a chocolate milkshake with with malt and a brownie!

[ninablues]

Story: Misfits
Title: Last Resort
Rating: PG-13
Challenge: Chocolate #27: determination
Toppings/Extras: malt, milkshake, brownie
Wordcount: 7,215
Summary: A mission in the town of Lindos becomes unexpectedly interesting.
Notes: Misfits belongs to the fantastic Nathalia! This is a little cracky and, as always, I seem to have managed to exaggerate them somewhat. Forgive me! For the Snowflakes Milkshake: the Misfits team in action. Apologies also for simply how much time this took!

The old Land Rover shuddered and lurched over yet another pothole, wheels clunking over the sticky tarmac that was baking in the early summer heat. In fact, the entire Grecian island of Rhodes was searing hot, the sun a blazing coin high in the pale sky and the rocky orange earth on either side of the road warping with intense heat waves. Scrubby plants bravely faced the heat, along with the occasional bell-wearing goat.

With a thump, Hobbie’s head hit the ceiling of the rover and he cursed under his breath.

“Hey, Lynn, how about you use your skills as a so-called driver?” he called to the front cab, voice wobbling as one of the wheels thudded into yet another of the many potholes in the mountainside road.

“Hey, Hobbie, how about you go fuck yourself?” Lynn replied from the cab, hands tight on the wheel. “You know how bad these roads are? You’d think they still ride donkeys or something.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Wes protested as Face laughed.

“Don’t worry, Lynn,” he said with a smirk. “Hobbie’s just jealous because he’s being left behind.”

“Backup,” Hobbie muttered under his breath. “That’s an insult.”

“If we all get into trouble we need to make sure there’s someone competent to save our asses,” Shania said from where she lounged seatbelt-less on the rubbery seats of the hired Land Rover. Nobody in Rhodes wore seatbelts.

“Not that that’s going to happen,” Face chipped in.

Folding his arms, Hobbie leaned back against the seat: he didn’t think much was going to go wrong either. This was only a preliminary set-up, after all-getting to know the town first-hand, nothing else. The real mission wouldn’t begin for another fortnight or so, which meant another two or three weeks of this ridiculous heat. All they were doing was finding useful spots and keeping an eye on the man they were after-a gentleman by the name of Lasky that owned what could only be called a fortress embedded in the acropolis jagging into the sky behind the picturesque seaside town of Lindos.

He’d be the leader of the real mission, but still-he was a little annoyed at Dennis’ insistence that he stayed behind for this one.

They could see it as they rounded the last curve of the final mountain before Lindos and the team found themselves holding their breath as they stared at it. The road dropped steeply ahead of them, Lindos being placed in a little dish of rock nestled between two cliffs, and rising behind Lindos was the acropolis. Through the extreme heat that made the entire scene move to and fro as though flapping in some nonexistent breeze, all of the people in the vehicle could see the sandstone-coloured structure implanted into the brownish rock.

“Christ,” Lynn said, wiping her forehead with the back of one hand, other clasped on the wheel. The ancient aircon was on full blast but it didn’t help much and Hank-the most silent of them-seemed to be melting into a puddle in the back seat. Lynn’s eyes flicked to the mirror. “Hank, are you still alive?”

“Ugh,” he replied, which was better than no response at all.

“Nice!” Shania said, leaning over to gaze through the front windscreen the same time as Face. “I’ve got to admit, it’s a pretty place.”

It was; the buildings were picturesque whitewashed blocks that seemed to tumble over the uneven rocky ground, paved between with grey slabs. There were no roads; cars couldn’t go any further than the outside square, where the road turned into a large roundabout so that people could head to the beachside carpark or simply U-turn and drive back out of the dip that Lindos was settled in. The buildings were all pushed close together, some only parted by a couple of feet, and a trellis ran above the main roads, twined with a thick grapevines that were already filled with ruby-coloured droplets. Almost every rooftop seemed to host a bustling café and the narrow streets were like a flea market, with tourists milling from stand to stand.

“Yeah,” he said, “but overrun with tourists.”

“That’ll only be the main streets,” Shania responded. “I know places like this. And if it’s under Lasky’s thumb, there are bound to be dark corners, right?”

“Definitely,” Face replied, peering down at Lindos again, which they were approaching rather fast down the steep incline towards the base of the mountain where Lindos lay. “Lynn, that pedal between the clutch and the accelerator might be useful right now.”

“Shut up,” Lynn grumbled, compressing the clutch with a wheeze from the springs and shifting gear with a loud crunch. “This old bucket of bolts shouldn’t be allowed on the road. Damn Greeks and their lax standards.”

