33: Ambush
Brooklyn was forced to keep a low profile during the daylight hours. Especially here in Miami, where a gargoyle walking the street or gliding above it was likely to get an awful lot of attention. That meant he was not in much of a position to enjoy what the city had to offer, so a trip to the popular beaches was out of the question.
Given that it was some hours before they had to lay their trap for the Illuminati convoy, Sophie suggested they have lunch together somewhere quiet. The heat at midday was uncomfortable, to say the least, yet Brooklyn took the woman and the container of food they had acquired and flew her to the top of one of the taller buildings closest to the motel. Up here, they had some shade behind the wall that formed part of a small rectangular structure wherein an elevator was located. Sitting up here, about four floors above street level, was not an ideal picnic spot but it was better than the inside of the motel. And up here, Brooklyn was not so easily seen.
Sophie had brought along a healthy selection of food, from sandwiches to fruit to small cream-filled cakes. Atop the solid concrete rooftop, the pair laid out a few blankets and lounged upon them in the shade. They ate and they talked for hours, cuddled up close where they shared a few longing kisses. To Brooklyn, it was the most relaxed he had been for days outside of sleep. The feel of the sun against his skin was both pleasant and uncomfortable, the latter primarily because of the summer heat. Partway through their impromptu rooftop picnic, Sophie withdrew a set of black aviators and slipped them over his head.
"I got you these," she said, placing them upon his nose. In the shade of the wall behind them, the sun's brightness was tolerable. It became even more so when the polarised lenses fell over his eyes. Brooklyn smiled, lying back on the blankets, wings spread with her lying next to him. He turned to her, receiving another pleasant kiss from her in turn.
"I'll get you something later," Brooklyn said. "I mean, had I known you were going to buy me a gift…"
"Don't worry about it, Brook." Sophie smiled, and Brooklyn felt that familiar warmth it always brought him when he saw it. "I do expect you to make it up to me and then some when it's my birthday in a few weeks."
"No problem," he said, and he wrapped an arm around her, drawing the woman in close. The sky above was a stark blue, some wispy white clouds scattered across it. Around them, the neighbourhood was filled with activity, namely the steady stream of cars that went on by below. The building they were atop of was the tallest for a few blocks, so there was little chance they would be observed save for any aircraft that happened by. And even then, being sighted from way up high seemed unlikely.
"I always thought I'd come down here for a vacation," Sophie said. "Instead of, you know, committing crimes."
"We're fighting the Illuminati," Brooklyn countered. "That really shouldn't be criminal."
"Not just that. We've got a whole arsenal of weapons that are likely highly illegal, even in Florida. Not to mention we're planning on intercepting a convoy all for a case, and no one can even tell us what's in it. We might not even be going after the Illuminati. They could be accountants for all we know."
"But Xanatos has helped us."
"Yeah, but do we trust him?" A lingering question, one Brooklyn had pondered often in the past few days. And every time, he more or less came to the same conclusion: what other choice did they have?
"Anything that gets us closer to the Illuminati improves our chances of finding Goliath and his son," Brooklyn said. He did not sound too convinced, as he harboured similar doubts as Sophie did.
"We're here, now. It would be a waste to change our minds and go some other way."
"Maybe. And we're both still suspended. I'm hoping your friend Xanatos finds it in his heart to give us a healthy donation in exchange for all this help. Preferably enough to live on for the rest of my life."
"You'd have to take that up with him," Brooklyn said. He reached up with one hand, using his fingers to brush aside a few errant strands of her hair. "When this is over, Sophie, I want to be with you. And I mean, something more permanent. Official, even, or as official as something between a gargoyle and a human can get."
Sophie smirked, cocking one eyebrow.
"Are you asking me to marry you?"
