“We have been marching on a collision course for a while now. Key players have taken their places in each camp.” “If it’s a war, you’re the orchestrator, this entire plan was yours.” “No, that’s not true. I didn’t plan for you. I thought you were half a world away.” “I was, now I’m back, but we are not.”
“You stand by your decision?” “I do, we weren’t right for each other. What happens next?” The two principal players in this conflict stood facing each other. “How did we get here?” He asked. She turned away. “You refused to play Hamlet, that’s how.”
With that, she walked away, right before the explosion. Hyperbole, dressed in a chef’s outfit, watched her go. The room filled with smoke, his assistant pulled his arm. He didn’t move. “Grab the purchases, and then we’ll leave.” He had paid a small fortune for the two paintings, and had a receipt to prove it.
This meant that he could walk out the front door without fear of the police stopping him. Galleon and Tournament stood waiting. He handed them their payment, ordered them to earn their commission, and disappeared like a magician. His assistant left via a motorcycle in the chaos.
Every costumed citizen of Oceania was embroiled in the battle. Armor had his hand at High Society’s throat. The Wonzu was fending off an attack from Spectrum and Inspector. Sea Horse and Carbuncle were trading blows. Swordfish was fighting Galleon’s crew, while Loggerhead faced Tournament’s men.
The British Rose wasn’t sure who they were, but was facing four small quadruplet gentlemen wearing Cossack style clothing. They fought as one person, alternating kicks, punches, and backflips. It was a tornado of activity, exactly what Hyperbole had planned. Except for the result, he had hoped things would go differently.
Since it did not, he was left with no choice. He called her from the car. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” “Positive, it’s not negotiable.” “I’m afraid there is where you’re wrong. It is very negotiable, especially since I know where you are.” She laughed. “How?” No answer, at least not a verbal one followed, instead the door opened.
When it did, Hyperbole saw the love of his life chained to a laptop and a bomb. She did not speak, the laptop did, with a voice designed to mimic hers. “So you found your girlfriend. How did you get from Oceania to here?” “It doesn’t matter. Like you, I deal in illusion, now I know what you’ve done. The fact is, I am here, and we had a deal. Let her go.”
“If I don’t?” “Then I will carry out my objective. Over the course of the last few months, I have located every revenue source you have. One command, and each account will begin to dump money into multiple charities publicly. You’ll be penniless in seconds, and you won’t be able to recover them, because you’ll be on the front page. The famous philanthropist can’t take money back.”
“Take her, and go. I’ve disarmed the bomb. I warn you, don’t let me find you. Take her and hide in some remote area of the globe. Otherwise, you will pay for this every second of your life.” “Goodbye Leonard, I’ll be staying at our old location if you want to try.”