The Show Must go on || A Night to Remember (OPEN)

[Lyudmila Stechkin]

March 3, 2021

This wasn't Mila's first time playing at the big concert hall in uptown gotham, and it likely would not be her last, but still her knees shook and the feeling in the pit of her stomach was akin to jumping off a cliff. Her name was up in lights at the front of the hall. The hall itself was done up very prettily for her. Green curtains hung up near the front of the stage, instead of the usual scarlet ones, and the lights were dimmed. The building was steeped in shadow and at the catwalks, the lights twinkled on and off making the ceiling into a carpet of stars. On the back wall of the stage they'd be projecting a crescent moon that rose and fell as the show progressed.

At seven, the doors would open and people would be flooding in. The dancers were busily being prepped, costumers and makeup artists turning them this way and that like dolls, making sure that they were perfect. Mila had done her own dressing, and she'd applied her own makeup. A black dress hung off her left shoulder, hugging her about the hips and chest, opening up as it flowed down around her legs. Silver sequins dotted the ruffles at the bottom of the dress, making it look as though she's dressed in a waterfall of stars.

Mila sat stiffly in the front row, waiting for the curtains to open. When the curtains pulled back, the chair in the center of the stage would be empty. Her violin would lean against the side, her bow across the seat. The lights would dim, and she would stand. The girl, all in black, would walk ghost-like up the stairs and the lights would pan up her graceful form. The sequins would sparkle and dazzle, and as she took her seat the dancers would tread silently onto the stage. At the first rasp of her bow across the strings, a barely audible applause emanated from the audience.

As she played on, the dancers began to circle her, prowling like wolves stalking prey. A decrescendo to pianissimo, the tempo slowing, the beasts closing in. Mila's eyes were closed tightly, her body gently swaying in time with the music. She smiled, just the edges of her mouth, as she began to play through the crescendo. As the tempo quickened and the beasts surrounded her completely, a lone man entered stage left. With a heavy rifle in his hand and a fur coat about his shoulders, he took aim at the beasts and fired. The loud crack that echoed through the theatre was punctuated by the crowd's gasp as Mila began to sing.

"In the winter, nights are long and cold
But you and I are together
So we are warm."

Another gunshot rings out, and a beast falls to the ground amid an explosion of red streamers.

"A wolf's howl chills me to the bone
But you kiss my neck and tell me
We'll be fine."

The beasts start to flee off the stage, the music fading away as gunshots rang out. As the man sank to his knees, then to his hands, and finally fell, Mila caressed the last note lovingly from her strings, standing and walking over to him as she did so. Kneeling next to him, she set the instrument down and pulled his head into her lap. She gently stroked his hair as the curtain closed.

[Richard Grayson]

Today had been a day that one Richard Grayson hadn't exactly looked forward to. A new found friend that he and Barbara had made had invited Barbara and by extension him to a concert of hers at the big hall in Uptown Gotham. Mila was the name of the girl. He'd run into her a few times as both Dick Grayson and as Nightwing. She had been a nice enough girl, though one that he thought they should probably keep their eyes on considering what she did what her free time at night. While he could appreciate the girl's desire to want do something about what was going on out there on the streets of Gotham, he didn't like the use of guns to do it at all on her part. One of the things that Bruce had made clear to him all those years ago when he allowed him to be his partner as Robin was that guns were a no no. At first he didn't really fully understand that decision from Bruce and then he adopted it as a mantra because it was what Bruce did, but as he'd grown older and wiser, it was something he believed in and something he'd try to break her from doing the longer he knew her and socialized with her...as Nightwing anyway. Dick was different from Bruce in that manner. When it came to other vigilantes, people deciding to get out there in costumes or not to do what they did, Dick thought it was better to keep them under their thumb as a way to keep them out of trouble as opposed to just telling them to go home because they weren't allowed to do this. If they were really determined to do this job, they'd be back out there regardless, so why not show them the ropes to at least try to help them avoid getting themselves killed.

Anyway, it'd been a full day already for Dick. He'd helped his building's super Clancy do some painting around the building and helped her rearrange the furniture in her apartment and that was after he'd poked around a few bars looking for work. He figured he could get a step on the crime scene in Blüdhaven working in a bar. The way he saw it, the seedier the place the better, though if he could get into a police bar, that'd be great too. The 'Haven was a town full of corruption, an ear in a police bar could pay off big for Nightwing and cleaning the town up from the top of the corruption down. The first day of searching hadn't gone so well, he'd get another tomorrow and hopefully something would come through.