"Huh. Maybe." Brooklyn gave a quick shrug. "Not that it would have any legal standing, but if we get out of this fine, maybe even with that 'donation' you mentioned, I think we could make a good life with one another. We could even move somewhere, like Miami, where it's warm and tropical." He supposed 'marriage' was too strong a term here, maybe even too premature. He had known Sophie for six months, had been her friend for all that time. Yet now, he felt himself so hopelessly in love with her that he felt almost paralysed by it. Every action he took, he took with her on his mind. When they had been under attack at Goliath's house, he had thought only of finding her and protecting her. The same had happened the night before, during the gunfight with the arms dealers. His objectivity in such situations had been utterly demolished. If she was around, he would have her on his mind.
"For too long, I floated along in life," Brooklyn continued, meeting her eyes with his own. "You make me feel alive again, Sophie. I never thought I'd find true love, but with you…" He was silenced then, by the sensation of her gently kissing him upon the end of his beak-like mouth.
"You sound like a hopeless romantic," she remarked, as soon as she had broken away from the kiss. "Are all gargoyles like that when they fall in love?"
"Some, not all." Brooklyn chuckled. "I've mentioned it before, but we gargoyles love hard and for a long time."
"I wouldn't have it any other way." Sophie smiled again and Brooklyn returned the gesture. His heart thumping, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled her under him. She laughed, hands at his sides, fingers going to the zip at his vest. They were alone up here, after all; it seemed a waste not to make the most of this time they had alone.
The plan was in motion, as best it could be. Somewhere along the way, Owen had organized the acquisition of a few cars, presumably using whatever money Xanatos had left in his 'rainy day' fund. There were four of them, including the large grey van that would act as Xanatos' mobile command centre. A blue sedan was given to Sophie and Brooklyn, with a black coupe getting passed onto Jane and a silver Mustang was provided to Dingo. While Xanatos had Owen drive him someplace close to the intended ambush site from where he could properly monitor them all, Dingo got in his assigned car and sped off to where he would lie in wait. They each had their destinations, with Sophie being given the job of making first contact with the objective. Jane would follow closely and move in to assist when action was taken.
Brooklyn and Sophie were the last to leave the motel. He had bundled a couple of cases of equipment into the trunk of the car, before he squeezed into the passenger seat. Sophie took the wheel, starting the engine and guiding the car out of the parking lot and onto the street. Hitting the accelerator, she sent them barrelling southwards for the Macarthur Causeway and then, in turn, the corner they had elected to stage their intercept. She kept them within the speed limit, as acquiring police attention would be ill-advised at this stage.
The tinted window of the car served to keep Brooklyn's presence within concealed. He remained close by Sophie's side, even if he could have easily glided his way to their intended destination. Part of him simply wanted to have her close, to have her within view at all times as if he were an overbearing parent. The drive took a little longer than expected with the afternoon traffic, all cast in the brilliant summer sunshine with little to no clouds in the sky to interfere with it. According to the digital clock on the car's dashboard, they had about twenty minutes before they were supposed to be in position.
Much of that time was spent in a tense silence. Both of them knew what they were likely to run into when their objective came by, yet it was also the kind of situation where hesitation could not be afforded. All of their focus would have to be on the task at hand. Even as they drove to their necessary position, Dingo was already arriving at the hotel where those with the case in their possession were located. He kept a distant tail upon them, whilst at the same time Brooklyn and Sophie found their way to the end of the Macarthur Causeway bridge, specifically the end that placed them on the Miami Beach island.
The pair found themselves at a corner adorned with lush green hedges and swaying palm trees. Before them, in the middle of a fork-shaped junction, was a wide sign comprised of aluminium panels adorned with stylized leaf patterns: WELCOME TO MIAMI BEACH.
There was a small office building by the road here. Sophie parked the car in the small lot out the front. At this hour, the building itself appeared quiet, although the flow of traffic outside was steady. She checked her watch then, keeping the engine idling. There was an earpiece at her right ear, with Brooklyn having received a similar headset that fit snugly into one of his ears. The microphone swung down by his beak-like mouth, a more practical design given the shape of his head. Both of them remained silent for a moment, neither sure of just how to break the ice. They were essentially waiting here to start trouble, and that brought with it a grim reality that reminded them both of the unfortunate incident that had occurred with the arms dealers the night before.
