Red had already seen almost every inch of the León Estate in one way or another before taking a single step into it. Baba's screen had shown him the smooth square pillars that spanned the whole entrance corridor, two rows of columns flanking a narrow arch.

He'd seen its five layers laid out on the various floor plans in a stout U-shape, the whole structure drawn along the land like a thick and empty wine glass. He'd seen all of its spacious rooms, from the wide central staircase at its center to the giant kitchen that took up a full quarter of its basement. He'd seen the marble lion statues spaced out along each hallway, the intricate paintings hung on equally intricate frames, the perfectly trimmed gardens that wrapped all around the building and coalesced around the white gazebo nestled within its mirrored wings.

But actually being there, Red found no image had done the place justice. Wealth shone on every polished surface, every shingle in its low roof, every gesture to the old and timeless. The way his shoes clopped and echoed against the stone floors, the way that each intake of breath filled him with an air that tasted somehow sacred...

"Living here would really suck," he decided.

Roman glanced back at him, strolling calmly down the pillared corridor. "It is a bit much, isn't it?"

"Just getting around feels like a huge pain in the ass." At least the World Tree had giant snails.

The corridor they walked through was, after all, a good two-minute stroll away from the actual driveway, an oval street that led up the hill from Roxbury proper. If this was what it took just to reach the entrance, Red couldn't imagine what it'd be like to slip from his room and down to the kitchen for a snack or even a glass of water. He could kind of respect the sheer absurdity of it, but no amount of pretty sights or marks of status could justify living anywhere that would take longer than a few moments to walk across the whole span of.

It made it seem somewhat ridiculous to think anyone had actually lived here. The whole place seemed more like a museum or government building than a genuine house, regardless of how rich the León family had supposedly been.

"I've seen worse," Kitty said, walking opposite Red on Roman's right. "This is big, but it's no castle or palace."

Red squinted ahead. "These guys definitely stole their doors off a church or something."

The three walked toward those heavy doors, blocks of wood twice the height of the average ones, all attired in tuxedos that felt much looser than they seemed. Donny had taken the trouble of going out to buy them all more clothes befitting the occasion, though it had unfortunately not been by way of Odette. The woman was a genius, but she was also on Roman's payroll, and that wasn't something their enemies would've ignored had they been stupid enough to visit her with circumstances as they were.

People already littered the entrance, passing and going. Tuxes and dresses, Red observed, black just like theirs. The usual mafia grunts, same as before, though now not a one lacked some form of jewelry, rings and necklaces and bracelets and earrings all glinting in the mid-afternoon light.

Looked like everyone had gone all out for this. Swanky.

They tightened their formation as they neared the crowd. "Remember the plan," Kitty whispered.

Red reached for a snarky response, found one, but after a moment of thought swallowed it and gave the same sharp nod Roman did. Already Kitty seemed anxious, eyes darting back and forth, probably on the lookout for Owl. Wouldn't be good to distract her too much now.

Stretch and Donny would be in place by now. If things went well, Red would only have one thing to worry about: breaking Hound's stupid face.

Ahead, people started to notice their approach. A few seemed to smile—Roman's crew, probably happy to see for sure that he was alive after all—but most now seemed as anxious as Kitty. No one bothered hiding their feelings, and Red could pluck the bad guys out easy enough, especially when most of them strode rather tersely inside.

"Off to warn Agrivon," Roman said. "Let him know to start whatever trouble they've got brewing."

Eyes widening, Red grinned with much more enthusiasm. "Dude, you think they'll stop the wedding at the 'forever hold your peace' part? That'd be so cool."

"My guess is they'll try something as soon as I walk through those doors." Roman threw him a deadpan glance. "Just to make sure, you know life isn't like the movies, right? You do know that?"

Red sighed. "I know. It sucks that the real world can't be that exciting."

Roman didn't know what part of anything they were doing could possibly bore anyone involved, but he let it be. Red's delusions seemed not to have killed the boy yet, and as long as that was true he supposed they couldn't hurt too much.

From the crowd came two men, both old, one pushing the other on a wheelchair. The former, Luther, nodded at Roman, then inclined his head toward Kitty.

"Young lady," he said. "I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life."

It was so straightforward and sudden that Kitty's brow climbed the barest bit, a crack on her usually stoic expression. "It's nothing..."