Apparently bored, Wes grinned out of the window as a whining moped overtook them-perched precariously on its back were two Greek girls in bikinis, one with a massive beach bag slung over her shoulder. He didn’t see why everyone was fussing about the heat: he had missed being in a warmer climate.

By a miracle of skill, Lynn managed to pressure the brakes into halting without killing or maiming anyone, just about scraping its way around the roundabout and pulling up to the side with smoke curling from the ancient rubber of the wheels. A gleaming coach filled with tourists hissed to a halt behind them, tipping out a mass of sunburned Americans.

“We fit right in,” Face said, opening the car door and being hit by the wall of heat outside of their air-conditioned little vehicle.

“We will,” Shania said with a grin. “The only place you’ll fit in is the ER.”

Face touched one of the scars on his face idly.

“Have you ever considered becoming a comedian, Shan?” he asked sweetly. “Because... don’t, is all I’m saying. It wouldn’t work out.”

“Time to get down to business, ladies,” Lynn said, having heaved the handbrake into place with an admirable effort and sprung from the Land Rover. The entire team was shambling out of the car and getting their things together.

Hobbie put one hand on the door into the driver’s seat and arched an eyebrow at them all.

“If you need me,” he said, “I’ve given a communicator to Wes.”

“We won’t,” Wes grinned.

“Don’t be so sure,” Hobbie said confidently. He opened the door and put one foot up into the Rover.

“Why would we?” Wes insisted. “The only way this little radio,” he bounced it in his hand, “is coming in handy is if we need to prop a door open.”

“You never know,” Shania grinned. “We might need it as a paperweight too.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Hobbie said cheerfully and then slammed the door closed, revving the Rover up with a rattling roar from its engine. The five remnants of the team-Face, Lynn, Hank, Wes, Shania-stepped back and watched as it puttered off back up the hill and out of the dip in the cliffs, the whine of its engine easily audible.

Then they turned towards the town of Lindos which lay open before them.

“It’s too hot for clothes,” Lynn sighed, looking around at all of the other women sensibly wandering around in bikinis-sundresses at most.

“Even in this temperature, I think that stripping off would be a little inadvisable,” Face said, beginning to walk towards one of the thicker roads going through the Rhodesian town. The number of weapons Lynn usually kept on her person was a vast mystery, but Face had the notion that she couldn’t conceal it all in a bikini. Well, not unless she got really inventive.

It was a little cooler underneath the shadow of the vines and the five of them headed towards the town centre, walking past tables spread with jewellery and pots and postcards and hats, the stony walls hung with banners and bags and clothes, everyone selling and buying. From the opposite direction a couple of donkeys carrying a tourist on each back, led by a leather-faced Rhodesian, clopped past. One of the mules stuck its face into Wes’ face before clipping by.

“He liked you, Wes,” Shania said.

“Well, it’s always nice to keep in touch with family,” Lynn added.

“You guys aren’t funny,” Wes muttered.

“That’s right,” Face said, turning to them with his mouth straight. “This is a mission, you two. Less of the blab.”

“It just feels like a vacation,” Shania said, nudging a tourist out of the way with one shoulder as they passed through a particularly narrow section of the road. She was right: all of them were staying in a rented villa in the nearby town of Kalathos, which had its own pool and everything.

“Well, it’s not.”

The five of them found a small side-alley and Face pulled out a set of wires from inside one of his pockets, untangling them and handing them to each one of the team. With varying degrees of uncertainty, the team held the earpieces up to inspect.

“What happened to the old style?” Wes asked.

“These are less noticeable,” Face said, and opened up what looked like a generically skin-coloured plaster, mid-beige. It had a small lump in it, which turned out to be the microphone. “The mic can just be strapped under your ear. It looks fine.”

“If you’re into the head injury look,” Shania said. “Which, of course, you would be.”

“Shan. Just put it on.” Face turned to the group in general. “Look, I’m not going to lie: all we’re doing is getting to know the place on a more personal level than a map can provide. We still have to take it seriously though. Lasky is a big player and in just two weeks we are going to be infiltrating that fortress up there, so it’s to our advantage to really get a good look at Lindos.”

“I’ll go set up,” Hank muttered, hefting up a large bag.

“Sure you don’t want anyone to come with you?” Lynn asked, frowning slightly.

“I’ll be fine,” Hank replied: he always preferred being alone on missions. It was the job of a sniper. “All I’m doing it taking a walk up the acropolis, and I look like just about every other tourist here.”

