony snaps off a shot but misses the target, forced to aim conservatively in order to avoid hitting John ... and it is good that he is. Just a single stray bullet could easily shake John enough to cause him to fall prey to the Monk and his blade.

Jameson takes up a position behind the car leaning his weaight on the hood and using the car's mass as a shield. His guns sit pointed at the the office in his rock steady grip.

"Ready when you are guys, try not to get shot up?"

With Blaine in tow, Janos approaches the door. He holds up three fingers then closes his fist. Sword out, Janos holds up one finger(takes a half-step back), two fingers (shoulder forward and steps forward), then three fingers (another step and he shoulders the door as hard as he can.

Locky hides behind a crate near the door - intent on making sure he's ready for anything that happens.

(Stadler Beef, Inc.)

Janos hits the door powerfully, and the gummed up latch gives way completely before the force of the impact. The door slams open, swinging loosely on its hinges ... and then, things go awry.

Following through into the room, Janos sees the foreman's office - the space dimly lit by light filtering through the blinds from the main floor. Immediately across the room, a door hangs open. The dark doorway leads further into the old meat processing plant, but that is not foremost in Janos' mind.

Of greater importance is the foreman's desk, which has been turned on its side to form a makeshift barrier out of the heavy, wooden piece of furniture. Two people stand behind it - a man and a woman, both in trench coats and both wielding Tommy guns already trained on the doorway.

Janos leaps backwards, taking some small protection from the frame of the door as both Thompsons open up, their roar almost concussive in the small office. The woman unloads on Janos, specifically - her careless spray filling the air around him with humming bullets. The man strafes the doorway and the windows facing onto the operating floor. The windows shatter, spraying glass and lead out and into the main room.

Janos feels himself hit by several of the flying rounds, his armored clothing partially shielding him, but ultimately shredding under the fire. Shock blanks out any specifics, but military training sends him instinctively seeking cover, jerking himself fully out of the office and around the corner of the doorway.

A neighboring wall providing shelter, and a moment's reflection shows that he is really in very bad shape. He can feel too much blood trickling down his chest and leg, he seems to be having trouble standing, and a wet feeling in his cough seems to indicate that he took at least one round in a lung.

[5L damage to Janos]

Blaine, a few steps away, braves the strafing Thompson almost entirely unharmed - a single bullet clipping his shoulder, tearing open his sleeve and taking a small chunk out of his arm. As the windows and blinds disintegrate, he catches glimpses of a pair of people inside. They're half behind some kind of cover and probably running their Thompsons dry, judging by how much lead they're pumping out.

[1L damage to Blaine]

Locky sees much the same thing from his vantage point, snatching a quick glance through the doorway before ducking back under cover. All the way across the room, Jameson can't make much out. He can see movement in the office (and, of course, notes the automatic fire raking out from within), but he can't make out clear targets.

"Go to the car he says, your bleeding to deat he says. Now whose looking like a piece of swicc cheese in marinara? OK Jameson you've pulled crzier stuff than this before, the only difference is that your friend's lives are on the line. Time to step up or shut up." Jameson mutters to himself as he sets up for what by all rights is a shot he shouldn't be capable of making.

Aiming carefully as possible at the source of the weapons muzzle flashes, Jameson snaps off a shot from each revolver, praying that he's lucky enough to at least hit something.

Defying logic, no, defying sheer sanity, Blaine ignores the fresh wound he just took and steps full into the doorway after seeing Janos go down.

"Oh Tommy boy! Your mama she loves ya'
But she won't be home for supper."

"She's workin' in fact'ries for Lincoln.
"Sweats and toils for Lincoln!"

He croons at the top of his voice, his eyes glazed over with some otherworldly state almost. And then he releases the thunder of the Tommy gun, spraying both enemies with lead, a ceaseless stream of hot lead.

"Oh fuck!" Rhiannon snarls, her face full of fury. She leaps off her perch and runs in the direction of the Monk, leaping at him in order to tackle him.

Janos slumps back against the wall and slides down it slowly. His blood paints the wall as he falls. He looks over at Blaine, smiling weakly. His fist tightens on his sword, but when he tries to speak, he ends up spitting blood instead. Janos' eyes are dialating and becoming unfocused.

Locky sees Janos fall to the ground.

"Count Rakozi!" he yells. As he gets no answer, he sprints to Janos. Pulling with all his might, he grabs Janos and pulls him back behind the wall, to something resembling safety.