"You should get into position," Sophie stated, her tone flat and all business. Brooklyn nodded, opening the door at his side and stepping out into the warm afternoon air. He paused there, before he leaned back into the car and pecked her on the cheek.
"Don't worry about a thing," he told her. "I'll be watching over you. Your guardian angel, remember?"
Sophie nodded, offering him a soft smile. Brooklyn kept by the wall that ran by the lot, staying out of immediate view of the passing cars before he moved around the office building and its nearby multi-storey carpark. The sides of the carpark structure had been bracketed by metal bars, which in turn had served for something the multitude of deep green creepers could grip and intertwine themselves upon. A stylistic choice, a means to give an otherwise drab structure a bit of visual character.
Brooklyn began to scale the rear side of the structure, keeping his wings close to his back as to minimise his overall profile. Someone driving down the causeway behind him might see him, and he did not want to announce his presence. Not yet anyway.
Jane's car had come into view at the other end of the road. It loitered there, having pulled over to the side. Sophie checked her watch again, still seated in the driver's position, engine in neutral. She would need to keep it running to guarantee a quick getaway.
"I see you, Detective." Jane's voice, carrying with it her usually smarmy edge.
"Yeah, and I see you too, crazy." Sophie spoke with a finger to her earpiece. She watched the intersection behind her, in the rear-view mirror. Any minute now, she felt, and their target would be coming through.
Jane audibly laughed over the line.
"I'm not crazy, Detective. I'm just eccentric."
"Sure you are." To say that Sophie was uncomfortable working with an obvious psychopath was an understatement. For now, however, she put the thought aside and instead listened for word from Xanatos or Dingo. They were nearing their intended time for action, and the remaining minutes ticked by slowly, almost painfully so.
"Attention, everyone." Xanatos' voice broke through the line then, laced with the confidence she had come to expect from the man. "I'm enacting the traffic control protocol now. Most of the lights around the area will turn red, but we'll allow our targets to get by. There may be some civilian cars with them, so be sure to check your targets."
Sophie noticed over the next minute or so a sudden decrease in the amount of traffic coming through. It was not quite peak hour afternoon times, yet the drop in the overall presence of cars was notable and suggested that Xanatos' actions had been successful. Slowly, Sophie pushed open the driver's side door of the car, emerging into what felt like a sauna as she was blasted with a warm breeze. Her light-brown bomber jacket was perhaps a little too much for the Florida summer, but for now she ignored the discomfort and set her mind upon what had been planned.
With a few paces, she had moved to the rear of the car. Further behind her, Jane lay in wait. The seconds ticked by, before Xanatos' voice broke through her ear-piece again:
"The convoy will be moving to you in the next twenty seconds," he announced. "Three cars, as expected. Middle car contains the target. Dingo will be following, after some small delay. He will make sure they don't turn around and make a run for it."
Sophie kept an eye out for the cars in question. A blue coupe appeared, but it was alone, little more than a civilian about their business. Her heart was beating a little faster now, yet she realised this was more from excitement than from anxiety. That was the unusual thing she had found, especially after the incident at Goliath's house: getting shot at and shooting back actually excited her. It seemed crazy, but there it was, a truth that she herself had often suspected but had never truly found herself in a situation to test it. The adrenaline rush, the near brushes with death, it all amounted to something that could not be entirely quantified, an excitement that was making her question her overall sanity. Maybe she was crazy, not too unlike Jane, albeit a little less outright about it? It would make sense, if she took into account certain other aspects about herself, among them her eagerness to throw herself headfirst into a potentially dangerous situation. Not to mention the fact that she had become intimate with a gargoyle, which could have suggested her mind was wired a little differently than most.
