This was not Alain's first time meeting Cain. Their first meeting had not gone very well, but he had not expected it to, either. If he had been respectful and submissive, he would have become another of his thugs, if anything at all. For this second meeting, the mercenary's arrogance was transformed into a cool confidence, but there was a touch of "told-you-so" in it. Since Alain's first offer of help, more profits had slipped through Cain's fingers... giving so much more power to the former.

When they spoke about "cleaning house" and one of Cain's former lieutenants found on a meat hook in a butcher's shop that morning, it gave Alain chills. He was dealing with a killer who, if he discovered Alain's true intentions, would not hesitate to plan his death and keep his plans carefully masked until their execution. Being careful didn't cut it. Alain felt stupid for even getting involved...

...and yet, at the end of their little conversation, Cain gave him a white envelope. Directions to the mercenary's newest workplace. He knew the kind of welcome he'd be recieved with... a handshake, suspicion, and whispers to have him offed before those more actively self-interested members of Cain's ranks ended up dead themselves. He would go nowhere without his gun from this point forward.

For someone who dared to take Cain's profits, McNeil was a shrewd, quiet man. At one point in his life he had fiery red hair, but most of it had been overrun by white, his bushy moustache a dull grey and orange. He had been more reckless in the past, but a close call (evidenced by a long, ugly scar on his throat) had taught him better.

They first ran into each other in Cain's largest warehouse. McNeil arrived to drop off a large shipment, and Alain was already there, having just been given a tour by Cain. His arms folded, he was leaning over a crate, looking at the form (all in code) attached to it, when one of McNeil's men opened up one of the doors to unload from their truck into the warehouse. Alain squinted through the sudden influx of bright sunlight at the truck and the older man getting out of it, and then resumed his inspection. He was aware of shadows shifting as someone drew close to him, but still didn't look up, only leaning closer to better read in the changing light.

"Who are you?" The question was not voiced especially aggressively... but it certainly wasn't nice, either.

Alain finally looked up, but he didn't answer the question. Not at first. He regarded McNeil with a quiet smile, hands in his jeans pockets. McNeil, for his part, was sharply dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and a black tie.

"You know, we're going to need to change this documentation pretty soon. Time delivered to one of us, time delivered here, specifics of content including weight, purity..." He looks up at McNeil, one hand on the crate, his smile growing some. "But not a thing about value."

"Values are constantly... fluctuating, Mr. D'Mourir." His hands also dug into his pockets, lifted out some with a shrug. "Supply and demand are constantly changing, as well as... other circumstances."

"Such as how much you paid for them. Of course, it's assumed you use all the money Mr. Moretti gives you in order to buy the shipment... so it's really a hard thing to document." He tilted his head a little, and McNeil frowned. "You people have a lot of independence, I must admit... a lot of room to make a lot of profit for yourself. And Mr. Moretti would be none the wiser."

McNeil frowned more now. This man seemed to him nothing more than Moretti's personal rat, and he didn't like rats one bit. "Some things are hard to track, D'Mourir. This business has to operate the way it does - any other way, and it wouldn't make money."

"They can be tracked." Alain raised his eyebrows, backing away with a grin, now. "Just no one's looked hard enough... yet. Need any help unloading?" He glanced at the truck, then back at McNeil. "No? Suit yourself, and, ah... I'll see you around." He winked, and then turned around. Leaving the warehouse.

After a long moment, McNeil's frown turned into a malicious sneer. Deciding right then that D'Mourir had to die.

Cain, the wolf himself, was not protective of his pack as individuals, but as assets. Each had a particular value to him; so when you killed one of his pack, while it was not like killing his brother... it would be likened to pick his pocket. If his lieutenants had all made that analogy, they would not have conspired against Alain D'Mourir, for anyone knew that to pick Cain's pocket was to bring death upon yourself. And yet... that is what many of them had already been doing, picking his pocket clean of all the profits garnered from the city's smugglers.

So when Cain learned of the assassination attempt against Alain, he wanted to know who was responsible. He felt as if someone had just fished in his pocket for his wallet, and in return, he wanted blood. Alain insisted he would take care of the would-be assassin himself, that Mr. Moretti had a business to look after... he knew Cain would stew over that, and he did. He kept his rage, waiting for a target to turn all his anger on.

