Chapter 27: Peter Pays the Piper - Part 2

Laz moved quickly through the halls of the ship, slipping between gold-lined pillars and past laughing guests who were far too drunk or distracted to notice him. Every few seconds, he glanced over his shoulder. No eyes. No tails. Just the low thrum of the yacht’s engines beneath the sea and the distant echo of a DJ asking about someone’s birthday.

He spotted a lone guard peeling away from the crowd near the outer deck. Laz followed.

The guard rounded a corner and opened a metal door. Laz slipped in behind him with a quickness.

He froze as soon as he went inside.

The room wasn’t empty.

Inside, five other guards sat around a table mid-poker game. Their eyes locked on him.

Shit.

“Hey,” one of them said, standing. “Who the hell are you?”

Laz exhaled slowly.

“FOCUS,” he whispered under his breath. “Activate Talent: Total Recall. Combat combination.”

<<<>>>

[Accessing Talent: TOTAL RECALL. Retrieving skillset.]

[Memorized Archive Accessed: Martial Arts Cinema Compilation Vol. 1-8]

[Now Accessing: 1978-2009 Combat Choreography. Styles: Wing Chun, Wushu, Muay Thai, Capoeira, Boxing, Krav Maga, Jeet Kune Do]

[Combat changed. Combat (3) → Combat (5)]

<<<>>>

They all rushed him.

Laz quickly pressed a button in his jacket and smoke roared out around him.

The guards coughed but dove in to fight anyway. The first guard lunged.

Laz sidestepped with a tight pivot, snatching the man’s wrist mid-swing and slamming his face into the wall with a dull thunk. Before the others could react, Laz was airborne, rebounding off the metal wall, spinning into a flying crescent kick that sent two guards tumbling across the table.

The guard crashed into the table and chairs sending the poker chips flying.

One of the men reached for a radio.

Laz snapped a spinning back elbow into his temple, caught the falling radio in mid-air, then swept the legs of the man closest to him. The back of his foot cracking down on the guy’s throat before he hit the floor.

The last guard pulled a baton.

Laz ducked the first swing, caught the second, and locked the man’s arm across his shoulder and twisted until bone popped and the baton clattered to the floor. He finished him off with an effortless kick to the chest and then the man hit his head off a fallen chair..

Laz exhaled as they all laid before him, unconscious. The smoke dissipated into the vents.

He touched his ear and activated his comms.

“Room secure,” he said calmly. “John, Mango, come to my location.”

Less than a minute later, the door opened again.

Mango and John stepped inside and paused at the carnage.

Mango raised a brow. “You did this?”

John took in the scene. “That ‘Total Recall’ is a hack. Why does it smell like laser tag in here?”

Laz had already begun changing into the stolen uniform, slipping the jacket over his form-fitting jumpsuit.

“Distraction smoke is a spy’s best friend! When you get to a high enough level, maybe you’ll get that gadget. It was honestly too easy,” Laz said, pulling on the guard’s cap. “ Excellent idea on loading my archive with kung fu movies, John. Turns out if you remember every single move, you can be pretty damn lethal.”

Mango’s eyes scanned the downed guards. “You memorized kung fu?”

“All of it,” Laz said, tucking in the last strap. “The classics too. Everything from ‘Drunken Master’ to ‘The Raid.’ Even some stuff from Bollywood. John has an online drive full of them and I watched them at 4x the speed. I was afraid my “Total Recall" couldn't keep up when I tried it at 6x, but dropping down to 4x seemed to work. Honestly, it was kind of fun.”

Mango gave John a weird look and John shrugged.

“What? I like movies.” John handed Laz a rifle. “Let’s see if you can remember how to find Peter.”

“Private quarters should be lower deck,” he said. “Left side of the ship. Probably behind heavy security. You two stay sharp.”

And with that, Agent Hawk disappeared out the door and into the ship.

***
In the quiet aftermath of Laz’s exit, the room seemed to slow.

Mango turned away from the knocked-out guards and over to the corner where a duffle bag had been tossed. She unzipped it and pulled out a sleek black shirt and took the rest of the disguise off the bodies.