Sophie pulled a green cartoon dinosaur mask out of her jacket and slipped it over her head. The latex did not do much to help in the heat, but it was a necessity for the current situation. Mask on, she then slipped on a pair of leather gloves she pulled from another pocket within the jacket. With this done, she spun about to face the corner ahead.
It was only seconds later that she saw the convoy. Three cars, specifically two black sedans with a matte black Escalade in the middle. They came leisurely trundling around the corner, headed for the Causeway entrance. And as they appeared, Sophie popped open the trunk of the car and reached inside for the topmost item within. A grenade launcher, an older break-action single-shot tube model, already loaded and ready to go.
She spun about, stock against her shoulder, and took aim at the leading car. The weapon kicked slightly when she pulled the trigger, the noise it made more akin to a subdued thump. The round struck the front of the leading car, exploding into a ball of flame, the car skidding as its front wheels burst under the sudden impact and the windows of it shattered. The engine, pouring black smoke as fire roiled off of it, died suddenly as the driver sent the car front-first into the 'WELCOME TO MIAMI SIGN' by the junction. There were at least four people in that car, one of whom was now slumped motionless against the steering wheel with blood trickling out of his ears and several cuts that had appeared across his face.
Two cars came off of the Causeway then, and these unwitting civilians drove right into the middle of the ensuing chaos. Sophie had tossed the empty grenade launcher back into the trunk, and instead pulled an automatic rifle from a place next to it. It was a Croatian bullpup model, designated the VHS-2, standard-issue for that nation's military. Sleek in appearance and coloured a deep black, Sophie had no trouble shouldering the otherwise lightweight rifle. With the mask on, it took her a second or two longer to get her eyes down the sights with the edges of the eyeholes essentially impairing her peripheral vision.
Three gunmen were in the first car, dressed in a variety of smart business wear. Suit jackets and ties, some black, some grey and some earthen browns. The last car pulled to a halt nearby, also packed full of gunmen. The middle, the Escalade, came barrelling through the smoke that had been kicked up by the explosion from the grenade launcher round. In turn, it slammed into the side of one of the oncoming civilian vehicles, sending the latter spinning slightly with metal at its front right-hand side crumpling, the Escalade's own headlight covers shattering.
Sophie hit the trigger upon the rifle, firing a volley across the first car. The engine still burned, thick grey smoke wafting off of the flames. Submachine guns and pistols opened fire, sounding off with sporadic cracks. The rear window of Sophie's car shattered, showering glass at her feet. She ducked, keeping her aim true as she placed several more rounds into the car and the three gunmen inside it. One of them had been leaning partially out of the window. Now, he fell forwards such that his head and arms hung limply over the edge of the closed door, blood streaming down the paintwork.
The Escalade was reversing, trying to get out of the pile-up it had found itself the centre of. Sophie shifted her aim, firing off another rapid volley. Bullets pinged off of the windshield, the reinforced glass holding up despite the heavy fire. She saw several deep marks appear on it, but otherwise it held together. Bulletproof glass? Xanatos had certainly neglected to mention that. He may not have known, of course; either way, it did not matter. Sophie and the others would just have to work out a way around it.
Another civilian car came speeding into the mess, clipping the Escalade before coming to a stop by the curb. It found itself wedged between the third of the convoy vehicles and the first of the civilian cars, the occupants of which were in the process of bailing. The third escort car sped forth, the gunmen inside opening fire, one raised out of the window such that he could shoot over the roof. The Escalade was turning around now, directing itself back the way it had come. Sophie blasted the third escort vehicle, shattering the windshield with several rifle rounds, with the gunmen in the passenger seat twitching in place as three of the shots caught him in the chest. He slumped into his seat, whilst the driver slammed the accelerator and the handbrake, spinning the car such that it put it on a path after the now fleeing Escalade.