"My life? I would have to disagree." His smile crinkled around his eyes, wrinkles folding kindly. "So thank you."

Kitty nodded—embarrassed and even reluctant, though she did a good job of hiding it. Red supposed he was happy for her, at least enough that he wouldn't let it bother him how Luther barely spared him a glance before looking back at Roman.

"I hope you already know things won't go too smoothly today," Luther said.

"We figured," Roman said. "Don't worry. I'll deal with it."

"And how exactly," said a raspy voice, "do you plan to deal with it?"

The other old man, the one in the wheelchair. He looked up with apparent strain, back hunched, each breath a wheeze squeezing through his lips. Sergei, the Volante Syndicate Don, looked in a sorry state but still held some degree of power in his words. Red put his hands in his pockets, examining him unrepentantly, and if the man noticed it was just another thing for him to be scowling about.

"Your men are armed," Sergei said, glaring up at Roman. "Everyone is armed. Yours, Agri's, even Yovanni's. Is a fight really so inevitable, now of all times?"

"Now is the only time for Agrivon," Roman said, not even bothering to hide it. "But you already knew that, sir. This isn't something I want to start. But if it is starting, I'm not letting any of my guys come in unprepared."

Sergei met his eyes for a long moment, face puckered in distaste. Then he sighed, slumping back. "I was hoping we could avoid this..."

"Maybe there never was any avoiding it. Agrivon wants things to stay the same for us. I don't. And we both want our way too much."

"So you do." Sergei chuckled, though it lacked any humor. "Ambition is the death of trust. It brought you both up my ranks, and now it will destroy everything I've worked for."

"Not everything."

"No. I suppose one of you will come out alive." One last, lingering look. "My son is stupid, but he cares about this family. Perhaps more than anyone else. Don't forget that."

Roman crossed his arms. "There's not much I respect about him, but that's at least one virtue I can't deny."

"Don't forget," Sergei repeated, reaching up to pat Luther's hand. "See you at the aisle."

The men turned and walked inside with everyone else.

Red watched them go, frowning. "Did... Did that guy just give you permission to kill his son?"

"Permission would be saying too much. But I guess he sees that things have deteriorated too much now for anything else."

"Jeez, I don't even have parents and even I can tell that's fucked up."

"Crime pays," Roman said, smile forced. "But it also costs plenty. Let's go."

They went forward, and as they passed what remained of the crowd Roman called for his crew to follow. They'd be outnumbered—Agrivon apparently had almost twice as many—but some backup was better than no backup. Plus, they'd need some distraction to put their plan into motion.

So it was that Roman walked in, Red and Kitty flanking him, followed by several dozen men and women. The room was long and bright, something like plaster coating the walls, and as egregiously decorated as Red had expected. They picked up more support as they went, most of the party hanging around close to the entrance, most standing nervously until they saw the growing army and either joined or escaped through the door ahead.

One of the men came up beside Roman, making sure to step gingerly apart from Kitty. "We're glad to see you, boss. A few of us thought..."

Roman put a gentle hand on his arm. "I'm glad too. How's the crew been?"

"Bad. That assassin, she's been hunting down our people one by one. I don't think any of us have slept very well the last few days."

Hostages? No, that wasn't how Owl operated. "For information," Kitty decided.

"Could they still be alive?" Roman asked.

"No."

There hadn't been a moment of doubt. Roman was silent for a moment, then patted the other man's shoulder. "That all stops today. I promise."

The man nodded and leaned closer, speaking quietly. "Donny told us what's going on, not that we needed him to with the way Agrivon's crew has been acting. They really want our blood, boss, yours especially."

"They'll get some of it," Roman said, face grim. "But we'll get all of theirs."

"Everything Donny told us to do is ready too. I don't get why it's important, but we got it covered." The man nodded again, this time with a grim smile of his own, and and pulled his jacket open to show the gun hidden under it. "We're ready, boss. Just say the word."

When Roman reached the door, he turned back and saw him along with the rest of his crew, all of them looking on with stern, determined faces. Red and Kitty stood before all of them, looking up at him expectantly, the former still with his hands in his pockets and the latter sparing the odd glance around at the shadows. This was his team. New and old, he'd be putting his life in their hands just as they'd be putting theirs in his.

Even in the face of the dangers ahead, Roman knew he could've done far, far worse.