(Stadler Beef, Inc.)

The office door, hitting the end of it's arc, swings back to slam against its frame, hanging loose on its hinges but at least partially shielding Locky and Janos as they get clear. Across the room, Jameson steadies his aim - putting distractions aside to take a pair of shots at the two guns in the office. He can't see them, but he can see their muzzle flashes ... and that's enough.

Blaine avoids the window, giving Jameson room to work as he walks up to the doorway and kicks open the loosely hanging door. The man and woman inside are already dropping behind the cover of their overturned desk (Blaine sees that at least one of them is tagged up by Jameson). The man, however, doesn't make it - setting his foot down on something behind the desk, falling sideways, and landing out in the open beside the desk.

Blaine's spray of bullets chews them up, catching the woman as she falls behind full cover, punching through the desk's top, and worrying through the wood around the edges. She drops out of sight, so it isn't possible to tell exactly how badly she was injured. The man, however, is done for - his exposed position leaving him entirely open to fire. By the time Blaine runs out of bullets, his own mother wouldn't be able to recognize him.

Despite having an empty gun, Blaine approaches the desk, still holding his gun like it means something. The bluff isn't necessary, though - the woman is laying on her back behind the desk, riddled with bullets. She is alive, but only barely, staring at the ceiling in a state of shock as the blood pooling on her chest bubbles in time with her ragged breathing.

There isn't anyone else here - just a few pre-loaded drum clips for the guards' Thompsons. Across the room from the entrace, a dark doorway gives way further into the meat processing plant. Blaine quickly and carefully checks through this door, but only sees a dark hallway heading off toward the back of the plant.

"You have made a grave mistake, foolish man. We will see to it that you do not make another."

John hops back swiftly, swinging the cane again, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

(Maryland Casualty Auditorium)

The Monk takes two swift steps back, first narrowly avoiding John's strike, then easily sidestepping Rhiannon's charge. John's sweeping cane passes within inches of the Monk's stomach, tearing a strip of cloth out of his fluttering overcoat. Rhiannon doesn't come nearly as close. The Monk slips out of her way just before she catches ahold him, and - thrown off balance - she stumbles between him and John.

The Monk darts forward and catches Rhiannon by the shoulder with his free arm, abruptly pulling her toward him. His other hand moves up, and the stiletto bites into her side - sliding smoothly between a pair of ribs just below her right armpit. His free arm snakes around her throat as he draws her into a more secure hold, and his other hand remains tightly clenched around the handle of his knife.

The blade is sharp and slender - enough that, at first, Rhiannon only feels it as a cold presence sliding smoothly into her side. She tries to break free, but the Monk handles her firmly, forcing her head up to stare immobily at the leaden sky and swinging her around in a half turn to use as a human shield against Tony. His expression as bland as ever, the Monk casts an eye on John and informs him in a surprisingly resonate voice:

"Stand back. This can get much worse for your lady friend here."

He punctuates his words with an expert twist of his wrist. Now Rhiannon feels the blade. Sudden, sharp pain explodes in her side and chest, giving way to a steady, agonizing throb. She can't keep back a pained gasp, which turns into a short burst of wet coughing - flecks of blood decorating her lips as she regains control of herself.

[4L damage to Rhiannon]

Jameson slumps a bit and groans, "Blaine please tell me that that psychotic didn't get away. Not that it matters we are in no condition to give chanse if he did ... Kid, how's Janos doing?"

Jameson leans heavily on the car for support and holsters his weapons. He begins to tear strips of cloth from his overcoat and wrap them around his wounds.

Janos' eyes follow Blaine as he enters the office. He then looks up at Locky.
In a hoarse whisper, "Herr McKenzie, I believe the absence of shooting means our job is done. Would you (cough) please help me to the car. We should depart before men arrive wanting some unpleasant (cough) questions answered."

Rhiannon coughs again, eyes wide with agony. "Oh Goddess..." she rasps between coughs. "Son of a whore!"

She fights the pain and Monk as she struggles, attempting to distract the assassin long enough for King or John to finish him off. "For the Goddess' sake, forget about me and finish the bastard! I don't want to go to the Otherworld alone!"

Her green eyes are wide and pleading, not for mercy, but for vengeance as she drives her free elbow into the Monk's side.

John lets a few smoke bomb fall.

