alexthewyvern

[alexthewyvern]

The Escape - Mafia AU

@justanotherpersonsuniverse

Hello, Captain. This is something I started a while ago, but just recently got back to finishing. I do hope you enjoy it. Some violence, nothing worse than stuff you've written, in my opinion. Also this is my first post on Tumblr, I hope it works.

“Sabrina, are you certain that this is the correct way?” Chloé questioned, taking in the dimly lit surroundings that circled where the duo had stopped, grip tightening on the bag that contained what little of both her and Sabrina’s clothes that she could fit. She turned to face her companion, the redhead’s eyes moving quickly to read the information cast upon her lenses.

“All information I can find regarding the location of ‘The Garden’ suggests that the entrance is this way, Miss Chloé,” the teen responded. “Shall we continue onward?” Chloé nodded, taking in the filthy surroundings as she and her companion set off. 

Their footsteps echoed off the walls of the closely packed buildings around them, the howling of wind accompanying the sound of their steps. They walked quickly through the streets of one of the Parisian civilian districts, the occasional turn away from dead-ends breaking the monotony of straight paths. As they walked, Chloé did her best to memorize the streets for future reference.

As the pair reached another turn in their path, the wind brought along the sounds of harsh laughter and the smell of alcohol. The blonde reached out to her companion, bringing the redhead to a stop. “Do you need something, Miss Chloé?” Sabrina asked after turning around. 

Chloé stared down the road for a moment, taking note of the alleyway where the sounds of multiple people were likely coming from. “Is there a different path we could take? I don’t like this,” Chloé commented. Sabrina paused, information once again flooding the lenses of her glasses.

“There are other routes available, Miss Chloé. However, this path is the most direct by far, and thus takes a much shorter time to navigate,” Sabrina responded. The blonde again regarded the sounds of the group, mulling over their options.

“Fine, we continue on this path,” Chloé decided, letting go of Sabrina. They set off again down the street, Chloé watching the alleyway. The sound of footsteps and deep voices approaching the end made Chloé rethink her decision, a glass shattering against the wall of a building making her jump, heart rate spiking. “Stop,” she quietly commanded, making Sabrina freeze in place. Chloé was frozen as well, focused entirely on the alley entrance.

Out of the alleyway walked a trio of men, laughing at something one of them had said. Over each of their shoulders was a strap, the barrels of slug throwing rifles attached to them barely visible against the dim light of the street lamps. Spare magazines sat in the front pockets lining their combat vests. The men turned away from Chloé and Sabrina, allowing Chloé to see various holsters attached to belts.

As the men started walking down the street, Chloé let out the breath she’d been holding. “Come here,” she ordered. The girl turned to Chloé, following the command.

“Is something wrong, Mphh-” Sabrina’s question was cut off by Chloé rushing forward to press a hand over her mouth. But the damage was done. Chloé snapped her head down the street in time to see the three men turning their bodies around, reaching for their rifles.

“Well, well, boys, whadda we got here? A couple o’ broads wanderin’ the streets late at night,” the largest man commented. He was silent for a moment, the dim light just enough for Chloé to see his eyes washing over her and Sabrina. “And they ain’t even packin’. Lookin’ for a bit o’ fun, ladies?” The shoulders of the men relaxed slightly, but their hands remained firmly on rifles. 

“We aren’t looking for anything,” Chloé responded, forcing confidence into her voice as she pulled Sabrina closer towards her. “Hold onto me,” Chloé whispered. The sound of rustling fabric and a slight nod of the head indicated Sabrina’s hands grabbing onto her shirt.

The shortest man stepped forward slightly, nudging the first with the stock of his rifle. “You ain’t from ‘round here,” the man spoke. It wasn’t a question. The first man looked down at the second, confusion over his face, before once again examining the girls.

It was then the third man chose to speak. “Long walk from the castle, isn’t it, Bour-” Chloé stopped listening as soon as the man started to say her family name. In a split second she had released her vice grip on the bag of clothing and scooped Sabrina into her arms. Another and she had turned heel, sprinting back up the street.