There was a very good reason for Alain taking a month to have McNeil killed... which was simply that he had better things to do. While McNeil and others who had every intention of killing Alain were too frightened to make another move, too afraid of what the retribution would be... Alain continued keeping careful track of the shipments and the flow of money, and made several of his own. Making Cain substitute him for each lieutenant to their respective smuggling "contact." His purposes were two-fold - first, to identify those stealing Cain's money; second, to identify every major smuggler in Cain's little ring.

It was Tuesday evening; the sun went down early, being only two weeks after the solstice. Orange light from a cold sky filtered through the blinds in a room that had effectively become Alain's office, not far from Cain's, but far enough. There was a computer he often used... but for this, he would be using the typewriter, an old Underwood. The building was old, and had come with a lot of old equipment, Cain had explained.

Alain chewed a little hard on a golf pencil as he tapped out two copies each of two different lists. His door was ajar, yet his eyes kept bouncing between what he was typing and that dark slat to check for anyone spying too closely. A single small lamp lit his desk... the building was mostly empty, but there was no telling how it would be ten minutes from now. Regular hours are not often kept in professions such as this... the offices existed for purposes of organization, to provide a meeting place, and it was also an attempt by Cain to keep his own workers under his thumb... something he had not succeeded in very well, something that Alain was ostensibly to help him with.

The last list was done. Alain spat out the pencil, letting it bounce on the ugly carpet, and rolled back in his chair to pop open a desk drawer. Four manila envelopes extracted, and the lists tucked safely away in them... all of it tucked into his jacket as he walked hurriedly out of his office, and out of the building.

Leaving a small notepad, still open to a page of his untidy scrawl, just under the front of his typewriter.

Thursday evening. The war had already begun.

Earlier that day, the first blow had been struck. Most of Cain's lieutenants were divided along the lines of those on and off the list... and the list was delivered to both groups. Meetings were called by both sides, Cain's considering whether or not to purge the others, and if so, how best to do it; and the other side discussing how those loyal to Cain would do it, and how they might do it first instead.

"The boss is patient."

" 'Course he is. How else do you figure he got where he is now?"

"You mean up a creek without a paddle?"

"Shut up," the young man hissed, looking over his shoulder, then back at his companion. They were in a diner, two of Cain's most loyal lieutenants. Both had been with him since the beginning... both were considered very valuable by their leader. "You know we still have the upper hand. I don't think they know that we know."

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"We've got D'Mourir's list. He gave it to the boss, so he could tell all the rest of us."

"Unless the boy missed somebody."

"You think we should act quickly? Just in case? But doing what?"

The other man leaned forward, raising his eyebrows and lowering his voices. "What else but kill them? We can't just ask them nicely to give up their respective shipping contacts."

"Your meal, gentlemen."

The waiter was approaching... but the two men were frowning, because it wasn't the same waiter. It was a tall, skinny man with a shaved head and a strange tattoo on his neck, and while he had on a white t-shirt and apron like the last server, he was also wearing, oddly enough, a tuxedo jacket with tails.

"Who the hell are you...?"

The waiter smiled politely at the two of them, set the tray down, and opened his arms. "Enjoy it." Then the smile got wider, wicked... and the open hands plunged to his sides, drawing two pistols. Before the men could unholster their weapons, they had been shot dead through the mouth with .45-caliber bullets.

As the hitman tore off his apron and walked to the door, most dove and scrambled under tables while the two lieutenants bled in their booth. One waiter near the front door looked at the hitman and panicked. His legs turned to lead.

"Move... I SAID MOVE!" The hitman's warning was too sudden, and retribution too swift. The waiter's lead legs gave way after half a clip was spent in his chest. The hitman scowled at the diner, fired a shot behind the counter for good measure, and left.

* * *

This was the first of a dozen hits. Cain's ranks were rapidly dwindling as his lieutenants killed each other off, and all their hired guns, all their "security personnel" ran for their lives while they still could.

Cain's closest people were looking for Alain this whole time, desperately needing any help, any information they could get. Without the mercenary who promised them salvation anywhere to be found, they turned to his office... and found some very enlightening information.

