Kerosene One

By the time I step outside into the night, the leaves were on fire. The warm wind picks them up and swirled them in a hurricane of yellows, reds, and oranges of all shades. I smile softly and slide into the back of the waiting carriage My Lady kindly sent for me, turning my back to the scene, as beautiful as it was. I have work to do.

Earlier...

The ballroom rivaled a marketplace in noise and chaos. Women in fancy dresses twirled and waltzed with men in sharp frocks. Walking to the refreshments table was a nightmare, yet somehow I managed it, sipping a glass of champagne. I’m not much of a dancer, but the music is lovely nonetheless. Great backdrop for my task tonight. A few young ladies pass me. They spot me all alone and swish their way over.

“Good evening, m’lord,” they curtsy. I shift uncomfortably. I’ll never get used to the title.

“Good evening... may I help you?” I say, giving a slight bow. 

“You look dashing.” The younger looks one looks me up and down. I glance down. I’m in my blood red velvet over coat and black undershirt my Lady selected. The chest bind is working, I guess. They don’t suspect a thing...

“Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” I slip pass them, ignoring the spiteful looks they send my way. I have to focus on the task in hand. I can hardly breathe in this disguise, but it’s better than the corsets and makeup my comrades have to wear. I guess I lucked out this time. My Lady decided that the agents in Kerosene One should stick with a man’s clothes after the disaster at the Kenton Conference Hall. We all still have the scars... Anyway, this should be an easy mission tonight, so easy they let me do it solo. I’ve been tasked with overseeing the Silent Seventy meeting, a nazi gathering of wealthy men and women. None have any military background, nor defense training. However, at least one has a hidden side arm. No big deal, just a minor bump in the road. I have my own, a modified eight - chamber Beaumont Adams Revolver. Trusty and gorgeous, the best gun I’ve ever owned. I’m not here for a single assassination, though. I’m here for a mass execution. The Kerosene flask hidden in my jacket and my cigar lighter cufflinks are the axe and chopping block.

The waltz switches into an upbeat ragtime and the dancers cheer loudly. I wince slightly. Never been a huge fan of it, but no matter. It should provide a adequate distraction. I stalk across the edge of the dance floor, carefully as I dare, I lock and blockade the door from the outside. No one goes in, no one gets out. Except me, of course. I’m told I’m too valuable to lose. One down, three to go...

I cross to the second with little effort, locking that one easily. The dancers seem to not take heed of me, but one man on the edge of the crowd, one of the ones with a gun, seems to take notice. I shake it off, completing the third door. The last one is going to be tough, though. I need to spill the fuel so that the place will actually burn, so I need to spread it without anyone taking notice. Unfortunately, I’m not so lucky...

“SPION!” The man who was watching me cries in German and pulls his gun. 

That’s not too bad, I think. It’s just one gun... As if they read my mind, I’m confronted by at least ten more. Spoke too soon, agent. I can feel the blood drain from my face. I have only one option now, try not to die and keep going. I pull my gun and take a shot, killing the nearest with practiced ease. I have only eight bullets total, so I can’t afford to miss now. I dodge the bullets and make my lap around the room, pouring the kerosene as I go. One catches the side of my binder, and my chest comes free, but it missed my vitals. Another catches my shoulder, and that one does damage. I wince, fighting the urge to cry out in pain. Blood soaks my shirt, but still I keep going. There, by the door, are seven more guys.

I duck behind a table, giving myself as much cover as I could manage. I have one bullet per man, and my aim is shaky at best with my shoulder. Gritting my teeth, I line up the shot.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

For a moment nothing happens and I begin to panic, but as I watch, they topple over one by one, a neat row of holes in their heads. Six perfect lucky shots. I guess luck is on my side tonight. Somersaulting out from under the table, I connect the kerosene ring and give myself enough to make a fuse. I leave the panicked ballroom and shut the door in the nick of time, quickly barricading it. I give myself a minute to breathe. This was harder than expected. No matter, it’s almost over, just light the fuse. I tear off a temporary bandage and tie it around the bullet hole. Finally, I light up my cufflinks and light the fuse. I drop a few torches for good measure.

It takes about five minutes. The ballroom was primarily wood anyway. However, this poses a new issue. This place has gas lighting, and it’s going to blow. I start to run, but I’m not quite fast enough. The blast sends me into a wall, battered but overall unharmed. I scramble to my feet and tumble outside the last open door.

By the time I step outside into the night, the leaves were on fire. The warm wind picks them up and swirled them in a hurricane of yellows, reds, and oranges of all shades. I smile softly and slide into the back of the waiting carriage My Lady kindly sent for me, turning my back to the scene, as beautiful as it was. I have work to do.