“Sunburn included,” Shania tagged on the end.

“Alright, stay in touch,” Face said as Hank turned away. He turned back to the others. “Let’s get going. First we need to get a view of the fortress itself.”

“It’s a huge building embedded in a cliff,” Wes said. “This is so boring. Shall I call Hobbie and tell him we’re all dying? That might be funny.”

“No. Let’s not.”

“Oh yeah, we can’t call him anyway.” Wes waggled the communicator in the air. “We have a bet now.”

Deciding not to even go there, Face turned to glance down the alley. Hank was out of sight. “I say we follow the main street until we get closer and then branch off somewhere with fewer tourists.”

“We’ll stand out,” Shania pointed out.

“We’ll just look lost. It’s not like we’re armed, right?”

There was an awkward silence in which only the clopping of donkey’s hooves could be heard echoing vaguely from the other side of the building as well as the incessant chatter of people flooding the main street. Face sighed. Loudly.

“This wasn’t meant to be an armed mission…”

“You never know,” Lynn said. “Like you said: Lasky’s dangerous.”

Face raised his eyebrows.

“Well, come on then,” he said after a pause, turning away from them and beginning to head down towards another side-street. “Let’s just hope we don’t have to use them.”

Heat still pounding down on them, the four moved deeper into shadier areas of Lindos, far less saturated with tourists. They were trying to draw attention away from themselves by going the lesser-travelled route; judging by the looks they were receiving from vine-swathed doorways and raisin-skinned men on balconies, they were wrong.

-----

Twenty minutes later they were nearing the other end of Lindos and closing in on the acropolis-approaching Lasky’s fortress but without intention of going much closer. The place was surrounded by a massive wall that ran down the steep, sandblasted rock, meeting the edge of Lindos and rising up, barricading the tourists out.

In single file, the four of them walked down a narrow alleyway and gazed upwards; the fortress seemed to be looming over them now. Face wiped the back of one hand over his forehead and even Shania seemed a little downtrodden by the heat. Only Wes whistled happily through his teeth as he stared at it.

“That sure is one ugly evil lair,” he commented, southern U.S. accent drawing the words out lazily. “If he’s so rich, couldn’t he fix it up a little?”

“Yes, because that’s every crimelord’s dream, a lair that looks simply fabulous,” Lynn muttered.

“You’d be surprised,” Face said.

“Hank, are you talking to yourself again?” Wes suddenly demanded into the microphone.

“Don’t be so fucking rude,” Lynn snapped, while Hank responded wearily-

“No, Wes. Though I have had to put up with listening to you lot making stupid comments for the last half hour-…”

“Hey!”

“Shut up a second,” Face suddenly hissed-and perhaps he would have ended up dragged into the squabble had his voice not become deadpan serious. There was silence on the line… or there should have been. But Wes was right. There was a shaky, faintly rattling line of chatter, and it dawned on all of the team at the same time exactly what it meant.

“Shi-…”

Why or how didn’t matter just then: they’d been compromised, and they’d only just realised in time. They scattered to the edges of the alley, pressing their backs against the warm white stone to garner shelter-their bodies knew what was coming before their conscious minds did.

Face had time to hear Lynn say, “For fuck’s sake…” before there was an ear-shattering spray of bullets from somewhere above that sent chips of the paving slabs bursting into the air in long, thin lines, streams of dust following behind. The trellis smashed to pieces over their heads, sending down a shower of splinters, and grapes and lush vines snapped and coiled.

Lynn and Wes were the first to pull out weapons-Shania was not far behind. Scarcely thinking about it, Lynn pulled out a fat Glock 22 and threw it across the exposed alleyway to Face, she and Wes being on one side and Shania and Face on the other. For herself, a Sig Sauer P226. With a belligerent scowl, she glanced upwards and then back to Face.

“Hank, you know what to do,” he said, and then pulled out his earpiece-useless now that it had been compromised-and jerked his head back towards one of the many alleys splitting the town like a cobweb.

That was one advantage to the place, they supposed; winding and irritating as it was, losing oneself among the buildings was easy. The trellis above their heads, abundant in thick grapevine, protected them from being spotted from above and allowed them to concentrate on the ground level. They hadn’t seen any of their assailants yet, but it was a safe bet that they were Lasky’s men.

“How did that happen?” Shania demanded as they jogged their way towards the main street; more tourists presumably meant it was safer there. Surely nobody would start a gunfight in the middle of the main street? “I though this operation was sealed up tight. Was it the new earpieces?”