After a quick shower and shave, Dick pulled one of his nicer suits from the closet. It didn't take very long before he'd gotten dressed and was heading out of the door. He'd talked to Babs earlier in the day, she'd be meeting him at the hall. Mila had left two tickets at will call for them, so getting in wouldn't be any issue for either of them. With the work that they did, he wasn't surprised at all that she'd opted to meet him there instead of committing to a time for him to pick her up. Any other man in any other relationship probably would have had an issue with this. Fortunately for them, they weren't any other relationship and he certainly wasn't any other man.

Before long Dick had arrived at the concert hall and parked his car and was now standing outside the box office, waiting on his girlfriend's arrival. He knew that she could be awhile if she'd gone out as Batgirl so he went in without her after a few minutes of waiting around. The place was filled and as the show started and he watched on, he could see why. This wasn't at all normally Dick's cup of tea as far as concerts were concerned, but there was some enjoyment to be had here and slowly but surely, he was beginning to feel happy he'd come.

[Barbara Gordon]

During her night out with Mila a few weeks ago, the brunette had invited Babs to a concert she would be playing at. Being a fan of classical music, Barbara had happily accepted. She found the girl interesting, while she had only seen her a handful of times as Barbara and once as Batgirl, Barbara knew there was more to Mila than they girl let on. So out of curiosity Babs had decided to do some research on her after their first encounter. While there had been nothing on Mila, her family did have ties to Gotham's underworld.

Barbara had managed to convince Dick to attend the concert with her but due to their vigilante schedules they had decided to meet at the Theater, rather than driving there together. Now Babs was running late. She had decided to make a quick patrol of the city before heading off to the theater, a bad decision of her part. Batgirl had spotted a group of weapons smugglers and had managed to stop them but not without earning herself a few bumps and bruises. She hoped that they would not show until after the concert had ended.

With only a few minutes to spare, Batgirl used her batgrapple to swing to the safe-house nearest the theater. She had stored some extra clothing there the other day, for this very reason. It seemed as if she was always running late to formal events. She quickly changed out of her costume, slipping into a black halter knee-length dress. She knew Dick would already be at the theater, and luckily for her she wasn't too far away. It as a good thing she had stored her bike here the other night. She ran a quick brush though her hair before grabbing her purse and putting on her helmet. She hopped on her bike and revved the engine, weaving effortlessly though the traffic.

Babs slipped into the seat beside Dick as the lights when down. She gave his hand a quick squeeze before turning her attention to the stage. The music captivated her. She knew Mila was a talented violinist but she had no idea how amazing she the young woman truly sounded..until now. She understood why the concert had sold out. The performance was breath taking, something she was glad she would never forget. She clapped along with the rest of the crowd, a smile on her face. She was really glad that she had not missed the performance.

[Lyudmila Stechkin]

Tears dripped over Mila's cheeks while she softly smiled. She let the man up and sat for a moment, quiet, on the stage. Playing for an audience, in a theater, reminded her of her mother. Made her feel closer to the person that had been taken from her. And the person that did the taking. She wiped away the tears, smudging the carefully applied makeup and making her look like a teenager had hastily applied dark eyeshadow and thick eyeliner before a party. The violinist stood, gathered her instrument, and stepped forward until she was just behind the curtain. The other cast members joined her, and as the curtain rose they bowed and curtsied to the applause. She didn't stay long. This was the part that she didn't like. Alone on the stage with her violin, she was in a different world. She didn't like the glaring view of the crowd on her, through her. It pierced her as if they were viewing through a magnifying lens.

Hugging the cast and crew, she exited, stage right, and made her way down among the audience. Her father was there, she was sure, and Gleb or maybe Dimitri. Though he probably wasn't quite stupid enough to show his face to her right now. She'd invited Gordon and Grayson. Blue boy and his little red girl. Her father was glad that she was associating with some new people but he'd mentioned several times that her choice of friends was questionable at best, given her line of work.

Ilya smiled widely, beaming with pride that his little girl was following so closely in her family's footsteps. There was a hint of sorrow in his eyes. Like he was looking for a moment at someone, some-when else. As fast at it came, though, it was gone. Only an inch taller than his daughter, most of the other men towered over Ilya. Mila punched Gleb in the arm as she passed by, wrapping her arms around Ilya and hugging him tightly.