John knelt down and pulled off his disguise as fast as he could. He didn’t notice her watching him at first. The way his back flexed as he moved. The shape of him outlined in the glow of the emergency light above.

He stood and looked up, catching her stare.

“What?” he asked with a faint smirk.

Mango rolled her eyes and turned away, though she didn’t stop smiling. “Nothing. Just… thinking about the odds of us getting shot today.”

“Probably pretty likely.”

She chuckled softly, then began to peel off her own suit. Beneath the combat gear was skin. Smooth, scarred, powerful. Her movements slowed when she felt his eyes on her.

John didn’t speak but he watched closely. They both then finished changing.

They stood for a second, facing each other. Each waiting for the other to move.

John cleared his throat and reached for his holster. “Well… good luck, Mango.”

She grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. Quick and deep.

She pulled back with her lips still close. “That’s for luck.”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve kissed me.”

She smirked. “So?”

“You gonna kill me any time soon?” he asked. “Or you just gonna say you don’t love me?”

Mango stared at him. Then the smile slipped, just a little.

“I do,” she whispered.

John’s eyes grew in shock. “What?”

“I love you,” she said again, louder this time. “Okay? I don’t know what that means or where it goes. But I know it’s real. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. Not since…”

She paused.

“I used to dream about sitting on a beach with someone I loved. Sun on my skin. Waves at my feet type of ending. I thought I’d given that up a long time ago. It’s just something that we tell ourselves to keep us going. So why does it feel real when I’m next to you?”

John stepped forward and took her hands.

“I’ll take you there,” he said. “Whatever beach you want. After all this. I’ll find it. And I’ll be there beside you.”

Her chest swelled with something fuzzy and strong. Almost if she had a balloon that was ready to explode inside of her. Then she had a brief thought. Something dangerous.

“Say my name,” she asked quietly. “Not Mango. My real name.”

He brushed a hand against her cheek. “Tell me.”

“Michelle,” she said. “Michelle Orson.”

“Michelle, huh?”

“Tell me you love me.”

“Michelle,” he repeated. “I love you.”

She smiled. Then she bit her lip and looked away, like even saying anything would just be too much. It’s not the time or place and yet it happened.

“Be careful,” she said.

“You too.”

They each grabbed their gear.

And stepped outside.

***

Mango moved quickly through the party’s outer decks. Strobe lights painted streaks across the faces of drunken millionaires, oil barons, and underworld arms dealers, all too busy tipping champagne flutes or stuffing wads of bills into waistbands to notice her ghosting by.

She had to find that room and based on John’s description, she was close. She didn’t want to look like she didn’t belong though and if she looked lost, that’d get her outed. This place was packed with loyalty and paranoia.

Just as the DJ’s music was swelling, she saw a woman on stage that made her stop in her tracks.

Star!

Even under the bright flashes and false lashes, Mango recognized the swagger in the hips, the lopsided smirk. One of the strippers on stage, twirling half-heartedly around a pole near the back bar. Legs like a dancer, eyes like a fox that’s looking at her prey.

Star was with Mango years ago when she was on a job in Vegas to rob a governor. Star was the only person she had considered a friend. They actually spent some of the money together driving to Los Angeles and having an insane time at the Indigo hotel next to the Crypto stadium. Last she saw of her, they had flown to New Orleans and went on a night bender before splitting. They robbed someone else before they really split, naturally.

Mango slipped around the edge and caught her by the wrist when she stepped off for a break.

“Hey,” she said in a whispering tone.

Star barely gave her a glance. “Private dances start at ten thousand tonight, sweetie. Go back to your job and try again.”

“I’m not here for a dance!”

“Then you better be here to tip! Men and women pay the same price” She tried to yank her arm away.

Mango leaned in and said softly, “You don’t remember me, do you? I guess I’d look different without a hurricane cup and a Glock in my waistband.”

Star froze.

“…What?”

Mango smirked. “New Orleans. That uptown tycoon with the vault behind the wine rack. We cleaned him out by midnight, got black-out drunk, and lost half the dime when Bourbon Street turned into a water slide with the rain.”

Star turned slowly, really looking at her now. “Mango?”

Mango nodded.