“What we need to do is get out of here,” Face said, swiping sweat from his forehead. “Hank will be heading towards the rendezvous point. We should too.”

“Do you think we should call Hobbie?” Shania asked.

“Don’t be stupid!” Wes interjected quickly. “We’ve been in worse situations.”

Face’s lips twisted as he thought.

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

“Not ever,” Wes said, unloading the magazine of his gun, checking it and then slamming it back into place with the heel of his hand, causing a crunchy click to echo around the alley. He flicked the safety catch on and shoved it into the back of his belt. “He’ll never let me live it down.”

“It’s not all about you, Wes,” Lynn retorted, “but fine. I agree we can get to the rendezvous point without much trouble.”

Shania stuck her nose out into the main street. Tourists wound this way and that-the ground was made of slabs of bumpy stone and the walls were tight and curved, sending even the larger roads wriggling this way and that. The whole town was on a slope, meaning that it was easy to know which direction they were going in; upwards went towards the acropolis, downwards towards the beach.

Besides, they had Wes, who could navigate his way out of any labyrinth.

It was annoying, however, that they could scarcely see ten feet in front of them without being obstructed by pushy salespeople or tourists, and in the empty streets the corridor-like pavements zigged and zagged and generally made a nuisance of themselves…

Nobody seemed bothered by the previous ringing gunshots. Had they noticed? Had it even happened?

“There’s something weird about this town,” Wes muttered as they edged into the main street. Wes said that about almost anything he hadn’t been familiarised with since childhood, but for once the rest of the team agreed with him. They hurried past the stalls and kept a wary eye out, reassured by the weapons beneath their clothes.

The heat fell in constant, smothering waves and the air was utterly still. Shania was just praying for a breeze when they all heard something of a kafuffle up ahead. As one, the entire team turned their faces away and began pretending to be very interested in some fairly bland postcards. Face glanced over his shoulder, hat pulled low over his distinct face.

A group of men-as far as he could tell, all of them were male-tromped past, and they looked like trouble. Ill-disguised weaponry was causing alarmed looks from the surrounding tourists and their boots were loud against the sun-warmed stone beneath their feet. Face turned back around, stared for a moment at an obscenely orange woman grinning at him from the front of a postcard, and heard the footsteps receding.

“I might buy this,” Wes muttered, having become engrossed in a postcard that he was hiding from view. “What the hell does that symbol mean?”

“They use Euros here, Wes, how many times?” Lynn sighed.

“Those were Lasky’s men,” Face confirmed, trying to bring his team back to the mission. Shania swiped sweat from her forehead and glanced at him.

“How do you know?” she asked. “Assumptions have not been going so well for us today…”

“That guy at the front with the cap and neck-tattoo,” he said. “He was definitely in the files I studied before we got here. He’s a minion, which means presumably the rest of them are too. Let’s get out of here before they double back.”

“The whole mission is botched now,” Shania said. “Lasky definitely knows we’re here. We’re not going to storm the fortress in a week’s time with his full knowledge, are we? God, what a mess.”

“No,” Face said shortly. “We couldn’t have known the sheer level of corruption in this town. This isn’t our fault.”

“Guys,” Lynn interrupted. “That double-back you were all worrying about? It’s happening.”

“Right, come on,” Face ordered, and he walked a little down the street and plunged them down a couple of steps into a small, cramped shop. Fans whirred, jerkily creaking left and right, and traditional Greek music played from crackly speakers. The walls were lined with mass-produced pottery, the famous eye-shaped charms for warding off evil, and other random little trinkets like lighters, pendants and knives.

Behind the counter, a sturdy middle aged man sat with his eyes glued to some Greek soap opera playing on a portable television on the counter. The four teammates pushed deeper into the badly-arranged room, Lynn nearly knocking over a shelf of plastic ornaments in the shape of the Colossus of Rhodes.

“I think-,” Shania began seriously, only to be interrupted by a sudden crowding in the doorway. The four of them scurried towards the back of the shop, peering through the cramped shelves to try and catch a glimpse of whoever had just entered.

Face glanced sidelong and noticed that the man behind the counter had ducked down and out of sight. Either that or he had vanished through the bead-curtains behind the counter, leading out to the back.

Not good.

“Get down and out back first chance we get,” he hissed, dropping on one knee to the terracotta-tile floor. The others did the same without question. They heard a quick conversation in Greek take place and exchanged a look with each other.

