A line of weapons hung on the walls: daggers, swords, and weapons he only thought existed in fantasy. A tray of guns and bullets displayed themselves on the table in the middle of the room. A dehumidifier hummed in the corner. Brendan was already sitting at the table, eyes scanning the large basement, filled with a mixture of fear and wonder. Brendan reached out his arm to Aiden.
His hands grabbed fast, and Brendan’s arm pulled him like a life raft through crashing waves.
Celia entered without acknowledging his presence. She opened a drawer of bullets and loaded the gun. She slid it across the table to Aiden and marched back into the basement’s closet. Her heeled boots clicked against the ground.
The two boys stared mystically at the gun. “You gonna grab it?” Brendan asked.
Aiden nodded. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the handle, memorizing the grip. “Do you want to feel it?”
Brendan shook his head. “I’d rather not chance with something like this.”
Aiden leaned against Brendan’s shoulder, while Brendan’s arm remained wrapped around his waist. His hand pressed against the chilling, smooth metal of the weapon, and he replayed the echoes of a gunshot inside his head. The plan, Aiden ensured, did not include either him or Celia having to personally take a life. However, as long as he pulled the trigger, he knew he would feel the full impact of the weapon’s charge against his hand.
“Make sure to get all your nerves out,” Celia said, walking back into the room.
The two of them blinked at the stranger that stood before them. Dressed in complete black with several guns hanging from her waist and pockets lined with other weaponry, Celia had disappeared in place of another woman. She wore a pixie, black wig, tightened her skin that made her eyes naturally curl upward. She had also drawn thicker lips and dotted freckles across the bridge of her nose. “Are we supposed to call you something else?” Brendan asked.
“Yes. From now on, you’ll refer to me as Diane.”
“Is that your field name?” Aiden asked.
She scoffed. “If I only have one field name, I’d be a horrible assassin. No, this is just the name I like to use when I’m using guns.” She walked back into the adjacent closet, and Aiden pulled away from Brendan. He peered into a room of clothes. Black-heeled boots lined an entire shelf, and she kneeled down to inspect them.
That’s not what I was expecting.He wandered in with wide eyes. Women’s and men’s clothes hung from two walls, displaying suits, dresses, casual wear, sportswear, and in all manners of colors, shapes, and sizes. He watched the western style suits transition to festive dresses, stopping when his eyes caught sight of a familiar hanfu.
The hanfu was the color of midnight with silver swirls of wind embroidered. The Hui family symbol dotted amongst the stars sewn in. Layers of meticulously stitched cloths folded into each other, and unlike the hanfu he had worn to prom, this one was traditional. His mouth slightly agape, he carefully touched it, surprised that the texture matched the feel of his own hanfu. “My mother made this…” he said.
Celia—or Diane—picked her pair of black heeled boots. She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, she did. Your brother kept it in his secret warehouse of clothes, and I took it with me after he died. Do you want it?”
“Can I?”
She raised an eyebrow. “This belongs to your family. It doesn’t belong to me.”
“I thought you kept it because—”
“I kept it because I liked it and thought it’d be a shame for it to go to waste. I remember your brother well enough with the ring.” She walked out of the closet. “Come, we have to go.” Aiden’s body split in two when he separated from the hanfu. He continued watching it, even after stepping out of the closet.
“It’ll be yours the second this whole thing is over,” Diane promised.
“Are you staying?” Brendan asked.
“Me? No. Is there a reason for me to stay? Everything after the fact will just bore me out of my mind.” She switched to her new heeled boots.
Brendan blinked. “Is there a reason why all your boots are heeled? Wouldn’t it be more comfortable without them?”
“Yes. Did you know butchers wore heels back in the day?” When Brendan shook his head, she continued, “It allowed them to avoid stepping in blood, and I find that fact to work out particularly well. Might as well take advantage of this invention for its original purpose, no?”
She tossed a bag to Aiden. It sagged in his hands, and he scrambled to hold it tightly. He opened it to find specialized electronic locks.
“This should ensure no one leaves their designated room, as we discussed. Of course, I’m the only one who holds the key to the locks.” Diane held up the electronic key for all to see. “Questions?”
“The equipment won’t slip out of place?” Brendan carefully felt the wires hidden underneath his clothes.
“It won’t.” She swept her gaze across both of them. “Feeling scared?”
“Of course,” Brendan laughed with a shaky breath. Beside him, Aiden nodded.
“Well, pretend you’re not. It’s time to go.”