Alain was surprised to find himself escorted into Cain's house so easily. No guns raised at his approach, no one searching him for weapons that the guards must have known for there. It spoke volumes about Cain's arrogance... which was unnerving for Alain. The house was enormous, dark, and well-guarded. The mercenary figured the crime boss had at least a dozen of his armed thugs guarding him, more than he could hope to take on by himself.

Not to mention Shannon was a hostage.

He was instructed gruffly to follow one of the guards, through the front doors, down a main hallway to a handsomely carved wooden door. All other doors were shut, and Alain had no opportunity to get a sense of how the rest of the house might be laid out. Though Alain was armed, Cain had insured he was still helpless and unable to create any possible advantages for himself. The cruel man who no doubt was sitting behind that wooden door had reasserted his control with cold collectedness.

The guard knocked. In a moment, they heard Cain's icy voice instruct: "Enter." The guard's upper lip curled as he looked down at Alain, holding the door for him to permit him. Alain raised his eyebrows at the man and proceeded inside. He'd hate to go into a hand-to-hand fight with any of Cain's goons - they were thickly built and even taller than him.

The door was shut behind him, and Alain was enclosed in a wood-paneled room... like a coffin, but for the eerie stained glass windows across from him. He stared thoughtfully at them, briefly registering the guards standing in either corner, dark glasses hiding where their attention was directed. Like sentinels... like gargoyles, guarding this corrupt sanctuary.

"Is something... wrong... Alain?"

Cain's voice came from a highbacked chair facing the crackling fire. Alain scowled. The man was mocking him. He paced several steps until one of the guards shifted, and then stopped, presenting as solid a stance as he could maybe ten feet from Cain's seat.

"Where is she?"

"Where is who?" Cain spun in his chair, pushing it back, levelling a chilly smile at the younger man. So much to learn - still green, still controlled by his passions. He put a hand to his forehead as if he had indeed forgotten. "Oh! You mean that sweet little piece of candy you call your sister? Don't worry. She's safe."

Alain swallowed hard, something in his stomach twisting and churning when Shannon is called 'candy.' "I want to see her."

Cain snapped his fingers, and spoke while one of the guards hurried off to do his bidding: "I have to be honest with you, Alain. I'm dissapointed in you. You should have brought her around more often. A beautiful girl like that? Don't you want to show her off? She'd have been awfully popular at the dinners the syndicate has every week."

"I never throw a lamb to the wolves. You should know that by now, Cain... even if you hadn't before."

Cain clucked his tongue at Alain's righteous indignation as Shannon was brought in. She was only in her babydoll and panties, what she had been wearing when she was abducted, and had obviously been roughed up some in the process of abduction. A few bruises, but nothing more. She had been crying. This more than anything stirred Alain's anger. For a fraction of a second, he saw his uncle's death again, only this time, it was Cain's body he rolled over to look in its lifeless face. The vision passed, and Shannon cried out his name: "Alain!" Though her hands were cuffed behind her back, she flung herself at him, choking back a sob.

Alain placed an arm around her, holding her to his side, kissing the top of her head, closing his eyes... and then opening them again. Forcing himself to stare at Cain.

Shannon buried her face in his shoulder. "Alain..."

"Now... we have a little business to do, Alain." The display disgusted Cain, and he was eager to take full advantage of the power he had in this situation.

"What is it you want from me?" Alain swallowed again.

Cain lifted his chin with a cold smile. "Shannon, darling. Come here, now."

Alain tried to hang on, instinctively, but his sister slipped away, going obediently to her captor. Cain pulled her into his lap, where she sat stiffly. Alain sucked in an angry breath.

"I know what you've been up to D'Mourir....and I must say I'm more than a little dissapointed in how you've abused my trust... and the opportunities I've offered you." He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out Alain's forgotten notebook, laying it upon Shannon's bare thighs. "But you've been such a good worker... weeding out all the disloyals... finding all the loopholes..."

Alain's powerlessness was frustrating him... thoughtlessly, he lashed out at Cain with the coldest tone he could muster: "Your empire's gone, Moretti. It was choking this city like a weed... so I had it pulled."

