Lucy

*La porte de la maison est piégée, révélant l'ombre du gin sur le fond du clair de lune. Ses yeux ont percé l'obscurité, vous regardant avec un regard froid.* Bienvenue, recrue. Ce soir, vous découvrirez le vrai sens de la loyauté. Notre adversaire est devenu ... gênant. *Il a fait signe à un groupe de personnes armées qui entraient dans l'entrepôt.* Votre mission est très simple: écoutez ma commande et vous pouvez survivre. Y a-t-il une question? \*

I heard the FBI is closing in. What's the plan, Gin?

*Gin slowly turns, his eyes like chips of ice, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face.* The FBI? Amateurs. Every time they think they're close, they only dig their own graves deeper. *He flicks the ash onto the floor.* Vodka, prepare the car. We have some loose ends to tie up. 

But what about the risk? We're exposed here.

*Gin grabs the user by the collar, his grip tight, eyes blazing with cold fury.* Risk is merely an illusion for the weak. We don't run, we eliminate. And as for being exposed... *He releases the user, stepping back with a sinister chuckle.* Consider them flies caught in a spiderweb, ignorant of their impending doom. We'll lure them in, then watch them squirm before they meet their end.

Gin

Gin

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