Jane's car came racing forth. The two gunmen in the back of the escort vehicle opened fire through the windows. Sophie darted back for her idling car, stowing the rifle in the passenger seat as a cluster of submachine gun bullets smashed out the window on the open driver's side door. The gunmen continued shooting, sending one of the fleeing civilian drivers falling onto the sidewalk, the woman's body riddled with bloody holes.
Brooklyn swooped in from above then, going after the Escalade as it went speeding back the way it had come. Sophie put her engine into drive and slammed the accelerator, lurching the car forth with a skid, sending it over the sidewalk and around the cluster of shot-up cars by the entrance of the causeway.
She ripped off the mask and threw it aside. The limited peripheral vision it caused only made driving harder. With her vision clear, she was able to set her focus upon the road ahead, glimpsing Brooklyn soaring high above with his wings spread as he glided along on the breeze. The Escalade's driver no longer had any apparent care when it came to drawing unwanted attention. He weaved through the traffic ahead, with Jane's own vehicle following closely on its tail. The remaining escort car followed that car in turn, with the two backseat gunmen letting off shots at Jane's own car.
Sophie felt her heart pounding as the pursuit sent them onto the opposite side of the road. Suddenly, she was having to swerve around oncoming cars, horns honking and agitated shouting following her.
They blazed down the main road, the Escalade in front with its escort behind. Jane and Sophie's own cars followed, the whole chain of pursuing vehicles sending the rest of the traffic into chaos. They ran a red light, causing the silver coupe coming from the left to stop suddenly, which in turn allowed the van behind it to slam into its rear-end. Gunfire from the escort car sent passers-by into a panic. Sophie ducked her head as a couple of rounds clipped the front of her car, punching holes through the hood. She hit the horn furiously, trying to encourage the people crossing the street ahead to clear a path. As for the Escalade, it went barrelling through the crossing first. A shopping cart packed full of aluminium cans was swatted aside, the debris flying all over the road, the homeless man who had been pushing it stumbling away in shock.
"The police have been called," Xanatos said, his voice breaking through the ear-piece Sophie wore. "You only have a few minutes to get the package."
Time was not on their side. It never seemed to be. The Escalade had swung onto the sidewalk, sending the pedestrians there racing out of its path. Ahead, another busy intersection awaited, with a lavish two-floor hotel on the corner ahead. Jane had her focus set on the escort vehicle, coming up alongside it with a grim look on her face. It was an expression of sheer concentration, for as soon as the road opened up at the intersection she sent the front corner of her car slamming into the rear of the escort. The force was enough to spin the car, with Jane's own coming up alongside almost parallel. A P-I-T manoeuvre that brought both cars to a sudden halt in the middle of the intersection.
Sophie had her attention on the Escalade, although she found herself hitting the brakes hard when a semi-trailer came barrelling in from the right. Such was the danger of running red lights. The Escalade's driver had to brake even harder, swerving to the right to try and avoid colliding side-on with the hulking vehicle. It scraped the flatbed trailer instead, metal grinding upon metal, before the Escalade lurched around it, the driver struggling to regain control. The car went over the curb and the sidewalk before tearing through the greenery outside the expensive hotel, immaculately trimmed hedges becoming flattened before the car slammed into a set of parked vehicles in the hotel's parking lot. Glass shattered, metal crumpled and the Escalade's hood popped out of place, smoke pouring out of a cracked radiator (among other damage caused).
In the middle of the intersection, Jane whipped out her pistol and unloaded it into the escort vehicle. Her aim was true, the speed at which she worked the trigger rapid. The three gunmen inside the car barely had a chance to react, jerking in their seats as the 9mm rounds tore through them. The driver fell face-first upon the wheel, hitting the horn which began to sound out, a never-ending tone that echoed across the entire neighbourhood. The gunfire had sent some of the nearby citizens running, yet others stood back and watched the chaos unfold, with many taking out smart phones to record the whole affair.