The shelves suddenly came down with a crash. Lynn had her gun out before the others had even blinked and was blasting away, wildly but accurately. There were only about five of Lasky’s men in the shop-Lynn clipped three of them with nonlethal shots pretty quickly, and the disarray was only added to when three more shelves went over.

Shania hopped the counter and landed in a heap on the shopkeeper, who was crouched behind it. Bizarrely, she found herself muttering an apology as she darted through the bead curtains. Wes followed, then Face-and Lynn, by now avoiding reciprocating shots that sent glass ornaments exploding to powder and a large mirror shivering to the ground with a crash, joined them in the back soon after.

Ducking through the tunnel-like hallway, they bumbled past cardboard boxes kept in half-darkness and eventually saw a way out-the door opened directly into a narrow back alley. Shania dived through first and found herself face-to-face with a burly, greasy-haired man. She made to politely move past him, knowing that they had to get away from their pursuers, only to have his large, leathery hand clap down over her arm.

The man leered.

At the rear of the escape party, Lynn was working on taking out the two remaining men-she was hoping to simply take them down instead of kill them, but now that shots were being fired all around, she wasn’t too fussed. The stock room had no lighting aside from whatever bounced through the doorway, and as an enemy bullet sank into a crate and sent a puff of splinters into the air, Lynn darted one way and tripped over a roll of plastic bags with a loud curse.

Wes had decided that the best decision was not to carry on shooting wildly in the dark-which was resulting in nothing but a lot of broken stock-but made his way over to several pillars of bubble-wrap, rolled into hefty tubes and propped against the wall. It only took a couple of kicks to dislodge them from the floor-to-ceiling jam, and despite the fact that bubble-wrap was ordinarily used as a protective measure, it was wrapped up tight and hard as stone. They toppled over heavily.

He took advantage of the muffled calamity his actions caused to call over to Face-

“How’s Shan?”

“There’s a big guy blocking the alley,” he responded.

Wes raised his eyebrows as he leapt the bubble-wrap stacks to grab the neck of one of their pursuers, now clutching his head. He shoved a knee into his back and threw him against the wall.

“Poor guy,” he said.

Poor guy indeed. Shania was currently busy smashing the man’s face into the ground, knees digging into his back. He had tried to draw a weapon but she had kicked it halfway across the alley before he could even flick the safety catch off. She stood up and kicked him to one side, where he lay groaning. After picking up his gun, checking it out and unloading it, she dropped the empty case back to the street with a clatter and shoved the magazine into a pocket.

“Guys, let’s move!” she barked. They did so without complaint and darted away down the back alley, shaded as ever by the ever-present vines. When the four of them felt they had turned enough corners, Shania turned to face them all. “How the hell did that guy get around the back so quickly?”

“They knew we were in the shop,” Face said, wiping his brow. The temperature was still oppressively hot.

“It can’t be an eye-in-the-sky method,” Lynn said, glancing up at the trellis over their heads. “Nobody can see anything from above in this place.”

“Lasky must have a lot of spies,” Face shrugged. “Let’s just keep moving. All we need to do is get out of here. And at least we’re learning more about the town, eh?”

They tramped through the winding network of alleys, eventually arriving at an abandoned market square. It was a large rectangle, not really a square, and it was set into the ground with five steps leading into it from every side. The market was not on; wooden stands with sheets of canvas thrown over the top stood all around, with empty crates stacked into sloppy heaps. This was no tourist’s market; it was for locals, and used only once a week.

Guns out, they descended into the square. There was no trellis over their heads any more, but it was a good opportunity to head in the direction they wanted to go. Wes walked further into the square and cocked his Glock, squinting against the beating light of the sun.

Face whistled the main tune from ‘The Good, The Bad And The Ugly’ and then grinned sheepishly at the glare he received.

“Let’s get going, cowboy,” he said.

“They’re coming,” Wes said with astute precision. He pointed across the market place to one of the many alleys filtering into the place and then hopped down and behind a stall. “From there.”

The team had learned long ago not to take Wes’ gut instincts lightly, and followed him to his vantage point.

Before long, they heard boots ringing from the walls. Lasky’s men were probably trying to be quiet, but the walls were closed-in and the stone beneath their feet hollow. They heard them almost instantly and Lynn had already cocked her gun. The others followed suit, grimly recognising the sound of a lot of men.

“How many do you reckon?” Face asked.

“Twenty,” Wes said. “At least.”

“And I’d say more than that,” Shania said with a grimace. “This is not looking good.”