"Did you like it папа¹?"

She relinquished him from the hug and stepped back in order to take him in. He was wearing his best suit, freshly cleaned, and his hair was combed to the side. He stood straight and stiff as a board.

"Of course I did, любовь², how could I not? You looked just like your матушка³ up there, you know. She'd have been proud."

The right corner of Mila's mouth curled up in a twisted, crooked sort of half smile that was equal parts pride and sadness. Falcone's face flashed across her vision, unbidden, and she was still for a moment, silent. The smile gone, her fists clenched. Ilya slowly reached a hand out and softly put it on her shoulder. She started, then relaxed, tears welling in her eyes.

"Thank you for coming, папа¹."

He kissed her on the forehead.

"Of course."

Wanting to clear her head, she looked around for Gordon. Her fire-touched mane was not an easy thing to miss, and Mila rose a hand, in both a gesture of greeting and a quiet request for their presence. She's was going to introduce the police commissioner's daughter and the caped crusader's first partner to one of Gotham's most dangerous mafia bosses. After all, they were friends now. It was only appropriate.

---

¹Daddy
²Love
³Mother

[Richard Grayson]

The show had been awesome. Truly a treat for the people in attendance and one that Dick was happy to have been around to see. It actually was rather astonishing that he even got the opportunity to sit down and fully take in the entire performance to make a judgement on how well he thought it was. Often times Dick went to these sorts of formal events as the ward of Bruce Wayne and often times he and Bruce had to dip out of these same kind of events much earlier than their scheduled end times thanks to their night jobs. He only wished that night job actually meant being a janitor in an office building or something rather than what they actually did. Them having jobs as Batman and Robin (now Nightwing) meant that Gotham and Bludhaven was still a mess, overrun with crime and corruption. This night however, he took in every song, every note and he enjoyed it.

Once the performance had finished, the applause was thunderous for the young woman. She'd certainly created a buzz in the theater with her show and the reaction she was getting was proof of that. As he brought his own hands together in applause of Mila's performance, Dick leaned to the side towards Babs. "Did you know she was that good? I'm impressed," he commented as the applause finally started to die out once the curtain was back in place. As the lights in the theater raised, Dick remained on his feet, watching as some members of the audience began to make their way towards the exits, while others stayed behind, starting to mingle with other theater goers, some talking and greeting the various members of the cast and crew. He scanned the crowds looking to see if he could spot Mila anywhere.

Eventually his gaze settled upon the woman as she spoke with an older gentlemen, he wasn't sure who it was. Father? Uncle perhaps? He gave Babs a slight nudge, gesturing his head in Mila's direction, pointing her out for Babs. "Gonna go say hi?" Dick asked, though by the time he got the question out, he could see that Mila had wrapped up her conversation with the older man and was gesturing at them to come over. He glanced over at Babs momentarily before making his way over to the woman. "Mila, great to see you again. The show was great. I'm glad you invited us." Dick said with a bright smile, extending his hand in greeting once he was close enough to Mila.

[Barbara Gordon]

Barbara clapped along with the rest of the crowd, she was left amazed at the performance. She watched as her friend walked off stage and turned her attention to Dick once she disappeared behind the curtain."I heard some of her stuff online but I had no idea she was this good. A recording does not compare to the actual thing. This was amazing." She wrapped her arm around his and turned around to see people begin to file out of the theater while others mingled around and waited for those backstage.

Babs scanned the crowd, searching for Mila. It didn't take long for her blue orbs to finally fall on the familiar head of brown hair. She nodded at Dick, of course she was going to go say hi. She followed along side Dick, finally noticing the man that Mila had been talking to. Barbara quickly recognized Ilya Stechkin, the man had an impressive reputation. He was the head of a small crime family. She had stopped a few of his men in the past. She knew that Mila was his daughter but she had not expected him to be here, not tonight. She tightened her grip on Dick's arm and whispered loud enough for only him to hear. " Stechkin is here with his men. Time to put up our innocent act." Playing innocent when it came to the city's underground had become second nature to her. Her occasional slip was always blamed on the fact that she was the daughter of the police commissioner. Tonight Babs and Dick were simply the friends of a crime lord's daughter.

