Dominic truthfully hadn't been paying as much attention walking in as he maybe should have. Rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes he concerned his mind with the various dishes he was going to order when they finally got the hell out of there. The thoughts were distracting enough to get a reaction of shock when he saw the warehouse was empty. That was odd, normally the boys were more dependable than this.

The static TV, the stale air, the hurriedly cleaned signs of a struggle...His brain put two and two together a second too late. By the time he jerked a hand to his belt for a knife (going for his gun took too long) he had already heard a gun click and then another.

"Mother. Fuck." He heaved a sign of annoyance as the but of a third gun smacked his knife wielding hand. Dominic didn't need words to know what the guy wanted; he let it fall to the hard floor with a shrill clatter.

When they got out of this, IF the got out of this, he was going to tear these dicks to pieces. Not for getting the jump on him and his cousin, but because this meant he wasn't going to be getting dinner any time soon and the wrath of a hungry and tired Dominic Georgetti was sadly far more frightening to behold than when he was simply pissed off.

"Che volete? Abbiamo da fare, sapete." He snapped bitterly, though his face retained it's usual stoic look. At the very least he hoped these guys were Italians.

Marco was humming softly, completely oblivious to his cousin’s current plight and overall just trying to remain as still as humanly possible. God he would be so excited when this night was over, particularly when he could get a proper change of clothing. He had to keep his gaze fixed on the dashboard so his eyes would stop wandering down to his own shirt front and that wave of grossed out would happen again. Shower, new clothes, strong drink. These were the only thoughts currently filtering through Marco’s head as he fingered Domino’s gun awkwardly and waited for the pair.

It was very clear that their assailants were not Italian when one man started barked orders to the others in Chinese. Demos wasn't sure whether to be relieved that it wasn't the cops about to send them to jail, or pissed of that it was a bunch of Triads about to send them to their graves. His expression was calm, yet annoyed as the gun continued to jab into his back. One of them grabbed his shoulder, turning them both around to see their attackers in the eyes.

"Look at this, they bring girl now on truck heist." The men had a good laugh at this, obviously enjoying the chance to poke at his masculinity. Demos' mouth pressed into a thin line, wondering if all of this was really necessary.

The gun poked into his chest again as the man continued to give orders. Demos couldn't understand the language, but knew exactly what was going on as the men all turned towards the exit. They were going to get the truck.

Marco was in the truck.

"Fucking hold it!"

He pulled another small pistol from the inside of his suit, getting two of them in the backs of their skulls.

Dominic had the same instant thought as Demos, though his cousin was faster in reacting.

While the gunman aimed at him was distracted by Demos' quick movements, his hand flickered to his belt, unleashing a second knife no less deadly than the first. Two of everything had long been his motto. Unfortunately, the one holding the gun noticed. Thank God, Dominic had both the training and the presence of mind to hit the floor just in time for the bullet to fly past him.

His hand groped for his second knife, and once armed with both he slashed outwardly, taking out the man's ankles. A second after slicing his throat in two, he flung his knives across the room, singing in the air they felled the two men closest to the exit.

He only had time to draw his remaining gun from his shoulder holster before he sensed the guns trained on him. From his half-sitting up position on the floor, gun aimed over his knees, he didn't know which one to aim it. He was stuck were he lay; he'd be lucky if he ever stood up again.

Though Demos had been able to take down two of them, there wasn't much time to do anything else. He was thrown to the ground and his gun clattered across the concrete floor. As he reached for it, a boot pinned his wrist.

"Nnh!"

His structure wasn't particularly strong, and his teeth grit as he felt the heel nearly crack his bone.

The man who appeared to be their leader picked the gun up, pointing it down at Demos. He didn't have time to consider the irony. Though their situation wasn't any better than before, at least he had stalled. With any luck Marco would have heard the gunshots and driven off as fast as he could.

Wow, if anything could jolt Marco out of his revere about getting a shower, lots of gun fire could. He started, eyes wide and staring off towards where his cousins had disappeared. There was no mistaking those sounds. Holy shit. What was going on? There shouldn’t be gunfire here!

Reason should probably dictate to not go towards were the sound of gunfire was coming from, but his cousins were in there damn it, so without thinking Marco was out of the truck, making his way quickly towards the building, Dom’s gun in hand and an anxious expression on his face. He was trying to keep an ear out for anyone around, but really Marco wasn’t that stealthy or good at this sort of thing, so it was simply because there was a gun fight going on inside that no one heard or saw him approach. He peeked through the door carefully, eyes wide at the sight that met him.

Holy. Crap. Triad…Dom and Demos both on the floor and holy shit guns! Guns on them both!

Holy Jesus what should he do?? Getting back in the truck and driving away was obviously nowhere near his mind, instead doing the polar opposite and slipping in. This was so bad. If he was going to shoot, he really needed to make sure it counted. Both Domino and Demos were in really bad positions, but Dom at least had a gun. Demos was getting fingers stepped on and he didn’t look like he had a weapon and the guy standing on him looked like he might be the bad ass boss or something. Oh God, this was horrible. This was like playing ‘pick which cousin you want dead less!’