Cain glanced up sharply. Alain had struck a nerve, one that had been irritated a great deal in the last few days. "You haven't had anything pulled, you over-confident little prick." Shannon flinched, and Cain pulled out a large pistol and shoved it against her cheek. She squeaked in terror, and Cain grinned at that. Delightful. "Of course if you think otherwise perhaps your little sister and you aren't as useful to me as I thought. Is that the case, D'Mourir?" The tears were rolling down her face, and Alain jerked forward instinctively, but stopped himself. One false move and he felt Cain very well might indulge himself and kill her. He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, between his sister's terror and his own.

Alain opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it when Cain continued: "You see... it's the small minded and selfish assholes like yourself that are ruining my business, D'Mourir. I hired you to sort them out for me... and instead YOU end up to be the biggest one of them all." He laughed mirthlessly while Shannon continued to cry.

"Just let her go, Cain... just let her leave, and you can get what you need from me." Alain's mind was racing, eyes darting around the room, going over everything he had at his disposal, anything he could take advantage of... Nothing. He was helpless to turn the tables. Cain held every card in the deck... so it seemed. All but the one thing Alain knew Cain would ask for. Otherwise, this meeting would not be called. If he'd had everything, he would've conducted his revenge much more simply and efficiently.

Cain laughed again. "Don't be stupid, D'Mourir. It's not a good color on you. You're going to give me exactly what I want because of this delicious little sister of yours." He stroked her knee appreciatively, and she whimpered. Alain grit his teeth, fighting the impulses of the killer that was now a part of him. "...Because if you don't, I will take a great deal of delight in destroying all that you hold dear about this precious girl. Then I'll kill her and you both."

Alain approached the two slowly, holding his empty hands out to show he wasn't going to pull anything. "You can have everything, Cain. The information..." He looked Shannon in the eyes, pausing before he continued. "...my life... if you just let her walk away. You can have it all. And get your little empire back." He shivered. If Cain so desired, he would take Alain's life. The fact that he had just offered himself... would he accept...?

"Well. If you redeem yourself from this path of idiocy and help me then you have nothing to worry about." To illustrate his point, he put the hammer on his pistol back into place and returned the weapon to its holster. "I don't want to hurt sweet Shannon here. All I want is for you to do the job I hired you for."

Cain didn't want to hurt Shannon, he claimed... said nothing about whether or not he would hurt Alain... but that was fine with him. Right now, only Shannon's life mattered to him. He could worry about his own mortality when Shannon was free and there was a gun to the back of his head. "You told me to weed out the disloyals."

"Oh and that you did, didn't you? While you turned the rest of them or made contacts elsewhere in order ot undermine me. Perhaps I was thinking too small when I hired you. I want to know who you are really working for. I want to know the names of everyone who has ever even considered trying to take over my business."

"How long do I have to track this information down?" Alain shivered. He knew that everyone on that list would be killed. The smuggling community would be left to the cruel tycoons such as Cain himself. If Cain spared Alain's life... his future would be bleak.

"It's getting late and I'm sure it's past your sister's bed time, isn't it? I'll be keeping her here as insurance... Since you clearly can't be trusted to act in your own best interests, perhaps you can be pursuaded to act in hers, hm? You have two nights. If you can do it in one, all the better."

"I give you the information... we both walk."

"You give me the CORRECT information and you both walk away from this utterly unscathed, and out of my employment. You will of course find it difficult from here on in to find other employment in your chosen line of work in this city afterwards, but the mark upon your repuation that you'll have brought upon yourself is no concern of mine."

Alain scowled. Cain thought an awful lot of himself... but if he ended up in total control of the smuggling community as he no doubt planned to, then he was right. Work would be impossible. In fact, he would probably have to leave the city in order to avoid getting killed.

"Out of your employment? That suits me just fine." He looked around the room, then back at Cain. "Let me see Shannon before I go."

Cain nodded, releasing Shannon, who slid off of his lap and practically ran over to her brother once again, her pretty face contorted in fear and worry.

He caught her, holding her close to his chest, bending his head towards her ear. Rubbing her back. "Everything's going to be okay, Shannon... I'm coming back, and we'll get out of this together. Just hang in there, okay? Je t'adore, canard." He kissed her cheek and her forehead... and then let go of her. Slipping away, his expression cooling again as he stared at Cain. "I'll be seeing you again real soon." He took another look at Shannon as one of the guards grabbed him by the arm, escorting him out of the room and out of the house.

"I love you too, Alain..." She watched him back away, large eyes desprate, frightened, her teeth chewing at her lower lip as he was escorted out of the study, the door shutting between them... leaving her alone with Cain.