They moved closer and Barbara let go of Dick's arm. She pulled Mila into a quick but tight hug, smiling at her the entire time. "Mila that was amazing. Thank you so much for inviting us." She moved aside to give Dick enough room to hug the girl as well. Turning to look at the older men behind Mila, Barbara made sure that even a hint of recognition could be seen on her face. " You must be Mila's father, I'm Barbara Gordon." She help her hand out to Ilya, she offered him a small smile. The image of perfect politeness.

[Lyudmila Stechkin]

Mila's expression told a story of almost happiness, of comfortable apathy that was clawed at by quiet joy. As her new-found friends approached her, the corners of the girl's mouth pulled up in a loose half-smile. She squeezed Barbara gently in response to the redhead's hug, and when Grayson tried to shake her hand she batted his away. She pulled him into a tight hug as well, wrapping her arms around his torso under his armpits and holding him close. Her father carefully observed her interactions and when Barbara introduced herself, his response to her courtesy was curt. He still shook her hand.

"I'm well aware of who you are Miss Gordon," he proclaimed, "And I think that you should know me as well, given your parentage." He spoke with a quiet, easy snarl, as though his hostility was casual.

Mila's smile guttered out like a candle flame, the frown on her face left as a puff of smoke in its stead. She extricated herself from Grayson and turned to face her father. "Папа, ведут себя. Они мои друзья."¹ She placed a hand on her hip while her hazel eyes bore into her father's mud-brown gaze.

The small man spat a sigh that reeked of resignation as it swirled around the conversation. "But of course," he softly continued, "The quarrels of the fathers should not extend to the children." The tight, clearly forced smile that he wore previously melted a little under his daughter's intensity and the corners of his eyes were streaked with a kindness that had not been there before Mila's intervention. "My name is Ilya Stechkin, and your previous astute assumption was correct. I am little Lyudmila's father."

The crowd in the theater had not thinned. With the next show about to start soon, there were people milling about in the rows and technicians stood at the ready on either side of the stage to guard the steps that led onto the proscenium. The theater was large, however, and easily able to accommodate those in attendance. The main doors were large and red, and stood at the south end of the building. There were two small exits, one on the east side and one on the west. The stage occupied the north end of the building. Above the main doors there were balcony seats, with exits on the east and west ends of the booth. Stairs rolled easily down the side walls. The party of speakers stood just down the steps from the eastern exit.

While introductions were being made, two men in long coats and dark clothes made their way up the stairs to the balcony. A third man, also in a long coat, sidled up to the front of the theater so as to lean on the stage. The fourth, in a thick, brown winter jacket walked brazenly up the western set of stairs onto the stage. In the darkness of the theater, he clubbed the technician in the side of the head and gently set the man's now unconscious form down on the steps. The crowd didn't react as he walked up on the darkened stage. The crowd didn't react as he began to unbutton his coat. It wasn't until he finished opening his coat and pulled from under it a rifle that resembled a small AK74 that a ripple of confusion made its way through the bystanders. Mila, with her back to him, didn't turn and look until she heard the unmistakable click of a magazine being inserted and then the dread inducing rack-rack noise of a weapon being charged.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man started, "Tonight's entertainment, has been brought to you by random acts of violence!" The end of the sentence rose to a shout. He swung the barrel of his Krinkov up toward the ceiling. Mila was already halfway to the floor by the time the first deafening crack exploded through the theater. The fireball that spat from its tip was enormous and blinding. The next shot was more like a dull roar, and the last three were just pulses of pressure that slapped the first few rows of people. Mila couldn't hear the panicked scream of the audience as it surged toward the main doors. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and the ringing of her ears blocked out the three loud cracks that sang out in response to the main doors opening. In accordance to those three cracks, three people slumped to the floor and the tide of fear pushed the audience back toward the center of the theater.

"Come on folks! Why don't you just have a seat and enjoy the show. There's no need to leave early." The man on the floor stood at the ready with a large, mean looking rifle. Those in the crowd familiar with firearms could see clearly that it was an FN FAL and that the bullets were powerful enough to go through several people at this range. It would be a massacre if he were to fire into the veritable sea of people. Most of the audience just milled around. Some of them took their seats. The two men on the balcony kept the booth secure with shotguns. "Now that you're not thinking of doing anything silly like running out on the performance, my friend here," he shouts, gesturing at the man on the floor, "Is going to come around with a bag. You," he sweeps the barrel of his carbine over the crowd, "Are going to be gracious benefactors and proprietors of the fine arts by placing a generous donation into said bag."