Alright, Dom forgive him but Demos looked worse off at the second, and Dom was pretty bad ass, so hopefully he could react quick enough and roll and shoot and do that bad ass stuff he always did and not get dead.

Once that was decided though, an entirely different problem suddenly arose. Marco had never even almost killed anyone. Earlier with the heist gone wrong had been the closest thing he’d gotten to making some one dead and that was indirectly and accidentally. But now was not the time to be squeamish or wuss ass, not with guns trained on his family.

He took aim carefully, both hands on Dom’s gun, breath held and teeth clenched almost painfully, trying to use all the skills he possessed with a gun- which weren’t all that great mind you- to make sure the shot hit. Of course all that concentrated aiming had little meaning when he SHUT HIS EYES when he pulled the trigger, an unconscious reaction to not wanting to see the guys head get blown off and in that moment his eyes were closed his aim shifted…horribly.

The bullet did not, in fact, hit Mr. Big Bad standing on his cousin’s hand. The bullet missed by a scant few millimeters, skimming right up over his head. Marco couldn’t quite see what he’d done, but the bullet found its mark, and quite a nice mark it was, right into a small bundle of ropes at the far wall; a bundle of ropes that, conveniently enough, were holding up a mass of hefty crates some ten yards above them all. The moment the bullet struck there was the audible sound of snapping and then WHAM, a good solid mass of crates came barreling down from the sky above the mess of people with guns, slamming into the ground with such force the sound was truly deafening.

Marco…stared. Yeah his eyes were open now, and wide, mouth too, staring in numb shock at the utter chaos he’d just caused, gun still held out and everything. The crates…the crates had fallen on every single Triad. Demos and Dominic however, had been missed by inches.

Holy. Shit.

Dominic's eyes had widened when he saw Marco beyond the men, struck with horror at the stupidity. He wanted to scream 'run off in the truck you idiot!' but in the off chance that the Triad hadn't and wouldn't see him, he kept his mouth shut. Dear God, if they didn't kill them all, Dominic was going to kill him himself.

Then several things happened in succession that would stay with him for the rest of his life. He saw Marco take aim and of all the things he could have done, closed his eyes. His initial thought in that second was that the bullet would hit Demos, but that wasn't the case at all.

If his eyes had been wide before, that was nothing on the look of pure shock he had now.

"...Oh. Fuck." he stammered, blinking at the scene in front of him as if he still didn't believe it. His brain was so retarded by the chances of a ricocheted bullet saving their lives and not killing them in the process that he was still aiming his gun where the men had stood, though there was nothing but dust and debris there now.

"That...did that seriously just fucking happen?" He asked, himself as much as Marco and Demos. "I think my life just passed before my eyes."

His horrified shock very suddenly became delighted surprise. Dominic's mouth turned into a grin as he lowered his gun and stared at his cousin from his sitting position on the floor, shaking his head.

"You are the luckiest motherfucker on the face of the earth, you know that? I thought you were going to kill us all!"

Demos pulled himself to his feet, dusting off his jacket and coughing a couple of times from the debris. He had been frighteningly close to passing out when he saw Marco pull the trigger with his eyes shut.

"Marco.." He coughed again. "I don't know whether to kiss you or break your nose."

He sighed. Regardless of the eyes being closed, Marco had saved them. Instead of running off [like he was supposed to] he had stayed to protect them.

"I guess this makes up for earlier." He smiled slightly, feeling a little proud of his younger cousin. Not completely proud, because it had been pure dumb luck. Walking up next to Marco, he put a hand on his shoulder to try and relax him.

"You still owe us dinner."

Marco had broken his own mind a little with the sheer wow of what he’d just done, so he’d sort of just been standing there the entire time even with Dom’s remarks, gun still held out and everything. He wasn’t sure if he was horrified he’d sent a few tons of material hurtling down scant millimeters from his cousin’s or like, totally impressed he’d sent tons of material hurtling down scant millimeters from his cousin’s.

Demos’ words snapped him back to attention though, blinking at him dumbly for a minute before he turned a slight scowl on them both. “What!? You should totally be kissing me! Both of you! That was so bad ass it’s stupid, and I totally did it on purpose. I totally just took out like, fifty men. That way makes up for that one…uh...thing back there?”

Ok it wasn’t anywhere near fifty men, but still. This was so an awesome story Marco was going to be telling now and he wanted to set the awesome ground work for the fifty people he’d be telling everyone he took out with his one awesomely placed bullet.

"Oh it was stupid alright, stupid but brave." Dominic agreed, but he was grinning broadly. It was all he could do to keep from laughing, half about how happy he was and half nervously about how close they had just come to being crushed to death...or shot...or both.

"And I think you need to work on counting, I'm no math genius, but I wouldn't mistake five for fifty." He slapped Marco on the back in good humor, and holstering his gun he used both hands to slowly usher his cousin and his over active imagination to the door.

"Come on now, you get dinner and I'll buy the drinks. A shot like that definitely deserves to be chased by a good beer or two...or five." Poor Marco, there was no fooling them, but Domino could already foresee quite an amusing rendition of the story coming up at next Sunday's family meal. He only had a few days to come up with hand signs to discredit the whole thing from behind his back at the table. Oh what an interesting week this had already turned out to be.

/end