He drops into a roll through the smoke, fading away as he runs full tilt toward the Monk, a snarl on his lips. Spinning as he passes the Monk, he whips his cane out at the man.

"Yes sir, Count Rakozi," Locky says, as he drags Janos to the car. He calls out to Blaine "Is it clear in there?"

Blaine lets out a long sigh, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He leans on the desk riddled with bullets for support. "The blood of Christ washes away my sins, Amen." he whispers. He steps around the desk and takes a knee next to the dying woman.

"Yeah kid. Fight's over. It's all clear. Get 'em outta here, be with you in a few." He says loud enough to be heard over the creak and crumble of bullet ridden walls and windows.

"OK, listen up." he says to the woman. "You got hit by what looks like half dozen bullets, some in the chest. That's why you're coughin' up blood now and can't get a decent breath. I ain't gonna lie to you. I seen too many people in your condition, you ain't gonna make it. Only thing between you and the Almighty now is you. Let it go sweetie. Tell me where to find Crazy 8, give up Carlos Sapetti. Give him up. You don't owe him nothin' now. Tell me where I can find him, before he does a lot worse to a lot more people. You know he ain't right. You know he couldn't care less about you bein' loyal. He threw you in my way to buy some time, 'cause he's too much of a chickenshit to face me himself. Tell me where to find him. Don't go to face the Lord with this on your soul. Do some good before you check out. C'mon, whisper it to me." there seems genuine kindness and compassion in Blaine's expression and voice now. He wipes the blood off his mouth with the back of one hand, and takes her hand in his other as he leans in to her to try and make out what she has to say.

Jameson finishes his makesift bandages and begins tearing additional strips off of his coat. "Locky we should bind Janos' wounds so he doesn't bleed out before we get to a doctor."

He helps Locky as much as he can but is in bas shape himself. Finally they get Janos mostly bandaged and into the car, "Blaine, time to go," he calls out from the back of the car.

"Thank you, both of you."

Looking over at his manservant,
"Jozef, please go and make sure Blaine is not left alone. I am afraid I can't carry on."
Janos' voice is weak, but his eyes return to a sharp edge.

(Maryland Casualty Auditorium)

The Monk easily handles Rhiannon, twisting her away from leverage as she attempts to elbow him. While the Monk is distracted, John drops his smoke bombs - his skill at sleight of hand sufficient that it looks as if the thick, white smoke is boiling up from nowhere, quickly generating a screen between the two men.

Turning to again interpose Rhiannon between himself and King, the Monk peers into the smoke and awaits John's inevitable emergence. However, he sees nothing, since John slips out of the fog with only a slight stir in the air as sign of his passage. John's strike comes quite out of nowhere, appearing on the Monk's flank with his cane already hissing through the air.

The Monk reacts with cat-like speed, releasing Rhiannon (leaving his blade buried in her side) and leaping away from John - his unbelievable speed once again letting him clear the threat. Now on open ground, he breaks into an erratic series of darting movements, circling Rhiannon and John while trying to keep Tony from getting a bead on him.

Perhaps he underestimated Tony's eye, since three shots ring out dully almost as soon as he breaks away from Rhiannon. The first seems to hit, and the Monk flinches before dropping into a roll. Two more bullets pock the ground around him but miss as he rolls away and reflexively regains his feet.

When he comes up, he is standing not far from the cloud of smoke left behind by John. The smoke is beginning to break apart - beaten down by the rain and shredded at by the wind whistling across the broad, flat roof. However, John's grenades still have a little life left in them, and the core of the cloud remains intact. Almost as an afterthought, the Monk sidesteps into the cloud and is momentarily occluded by the white smoke.

(Stadler Beef, Inc.)

Locky and Jameson bandage up Janos, attempting to follow Janos' own pained instructions until Jozsef pushes them aside and takes over. Jozsef is by no means an expert, but he picked up a few things from the war. The end result of his ministrations is crude, but serviceable - at least sufficient to prevent Janos from bleeding out. Jozsef resists Janos' order, telling him in Hungarian:

"You are too badly injured - enough that if something happens, you won't be able to defend yourself properly. I should stay here."

Since Amurra's death, Jozsef has been rather protective, and he is disinclined to risk another such failure. He isn't unswayable, though, and Janos convinces him to go picking his way across the operating floor toward the office, where Blaine is still lingering.

