Being trapped at the Family headquarters for three days had left Don G in an awful mood, unable to even step outside. His office felt stuffy despite the cool breeze coming in under the blinds over the window and the fan on his desk. Kitten had insisted he keep the blinds closed just in case, and the curtains on the sliding glass door that led out to the back balcony had been closed as well. Of course his mood hadn't been helped by having dealt with a young hothead the night before. The girl worked with Rissa in smuggling and had let her temper ruin a deal that nearly got Rissa shot. It had left Jeremy fuming to the point that Wolfe had had to drag him away to calm down. G had given the offending girl a stern warning which he was fairly certain she'd blown off, and so he'd made sure to let her know that if there was a next time, no one would get in Jeremy's way.

That fiasco aside, it seemed like nothing wanted to go right that day. G had spilled coffee all over himself almost immediately after getting up for the day, then a call had come in that Les' car had broken down while out on a time-sensitive delivery. At the moment, G was still stewing over a report that there had been a fight in the gambling ring, and it had gotten out of hand. Now several chairs and a whole rack of glassware were broken, but worse was the hit to the den's reputation.

Staring down at a damage report with a narrowed eye, G knew the people responsible would be paying for it, but it was just a big hassle he didn't feel like dealing with at the moment. He glanced at the small grandfather clock in the corner. It was only eleven o'clock. Time was dragging so slowly, stuck there as he was. Finally he pushed his chair out from the desk and went back to his room. He left the door open and flopped down onto the messy sheets and blankets, staring up at the ceiling with a scowl. After a moment, he took a cigarette from his chest pocket and lit one with a match. Taking a long drag, he left the burnt match in an ashtray on the nightstand.

When Undyne had come to in the hospital, she'd told Asgore that some upstarts from Echo in Waterfall had moved to Snowdin, and they'd decided to make themselves known by planting a bomb at Don G's house, rigged to explode an hour after he usually got home. The bomb had gone off prematurely while some of the nearby families were evacuating, and G had nearly lost his temper for the first time in years hearing that flying shrapnel had hurt a couple bystanders. The front of his house was in ruins, the source of the explosion coming from his little study on the second floor. It would have to be demolished after important items were rescued from the wreckage. With the clear threat, despite how amateurish the attempt on G's life was, no one was willing to take any chances in letting G out of HQ.

"Don?" Kitten's voice called from his office as she opened up the double-doors.

"In here, Kitten," he called back lazily, his one eye glancing over as she appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"If you're bored, you could've said so," Kitten murmured, leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed over her chest. Her expression offered a bit of sympathy, but she was always so straight-faced that anyone else wouldn't have been able to tell. "I'm sure we could get some of the boys around and do something."

"They have work to do. Entertaining their boss isn't in the job description."

"Then I suppose that leaves me, doesn't it?" Kitten stepped over to his bedside and knelt, laying her head on her arms beside him.

"It's not in your job description either, Kitten." G turned on his side, laying his head on his arm with a warm smile.

"You know I can't stand you moping around, just as much as you can't stand doing it."

"Alright, then. Entertain me." G gave her a smirk, expecting her to glare at him as per usual. Instead, he was left wide-eyed for a moment when she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, a slender hand coming to run through his short, dark hair. His smile returned and his one eye closed, relaxing into her attention until she drew back to crawl up onto his bed. Her hand pressed against his shoulder, pushing him onto his back while she straddled his waist. Instinctively, one hand rose to her hip while the other brought his cigarette to his lips. Kitten didn't like that much, and plucked it from his fingers.

"I thought I told you to stop smoking," she muttered, grinding the ember out in the tray by the bed.

"Can you blame me for wanting to relax?" He asked softly, a grin etched on his face as her hands settled on his broad chest.

"There are plenty of better options. Especially ones that won't make you taste like an ashtray." She leaned down to capture his lips once more and his now-free hand rose to tangle in her hair. The moment their lips parted, his own pressed to her throat and he unfastened the first few buttons of her shirt

"What would you prefer I taste like?" He whispered against her skin, feeling her shiver ever so slightly.

"What's that drink you like? With the scotch and blood orange?"

