The Fiery Escape

Two shots were exchanged between the disguised Irene and Boris, the new Crimson Spades gang leader.

Boris aimed for Irene's head but missed it. After dodging Boris' shot, Irene aimed for Boris' heart and hit it with perfection.

Blood splattered against the wall next to the door frame, and Boris' body slumped backward.

He died on the spot.

"Tell that to him yourself, you asshole," Irene said in a low voice as she slowly stepped out of the room.

Just as she contemplated escaping the premise and then taking off the old woman's disguise some distance away, an eardrum-shattering scream caught her attention.

One of the kept women in the brothel screamed in anguish.

"HELP! FIRE! FIRE!!!"

Cold sweat ran down Irene's forehead.

Fire?

At this time???

Irene tossed out a curse under her breath.

Of course. Novosibirsk had been terrorized by Rufus Ivanov's Crimson Spades for a while. The entire city was afraid of him. News of his death caused people to rebel.

Boris Rybakov, unfortunately, did not have big enough of a name to keep things in peace right after he succeeded in stealing the position.

Well.

Something to think about for the other members.

For now, Irene had more pressing matters.

In the brothel, the prostitutes were kept like prisoners. If they were not serving any customers, they were locked up like animals in a zoo.

Irene ran toward the women's bedrooms. The distressed women were crying and hitting at the door with all their might, their tear-streaked faces were seen through a small slot at the doors.

"PLEASE HELP! PLEASE SAVE US!"

"I DON'T WANNA DIE!!!"

"PLEASE! I WILL TURN MY LIFE AROUND! I WON'T DO THIS ANYMORE!"

Irene did not know enough Russian to placate the women. She could only shout in English, "STEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR!"

Of so many women who heard Irene's shout, only one understood her. She obediently retreated a few steps, and Irene kicked the door open for her.

As soon as she rushed out, Irene grabbed her by the arm.

"M-madam?" the woman addressed Irene in Russian. Irene did not have time to still play the brothel keeper at the moment. The building would be engulfed by fire soon.

"Do you understand English?" Irene demanded, giving the woman's arm a shake.

"A... a little," the woman admitted.

"Talk to them," Irene pointed at the other women who were still pounding like crazy against their doors instead of stepping away as per Irene's instruction.

"I will kick the door open for them. We will save them," Irene spoke slowly while making a kicking gesture. Her patience was slowly wearing thin, but she could only rely on this one woman if she wanted to save everyone.

The woman was stupefied. The brothel keeper suddenly couldn't speak Russian anymore, but she asked no question.

Once she understood what Irene demanded of her, she started calming everyone down in Russian.

Irene worked as fast as possible to free the women.

The pounding ceased, and soon Irene kicked through the door and freed them one by one.

"Grab your blankets!!!" she shouted.

The woman who translated for her was puzzled, but she relayed the message just fine.

Soon, all of them with their blankets were huddling together along the corridor and following Irene like a bunch of chickens following their hen.

After all the women got out of their prisons, they were faced with another question: how to escape the burning building. The fire started at the bottom of the building. It slowly crept up, sending thick smoke to the upper floors.

Irene smashed a window open. She then started making a rope out of the blankets that the women took from their prisons. Once she was done, she tied one end to a chair and asked one woman to sit on it. The other end was thrown down the open window.

When the women realized what Irene wanted them to do, they shook their heads one by one in fright.

"It's only the third floor!" Irene argued. "Worst case, you break an arm or leg! Would you rather be grilled by the fire???"

Irene's personal translator tried her best to convince her colleagues, but they all whimpered in fear. None of them were willing to take the risk.

"Oh, damn it," Irene cursed.

Did she just free all these women so that they could die in the corridor together instead of in their own prisons?

Irene grabbed her translator by the wrist.

"Come with me," she insisted. "You need to trust me. I have done this before."

The woman went pale, but she then slowly nodded.

"O-okay."

Irene heaved a sigh of relief.

She helped the woman to climb out of the window.

"Hold on to the rope tight," she said. "Slowly scale down the wall. Don't panic, you can make it."

The woman nodded. It was good that she trusted Irene, because the fire was starting to spread to this side of the building.

Irene watched with great trepidation as the woman scaled down the wall. Once she reached the ground, she tossed out a happy cry.

Irene exhaled. Great, one made it.

She turned to look at the other women and gestured toward the window.

"Are you coming or not?" she asked. "If you are not coming, I will leave."

The women were still hesitating, but then they heard their colleague shouting outside.

She was safe!

She made it!

It was spoken in Russian, so Irene did not understand what was said. All she knew was that the women somehow got encouraged.

One by one, they thus scaled down the wall and followed the translator's example.

At the bottom of the building, the translator helped the other prostitutes to land safely on the ground. After the last one escaped, they waited for Irene to climb off the building as well.

She never did.

The building came crumbling with a thunderous sound, chasing all the observers and survivors as far away as possible.