“Shit! After them!” The order echoed through the streets, followed by the sound of the men giving chase.

“Sabrina, I need you to make a new route. As many turns with as little backtracking as possible,” Chloé rushed out, turning down the street they’d come from, hugging the wall of the building to her right. 

Information was rushing over Sabrina’s glasses once more. “Turn right, Miss Chloé” Sabrina said as they reached an intersection. Chloé slammed her feet down in an attempt to slow down enough to turn.

“Fuck!” Chloé cursed as her flats lost their grip on the concrete, Chloé’s feet slipping out from under her as she landed on her back. A gunshot rang out from behind her, the sharp sound echoing off the walls. Looking back, the three men had just turned towards them, rifles in their shoulders, fingers on triggers.

Chloé quickly dove behind the wall of the closest building, chunks of concrete flying off the sidewalk where they’d just been, the sound of the gunshots immediately following. She scrambled to her feet, again taking off. “Tell me before I have to turn!” Chloé hissed.

She continued down the street until Sabrina told her to take another right, the sound of gunfire and brick getting hit trailing her. A left just before the end of the street brought them into a trash riddled backway, the stench would’ve been enough to make Chloé vomit if she wasn’t focused on staying alive. She jumped over trash bags, exiting the alleyway and breathing in the somewhat fresher air, turning right again.

They continued racing through the maze of streets, the turns she had Sabrina route the only reason the pair weren’t riddled with holes.

"Shit, they're headin' for ‘The Garden!’" shouted one of their pursuers. "Get there, fast!"

Chloé cursed in her head. The turns were slowing them down. "How much further?" she asked.

"Approximately 1.3 miles, Miss Chloé," came Sabrina's instant reply. Chloé growled under her breath.

"Get me straight to whatever road ‘The Garden’ is on," she ordered. Risking a long straight was better than getting surrounded. She wasn't going to get them caught. They weren't going back. 

"Continue straight for 0.5 miles," Sabrina said. Chloé smiled slightly. She could push her legs, knowing she didn't need to turn. Wind howled in her ears, accompanied by the sound of her feet pounding on the ground. A moment of peace. The calm before the storm.

“Turn right, Miss Chloé. “‘The Garden’ will be just ahead,” Sabrina announced. Chloé slammed her feet into the street again, sliding across the ground to allow the turn. The sound of metal scraping against concrete rang in her ears. She put her feet back under her, launching herself towards the large wall in the distance. Lights shown through a large gateway. 

Something whizzed past her ear, the sound of a gunshot following. Looking over her shoulder, Chloé saw one of the men that had been chasing them, rifle stock in his shoulder.

She pushed her legs harder, clenching Sabrina closer to her. Her body was jerked forward, causing her to stumble. Her joints were creaking from the strain. More shots sounded in her ears, blasting through the howling wind.

She pushed more, leaning forward to protect Sabrina. Another jerk of her body, another stumble. A monstrous creaking as the gates of “The Garden” started to close, a tall woman standing in front of them. The wind screamed. 

More shots exploded in the air. The woman pulled a guitar off her back, the head of a plasma axe ripping out of it as she shifted her posture.

Chloé bore down on her. She would run right through her if necessary. They weren’t going to die today. She would not allow it. They were making it to safety. Together. Because she was CHLOÉ! CHLOÉ FUCKING BOURGEOIS! THEY WERE REACHING “THE GARDEN” TODAY!

The wind shrieked. Her legs wouldn’t move faster. She couldn’t tell what was louder, her joints or the gate. The woman raised her axe.

The wind roared. The woman stepped out of the way. Three beams of plasma shot out from the top of the wall. 

Chloé blew past the woman towards the too-quickly closing gates. She reached an arm in between herself and Sabrina, her palm pressed into the ribcage of the redhead. “Relax,” Chloé commanded. As soon as she saw Sabrina’s acknowledgement, she pressed hard and dove forward. Sabrina hurtled through the gates into “The Garden” as Chloé pitched down, head bouncing off the ground as she slid across the street.