"Protect each other," he said, voice breaking the tense silence. "We'll come out of this, and then you can have all the cake and wine you want. I might even make it a weekly thing, once I'm the Don."

Grins, smirks, earnest chuckles. That was as much confidence as Roman could give them. Hopefully it would be enough, he thought, opening the door. With that and the plan, maybe they wouldn't need too much luck.

- - - — MKII — - - -

Agrivon knew what people said about him. Hotheaded, reckless, too driven by his anger. They said it often, and never too loudly, so it was impossible for him not to know, and that knowledge had served him well. Impulsive rage wasn't the worst sort of reputation to foster in this business, at least as long as it came with results, and for him it had.

His father had helped, but Agrivon had earned his place in the Syndicate. He'd carried his share of cargo, cleaned his share of guns, made his share of sales—more than any of the other Captains, in fact, which was why his crew was so much larger than theirs. He'd killed plenty and survived plenty and there was no reason why his father should choose anyone else to take the top spot.

Roman. Even now, standing in the middle of the circular room, Agrivon seethed at the very thought of his name. He'd come in like a storm, efficient and intelligent, so easy with the others, so willing to risk himself for those under him, so honorable with his intentions. Everyone had seen it; Luther, Sergei, the other Captains, and above all the crewmen.

Everyone except Agrivon, because unlike them he knew the truth. All that honor and loyalty was a Trick, bright and loud like an explosion ultimately destined to vanish in a dimming cloud of smoke. He'd come in from the outside a lowly gangbanger, a man with no connections or resources, no more valuable than trash along the street. Now he was a Captain and heir apparent, all because he'd started selling those strange devices.

Those things, Talismans. No one had believed they could do what Roman claimed, Agrivon least of all, yet he somehow made piles of money through them anyway. A shortcut to the top, one that let the dark-skinned man skip years of blood, sweat, and tears.

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Agrivon couldn't trust it, even now that he knew magic was real and Roman's product was authentic. He'd always been suspicious of the whole thing, first because it sounded absurd and now because it sounded far too dangerous. These new people, these Magicians they now dealt with, should not be brought in. Already the Syndicate's death toll was higher in one week than it had been in several years, all because they'd foolishly stepped into a world they had no business being in. Roman's advantage—his embrace of the supernatural—would only destroy them.

Better to keep things as they were. Better to slowly expand, year after year, generation after generation, pulling in a steady stream of cash from the same mundane things every other gang sold. There was more competition there, but that competition was decidedly less volatile.

So Roman had to be removed from the picture. Agrivon wouldn't lie to himself and say there was no enmity in the act, but for as blind to practicalities as people thought him he would not have followed this course if he didn't feel he had to. In another world, Roman wouldn't have stepped so far off the beaten path, and they'd be terse yet civil as partners in the same pursuit. In another world, Sergei wouldn't have been so stubborn about trusting the man and Agrivon could've safely convinced everyone he was behind this mess. In another world, Roman wouldn't have joined the Syndicate altogether.

Agrivon didn't live in any of those worlds. He lived in this one, and in this one he had no other choice. Roman would have to die.

So Agrivon smiled when he saw the man himself walk in. A circular staircase loomed overhead, going around and around the wide chamber, all lit by the glass atrium at the top. Get far up enough and it was hard to see you from below, a very important detail that let Agrivon keep smiling even as Roman was followed by what seemed like his entire crew.

Seeing Agrivon standing there alone, Roman stopped short a few yards away. "Ah. My future brother-in-law."

Agrivon kept his smile, allowing a flare of his nose. "Roman. How good to see you."

"You don't say." Roman looked around without turning his head. "A bit strange to find you here by yourself."

"The others are all out in the back garden finding their seats."

"And Alainne?"

"The estate gave her a room to get ready with her bridesmaids. She found a beautiful dress, but I wouldn't try to see her right now. That'd be bad luck." Agrivon looked him over. "You got a room too, but it looks like you're all dolled up already."

"I'm not one to do things last minute."

Unlike you, though that went unsaid. Agrivon could tell Roman suspected a trap, though that didn't matter much. He'd already fallen for it.

"Did you have something to tell me, Agri?" Roman said the nickname with sweet emphasis, stepping forward and followed closely by his two freaky child bodyguards. "I imagine that's why you're here. Out with it."

"Oh, Roman, it's nothing. Just the ordinary warning any groom would get from the bride's older brother. Don't hurt her, or else."