The man on the floor produced a large sack from one of his coat pockets and began at the northwestern corner of the audience. "If you'll all just sit down, and shut up, this can be quick and painless and-" he flinched and looked up at the balcony as another fitful crack rang out. One of the men in the booth now had a large hole where his sternum used to be. A few meek screams and quiet whimpers emanated from the people down stairs. "And nobody else needs to be shot."

While the leader and his accomplice on the floor watched the events on the balcony, Mila rose into a crouch and quickly moved to the eastern steps of the stage where she could no longer be seen by the two on the ground floor. She looked around, assessing the situation. Barbara and Grayson were nowhere to be seen, as she expected. To her surprise, her father and Gleb were also missing. She imagined they'd be back. She traced her finger over her thigh to make sure that her pistol was still securely in its place under her dress and then crept her way up the steps toward back stage.

---

¹ "Papa, behave. They're my friends."

[Richard Grayson]

Though a few people had made their way out of the building already, there were still quite a few of them still hanging around. Dick assumed they were friends of family of the performers and other people responsible for putting the event together in addition to those that were staying for the next show. It really had been a great turn out and Mila had been a hit with them all. Dick, ever the detective and student of Batman didn't keep his attention off of his surroundings for too long at all.

He smirked, looking over at Barbara as she mentioned that it was time to put up their innocent act. Stechkin. Of course, Dick knew that he knew that face. He'd seen the file on Mila's father before in the database on the Batcomputer. Bruce would never let him live down the fact that he didn't recognize the man on first sight had he been there. He shook his head at the thought momentarily before perking himself up and straightening out his clothing as he got ready to play the part of clueless, rich kid. He and Babs had played these roles so much over the years that it'd become like speaking for them at this point. They could just do it seamlessly.

He smiled watching Babs go first, pulling Mila into a quick, tight hug, giving her congratulations on her performance and expressing what they both had thought of the evening. Dick couldn't say it enough really. He was pleasantly surprised by how good a show he'd been treated to. Normally these things were a completely bore and just not his cup of tea, but he did them out of obligation. This one he wasn't upset about sitting through at all. As Mila pulled away from Babs and he said his piece, Dick was initially taken aback as she swatted his outstretched hand away and pulled him into a hug. The surprise left his face shortly after Mila pulled him into the embraced as he returned it, gently holding onto her. Eventually Mila's father's response to Barbara pulled Mila away and brought Dick's attention to the man. He was playing nice here, so he didn't say anything, but he did look to Barbara, turning his head to discreetly whisper to the redhead. "Get the feeling he's not a fan?" Dick turned his attention back to Mila and her father as she addressed the older man and he eventually spoke with a little less...attitude than previously.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Stechkin. I'm Dick Grayson...not sure if you already know it or not, but it'd be rude of me to not at least introduce myself," Dick spoke up with a small chuckle at himself. So he could be rather dorky at times. So what? As Dick was speaking with the group, he hadn't noticed the men setting up their positions until the man on the stage finished the last button on his coat and pulled a weapon out. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. Words were spoken, shots were fired and Dick and Babs were stuck with people unable to react the way that they were capable of without blowing their cover. At the sound of the gunfire, Dick had already dropped to a crouch, reaching up and tugging Barbara down by the arm alongside him. "We can't get held up in here. We need to get out," he directed to his girlfriend before he started looking around for the nearest point of exit. After a quick glance of how the men were positioned, Dick gestured towards the exit at the east end of the theater with a nod of his head. As the crowds errupted towards the main doors and the attention of the men turned there, Dick made his move, staying low to the ground and quietly gesturing for Barbara to follow, Dick quickly made it to the exit and through the doors before anyone could even tell that he'd moved.

Upon arriving outside the building, Dick saw that there was a fifth man in this crew, but the odd thing was he'd already been taken out. But who could have done it? Bruce? No, he'd have already been inside in that case. Dick looked around checking the area out briefly before he went to his car to change into his Nightwing gear. After changing, Nightwing grappled up to the building, slipping back inside through a window in the balcony area. Two guards, with shotguns up here. Taking them out quietly would be the key and a piece of cake for he and Babs. He waited to see Batgirl before making his move on the man stationed on the east side of the balcony.