“These guys are total goons,” Lynn snorted. “Let’s take ‘em out.”

Lasky’s men were on the prowl now; it was evident that they knew the team were inside of the market square, just not where. They were splitting and weaving through stalls, feet crunching on gravel. Low shrubbery that crept between the slabs of stone quivered in a tiny, relieving breeze which soon died.

As ever, Lynn was the first to fire. Several shots rang out, one after the other, and everyone sprang into action. Lasky’s men dived into various nooks and crannies, the buildings surrounding the market square being ridged and varied in depth, and the stalls creating perfect blockages-if not of bullets, then of vision. There was very little in the way of clear air and before long, pot-shots were reigning supreme over any kind of well-thought-out aiming technique.

Blasts sent ancient wood exploding into feathery oblivion and feet slapped over the dusty ground. Shania threw herself around the corner of a stall as one of Lasky’s minions came around the other side: she quickly shot him in the shoulder and used the time to dart to the next stall. Wes was with her; she wasn’t sure where Face and Lynn were.

She watched Wes stoop to shoot over the partition of the stall they were sheltering in, bead of sweat running down his brow. He fired twice and then turned to face her.

“Do you have a grenade?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, grimacing. “Do you think a grenade is really necessary?”

“A grenade is always necessary.”

Their conversation was cut short when one of Lasky’s men suddenly burst through the wood, thick fingers clawed as he tore the ramshackle stall to the ground. Wes had whipped his gun around in an instant and Shania wasn’t far behind him, but then they were disrupted by an almighty crack.

It was the far-reaching, dread-inducing crack of a sniper rifle and the air seemed to still around it before exploding back into noise. Their attacker was dead before he hit the ground.

In an instant Shania’s gaze was on the sky, the buildings, and beyond them-the acropolis and the mountains and cliffs and ledges. The sky seemed small over her head as rock bore in from every side. The sniper, she realised, could be absolutely anywhere.

“I could’ve taken care of that myself, Hank,” Wes complained.

There were more cracks; a saving rain of gunfire. Every shot found its mark, the intensely powerful scope of the rifle being able to seek out assailants and aim with perfection. It felt like they had fallen into a safety net.

The unexpected attack brought equally unexpected armistice; the men Lasky had deployed at such short notice were local, working men with no desire to be picked off one by one. There were a few shouts, another crack brought another man down, and in an instant the men were running for cover. All the time, nobody had any idea where the shots had come from.

“Face?” Shania called. “Lynn?”

“Here!” their voices chorused. Face looked dishevelled but healthy; Lynn had a small nick on her exposed arm, but Shania had seen her get through a lot worse. Wes dug into a cargo pocket on his trousers and pulled out a small green bag which he unzipped and pulled a bandage from, throwing it lazily across to her. Being partnered with Hobbie, he’d become very quick at whipping out bandages as required.

“What the hell is Hank doing? He’s meant to be at the rendezvous point,” Face sighed. “Never mind, I’m pretty sure he just saved our skins. Let’s get out of here.”

They all knew that once they were under the trellis that covered the streets and alleys, Hank could no longer protect them. Lynn finished wrapping her bandage quickly and had Wes tie it neatly for her, and then they made their way to the street that would show them out to the west of the town.

Their enemies had worked out that a sniper couldn’t operate in the narrow, winding alleys and vine-swathed walls that made up the streets of Lindos; it wasn’t long before they heard footsteps rattling behind them.

“For God’s sake! How are they doing this?”

The four of them leapt into a restaurant to hopefully throw them off the trail, weapons tucked hastily under clothing. Face was really starting to dislike wearing a jacket in the pounding heat, but at least it gave them some way of disguising their guns.

Smiling genially at the waitress that came up to them, the four of them meandered towards the back of the restaurant, staring at the menu on the wall and hoping to be allowed to dither there hmm-ing and ha-ing until their pursuers rushed past.

No such luck, they realised as they heard the cocking of a gun behind them.

Shania’s eyebrows rose as the realised it was the waitress-and three waiters-that had brandished weapons from thin air and were pointing them at their heads. This was getting interesting. She didn’t even wait for her mind to comprehend her plan; she made some snappy order and dived for a nearby spiral staircase, which offered them temporary protection. To stop it from being quite so temporary, Shania-the rest of her team behind her-rushed up the staircase in a few dizzyingly tight circles until they suddenly stumbled into bright Rhodesian air, tasting of the sea.

