Act VIII – Chapter 23 "She Truly Is Magnificent"
(20 minutes before Gwen frees Lune)
Las Vegas, police station.
The commissioner slowly walked toward the command board, his gaze fixed on the screens where several red dots zigzagged through the city. He rested his hands on the back of a chair, his back slightly hunched, then turned to the operations officer.
"We've got them…"
(He pointed at a street area with his finger.)
"You're telling me, for some unknown reason, the Chicago boss and the New York boss both traveled all the way here, to Las Vegas?"
"Yes, sir," the officer replied, focused on his notes.
"Our undercover units warned us when they arrived. They moved toward the financial district, but no formality, no handshakes, nothing that looks like an official meeting. We don't know what they want, but we're tracking them at a distance."
The commissioner pressed his lips together.
"Those motherfuckers… only thing I see is that they're setting themselves up to get locked up."
(He turned back to the screen.)
"And where are we with the commercial complex?"
"The situation has been resolved there, sir. They surrendered themselves. A bit over 500 people were arrested on‑site. The rest fled on foot or by car, but our units are already closing in on them."
"Good."
(He tapped the edge of the phone, anxious.)
"Call me Alvarez."
Enzo's phone buzzed in his pocket.
He grabbed it with a sigh, saw the commissioner's number, and answered.
"Alvarez speaking."
"Enzo," the commissioner's voice came through, almost relieved. "You did good work at the warehouse. I'll take you and your blue‑haired, troublemaking partner out for a drink."
Enzo inhaled quietly, tired.
"Thank you, sir."
"By the way, how is she? She's not 'traumatized again' I hope?"
"She's injured, but she'll pull through," he replied, voice flat.
"Whatever," the commissioner said. "You are operational, right? Because we've got something else going on out there."
"I am, sir."
"Good. You'll keep coordinating with national police on the field. You, who hate the mafia, are going to love what I'm about to tell you."
He paused briefly to check the screens.
"Turns out, in addition to the Las Vegas boss, we have two more bosses in the city: Chicago and New York. We don't know why they're here or what they want, but we spotted them at the same time, in the middle of the city, on the move. We're seeing a full‑scale chase across Las Vegas, with vehicles speeding, gunfire, wounded civilians, property damage… It's a huge mess, but also a golden opportunity to shut them all down once we corner them."
"Sir?" Enzo asked, already with his hand on the car door.
"You stay on the field, Alvarez. Keep following the movement and coordinate with national police. We want a clean interception, not a massacre."
"You can count on me, sir."
Enzo hung up, opened the car door, slid behind the wheel, eyes fixed on the road bathed in the orange light of the sunset.
Sirens screamed through the city, flashing lights flickering in the sky.
"Finally," he murmured.
"This isn't just a petty gang war. This time, it's everything the mafia can throw at us—and I intend to see it through to the end."
Ten minutes before Lune's liberation.
Aboard Christina, Don Javier's armored Bronco, the situation was critical.
AC/DC still blasted through the speakers, but the mood was no longer celebratory.
Javier coughed, struggling for breath.
"Fuck… kof kof… won't stop… You didn't just scratch their nerves, kid."
Léo, eyes locked on the road, answered without taking his hands off the wheel:
"To go as far as to mow down so many civilians… these fucks really don't give a damn. They only care about our heads."
Gregorio, watching the rear, winced looking at his empty magazine.
"No ammo here either…"
Don Javier let out a raspy breath, almost a laugh.
"We're completely surrounded… kof kof."
Yet he managed a faint smile.
"Backs to the wall, huh… I like it. Haha. See, Léo… in situations like this, the smartest move is to turn yourself in to the cops. We could buy some safety… but here, national police is involved and our wallet means nothing. No guarantees."
Léo stayed focused on the road, cold sweat sliding down his back.
Enemy cars grew more numerous. Despite Javier's arsenal, they were encircled, and they all knew it.
Léo sighed, then smiled wearily:
"Didn't think I'd end my short life surrounded by a bunch of old, sly bastards… including a father I barely knew."
Gregorio glanced at his empty mag.
"Well… what an honor, guys."
Emilio laughed, straightening slightly in the seat.