[Nightwing]

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[Barbara Gordon]

Okay so maybe Babs had heard of Illya Stechkin form her father but she had never read his file, at least not as Barbara Gordon. She didn't respond to the man instead kept smiling after all she didn't want to upset Mila. She leaned slightly closer to Dick and resisted the urge to laugh, since most mobsters hated her father she was used to this sort of treatment from them. She spoke under her breath, her words only loud enough from him to hear. "Imagin if he knew about my night job."

With her attention focus on Mila and her father Barbara hadn't noticed the man get on stage, the sudden blast of gun fire caught her by surprise. Babs hit the floor and quickly scanned the air,her red hair swirling around her shoulders. This was not good, her and Dick were in stuck in the middle of the crowd without thier masks. They needed to find a way out quickly if they wanted to help. She grabbed her boyfriend's arm and whispered harshly into his ear " We also need to call Bruce and Tim." She let go of him and shifted her purse closer to her body, glad that Bruce had instilled into them that they always carry their utility belts. She scanned the room, the positions of the mean seared themselves into her memory. She followed Dick's gaze and nodded in agreement, that was the closest exit and their best shot of getting out of here alive. She stayed close to him, keeping low and moving as quickly as her dress and the crowd allowed. Her gear was stowed away on her bike and she new Dick always carried his in the car but they needed to get to it first.

Barbara stomped down the sigh of relief that wanted to escape her lips the moment they stepped outside. Yes they had made it out but there was still work to be down, they needed to take down the guys and save the civilians inside the theater. She scanned the area and frowned when her eyes landed on the fallen man. He must have been charged with guarding the door but the bullet had but an end to his watch. She had no idea who else had made it out but it was not one of their own. They needed to put an end to the attack before more people got hurt. She ran quickly to her bike and pulled out her gear from it's hiding spot. She slipped out of her dress and into her body armor. Once the plates were in place Batgirl made her way back to the theater.

Using her grappling gun she propelled herself towards an open window, slipping inside as quietly as possible. Once inside she scanned the area, her eyes landing on Nightwing briefly before moving onto the guards. She turned back to him, a small smirk on her face. She nodded at him and then jerked her head towards the guards, after so many years fighting along side each other, they needed no words. She made her way towards one of the guards, they would take them out at the same time so as not to alert anyone else of their presence. She locked eyes with the male vigilante before making her move. The guard never saw her coming.

[Lyudmila Stechkin]

The cold excited air of the theater pressed against Mila's goosebump covered skin. The pounding on the backside of her rib cage was deafening amid the hushed murmurs of the crowd and the high pitched remnants of the gunfire. Her dress stretched taught over her left hip as she pulled the hem up enough to reach her PSM. The diminutive pistol slid easily out of her garter holster and sat heavily in her hand. She wasn't nearly as practiced with it as she was with the Grach she ordinarily carried, but the MP-443 made a less than admirable little black dress gun. Mila slithered up the steps noiselessly in order to get the lead gunman in her sights.

She took a quick note of everyone's position: Two men on either end of the balcony with what looked like shotguns, one rifleman with a sack moving slowly along the front row, one rifleman on the stage. Her breath came evenly through clenched teeth. Quietly, she pulled the hammer down which made it much easier to rack the slide back on her weapon. With the first of its eight rounds chambered, the slick gunmetal rose almost of its own volition to the man on the stage. Mila's finger rested lightly on the trigger. Her plan played out twice in her head before she made a move.

The first gunshot crashed over the stage. The pistol leaped in her hands, recoil from the first round sharp and angry. The first wound was to the man's neck, a sudden hole where is trachea used to be. The instant that the barrel smoothly came back down over her target, Mila's practiced fingers depressed the trigger a second time and sent a metal slug careening headlong into the man's ribs where it hit bone, spun, stuck. The first shell casing hit the floor as she rose and twisted to face the rifleman with the bag. It registered in sharp detail to Mila's shot-dulled ears, the scene in harsh relief under the dim house lights.

The lieutenant was whirling in slow motion, his rifle in hand. Rounds three and four impacted his collarbone and his sternum, forcing him to sit back on an elderly woman who found herself slicked in his blood. She pulled the trigger one more time when he tried to stand. With the two closest threats dispatched, she ran up the steps to the right and back into the shop where the props and the actors lay hunkered amid tables out of the way. With the pause in action, Mila took time to reload. A fresh mag replaced its near empty friend and she peered out from her hiding place. To her surprise, both shotgunners had been dispatched with no further gunshots. The batbrats must have had costumes and gear stashed nearby.