Star’s face broke into something between disbelief and delight. “Holy shit. You’re alive! Did you get work done?”

“Something like that. But you can’t say my name. Not here.”

Star nodded, glancing around before pulling her closer. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Looking for a vault,” Mango said plainly. “Something important. Where would Peter keep something he didn’t want anyone else touching?”

“Peter? Oh, you mean the Black guy with the red suit! He’s hot. I’m gonna see if he wants a private dance before the night’s over. Something about a man with a nice diamond grill that does it for me…”

“Hey! Focus!”

“Hmmmm…” Star said as she chewed her lip. “Bottom deck. Real low. Past the storage level. Has guards outside and some kind of retina lock. I may or may not have had a look around. But if anyone could crack it...”

“I’ll handle it. Just keep this quiet.”

“You got it,” Star said, already turning away. “And hey, if you get out alive, buy me a drink somewhere that doesn’t smell like thick cologne.”

Mango flashed her a grin. “Deal.”

***

The lower decks were colder. The music was softer and the smell of a raving party was gone.

She found the hallway easily. Two guards were posted outside a thick titanium-plated door. The corridor was deserted. Everyone else was still caught up in the artificial ecstasy of the celebration above.

Perfect.

Two flashes of silver knives from her hands and the guards were slumped on the floor. One blade under the chin. One across the throat. She dragged the bodies into a supply closet, checked for cameras and turned to face the vault room. She slipped inside to see an empty room and a safe on the other side. She was cautious walking through, but no alarm rang.

There was a keypad lock next to the door. Some of the buttons looked like they were pressed more than others. She could work with this. The pressure people used on different keys were different. They press the first button the hardest, whipping most of the dirt off the first and the last, the least. Any double numbers were spotless on the keypad. This looked to be four digits.

“FOCUS,” she whispered. “Use skill: Decipher.”

<<<>>>

[Activating Decipher…]

[Code: 0619]

<<<>>>

She typed and the keypad flashed green. The lock hissed open.

Mango pulled the vault door open and looked inside.

Her breath was suddenly caught in her throat.

***

Laz crept through the winding halls of the cruise ship’s middle deck. His black jumpsuit blended perfectly with the dim lighting and polished walls.

Each corner brought a new obstacle. A guard sipping coffee. Another mumbling into a radio. Laz was swift, silent. One by one, he neutralized them. A nerve pinch to the neck. A knee to the ribs. A sharp strike to the temple. Every takedown was efficient. Clean.

He stuffed one unconscious body into a linen closet. Two more into a storage room filled with cleaning supplies. Another into a utility cabinet barely large enough to fit him.

Each victory brought him closer to redemption. His moment to end Peter Nero and wipe the shame of Tokyo from his record.

Finally, he reached the large door of Peter’s personal office. Heart pounding, Laz took a breath. He adjusted his grip on his silenced pistol and turned the knob–

Empty.

The room was dead quiet. Not a soul inside. Monitors hummed softly in the background.

Laz stepped in, confused.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he whispered to himself.

He scanned the room. No signs of struggle. No documents. No sounds of anyone nearby.

Peter was gone and Laz didn’t like that one bit.

***

John climbed the stairs to the upper deck two at a time, the ocean wind getting stronger the higher he went. He didn’t need directions. He’d memorized the ship’s layout back when his brother got the yacht as a 9th grade gift from their father. Peter took him, Jade, and some of their cousins on a joyride. They were all severely punished when they got back. He soon found the communications room.

If Peter was planning to fire that satellite again, this was where the signal would be sent from. Just as he was walking, someone came around the side and he bumped into him.

“Oof! My bad, I-” John froze mid sentence. He came face to face with Bullock! His whole body was in shock. If Bullock recognized him, their whole operation was about to blow up.

Bullock stared at him for a moment and then groaned. “Stay outta my way guy.”

Bullock continued walking down the hall. John took a sigh of relief. The disguise was holding up even though it was only level one.

He reached the final hallway, dim and sleek, interrupted only by a heavy steel door. One guard. Big guy. Mid-thirties. He wasn’t guarding the door very well though. His hands were tangled in the hair of a girl in a tiny black bikini, and they were locked in a messy kiss.

