xxxxviii. LET'S MAKE SOME BETS

Wind whipped across my face like small knives dancing across my skin. The ocean sea of the harbour and the cyan shade of the sky blended into one another in a soft ombre. Clouds of vapor flew by my fingertips once we moved thousands of feet through the air.

My limbs tightened as I held onto Ace. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, bringing me close to him when we dived over 100 miles per hour. Both of my hands were placed on his chest. His chest rose rapidly while his heart beat even faster.

When the harbour neared, Ace pulled on the parachutes, and we were yanked up like puppets into the air. Three identical red dots of parachutes appeared around us. Above us, the airplane, now on autopilot, flew past the city. We soon slammed into the harbour. Cool Fall water ran through my system causing me to shiver. In all honesty, I was still in shock at what happened. I fucking jumped, or rather, was pushed off a plane. Ace held onto me even after we'd safely landed.

"Let's get you to safety," he says, noticing me shiver.

"Are you not cold?" I state.

He shakes his head. He goes on to pull on another string that releases an inflatable raft. I couldn't feel my fingers at this point. The spy swiftly hoisted me up on the raft. We were about four miles away from the city and a mile from the safehouse. The glaring light from the sun made it hard to tell.

Ace jumped off the raft into the water. Then, he started to push the raft while swimming. "We need to take turns," I sigh. "The water is too cold. Do not pull a Titanic on me and get your ass on this raft."

"I'm really fine," he says between breaths. "My metabolism is better than yours. If you pushed the raft, we'd be out here until we both died from hypothermia."

One one hand, I was thankful that I didn't have to push while swimming a mile to bay. On the other hand, I wished I weighed 600 pounds so Ace would wipe that smug expression off his face.

He started to take off his shirt, pulling his sweater over his head. My eyebrows crinkle. Ace rolls his eyes. "The clothes will only make it harder to swim. Trust me, that's it."

We arrived at the safehouse, a small house right off the waters of Hong Kong, about an hour later of me napping and Ace pushing.

Both Chase and Skye were already there when we dragged our soaked clothes into the apartment. Xavier and Daniel's raft was nowhere to be seen. The outside seemed small; it was lined with brick and centered around a dock. The inside was even smaller. There was only a bookshelf, a couple of lamps, and a TV.

"There's only two bedrooms here," I sigh while plopping down on a couch. "I call sleeping on this beautiful and majestic couch."

Ace smirks. He stands and stretches, then leans over me, his golden eyes glimmering with amusement. I could feel my breath shallowing as he got a mere six inches from my face. My eyes flicker down away from him. Then, he presses down on a brick near my head.

You little fucker.

The wooden floor suddenly seeps away to be replaced with a stairwell. "The real house is downstairs," Ace says. "Downstairs there are four bedrooms, full weapons facility, and most importantly, private bathrooms."

"I'll take the bedroom upstairs," Skye says.

The assassin and the Interpol agent finally arrive at the safehouse in a stupor. Daniel clutched the now empty maotai bottle with one hand and his arm swung around Xavier with the other for support.

"I can't believe you carried that bottle down over ten thousand feet," Chase crosses his arms.

"It's good alcohol," Daniel chuckles through hiccups.

Curious, we all looked to one another. If it was carried at over 100 mph, it's worth a try. "There's some in the fridge if you want it," Ace shrugs.

"Onto more important matters. Who tried to kill us?" Xavier spits.

"Who could it be except Thirteen?" Skye bristles. "I can't believe that Kalb literally shot us out of the sky."

"Well you were right Blackwell," my gaze flickers. "We won't be the only ones stealing the database."

~

The tantalizing smell of street food consisting mainly of kabobs, maotai, and street vendors filled the rubbled alleyways of the night scene. Xavier was showcasing the best nightlife in Hong Kong. He stopped before a small shack with makeshift tables around a grill. Smoke crackled into the dark, and the smell made me want to move here.

Xavier stopped suddenly. I smacked into the back of Ace's leather jacket. "This smells delicious," Chase said, already sitting down and grabbing a menu.

"Welcome to the best food in town," Xavier smirks. "But that's not why we're here."

"Who's richer, Interpol or the CIA?" Skye asks. She seems to have caught on to whatever was happening. Speaking of which: what was happening?

"The CIA, obviously," Ace scoffs. "Even dollar-store Pennywise here will admit that."

"Our return on investment is greater," Daniel groans. "You guys blow through money than drunk girls at a bachelorette party at a Magic Mike strip club in Vegas."

"You'd only know that if you've been to one, walnut-head."

"Shut up. You're about as threatening as a Pusheen pillow from the airport."

"Daniel has a point... especially about the hacked plane..." I grin. The spy didn't seem amused. "Too soon, walking lamppost?"

Ace narrows his eyes in my direction, spinning around in the process. It was hard to take him seriously with the permanent marker still lingering on his forehead. "Don't make me put you in a booster seat, you eight year old."

"I'm nineteen so—"

"Well you look like you're seven."

"I was eight just a second ago!"

"SIX!" The spy yells.

"Great," Xavier smiles. "So since we've agreed that the CIA has the most money..." He turns and whispers something in Mandarin to the shop owner. The owner leads us into the little shack. She lifts open a plastic drape, and a wooden door leading opening to a stairwell.

Xavier hands her a stack of pink bills each of 100 yuan. The shop owner leads us downstairs to some sort of dim underground hallway. Shit. This is where we're all gonna get murdered.

A soft thumping reverberates in the walls as we walk closer down the corridor, leading to one last door. The sound of cheering becomes louder and louder. "This is the part where all the knives are revealed..." Chase whispers.

The metal door opens to a narrow walkway full of people. Jeering filled my earbuds, all in Cantonese, and nothing could be heard over the echoing. Bright spotlights moved systematically across the audience. Only heads and shoulders filled my view. Everyone was veered towards an elevated stage near the front. I tug on Banana Bread's sleeve. "What's going on?"

"A fight... This is an illegal fighting ring. I feel like this is wrong."

"Yup... even I agree with you on this one you off-brand Louis Vuitton bag," Daniel whispers. "Should we uh good guys... do something about this?"

"No—" The criminals all seethe.

The wrestling bell rung out twice. Stepping on my tiptoes, I saw a bloodied man being dragged out of a gated ring. Xavier soon came back with punched cards. Daniel and Ace looked at one another with wide eyes after just recognizing what the assassin has dragged us into.

"I just placed a bet!" Xavier grins.

"How—how much money?" Ace stutters.

"A hundred thousand yuan," Xavier smirks.

"Welp. You did say that the CIA had the most money," Daniel chuckles.

"Who did you place it on?" Chase yells over the shouting.

"The challenger against the champion. So one of you better step up unless you want to waste one hundred thousand yuan."

Octavia: "Every vote is one shot of mao tai I will take."