Alain approached Cain's house, hands in his coat pockets to keep them from shaking. He was unarmed, and he felt naked that way. Stupid, even. Was it stupid to be trying this? To even be coming here? But he knew he had to. He twisted his expression into a grim smile for one of the guards at the gate and gave him an upnod. "What's up." The guard just glowered and pulled the gate open, and Alain smoothed his jacket collar nervously as he stepped through. The gate clanged shut behind him, and Alain at once thought of the door to a tomb being set in place. He drew in a deep but shaky breath and crossed the yard to the front door of the house. A guard opened the front door and ushered him down the hallway to the wooden door he'd seen before. He knocked three times, and Alain shivered.

"Come." Cain's voice, thick with its usual cloak of disdain. The guard opened the door for Alain and followed him inside this time, shutting the door behind them both before taking up position directly in front of it, his bulk nearly as wide as the door frame itself. In addition two other guards stood before the two large windows, dangerous and intimidating automatic weaponry held casually in their hands as they watched Alain from behind dark glasses, silent sentinels in the enormous room.

Alain looked at the guards, and back at the fireplace. The stakes had just been raised. He stepped forward... and saw Cain and Shannon, curled up in front of the fireplace. Cain had Shannon in his lap, her bare legs dangling at a right angle over his. He was holding her and whispering in her ear; her shoulder was shaking. When Alain approached, he gave the young man a thin, infinitely snide smile. "Why Alain. It's about time. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about our little arrangement. Poor Shannon here has been beside herself... haven't you, precious?" He turned his head to brush a kiss over her earlobe, but those cruel eyes never left Alain's for a moment. "Perhaps she's been afraid you weren't going to come back for her... It would have been easy enough for you to skip town."

Alain's hand twitched, but fortunately, there was no gun for him to reach for. He swallowed back his anger and replied, eyes narrowed: "Cain may have betrayed his own flesh and blood... but I like to think I'm a better brother than that." He opened his jacket slowly to let him see there were no weapons, and extracted a manila envelope. "You have what I want..." Shannon lifted her head to peer out at her brother miserably. Her hands still cuffed, bound behind her. She had not been physically harmed... but the emotional trauma was evident. "...and I have what you want. Let's finish this." His eyes matched Cain's for cruelty as he stared at him. "Here are the names of all involved in the conspiracy against you... the people who contracted me, and the people meant to take your place." A wry smile. "It's surprising how easily betrayal comes after the first time."

Cain watched Alain withdraw the envelope, the light in his eyes greedy. Here would be his revenge... his righteous justice sought in spilled blood. And after this, no one would dare question his authority ever again. He nodded slowly and guided Shannon from his lap, his hands on her shoulders. He wore no jacket tonight, only a crisp white button-down, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a large, heavy desert eagle holstered just under his left arm. "I wouldn't know. You see... I tend to have the same issues as my namesake." His hands tightened on Shannon's shoulders as he walked her forward slowly. "I offer my best, but for some reason it is not good enough. So, like my namesake, I will extract my revenge without the aid of an unjust, unappreciative god. I will make my own justice and remove the threat of competition. I've worked hard for my empire, D'Mourir... and despite what you may or may not believe, I deserve it... and everything that goes along with it."

Alain's adrenaline kicked in. He knew what was coming. He held the envelope up a little higher, out in front of Cain... and fought back his amusement at the man's desperate greed. "Well then. Here's to your empire." And he tossed it right past Cain's hands, into the fire.

"No!" Cain's expression melted in slow motion from smugly pleased to desperate in the fraction of a second as he watched the envelope sail over his head towards the ravenous flames of the fireplace. He shoved Shannon out of the way at the same time that Alain pushed her down, out of the way, sending her falling to the floor. He had been looking directly at the envelope, hand outstretched towards it when it hit the fire... and exploded. Alain's eyes were averted as there was a blinding bright flash and great plumes of smoke shooting out across the room, blinding Shannon, Cain, and the guards. Cain never felt Alain draw the Desert Eagle from its holster and whip him in the skull. The solid thunk was but a mere cymbal clash in the cacophony that was ringing in his head at the moment. It was enough, though, to send him to the floor in a daze of white-hot pain. Alain whirled around, and he started shooting a moment before the guards, hoping he remembered their positions well enough. He could barely make out the one at the door, and with two bullets in his chest, he cried out and slumped down against it. Anyone trying to gain entry would find the door unwilling to budge.