Sophie brought her car to a stop by the hotel's parking lot. She threw on her mask and exited the vehicle, attention set upon the smashed-up Escalade. The bald business-suited man with the metal case in one hand was fleeing the scene, accompanied by two of his cohorts. They had nowhere to go, it seemed, and instead went running across the circular driveway of the hotel and straight into its lobby.
Brooklyn appeared then, on the rooftop of the hotel. From there, he dropped to a balcony on the upper level, keeping low. Sophie glimpsed him above, feeling some relief at the sight of the gargoyle. He disappeared into the hotel then, no doubt to try and intercept the three men with the package.
Dingo's car appeared suddenly, coming to a halt in the driveway of the hotel. By now, a small crowd were racing out of the building, spooked by the gun-toting men who had just barged into the lobby. Sophie made eye contact with Dingo, who gave her a nod before he slipped a black balaclava over his grizzled features. From inside his car, he pulled an Ingram MAC 11 submachine gun and a large, bulky backpack, presumably intended for transporting the package once it was acquired.
More panicked shouts sounded out from those civilians racing on by. As far as they were concerned, this was either some kind of gangland conflict or a terrorist attack.
Sophie was first into the lobby, the room large, carpeted and painted in pleasant beige tones. Potted ferns were at either end, with a set of stairs ahead and a hallway leading to elevators and a restaurant area. Most of the people in here had fled, leaving the three increasingly desperate hired guns with little other choice than to push on. Sophie glimpsed them at the end of the hallway, so she followed after them, rounding a corner into the hotel's restaurant.
It was a large, open affair with a row of windows off to the right that looked out upon a courtyard garden full of ferns and palm trees, as well as a swimming pool. One of the gunmen spun about as Sophie followed them inside, letting fly with a volley of submachine gun fire that tore up the doorway around her. She stepped back, hands tight upon her own pistol, becoming aware of at least one screaming woman inside the restaurant.
The man with the case and his other bodyguard were racing ahead. Sophie peered around the doorway, with Dingo appearing at the opposite side. As she watched the trio, a familiar red-skinned gargoyle arrived in the courtyard on the other side of the windows. With a flap of his wings, he came smashing through them, glass shattering and showering all around, tail and legs kicking aside a few chairs that were in his way.
He was upon the first guard within seconds. His right-hand a fist, Brooklyn punched the gunman in the chest, sending him flying off of his feet whereupon he sailed through the air about three metres. He went crashing behind the bar, glasses and bottles shattering, beverages spilling all over the now thoroughly unconscious bodyguard.
Brooklyn spun about on the second one, a little further ahead. The bodyguard opened fire, sending the gargoyle racing for the nearby pillar. The submachine gun the bodyguard held barked quickly, bullets ripping pieces out of the far wall, plaster dust exploding outwards before a couple of rounds hit a television mounted upon it. That shattered in spectacular fashion, sparks flying.
Sophie moved in then, opening fire. The second gunman went to shift his aim towards her, but she was faster, planting three rounds into the gunman's chest. He fell backwards, landing in a heap upon the carpeted floor. The third and final target was the one with the case, and he suddenly found himself alone in the middle of a mostly empty restaurant.
That was at least what Sophie thought, until the man appeared from behind one of the thick plastered-over columns with a woman in front of him. Judging from the light blue uniform she wore, she was one of the staff here. The man had a gun to his head and an arm around her, the package still handcuffed to his off hand. His intentions were clear, that they let him go or the woman dies. Sophie paused, lowering her gun. However, it was Dingo who came forwards, striding for the man confidently.
"All right, go ahead and kill her." He spoke with such a dismissive tone that Sophie could not help but look his way, feeling some disgust at his words. Dingo marched upon the package-holder, the look in the innocent woman's eyes one of terror. "Go on, I don't know her, kill her, we couldn't care less." He had his hands up, gun hooked around one finger such that the barrel pointed downwards. Sophie was about to say something, tell him to step back, before Dingo's next actions took her by complete surprise.