"I won't."

"Hm." Agrivon held his hand out. "Shake on it?"

Roman glanced at his hand, then turned minutely and gestured to his crew. They spread out, surrounding Agrivon with practiced speed, all of them glaring, all of them with hands ready at their hips. As they did, Roman walked forward, Red and Kitty following.

An intimidating sight, but it just made Agrivon's smirk widen. He kept smirking when Roman reached out, grabbed his hand tight, shook once, and pulled him close.

"If you've got something in your back pocket," Roman said, whispering into his ear, "I recommend you use it now."

"How helpful of you."

Lips pursed, Agrivon let out a short, sharp whistle. Immediately a wave of steps and rustling clothes filled the room, and looking up against the light Roman saw the men stepping forward halfway up the staircase, hard-set scowls looking down over the wooden railing. They all pulled their guns out and, with a second wave of clicking safeties, aimed them down at the other crew below.

Roman's people, seeing themselves surrounded by readied barrels, hastened to take their own guns out and point them up in response, shuffling around to find a target. Kitty pulled out her knife, turning to stand with her back to Roman, and Red brought his hands together before doing the same, grinning dangerously up at the armed opposition.

Agrivon's smirk now turned cruel. "For all your smarts, Roman, you make some bad mistakes. The only way you're walking down that aisle is as a body thrown over my shoulder."

A bead of sweat trickled down Roman's cheek. He felt the guns aimed at him like numb stings of pressure on his skin, impossible to ignore, but still he remained calm. Stretch and Donny should be in a good position. He had to trust that they were ready to utilize it.

"This is new for you," he said. "I thought playing Trick like this was beneath you."

"I'm happy to make an exception just this once."

"As am I."

Roman and Agrivon both glanced up at that, surprised by the new voice. They were even more surprised to see Yovanni looking down at them near the top of the stairs, a ways above Agrivon's crew, and that surprise turned into utter shock when the third man waved a hand to produce his own crew already locked and loaded. The grunts filled out the top flights, aiming down both at Agrivon and Roman's crews, not as numerous as either but well placed on the high ground.

Seeing them, and realizing what their presence meant, Agrivon dropped his smirk and glared hatefully up at his cousin. "Yovanni, what in the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Yovanni shrugged, looking downright uncomfortable in his tuxedo. His hair unkempt and his posture slack, his dress barely made him look presentable, yet his tired eyes seemed more resigned than they did nervous or unprepared.

"If it makes you feel better, this wasn't my idea," he said, nodding at Emma beside him. The woman's single eye glanced around the room, practically dancing with joy at their bafflement. "Neither of you has helped things calm down much, so I got convinced that it'd probably be better if I took over from here on out. Sorry."

"You really think you stand a chance on your own?"

"Ha. No, obviously. That's why I brought this guy."

Yovanni now nodded at the man standing on his other side, a tall cloaked figure who wasted no time before leaping over the railing and falling all five stories down the spiraling staircase. Some guns twitched, others lowered, all in a second bout of shock as everyone thought they'd just watched a man throw himself to his death.

Except the man didn't crumble when he landed. Instead, he planted his feet firmly, crouching only to absorb the fall before straightening just as quickly. He'd kept a hand on his wide-brimmed hat to keep it on his head, and now he let it fall, slide into his coat, and throw it behind the holster at his hip. Just a few feet from Agrivon and so equally surrounded by Roman's crew, he held his hand there, tenderly fingering the handle of a silver revolver, grizzled face narrowed in on Kitty.

"You." Vincent bit on the toothpick between his lips, expression a mix of resolve and anticipation. "I've been lookin' for you."

Agrivon sidled away from him, still glaring. "Great, another one of these freaks."

"That badge," Kitty said, turning his way and spotting the crossed swords clipped to his chest. "You're an Enforcer."

"Most of the time, but today I'm here on my own business." Vince's eyes, shadowed under his hat, now seemed to glint with bright intensity. "Don't you remember me, girl? What you did to my people?"

Kitty frowned at first, trying to place it in her memory. Then, slowly, familiarity struck her, and her black eyes grew wide. "No..."

"Yes."

Vincent stepped forward, and Kitty thought she felt the whole room tilt at the weight of it. Then, in an instant, he drew his gun, ready to shoot at the hip. Kitty flinched back, knife up, and Red shouted, jumping in front of her with hands splayed out.