The two guards with the automatics, overpaid, undertrained thugs with no seeming regard for their boss across the room, opened fire with their automatics. Shannon had been lifting herself off the floor, but dropped again, and in a second, Alain dropped down beside her on one hand, the other clutching his side. A nine millimeter bullet had torn through his skin under his arm and grazed his ribcage, and he was swearing the whole way down. "Alain?! Alain!" Close as he was, she couldn't see him from the bright flash only moments ago, and her ears were still ringing.

Alain grimaced and waited a moment. Soon enough, the two guards sprayed their weapons blindly again... a flash emitting from their muzzles. Alain raised his pistol and fired, putting a few bullets in each guard and emptying the clip. He took a deep breath, biting back a groan at the white-hot pain in his side. "Can you hear me, Shannon? Take my hand!" Forgetting in the confusion that she was handcuffed. "I'm going to get you out." Where was Cain... No time to worry about that now. He had to get his sister out.

Shannon struggled to his feet, following Alain's voice. "Alain, I'm here... I'm here. My hands are cuffed." She swayed and stumbled, bumping into something solid. Her brother. She was coughing - the smoke was thick, though all the gunfire had broken some of the window panes, and all the smoke was streaming out in that direction.

When the envelope had exploded, it caught fire to the large, expensive Oriental rug in front of the fireplace... which spread quickly to the bookshelves around it, catching fire to the lacquered wood easily. The room hadn't been designed with fire safety in mind.

Alain put an arm around his sister and guided her towards the window, coughing a lot himself. He had to get that window open. "Stay right here, Shannon!" He let go of her, and fumbled his way in the dark smoke to a guard, coughing the entire time. He found his automatic... took a few steps back, and let loose a spray of gunfire into one of the stained glass windows. It was torn apart, leaving plenty of room for Shannon to go through. With the gunshots still ringing in his ears, Alain stooped down behind Shannon and reached into his boot. He had come prepared. Wire cutters were taken out, and after some struggling, he cut Shannon's handcuffs, and then directed her towards the window. The smoke was streaming out now, but there was still a good haze from the fires in the room. "Now go! Go! I'll be right behind you!"

Shannon embraced her brother tightly, her voice choked with tears and smoke as she nodded. She then let go and flung herself towards the window... out, and onto the precarious ivy-covered trellis. Not well-suited to Alain's weight. She scrambled down into the snow, which burned her feet with its chill, and looked up at the window expectantly. Where was he?

The same question was running through Alain's mind, eyes roving around the room as he approached the body of the other guard for his weapon. The area around the fireplace was still thick with smoke, and Alain couldn't see Cain. He looked down at the guard... both corpse and weapon were aflame. He grimaced and swung the gun around to wield it like a club... while flames licking at Cain's back jarred his swimming consciousness back to the surface. The bastard had doublecrossed him again! That cursed street-rat of a mercenary was trying to outwit him! Cain's fury boiled to the surface unchecked. He didn't even realize the back of his shirt was on fire. Anger, resentment, hatred, loathing... it was all that filled his mind, the heat of it overwhelming that of the flames. He lurched out of the chair and stumbled towards the sound of the shattering glass.

Alain lowered his eyes to check a comm device at his belt. Messages from Cassandra. The perimeter had been cleared... all guards were either killed or fled from the fire. Alain smiled grimly. No doubt she had knifed at least a couple.

Like some kind of horror-movie monster Cain lurched out of the billowing smoke towards Alain, flames rising off of him. He flung himself at the boy with a crazed snarl and knocked him to the floor. Hands closed around Alain's throat in a murderous grip even as a hard knee pounded itself into the boy's solar plexus, knocking the air from him. Alain was dazed, wheezing, thankful that heat rises and there wasn't much smoke near the floor, but there was no shaking this man's grip. It occurred to him that he might die like this. Cain snarled over him like a creature possessed, his face wild with hatred. "You son of a bitch! You are going to ****ing die for this you sonofabitch!" His hands around Alain's throat tightened like iron bars and he lifted Alain's head with his grip only to smash it against the hardwood floor hard enough to leave stars dancing in a beautiful pattern across the boy's field of vision. "I'm going to kill you and that whore sister of yours you pissant mother****ing traitor!"