John thought for a moment and then approached them.

“Hey!” he snapped, voice sharp and authoritative.

The guard flinched like he’d been caught stealing, turning around fast. The girl pulled away, her cheeks red, her lipstick smudged.

“Sir! I—uh—we were just—”

“Save it.” John crossed his arms. “If you’re gonna screw around, do it where there aren’t cameras pointed directly at your ass. I’ll let it go this time, but I’d suggest you take this downstairs. Private room. Lock the door. Got it?”

The guy nodded quickly, eyes wide. “Y-yes, sir. Of course.”

He practically dragged the girl down the hallway as she laughed, still flustered.

Finally, John was at the door. He pulled out Jade’s encrypted lock decoder and pressed it against the panel.

The screen buzzed red. Then green. The lock popped open with a soft hiss.

He slipped inside.

The room was tight, dark, filled with humming equipment. The control hub for the satellite’s communication relay. This was it.

His ear buzzed to life.

“John,” Mango said in his ear. “The vault was empty. There’s nothing here.”

“What?” John froze. “Say that again?”

“It’s empty. Nothing. Not even scrap. No codes, no servers, no weapons. I don’t think they ever planned to store them here.”

John’s stomach dropped.

“Then someone else must have it… Maybe Bullock?”

Then another voice cut in. It was Laz.

“Not to add grease to the fire, but Peter’s office is empty too. If he’s in the crowd, our secrecy may be screwed. Bullock is the Slovic guy right? I passed Bullock on the way to Peter’s office.”

"Yeah I saw him too,” said John.

Big guy. Gold rings, with one that’s silver.”

John perked up. “What kind of rings?”

“All gold... except one. Silver and blue. Looked outta place.”

John’s mind raced.

<<<>>>

[Talent Activated: Underworld Legacy]

<<<>>>

“Bullock hates the color silver. My brother Peter would only leave the codes with someone he absolutely trusts and nothing is safer than in the hands of his bodyguard, especially if he’s somewhere else. That ring might be it. Mango, you’re up”

“Like candy from a giant muscle bound baby,” Mango said.

John turned toward the main console, but didn’t get two steps before–

CLANK!

Behind him, the door creaked open again.

John spun, hand instinctively drifting toward the gun on his belt.

And there he was.

Peter.

Drunk, unshaven, and reeking of top-shelf bourbon.

His red dress shirt was open at the collar. Gold chains tangled against his chest. His eyes were glassy. Red. His red suit was ripped.

Peter stumbled inside, muttering to himself before noticing John.

“You know,” he said, “this is the only place I can think... straight.”

John stayed still.

Peter didn’t recognize him.

“I killed him,” Peter continued, his words slurred. “Had to do it. I didn’t want to, but... he forced my hand. My brother.” He swayed back and forth. “Can’t have two Nero sons running around. One of us had to go. Only the strongest survive.”

He let out a bitter chuckle, then looked John in the eye.

And still... didn’t recognize him.

“You work here?” Peter asked.

John nodded slowly. “Security.”

Peter nodded, satisfied. “Take me to my quarters. I can’t... can’t stand in here anymore.”

John’s eyes darted to the console, but he didn’t move.

“Now,” Peter growled.

John began to sweat. “Alright. This way.”

And as he helped his drunk, murderous brother toward the door, his fingers tightened into a fist.

Not yet, he thought. But soon.

***

Mango spotted Bullock by the back rail of the ship. The rain had started again, light but cold. None of the guests seemed to mind. Bullock may have been a big man, but every man had a weakness.

She smoothed her jumpsuit down her hips, fixed the zip so it hit just low enough to be dangerous, and started walking.

FOCUS, she thought. SLeight of Hand.

<<<>>>

[FOCUS Activated.]

[Thief Skill “Sleight of Hand (3)” activating…]

<<<>>>

FOCUS then highlighted the ring on Bullock’s finger. It showed her 3 different ways to remove it with her hands. She’d have to focus on matching one of the hand patterns if she was to do it right.

She didn’t sneak. She made sure he heard her. Bullock turned his head. One brow raised.

“Well,” he said, his Slavic accent curling around the words. “You don’t look like the rest of the detail we hired.”

