The Mermaid Bar was a cacophony of raucous laughter and lewd jeers.
The music had long since shifted from the powerful, cinematic phonk to a pulsing blend of hype-pop and synth-heavy romantica.
By now, Rainer's dance had evolved. He glided with ruthless grace, and slid on tables. He sensually lifted the chin of a mesmerized gangster with a gloved finger, then twirled away, vanishing into the crowd.
He playfully tugged the tie of a gangster, pulling, before letting it snap back.
Like a butterfly he flitted about, taunting, teasing. His movements, fueled by adrenaline and the room's feverish energy, had turned insidiously sensual. To the point that sweat soaked his shirt, and steam visibly rose from his skin, fogging the lower edge of his white mask.
However, he sensed that he was hitting his limit.
The high-level dance sequences engaging all core body muscles were draining his vessel's stamina at an alarming rate.
He glanced at Festus.
The man gulped at his performance below, subtly widening his stance, a telltale bulge straining against his garish trousers.
'Time to wrap this up.'
Rainer decided, and danced his way up the stairs to the stage.
The guards tensed, but a quick, permissive gesture from Festus froze them in place.
"Come to papa," Festus purred, licking his lips.
Rainer slowed his pace, a study in seductive tension as he approached the throne.
He soon fell onto Festus's lap, instantly rolling off in a fluid motion, panting softly as he circled behind the throne.
The heated panting only seemed to stoke Festus's hunger, his lecherous smile was now all too apparent.
Rainer soon came back around, and leaned close.
"Can I show you a magic trick?" he whispered, his breath steamy beneath the mask.
"Show me," Festus whispered back, voice thick with lust.
In one swift motion, Rainer shed his long black coat and fell on his lap, letting it drape over them both. With his coat, he created a brief, isolated canopy.
The nearby guards quickly surged forward, but before they could intervene, Rainer pushed off, stepping back with a theatrical flourish and dropping off the stage with a mocking salute.
The guards looked to Festus.
He was unharmed, but his face glistened with a strange, sticky fluid.
"Eh, Boss? You okay?"
Festus wore an expression of pure astonishment, and dabbed his cheek with a handkerchief.
"The bastard spat on me!"
"What?!" the captains roared, furious.
"Boss, we'll go get him and beat him within an inch of his life!" one vowed.
"W-what? Wait!" Festus stopped them, startled. Then a slow, dark smile spread across his face.
"I'll take care of him myself. When he's done dancing, take him to my chambers!" He gazed down at Rainer, now twirling below with possessive pleasure.
"Uh..."
The gangsters exchanged odd expressions.
...
Rainer moved through the crowd with a renewed, lively energy. He felt the satisfying bulge of a wallet, cards, and other items tucked against his skin, concealed by his coat.
It was a hefty haul.
With his primary objective complete, and his second task of having his fun done. He felt it was time for the third: saving the girl.
That was the order in which he roughly set his goals, now all that was left was the woman.
It was not a question of leisure, he knew his time was up.
He'd been counting the distant bangs bleeding through the music for a while now—real gunshots, not synthetic beats.
His sharp ears had tracked them growing closer, louder.
Now, he saw the realization dawning on other faces; gangsters were glancing at the windows, their drunken stupor cracking under the escalating staccato rhythm of a real firefight.
*BAM!*
The doors suddenly burst open, and a gangster staggered in, clutching a bleeding bullet wound in his shoulder.
"W-we're under attack!!!"
Immediately, Rainer's spell upon the bar shattered. And clarity, cold and sharp, flooded the room.
'Shit! I guess time's up. Time to grab the girl and dash!'
Immediately, his head swiveled around, searching for Aqua.
But when his eyes found her's, the helpless girl he saw at the beginning was no more, and in her place stood a vengeful spirit with a military-grade rifle clutched in her hands.
"Serve a drink?" She lightly laughed, head lower beneath ominously dark eyes.
She raised her head and now a fire of pure, unadulterated fury blazed in her eyes.
"Serve a drink!?" she screamed, her high-pitched voice cutting through the panic. "How 'bout I serve LEAD!!!"
She let it rip.
*Dududududududududududu!*
Rainer hit the deck as she hosed the room with wild, indiscriminate fire. Gangsters were riddled, many lifted off their feet.
Many dove behind tables and the chairs, and even Festus himself vanished behind the bulk of his throne.
Soon, dozens of weapons snapped up to return fire, and Rainer's eyes widened.