It was a rooftop restaurant they had landed on, and they ignored the alarmed looks of the diners as they pushed their way through the tables. Down the incline of the town they could see the ocean glittering magnificently, and all around them the flat-topped buildings of Lindos rose and fell-everything encapsulated by the surrounding mountains. It was a beautiful sight, but not one they had time to appreciate.

“Is there another way down?” Wes asked a waitress, who was stood behind an impressive bar decorated with photographs of sublime cocktails. In response, she pulled a rifle out from under the bar.

Tourists, already nervous, panicked and rose from their seats. The four teammates took advantage of this and joined the havoc, Lynn upturning several tables and throwing them in the way of… pretty much everyone. They raced to the lip of the building, which was surrounded by a waist-high wall, and vaulted it onto the next building, separated only by a foot or two but at a dizzying height. They decided not to waste time thinking about it, instead wrenching open a trap door and falling down a ladder to the next floor as they heard rifle blasts from somewhere behind. Wes rolled some metal barrels back over the entrance behind them.

Beneath the roof they had leapt onto was yet another shop-Lindos was absolutely filled with them, this one selling clothing. Creped linen in bright colours lined the walls and confusing shelves were thrown this way and that, stuffed with fabric that was hung in multitudes of layers down the walls.

When they came across the shopkeeper, they knew already what to expect, and Shania dispatched him with a quick rabbit-punch. She then turned to face the others, hands on her hips.

“This town is-…”

She was cut off by a massive, shattering explosion that steamrolled into their ears and minds, sending the ground jumping beneath their feet and plaster dust streaming from above them. The shockwaves made every single dress and piece of clothing fall from the walls, slipping down and over them in an avalanche of fabric. Face clawed a peach-coloured skirt from over his head and blinked stars from his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I think it was those canisters I left over the trapdoor,” Wes said, having to speak loudly to be heard over the ringing in their ears.

“Wes!”

“How was I meant to know they’d be dumb enough to shoot ‘em?”

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Shania said, and they all set to kicking piles of clothing out of the way as they tripped and lurched towards the door. When they got there, Shania and Lynn made short work of two men that had run over to see what was going on-armed, of course-and then darted down the street. Lynn snatched a bikini top from the end of her gun.

“What do you think of this colour on me?” she asked Shania.

“What?” her friend and teammate responded, ears still ringing from the explosion.

They ran through the alleys until they were certain they had lost anyone that was chasing after them. Exhausted and irritated, the four of them glanced up and down the narrow street they were stood in. They took a few steps one way and came across a tiny jewellery shop embedded into the ground, down some narrow steps.

Behind the counter was a little old Greek lady. After exchanging a look, the four of them shuffled down into the shop, smiling awkwardly at her as they passed. Their weapons were holstered again, but they were still covered in plaster dust and cuts and grazes and the dazed expressions on their faces said a lot.

“Right, so, how do we get out of Batshit Town?” Lynn asked as she pretended to look at some bracelets. “Fuck me, these eye-shaped stones are creepy.”

There was a scuffle behind her, and though she knew what to expect, she still felt stunned as she turned around to see Face wrestling a gun from the old lady’s hands and slamming her into the back wall.

“This feels so wrong,” he sighed.

“Don’t worry, Face,” Shania grinned. “Granny-beaters are what every girl looks for in a guy.”

“This is ridiculous,” Face said before grabbing a spangled belt hanging nearby and starting to bind up the old lady’s wrists. She muttered something in Greek. Face noticed a small radio communicator under her desk and glared at it. “They’re all in contact. This is just-…”

They were interrupted by Wes suddenly snatching up his buzzing communicator. He flipped it open and held it to his mouth. He winked at them before opening the conversation with-

“Hi, Hobbie.”

“Wes. I’m watching the news.”

“Oh, cool. Anything interesting on?”

There was a long pause from Hobbie’s end of the line.

“Well, yes. There’s been a massive explosion in central Lindos.”

“Has there?” Wes asked, voice perfectly incredulous. “Guys, did any of you notice an explosion?”

“Nope,” Face said, before sneezing due to the powdered plaster that caked his hair and clothes.

“Wes…”

“It was nothing to do with us!”

“The top half of a building was destroyed. It’s lucky nobody was killed!”

“Yeah, that really is lucky,” Wes agreed. “Look, stop wasting the time watching the news. It’s probably a rerun.”

“A rerun of the news?”

“Greeks are weird people, Hobbie. Go play in the pool or something.” Suddenly, footsteps rang in the steps leading down to the shop and the four team members looked at each other in alarm. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. We’re all going to buy ice cream.”