“You should pay closer attention because I’m not,” Mango said. “I’m the special delivery.”

She stepped in close. Real close. Close enough that she could smell the cheap cologne and the sweat buried beneath it.

Bullock smiled wide. “And what exactly are you delivering?”

She tilted her head. “Maybe I’m just scouting the merchandise. Making sure the ship’s protected.”

“Protected?” He chuckled. “Darling, no one gets past me.”

Too easy. Every hard boiled man folds to a pretty woman. They’re usually starved of affection and see any easy woman as a way to relieve tension. And she saw every man as a way to relieve her of poverty.

“Oh, I believe that,” she said, reaching up and brushing a hand lightly across his chest. “You look like a mountain I wouldn’t mind climbing.”

He barked out a laugh. “You’re bold.”

“Bold gets me what I want.”

She leaned up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. A playful peck, soft and unexpected.

“I’ll see you later,” she whispered into his ear..

He grinned. “You better.”

And just like that, she turned, hips swaying as she walked away down the deck. She didn’t look back.

She didn’t want him to see her grin. The silver-and-blue ring she’d just lifted from his thick sausage fingers now sat snug between her own.

Mango slid it into the tiny inner pocket of her suit with a larger sly smile curling across her face.

<<<>>>

[Processing Data XP…]

[Sleight of Hand skill Level up!]

[Level 3 → Level 4]

[Sleight of Hand will now show three hand positions while showing probability of success with each.]

[Additionally, the hand positions can be changed if angle of swipe is changed]

An easy steal and a killer level up? Thought Mango. I should’ve hung out with these guys earlier!

***

John steadied Peter as they approached the suite's door. The hallway was dimly lit, the hum of the ship's engines a constant racket. Peter leaned heavily on him, his breath reeking of alcohol.

As they reached the door, Laz appeared from the corridor, his expression tense. He glanced at Peter, then at John, a silent question in his eyes. John gave a subtle nod, and Laz continued past them without a word.

Inside the room, Peter collapsed onto a plush armchair, groaning. "Stay a moment," he slurred.

John hesitated. "I should get going."

“You know I killed my sibling the other day?”

John sucked his teeth. “So I heard.”

“One down, one to go.”

“He must’ve been weak. At least he’s out of the way–”

“Shut the hell up! You don’t know anything!” Peter snapped, suddenly sober. John froze in shock.

“My brother wasn’t weak,” Peter continued. “He was one of the best people I’ve ever known! That’s why I had to do it. It’s not impressive if you kill a goldfish in a bowl. If you kill an elk that’s charging, a mother bear that’s scared, a tiger that’s hungry. Those are the kills that count. He almost got me too. He was gonna get me good…”

“Why do it then? Wouldn’t it be worth it to keep powerful animals as pets or something? Maybe try to find a way to co-exist.”

“A tiger can never be house broken. Not really. At the end of the day, it’s nature.” Peter’s eyes started to water, yet he didn’t cry. “You know, I-I wish I was a psycho. Like a true psychopath. Then I would've felt nothing. But now I get it. I had to love him like a brother to feel this pain. For this pain to make me stronger. Otherwise, I would've stayed the same. I finally got what my dad was trying to do…”

“Your dad?...What was he trying to do?”

Peter waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t worry about that. Here, have some money. Just a tip... for your trouble." He continued searching his pockets.

At that moment, Laz's voice crackled over John's earpiece. "Where's the communications room?"

John replied quietly, "Top deck, near the radar tower."

Peter's head snapped up. "Who are you talking to?"

Thinking quickly, John said, "Maintenance crew. They're checking the systems."

Peter squinted at him. "You sound familiar..." He stood unsteadily, moving closer. John sweated even harder.

Peter’s eyes widened in recognition. "John?"

Before John could react, Peter slammed his hand on a red emergency button on the wall. Alarms blared throughout the ship.

John bolted from the room, sprinting down the corridor. Behind him, Peter shouted, "Stop him!" Footsteps echoed as guards joined the chase.

John darted through the ship's passages, his mind racing.

The face changer wasn’t good enough to trick someone who knew him before he could speak.