"Can't say you didn't have guts till the end, kid. We can't take that away from you. Kof… believe me, in almost twenty years of running this shit, I've never seen a punk as stubborn as you. And to think you're my son… yeah, Léo, I'm proud."
Chaos reigned.
They had given it all—exhausted, pushed beyond their limits, heading into a war they had no chance of winning.
Yet they all smiled.
The sky dimmed behind a police barricade waiting farther ahead.
Then, unexpectedly, a rocket launcher blew the barricade apart.
"Fuck! These motherfuckers don't even fear the police!"
The Bronco's rear tire, grazed by the blast flames, blew out despite the armor.
The car skidded, then slammed into a wall.
Dark cars stopped all around them.
Mafiosi stepped out, guns raised, dragging each occupant out of the vehicle one by one.
One enforcer jerked their heads up, took photos of their faces, and sent the images to his boss.
His phone vibrated immediately.
"It's them. Load them up."
As the mafiosi prepared to walk them away, Don Javier stared at them, brow bleeding, face already pale.
"Hey, you clowns… you know your job, I'll give you that."
But you're forgetting one thing…"
They snickered at the wounded old boss.
"What does the dying old man want?"
Emilio laughed with them.
"Know who I am?"
A beat.
He glanced at Léo, then at his old partner Gregorio, who instantly understood and shoved Léo down to the ground.
"I'm Don Emilio Javier… and I hate surprises, you motherfuckers."
He pulled a hidden button from his sleeve and pressed it.
His 4x4, affectionately called Christina, erupted in a fireball that sent shrapnel everywhere.
Several mafiosi went down, blindsided.
Javier hit the ground quickly, but a fragment tore into his back.
Despite the pain, he didn't let the enemy regain their footing. He snatched one of their guns and opened fire.
He dropped several with a grin on his face.
Gregorio and Léo sprinted.
A bullet tore through Emilio's shoulder, but he kept shooting.
At that exact moment, he thought:
"I've always been this way…"
Another round hit his thigh.
"You know, Andrea… deep down, I always wanted to run away with you too."
A shot to the chest.
"I could've raised Léo with you… learned to be the man you needed me to be. Yeah, I'm not perfect. Never claimed to be. And I never expected you to be either."
Another slug punched through him.
He roared, but still fired.
"If only I'd had the strength to understand you… if only I'd taken time to listen… we could've been a family."
Images of the life he could've had flashed through his mind.
His knee hit the dirt. His gun clicked empty.
"I wanted to see you once more…"
Just as he was about to be finished off, Gwen—having freed Lune from her prison five minutes earlier—flashed in like a bolt.
Blades in hand, she dove into the attackers.
She materialized and rematerialized as lightning, over and over, her only good arm hurling knives, her body pushing past its limits.
Despite her fatigue and wounds, she carved through the whole hostile group.
Shaky, she walked up to Don Javier.
"Kof kof… you here to finish me off? You promised you'd kill me, remember?"
She knelt in front of him.
Léo and Gregorio rushed over.
Don Javier sighed.
"Haha… why are you crying, Gwen?"
"You're not going to die, you know. The bomb in your head wired to my heart? That was a bluff from the start."
Gwen sobbed silently, watching Javier bleed out.
"Oh… you don't look surprised. You already knew?"
"…How… interesting."
She wrapped her only functioning arm around him.
"You gave me a home… helped me face my fears."
Javier's eyes clouded over.
"Haha… I kidnapped you, don't forget that. I'm not your savior. I used you. You giving me a Stockholm complex or something?"
"You could've sold me or forced me into prostitution. You didn't. Stop lying."
"Oh haha… you scored a point… but it doesn't change a thing."
Léo wept. Gregorio watched Emilio with respect.
Despite all the evil he'd done, his last moments were surrounded by the only people he truly loved.
Before his consciousness faded, he spoke his final words, in a strange hallucination:
"Look at her, Léo… that's your mother. Why couldn't she trust herself?
Was it my fault, because I cared… more about her than myself?
Did I make a mistake thinking I could understand her pain?
Look at her… she truly is… magnificent."
Andrea had always thought Emilio would forget her with time.
Yet as his life ended, his last thought was of her.
To be continued.