At the office, Blaine looks into the woman's face, seeing her eyes begin to glaze over as her breathing gets more and more shallow. She manages to focus on his features in turn, and apparently gives in to him. Her eyes go to the other door - the one leading deeper into the plant. Taking as much of a breath as she can, she whispers back to him, her voice harsh and broken by the harm done to her lungs.

"Ah don' ... know whe' he goin' ... now. Still here ... prob'ly. Was lookin' ... lookin' for a way out. Out the back. But ... there in't one. Ah checked ... myself. All ... closed up. 'S ... why me 'n Harry ... why we stayed here."

Her gaze drifts, settling on her partner's body after a few false starts. She whispers something short and undecipherable, and a weak spasm shakes her body - probably what would've been coughing if she were still strong enough for that. Her gaze is pretty glassy at this point, and she probably isn't going to last much longer.

Rhiannon immediately drops to the ground, swearing and coughing weakly. "Sodding bastard..." she whispers, clutching her side and curling into a fetal ball, "Get 'im... please..."

"Blaine time to go."

Blaine dimly hears, as the girl starts to sputter and falter in her breathing. He nods grimly at her answer and places her hands over her heart. "You done good kid." he whispers and then stands up with a slight grunt. He checks his Tommy gun, and then reloads it with a fresh drum he pulls off the desk.

"Get em outta here kid. Me and Crazy 8 got to finish this dance. Call the cops, get 'em over here. I'll be out in a bit."

He heads for the door that she pointed to and gets to the side. He sneaks a quick furtive look through one of the bullet holes, wincing as the fast motion aggrivates his wounds.

John keeps his eyes peeled at the area of the cloud, a cold grimace across his face, cane at the ready.

"We will."

Jozef hobbles into the office and looks over into Blaine's eyes.

"We are not leaving then, no?" he asks in a heavily accented English.
Before Blaine can answer, Jozef limps over to the man and takes his Thompson. He shoulders his Mauser and checks the Thompson expertly. He pulls off the drum and drops it on the dead man's body. He puts a fresh drum in and pulls the hammer back, readying the weapon. He takes another drum and puts it in his rucksack.

He turns and looks at Blaine.
"My Master is bleeding to death, but he will not leave without you. Let us kill this pig so we can go."

Jameson sees Jozef and Blaine readying for battle and groans. Heaving himself out of the car he retrieves his rifle and checks the internal magazine. Loading fresh rounds into the weapon Jameson leans heavily on the car for support. He sets up using the car as both cover and a firing platform to steady his aim which due to his injuries and fatigue has started to fail him.

(Maryland Casualty Auditorium)

The smoke grenades finally run dry, and the core of the cloud begins to break up - shredded by the stiff wind and persistent rain. The Monk is not there.

Locky calls to Jameson "Jameson! You don't got time for this! We gotta get you and Count Rakozi to see a doctor someone before you bleed out! I'll drive you down, but ya gotta get in now!"

Blaine sighs and turns to Jozef. 'How many have to get hurt, how many die?' he thinks to himself. 'Because I didn't cap this clown the last time.' He could see there was no arguing with him, and he wasn't in a mood to try.

"OK Joe. Let me get a look, and then we'll do this. Cover me when I say go, OK?"

He turns back to the many bullet holes and tries to get a sneak peak down the hall.

(Stadler Beef, Inc.)

Both Jameson and Janos are holding up reasonably well, though Janos is feeling the full weight of his wounds and Jameson is only barely keeping it together. Neither is likely to die from their wounds, though eventual medical assistance will be needed to stave off infection. Jameson is, for the moment, covering the office as best he can - relying heavily on the near-reflexive control imbued by a decade and a half of training.

The door out of the office and into the back hall hangs open, opening into the hall, rather than the office. The hall itself is dark, illuminated mainly by the light filtering through the dim office from the main floor. It reaches out toward the back of the building, but it is by no means long enough to reach the outer wall.

A half dozen doors line the hall (including one at the very end), and one of those on the left wall is partially open - hanging loose on its hinges. The room or hall on the other side of that door must be dimly lit, to judge by the faint light spilling across the floor from the half-open doorway.

There is no sign of Crazy 8 - neither sound nor clue to his passing. A faint draft of chill air wafts past Blaine and Jozsef and into the office.

Jozef nods to Blaine then limps cautiously off perpendicular to Blaine's movement. Once he finds a piece of cover that gives him a good vantage point, he hunkers in and waits.