"Blood-and-sand." His fingers trailed down her sides and pulled her a little tighter against his middle.

"That was always nice… especially without the cigarette taste." Just as Kitten's fingers loosened his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt, a knock sounded at his office door and suddenly the Don's bad mood came crashing back in.

"Goddammit, can't I get one fucking break?" He cursed under his breath as Kitten slipped from his lap. "I'll get it." With one more kiss, he slid out of bed. Unwilling to fix his tie, he just pulled it off and re-buttoned his shirt, stepping out into the office.

"What?" He demanded as he pulled the double-doors open, looking up just in time to see the barrel of a revolver flash.

KRACKKKK!

The world seemed to slow as G glanced down, wondering if the bullet had missed. But seeing the blood blooming from a hole in his shirt under his ribs, he knew he was in trouble. He couldn't feel anything, but that didn't stop his knees from suddenly quaking. He slid to the floor, letting go of the door handles. He sat back on his knees, slowly looking up just in time for the silver barrel to press to his forehead. He saw a dark suit and a bowler hat, and a bandana covering up his assailant's face. All except for a pair of glinting black eyes.

Don G's eyebrows furrowed, and he glared daggers at the man. G wasn't scared. He knew the look of death, and this bastard didn't have it. But seeing the terror suddenly register in the stranger's eyes, G knew he'd seen death just step up behind his victim.

G didn't even hear the revolver go off behind him, he only saw the gun before him drop to the floor, and the stranger slump down shortly after the splatter of blood, bone, and brains went across the clean wooden floor of Kitten's office. G's shoulders slumped, and he felt as if gravity had just doubled.

"Don," Kitten's voice broke the silence in his head. Her hazy form knelt beside him almost too fast for him to register, and the pain hit him like a freight train when she pressed her hands tightly over the bullet wound. He let out a sharp grunt, doubling over. The world kicked back into normal speed and he raised his own hands to press over hers.

"Fuck," he growled. "Don't… don't turn your back… If he got in, something's… wrong…"

"We have to get out," she muttered, taking the stranger's gun. "Get up, G. Come on." She took his hand and pressed the gun into his palm. Tucking her own back into his holster under her arm, she took his arm over her shoulders and forced him to his feet. He bit back a painful groan at the strain, but he wasn't the sort to let himself be dragged out just because he was hurt.

"I can make it," he told her. "I'm okay…"

"Don't lie to yourself," she murmured, wrapping her arm about his waist both to support him and help keep pressure over the bullet wound. It was slow going, and it was incredibly painful, but she managed to get him down the hall and to the elevator before his knees grew too weak again. Once inside, she let him lean on the inside rail while she closed the door and hit the button for the ground floor. She drew her twin revolvers as the elevator car shuddered to life, and leveled the barrels at the wire door.

She saw their hats first as the car drifted down, and four shots hit four heads and dropped them all. Kitten slid the door open quickly and darted out, barely taking cover behind a box truck in time to avoid a hail of bullets. The distinct echo of a Thompson went around the warehouse and a voice soon followed, "Listen up, lady! Show your hands and you can get out alive! We just want the Don!"

"Come and get me, then!" G roared from the elevator, earning a glare from Kitten as he slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind him. His voice sounded so much stronger than he felt, and his hands were beginning to tremble violently.

"Go, boys," they heard a voice mutter. "That's gotta be Kate Frisk over there. Don't get reckless."

G looked over to Kitten, his eyes begging her to get away. If these people knew who she was, she wouldn't receive any mercy even if she did surrender. But of course, G knew this was his Kitten. She'd never give up her gun until it was pried from her cold, dead fingers. She wouldn't give him up either, because he'd never given her up even when it nearly killed him.

Kitten simply glared at him once more, and disappeared from his view. G let his head tilt back against the elevator wall, and his shaky hands rose from his bloody side to take the pack of cigarettes from his chest pocket. He could barely light the match, but once the ember caught, he took a deep drag, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it out in a long, shaky exhale. He left the stranger's revolver aside, choosing instead to draw one of his twin Colt .45's. The second .45 and a hidden Colt .25 inside his vest would have to suffice as backup. Taking his extra magazines from the shoulder holsters, he laid them and the other two guns aside in reach for a quick reload or switch.