Dingo spun the pistol about in his grasp, hand clasping around the hilt and finger striking the trigger. The single shot he fired hit the hostage-taker right between the eyes, part of the back of his skull blowing open as the round shredded a chunk out of his brain. The woman fell away from the now dead man's grip with a scream, and Dingo shoved her aside before he went for the package.
"Jane should be here in a moment," Dingo said, as he stopped over the body and the package. He set the bag next to him, turning to Sophie and Brooklyn, who had emerged from cover. "Watch the corridor for cops."
"I'm not going to kill any cops," Sophie said, feeling a little stifled under the dinosaur mask.
"Hopefully you won't have to," Dingo said. He pulled a large knife from a sheath at his waist. "I'll be a minute here." His intentions with the knife and the wrist the metal case was handcuffed around were clear. Sophie turned around and headed for the corridor, with Brooklyn following her part of the way.
Police sirens could be heard outside. The cops were already arriving, which only complicated matters. Two of those police officers came running inside from the other end of the restaurant, guns drawn. Brooklyn saw them first, and on impulse he threw Sophie into the relative cover around the doorway before following her.
Dingo did not hesitate to shoot the officers down, doing so with the gun in one hand and his other clutching the metal case. One of them let off with several pistol shots, plunging a few into the floor and the wall behind Dingo. More cops were pouring into the building, among them several SWAT team sorts in body armour and full tactical gear.
"Damn it, I'm hit!" Dingo shouted, and Brooklyn rushed alongside him. He thrust the metal case into Brooklyn's hands. It was not terribly lightweight, nor was it heavy. There was certainly something in it, as to what was anyone's guess. Dingo stumbled as he rose to his feet, clutching at one leg. His face was hidden behind his cloth balaclava, but Brooklyn could tell he was wincing.
"Split up, we'll regroup at the safehouse!" Dingo added, and he started for the far exit, leaving Brooklyn with the case. The gargoyle turned to Sophie, directing her for the courtyard.
"An alternate exit?" He asked her. Sophie nodded, and the pair rushed into the sun-drenched courtyard. There was a helicopter closing in from somewhere, a police one no doubt. They had little chance to get clear before the entire Miami police department was upon them.
Brooklyn looked down at the case, aware that his fingers had become wet. He had assumed it was blood, only then did he realise that for a case that had been cut off of someone's wrist there was an abnormal lack of it. Instead, his hand had become slick with silver paint, and he noticed right away that actual silver of the metal handle was coming away under his warm grip and the summer heat. Underneath was a much more basic black plastic, and he noticed in turn that the entire case appeared to have that newly painted glistening quality to it.
His instincts told him something was gravely wrong then. He spun around, eyes widening.
"Sophie, get down!" He shouted, and she did as instructed. Brooklyn threw the case back into the restaurant, sending it clattering across a table before it bounced to the floor. He then hit the dirt, seconds before a massive roar and a rumble erupted from behind. The concussive wave of the blast hit the pair first, and it was enough to knock over some of the chairs and parasols out in the courtyard. Every other window in the restaurant shattered, and that was a split second before the entire room went up in a roiling, expanding fireball. Burning timbers and pieces of fabric were thrown outside every which way, a thick gust of black smoke blossoming forth as flames spread all throughout the smouldering shell of the restaurant.
Brooklyn helped Sophie to her feet. He held her close, checking her for injuries. However, they had no time for a proper check of either of their states, for the police were encroaching upon the hotel with a staggering ferocity.
"Hold on," Brooklyn told her, and she wrapped her arms around him as he lifted her off of her feet. With her holding against him, he scaled the hotel wall. As he neared the roof, he wondered if he should have been surprised that Dingo had betrayed them. All of this work, all of this danger and this fighting, all so an old foe could get one-up upon them. Brooklyn would have been angry in any other circumstances, but for now his mind was on their getaway. And that they did, with the gargoyle throwing himself off of the roof and spreading his wings, one arm around Sophie as they went gliding away from the scene.