“Wes, if things are getting ugly-…”

“Bye!”

The four of them scrambled through a stockroom door.

----

“The whole town,” Face said, kicking a stone. “The whole fucking town!”

The four of them were tramping along the top of the rocky mountain to the west of the town, Lindos far below them. A small spire of smoke was still twisting from one of the sites near to the centre of town. An honest-to-God tumbleweed flitted past their ankles and swept away.

“That place is nuts,” Lynn agreed.

The conversation came to a halt when they spotted Hank on the horizon. They’d reached their rendezvous point. Joyously, the team managed to break into a weak half-jog and meet with him on the crest of the hill.

“You took your time,” Hank said, picking up his large bag and slinging it over one shoulder.

“Thanks for the save down in the market square,” Face replied a little breathlessly. The heat was absolutely stifling. Hank just shrugged.

“It’s my job,” he said.

“Jesus, that was impossible,” Lynn said, scraping dark hair from her eyes. “I’m just so glad to be out of there.”

“I agree,” Shania said. Wes murmured in assent. He had been in charge of their on-foot journey, making sure that they travelled up by crevices and passes in the rock that stopped them from being spotted from below. Now they had reached the crest and were making their way back down to the main road: they were out of Lindos.

Face released a long breath.

“Lasky’s more powerful than I ever thought,” he said. “We’re going to have to rethink this mission.”

“Let’s leave that for when we get home, yeah?” Shania said. She pointed down the rocky slope heading towards the main road; in the distance they saw a petrol station and café bustling with people and cars as tourists made their way home. “Drink, anyone?”

Lynn wiped sweat from her forehead and swallowed, her throat feeling like cardboard.

“Yes fucking please.”

-----

All of them felt slight apprehension as they stepped into the café, but as tourists munched happily through their meals talking in a myriad of languages and no guns were pulled out, relief crumbled through them and the five of them collapsed into a booth. A waitress came by quickly, smiling at them.

“Can I ‘elp you?” she asked in a thick Greek accent.

“A big jug of water for us to share, please,” Face said, wiping his brow.

“And a big dish of vegan meat for my friend here,” Shania said, slapping him on the shoulder. “He’s an actor, you know.”

“Piss off, Shan!”

They laughed as the waitress raised her eyebrows, jotted down their very brief order and walked away back towards the kitchens.

“See? No problem,” Wes said, leaning back against the cushy backseat and resting his boots on the seat opposite to him, arms stretched behind his head. Tossing the communicator casually onto the table in front of him, he grinned to himself while the other members of the team began to chat back and forth, continuing to come back to Face’s not-so-distinguished former career.

“Back to the mission,” Face said, trying to bring the topic of conversation away from that very thing, “I think we’re going to have to do some serious reworking. Lasky is insanely powerful.”

“How’d you work that one out?” Lynn asked, raising an eyebrow. She closed her eyes as one of the many fans buzzed around to face her, sending beautiful cold air rushing towards her. Behind her, a group of French teenagers chattered loudly and a young boy with a toy plane was running up and down between the tables, taking thumping steps and making loud buzzing noises.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Face said with a sigh. “I had no idea that-…”

“It’s not your fault,” Shania said with a shrug. “We’ll just have to get to work. We can crack him.”

“Are we getting the bus back to Kalathos?” Hank asked, rubbing his forehead. “I think I’m going to die if I don’t get somewhere I can relax soon.” He closed his eyes and rested his chin on his hands.

“We can relax here,” Wes said.

“Why is the waitress taking so long with one jug of water?” Lynn asked-and as she spoke, there was a series of very familiar noises across the room. “Oh, fu-…”

Guns cocking.

Everyone had a gun of some sort in their hands pointed directly at them, waitresses and guests alike. Chefs came out through the double doors with rifles in their hands; the small boy pulled a small Smiths and Wesson .38 from the back of his trousers and cocked. Lynn tilted her head up to find the French teenagers looming over her with several different types of gun. The black holes of their barrels stared at her accusingly.

There was a long, long silence.

Face’s eyes were fixed to the communicator on the table. When he looked up, his gaze met Wes’. There was a pause.

Then they both dived for the communicator simultaneously, Wes trying to tear it out of Face’s grasp and Face fighting to twist it away.

“Oh no you don’t! Not after everything! We don’t need any help!”

Face managed to wrestle the communicator out of his grasp and turned around as Wes dived over the table, much to the confusion of the attackers surrounding them. Holding Wes off with one arm, Face brought the communicator to his mouth.

“Hobbie!”