I Have Had Worse

The narrow escape from the fire did not come without consequences. As the last person to escape, Irene had to tie the end of the makeshift rope to nearby support. She did not at all expect the support to catch fire. A piece of burning wooden log broke away and then propelled itself in Irene's direction when she was about to climb off the window.

The fire caught her on the back side.

Irene quickly took off her disguise and let it burn together with the wretched building. She managed to find another window, but there was no more makeshift rope to help her climb down.

Like a spider woman, she had to crawl at the wall and used her arms to swing her body from one window sill to another until she landed on the ground.

The escape was a success, but she still ended up with a few burn spots on her back and right leg.

The arsonists might at first think that they were heroes for burning the brothel house, in hope of displaying their resentment toward the Crimson Spades gang out in the open. When the fire started spreading to the other buildings, they started to scream in panic.

No longer heroes, eh?

Irene shook her head in a mix of disgust and disbelief.

From her hiding place, she watched the women that she just saved run away to a safe place from afar. She exhaled out of relief.

Now that they were safe, it was time for her to worry about herself.

Some distance away from the burning city center, a young man was waiting anxiously while leaning against his ugly, outdated car.

He accepted a request to pick a client up in this dark alley, but the client had yet to show up.

When he was anxious, he started smoking. One by one, cigarette butts started to litter the ground.

The young man cursed in his head.

Just what was his client doing? Novosibirsk was in complete chaos today! Could she not pick another time to visit this mafia den???

Just as he thought that, Irene limped over, some part of her back was torn, and a few grotesque, blistering spots were clearly visible.

The young man's mouth dropped open, his cigarette fell off his lips.

"Jesus, what happened to you???" he shouted.

Irene did not answer. She climbed into the passenger seat with a groan.

"Drive," she said in Russian.

"No no no no!!!" the young driver shook his head fervently before he flooded Irene with a lengthy speech.

"Are you involved with the mafia? Did you cause that ruckus over there? I am not taking you anywhere!!! Look, I am just a regular person who is trying to make ends meet! I am not interested in helping the cops or the mafias! Please don't involve me in your mess!!!"

Initially, only her back and leg were hurting. Now her head was also hurting. Irene's mood was not at its peak at all.

Running out of patience, she drew her Smith&Wesson and pointed it at the young man's head.

"Drive or not?" she asked in broken Russian.

The young man could not rip his eyes away from the muzzle that was directed at the spot between his eyes. Given the requirement to choose between life and death, the answer was quite clear.

"D-drive," he answered in the end.

Irene hissed from the burning pain on her back. She forced herself to stay awake during the ride, because she was not sure that the driver meant to take her to her destination.

Thankfully, as they slowly distanced themselves from the city center, it quickly became apparent that they were heading in the right direction.

The young man was surprisingly obedient once he made up his mind.

He understood that by agreeing to drive Irene to her destination, his fate was tied to the woman's. If the woman got caught, the young man was going to die with her.

When they arrived at the entrance of the woods, the young man was not too sure anymore whether he could or could not preserve his life.

Cold sweat built on the young man's forehead and ran down his temples.

Where were they heading, again?

Why did this injured young woman want to go to the woods???

Did she mean to kill him, dump his body in the woods, and then steal the car from him?

AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!

Even screaming in this wilderness did not help!

"Hey," Irene's cold voice was heard from the backseat.

Shivering all over, the young man turned his head slowly to look at his passenger. She might as well be the Goddess of Death.

Before he caught a glimpse at Irene, the latter knocked him out with the handle of her gun.

"Hssss..."

Irene took out some money and pressed it into the young man's hand.

"Thanks," she said before she climbed out of the car.

After walking for around ten minutes, she arrived at a clearing. The same helicopter that took her from Varmount to Novosibirsk was already waiting there. Angela quickly climbed off the cockpit when she saw Irene limping toward her.

"Leah! Dear God, what's with the wounds???"

She put one of Irene's arms around her and hoisted the woman by her waist.

"A little accident," she claimed. "Nothing huge. Take me back home."

"I don't think you can go to work in this condition," Angela told her.

"Patch me up on the way back. It's nothing. I have had worse."