And the gates closed with a sickening crunch.

Luka raced out of the guard tower, whipping out a radio. “Get Max and two med teams to the north entrance immediately! And keep Jules at the entrance!” he yelled into it, starting to race down the steps to the wall’s walkway. The sound of static came back over, followed by his mother’s confirmation. He grabbed a first aid kit before bursting into the stairwell down to the public area, jumping down the final steps. “Move! Someone cover the guard tower!” he barked, pushing past concerned coworkers and out into the cold night air, the bright streetlights of the Garden illuminating a scene that should be far more gruesome.

The blonde woman that had been running was now dragging herself across the ground towards the redhead she’d been carrying. Her legs had been sheared off by the closing of the gate, synthetic flesh shredded and exposing the metallic muscle of highest-end robotic limbs. 

The sight of crimson welling on the back of her yellow cardigan broke Luka out of his stunned state, rushing forward to the woman who was now holding a hand of the unmoving redhead. She was facing Luka, head on the ground. "We made it...Brina," the woman spoke, voice quiet. "We're...safe...now." She watched as Luka started to begin his rudimentary first aid, leveling a glare that Luka ignored when he lifted up her shirt enough to find bullet holes in her back. Synthetic flesh was already closing around the wounds, just open enough that Luka could make out a reinforced spine. 

There wasn’t anything he needed to do to aid the process, so he carefully flipped her over to see if there was anything that needed immediate attention. The woman maintained her grip on her companion’s hand, but her eyes were starting to droop. “Hey, I need you to stay awake, Miss,” Luka sternly said. “Focus on me.” The blonde’s eyes opened slightly to glare at him again, but he ignored in lieu of glancing down the street at the sound of sirens approaching. “Now, I need you to tell me your name.”

He watched distrust pass over the woman’s face as he crossed over to her companion. She was sprawled out on the ground, the faint sound of shallow, troubled breathing coming from her. “No,” the blonde said finally, as he watched small cuts be closed up by synthetic flesh. He looked at the blonde, quirking an eyebrow.

“Okay. And how old are you, No?” he continued questioning, turning his head at the sight of blue and red lights reflecting off the ground. 

A trio of vehicles quickly pulled up to them, two ambulances and Max’s car. Out of the backs of the ambulances came people carrying stretchers, who jogged towards the scene. Luka stepped back, but still heard the blonde woman’s answer. “We’re eighteen.”

Luka’s head jerked back towards the pair, watching as they were carefully loaded onto the stretchers. The blonde seemed to fight them trying to break her grip on but she eventually relinquished her companion’s hand, allowing them to be carried past Luka and into the ambulances.

He turned his head, watching as they were loaded into the ambulances. As the doors were shut, Luka walked to Max.

He was in the backseat of his car, the window rolled down. “You have your work cut out tonight, Max. I think the blonde needs more immediate care. Multiple bullets to the back, who knows what’s going on inside of her. Didn’t get the chance to evaluate the redhead. No names from either of them. Eighteen, both,” Luka told him, doing his best to keep his composure.

Max nodded. He sat there a second, before sighing. “I guess I lost my bet with Lila,” he muttered. “My calculations put this at near zero probability.” Confusion crossed over Luka’s face.

“The probability of what?” he questioned, glancing back at where the two girls had been.

“Of Chloé Bourgeois making it here. And she did it with a companion, no less,” Max answered. “Now, I need to get prepped for surgery. Markov, if you would.” The window of the car rolled up, and the car whipped around where Luka stood.

Luka stood there, watching as the car disappeared down the street, processing what Max had said. He walked back to where the girls had been. Light glinted off a mixture of oil and blood. His eyes wandered to the trail Chloé had made, to the gate, and over the wall to Paris. “Huh,” was all he could find himself saying.