But no shot came, because in that same instant the glass atrium above shattered. Glass came down like rain, sprinkling on everyone below, and along with it came a strange dark cylinder, like a can of food. It fell down all five floors, landing just between Agrivon and Roman, catching everyone's attention. Kitty and Vincent both looked closely at it, momentarily distracted, and both realized what it was at the same time.

"Tear gas!" Kitty shouted, pulling Roman back with an arm already coming up to cover her face.

Smoke bloomed large from the can, releasing in a great stream that soon encompassed the whole center of the room.

Then Hound dropped down on a black rope, whole body covered in either armor or weapons, one hand sliding down the cable and another holding out a machine gun with his finger pressing firmly on the trigger. Clap after clap of thunder rang out across the room and bodies dropped with each one, some falling bloodily against their nearby friends and others bending dead over the stair railings.

Agrivon stumbled back, mouth and nose covered tight against the gas by the crook of his arm, and realized in a moment of terror that he now held the most disadvantageous position. "Shoot them!" he screamed, words breaking through the ringing in his ears. "Shoot them all!"

His crew hesitated for only a second, long enough to make sure they were aiming at the men and women wrapping the room below them rather than the rapidly expanding cloud of smoke at their center. Then, with a surge of noise, they all started blasting. Roman's crew followed shortly after, shooting up at the two crews above them, and Yovanni's soon got in on the action too.

Madness. Kitty looked around at it in a mild panic, then decided to focus on their principal dangers. First was Vince, who even now seemed determined to wade through the gas toward her, and second was Hound, who looked only seconds away from reaching the bottom floor. He saw her standing there, one arm clawing Roman's jacket, and his machine gun pointed down at her with mechanical precision.

But then Red was there, hands spread out in front of him like a shield. The bullets came, their release indistinguishable from all the hundreds that surrounded it, and immediately crashed into the invisible wall of Red's Trick. They didn't bounce and certainly didn't stop altogether, but the Trick was sturdy enough to deflect the bullets away from their target and onto the floor.

"Hey, it worked!" Red said, looking like he'd just gotten a new toy, and clapped his hands for another round.

In front of him, Vincent finally made it close enough to see the standing there in the smoke. At once his gun flicked up from his hip, shooting out thin beams of light, their trail distinct like shooting stars.

Ready for him, Red tried the same move as before, hands pushing out, grin wide. That grin slipped from his face when the light bullets slipped right through the invisible wall that should've stopped them, one of them streaking right into his shoulder.

Red stumbled back, startled, hand coming up to feel the place of impact. But there was no evidence he'd been shot, no bullet wound, not so much as a scratch. Frowning at this, Red made to clap his hands again, and only then noticed that his arm—the one that had been hit—refused to follow instructions.

Hound landed, aiming to shoot again. Vincent glanced over at this newcomer but seemed unwilling to be distracted from Kitty, and he readied his own gun as well. And still Red's arm wouldn't work, hanging limply at his side, feeling numb and tingly like all the blood had gotten sucked out of it.

"Um…" He looked back at Kitty and Roman, eyes squinting against the gas. "We might be a little screwed here!"

Then, to make matters worse, Owl suddenly popped out from Roman's shadow. Knife out, she stabbed for the man's neck, and it was only due to Kitty's incessant attention that the attack got parried away.

Teeth gritted, Kitty went for a kick as the other girl rolled to a kneel, but just as her foot was set to hit Owl fell right back into the ground again, her pale and grey form sucked into utter darkness. One attempt had failed, but she'd get plenty of opportunities in all this chaos.

Hound shot. Red, unable to clap, threw himself back at Roman and Kitty, tackling them to the ground. "I can't move my arm!" he said, sole working hand holding down his head. "What's that cowboy shooting us with?! Actually, who even is he?!"

"He's got a Talisman," Kitty grunted, getting to her feet. Looking over, she saw to her relief that Hound and Vincent both had been rendered momentarily busy by the need to avoid their own share of incoming gunfire. "It blows a hole right through your Spirit!"

"Okay, how the hell do I fix it?!"

"How should I know?!"

Roman grabbed both of them. "In case you've forgotten, we're in the middle of a warzone!"