She was a heartbeat away from being swiss-cheesed, and he was too far away to do anything.
'Fuc—'
*CRASH—BOOM!*
The entire plank wall to his side suddenly exploded, and a forklift plowed through the wooden facade in a storm of splinters, wedging itself halfway into the room.
For a suspended second, it simply sat there as everyone recovered from the shock.
Suddenly, a bang imploded the cargo crate and its cover burst apart, sending splinters into the air as sound momentarily became a physical force.
The rigged grenade had detonated, igniting the dynamites within. The crate ceased to exist and many dynamites flared, lit from the heat of the implosion.
At that moment, a lit dynamite rolled toward Rainer like the devil's buttplug, and the magnitude of the danger he was in sank.
Instantly, artful polygonal patterns ignited within his eyes as if fueled by the desperation in his heart.
He moved, and every muscle fiber screamed in protest as he pushed his body beyond its limits.
Time seemed to tick in a pot of glue.
He briskly pushed off the floor, kicked a barstool for leverage, and launched himself in a desperate, horizontal slide across the polished countertop.
The momentum carried him crashing into the back shelf with bottles shattering around him.
But he quickly shook off the impact and lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Aqua's waist and wrenching her off her feet.
"Le–let go! Let go—!"
Her shrill cry was lost in the panicked cries of fleeing gangsters who had also realized that death was seconds away.
Reaching an arched window, he suddenly stamped his feet and hauled her sideways, throwing his weight against it.
*CRASH!*
They were suddenly airborne, suspended in a glittering shower of glass, then falling toward the dark, waiting sea.
The impact with the water was a brutal slam. But he didn't let the shock paralyze him. Rather, he couldn't.
Still gripping the struggling woman, he kicked downward, driving them deeper into the cold, silent darkness, away from the light, away from the world that was about to—
*BADA–BOOOOOOM!!!*
The muffled explosion was followed by a shockwave, driving through the water like the fist of god.
It wasn't sound; it was a crushing, concussive weight that slammed into them, tumbling them in a violent, breath-stealing whirl.
For a moment, he lost consciousness as darkness swallowed his vision.
But then he came to, senses ringing and lungs burning.
Struggling to breath, he immediately kicked upward, fighting for the air that came from breaching the surface.
He soon burst through with a ragged gasp, but when his eyes located the site of the explosion. He froze.
The Mermaid Bar was gone.
In its place was a smoldering, raw gouge in the earth, a crater of cracked concrete and scattered, blazing debris. This part of the dock was on fire, having absorbed much of the hellish force, and saving them from vaporization.
Sighing with relief, he looked at the young woman in his arms. She had gone limp. Unconscious yes, but alive.
'Good. The point wasn't to let her die.'
Rainer looked relieved.
*Dududududu!*
*Bang!* *Bang!*
The dock was still a warzone, and muzzle flashes blazed in the distance.
To prevent himself from being shot like fish in a barrel. He began a powerful stroke toward the nearest intact edge of land.
Dragging himself and his unconscious damsel onto the shattered concrete, he lay panting for a second.
He awkwardly pushed a smoldering plank aside, then turned toward the source of the gunfighting.
There, under the flickering light of a dying sodium lamp, was a familiar figure in a hat.
Rommel stood, the twin muzzles of his rifles spitting controlled bursts as he cut down retreating gangsters with brutal efficiency.
*Click!* *Click!*
His magazines soon clicked empty and he knelt to reload.
Seeing this, Rainer hoisted Aqua up into a fireman's carry and stumbled toward him.
"Rommel! Hey! Rommel!!"
Rommel spun, weapon rising, then froze.
His face, smudged with soot and blood, was a mask of pure disbelief.
"Rainer?"
He looked from the drenched, battered man to the crater, then back.
"H-how—what? You survived?"
Rainer managed a weary, triumphant smirk.
"I told you not to worry. I can be really hard to kill. Plus," he adjusted his soggy burden, "I got the girl!"
Rommel's astonished gaze dropped to Aqua.
"She alive?"
"Yeah." Rainer nodded, then looked at her uncertain. "She needs a medic, though."
At that moment, the roar of a motorcycle engine cut through the night and they turned as one.
Ahead, a single headlight approached, blazing toward them. And the rider, clad in a dark coat, wore a hat that was unmistakable.
"Who's that?" Rainer asked, squinting.
Rommel's expression softened into a smirk of profound gratitude.
"It's Mr. Man."