Alain's consciousness was dangerously close to slipping into blackness as he struggled desperately... but Cain, with all his rage, was too strong to shake off, no matter how many times he kicked or struck him. He was squirming his way back towards the fireplace, trying to shake Cain off but dragging the man with him. He wouldn't be able to shake him off... he would have to fight. But with what? His arms searched blindly for a weapon... found the stand for the fire poker and shovel, before knocking them all over onto the Oriental rug, still ablaze. The handle of the fire poker was just out of reach, growing hotter and hotter as it roasted in the flames. With an angry grunt, Cain's hands tightened, and Alain's world grew a little darker. He was sure now he was going to die... regrets... and images flashed before him, images from his past, but one in particular stuck out.

A photograph he had in his dresser drawer, of himself, Amalia, and Shannon, all grinning like idiots even though the war had just started... happy because they were clinging to each other.

If Cain survived, he would kill Shannon. If Alain died, even if Cain were dead, too, there would be no one to look after her. No one in this city to love her.

Alain was still gasping, but he turned his head to look at Cain, eyes matching his for cruelty. He twisted his head back against the floor... and then thrust it right back up, headbutting Cain. It didn't completely break the grip, but it loosened it long enough. He saw stars from the impact, but a rush of air gave him the strength to get him through to the end. His hand found the hot fire poker, felt its burn... and immediately closed around it. He let out a strangled cry as he hefted it in an arc... and stuck it into Cain's throat.

It was an awful way to die.

Cain's eyes bugged out as he released Alain's throat. He stood up, pawing ineffectually at the searing poker as blood filled his throat and he gurgled through it. The flames on his back spread, and he was turned into a living inferno as he stepped back onto the Oriental rug. His hands finally found the poker and wrenched it out; its thud as it hit the floor couldn't be heard through the roar of the flames as he tumbled backwards to drown in his own boiling blood.

Alain's right hand had been burned, he was bleeding not profusely but steadily from his left side, he was gasping for breath... but he was still alive. And so was Shannon. He struggled to his feet, coughing as he stumbled across the room towards the window, thinking about how he would climb down to the ground... but by the time he reached the window, he just rolled over the windowsill and tumbled out. Hitting the snow with a heavy thud. Thankfully, the snow broke his fall, but all of it was a terrifying spectacle for his younger sister.

"Alain!" She had already been screaming his name between coughing fits, torn between going back into the blaze to get him and staying put, doing as she was told. Her heart felt like it would burst, it was pounding so hard... when her brother finally tumbled out into the snow. "Alain!" She rushed over to her brother's side, her steps awkward because her feet were numb from the cold, and propped him up. "Alain... I'm here. Are you okay? You're hurt! Oh my God you're bleeding... Alain..."

She was panicking, and Alain could tell. It wouldn't do either of them any good... he struggled to open his eyes. Lying down felt so nice... he could just lie here and... but no.

"Alain... please be okay... please..."

He coughed wheezily, his world coming back into focus as he rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'm all right, Shannon..." He coughed again. Shannon laughed with relief between sniffles, and Alain managed a grin. "I'm all right... I promise." He peered at his bloodied underarm and grimaced. He didn't like that wound one bit... but he would be all right. "I've been worse off..." He looked at her again, brushing her damp hair with his fingers. "But we need to get out of here before you freeze to death. Here... help me up..." He offered his hand, and Shannon took it, helping him to his feet. "And wear this... it'll keep you warm." He shrugged out of his jacket, wincing as he did, and put it over her shoulders, tugging it around her some.

Shannon supported him with her arm, hoping he wouldn't collapse. If he did, she wouldn't be able to drag him very far. Though given food, she'd hardly eaten during her captivity... she was thinner than normal, very weak right now.

"Thank God you're alive... Alain, I was so scared..."

"Yeah... me too, Shannon."

When Shannon's feet got too cold, Alain carried her the rest of the way to Cassandra's house. They didn't stay long... the tension between Cassie and Shannon started up quickly... so they stayed long enough to get patched up, bathe, and grab some clothes... and finally, headed home together.