Leveling the Colt at the open door, G waited. He tried so hard to stop trembling, keeping a hand pressed over his side. He couldn't hear anything but occasional shuffling, but the warehouse echo made it difficult to detect who was where. He knew he wouldn't be able to hear Kitten at all. As long as it was quiet, she was okay. His mind couldn't help wandering to how these thugs had gotten in and how they were controlling the whole building. That meant some of his people were probably dead or wounded, and G cringed at the very thought. There weren't many people in Snowdin Family that he didn't have a personal connection to. Losing any of them would just break his heart, especially with the knowledge that they died because someone was after the Don himself.

A strangled gasp sounded from the opposite end of the warehouse, followed by a dull and heavy thud. G smirked weakly to himself. That was two for his girl now, counting the stranger upstairs. "Nice work, Kitten," he called softly, knowing she'd change positions quickly to avoid the other men catching her.

He heard the scrape of a shoe close to the elevator, and he quickly steadied his gun arm. Two huge, empty hands showed around the edge of the door and G recognized Wolfe's signature fingerless gloves. He lifted the barrel of the gun as Wolfe's serious face poked around the corner, and the huge man slipped inside the elevator to pick up the Don's spare .45 without a sound. He slipped out once more, and once he was far enough away, G knew he had to let Kitten know or she might accidentally attack Wolfe.

"We've got a friend, Kitten. Our favorite heavy hitter," G called out, followed by a sudden choking cough as he felt blood well up in his throat. The blood from his side was bright red, and he realized he'd been hit in the lung. "Get this done quickly, people…" He added, knowing Wolfe might not be the only ally sneaking around the warehouse.

A scuffle erupted near the elevator, out of sight. "You motherfu-" A voice was cut off with a sickening crack, and G saw a dead man fall into the aisle leading from the elevator before he was dragged out of sight by Wolfe's powerful arms.

Over the next few minutes, G heard several similar, short struggles, always ending with his people coming out on top in seconds as was evident by just how quiet it was. The thugs they were facing were certainly not professionals. Wolfe Broadmoore and his brothers and Kitten were the best G had where efficient and silent killers were concerned, but this was impressive even to the Don.

"I've heard seven men go down in here," G called out into the silent warehouse. "If there's anyone left, throw your guns out and let them know where you are, and I can promise you won't die today."

He heard only one gun clatter. "Okay. Okay, I'm near the back ga-" A shot rang through the warehouse and G flinched. That wasn't the sound of any gun his people carried, and they wouldn't give away their positions like that without orders. The thugs had shot one of their own.

"Guns free!" G snarled, and suddenly the warehouse was alive with gunfire. At least four bodies thudded to the floor before it went silent.

"Clear!" Grey called from the far west end.

"Clear, east door!" Les' voice answered.

"Clear, northwest door, but I'm shot!" Wolfe growled painfully.

"Front aisle clear," Kitten called out.

"Any more of ours?" G asked, feeling his stomach turn when a dizzy spell came over him.

"The building's surrounded by our people, but Jeremy should be here!" Les called.

"H-here…" G could barely hear the young man gasp from close by the elevator.

"Near me! He's down!" G felt strength draining away from his limbs, but he didn't care. He holstered his Colt .25 and managed to crawl out into the aisle to find Jeremy pinned to the floor off to the right with a masked thug collapsed on top of him, dead.

"Hey, boss…" Jeremy grunted. "I… I got 'im…"

"You did," G murmured, crawling over to push the dead man off of him. "Damn good work, kid…"

"He knifed me…" Jeremy sighed, lifting a hand to his left hip, and the other to his belly. Blood was practically pouring from his hip, but by the color G could see it wasn't arterial.

"Then I guess Rissa's just going to have to coddle you for a while, eh?" G asked with a smile, forgoing looking after himself to help Jeremy keep pressure on his own wounds.

"Looks like… Miss K's gonna have to do the same for you, Don."

"We'll be sick buddies, Wolfe too…" G's arms were quaking at this point, and the world slowly went black for both men as G crumbled to the floor beside Jeremy. The last thing on their minds was their girls, and how furious they would be.