Glancing back at Hound, Red saw the man weaving around bullet after bullet, dead eyes set permanently their way. He was in the middle of casually reloading his machine gun while he did this. Vincent seemed also to be getting ready for another try at them, and like Hound his eyes were narrowed harshly on Kitty. Then there was Owl to worry about, the girl surely slipping in and out of shadows all around them.

As if by unspoken agreement, all three enemies attacked at once. Hound locked his new magazine into place and pointed the gun at them. Vincent threw himself away from a passing bullet and the gun at his hip flashed up, whole arm spread out like a lance in their direction. Owl dove out of the floor like a dolphin diving out of the water, knife in both hands.

Red tried stepping forward to meet them and use his own body as a shield if need be, but Roman stopped him, grip hard on his arm. He turned, set to push the man off if need be, at least until he felt another unfamiliar grip. Looking down he couldn't see the source, only the vague indentation of something wrapped around his waist like a belt.

Then, with no warning, Red, Kitty, and Roman all flew up into the air. Hound's bullets flew just under their feet, as did Vince's, and Owl landed where they'd just been standing, glancing up at them with as much confusion as her monotone face could manage.

The three rose fast, past the tear gas, past the waves of shooting grunts, past Agrivon and Yovanni who stared gaping up at them. Up, up, up until they reached the top floor, and there they saw Donny waving behind the last set of railings.

Whatever had grabbed them now set them down nearby, and shortly after Stretch appeared from thin air, one hand holding up Kitty's translucent ring. He handed it to her, smiling at their loss of words. "I'm definitely borrowing this thing again."

"You two sure cut it close," Roman said, dusting himself off while Red and Stretch shared a high-five.

Donny glared at Roman, not in anger but in deep concentration. "Hold still, let me get a good look... Ah." In a moment his form shifted, skin fading into a deep brown and hair sinking into his head. The fact that they wore what amounted to the same outfit made the transition easier, and soon enough he stood as Roman's perfect twin, though his smile came across as far more pleased. "Alright, that should be good."

"What should we do about the cowboy?" Red asked, glancing down. He saw Vincent running up the stairs, leaping whole flights with each step, shooting anyone he had to but otherwise ignoring a mass of grunts more interested in killing each other.

"We'll just have to improvise," Kitty said, slipping her ring on. They blinked and she was gone, now only a disembodied voice in their ears. "Look alive, and pay attention to which one comes after you!"

"Won't be too hard," Red said. "One of 'em's gonna be shooting up the whole house along the way."

And speaking of the devil, Hound was the first to reach them. He pulled himself up the railing with brutal power, leaping sideways onto the floor nearby and unleashing his two handguns with the same movement. It wasn't like him to hesitate, but in this instance he did pause briefly to consider the sight before him.

Two Romans. One stood close to Red, both ready to run left. The other stood close to Stretch, ready to go right. How was this possible? Had Fox survived her wounds, fatal as they had been?

No... A Talisman, then?

Owl came out of his shadow now, having ridden him up, her black silhouette coloring into her normal monochrome. She stared expressionlessly at the Ranger pairs, both of whom now ran off in opposite directions. Stretch and his Roman dashed right through the doors to the east wing, and Red made sure to stick his tongue out at them before heading into the west one.

"Smart," she admitted. "I'd bet Mouse is invisible, protecting the real one, but it's impossible to tell which is which. We'll have to split up."

"I'll finish them as soon as possible," Hound grunted, and without another word he sprinted west after Red.

Which meant Owl would take east. "We'll race for it," she said, and fell into shadow again, slipping into the hallway as fast as she could.

Vincent reached the top soon after. He'd seen the proceedings from down below, and though it had been harder to make out he still managed to reach the same conclusion. He looked left and right, ignoring the sea of gunfire below that had begun to spill out into the adjoining rooms. Soon enough the whole estate would act as a shooting gallery for the three clashing crews.

Hound had gone for the west wing after that boy, which meant Owl had probably gone east. So that's where Vincent went, Moonshooter held low in front of him, smelling a revenge that had never before seemed so close. The shadow girl was just as much a target as the invisible one, after all.

The crime family feud, the wedding party that even now waited with bated breath out in the back gardens, his own temporary partnership with Yovanni and Emma, none of it meant anything to him. He'd shoot his way through as many people as it took to catch those monsters, and even with this much going on he figured he should focus on the enemies he'd actually come here to face. Anyone else would just have to be dessert once he was done with the main course.