The garage was cold. The concrete floor was stained with oil and old rubber. The air smelled of gasoline and damp metal. Dante stood under the hood of the van. His hands were deep in the engine block. He was checking the fuel lines. Adjusting the pressure. The lights above hummed. They flickered slightly. A loose wire.
He did not look up when the door opened. He did not need to. He knew the footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. Silent. Eikichi walked into the room. He stopped five meters away. He crossed his arms. He wore his tactical vest. The plates clicked softly. He did not speak. He waited.
Dante tightened a bolt. He wiped his hands on a rag. He closed the hood. The metal slammed shut. He turned to face Eikichi. "You are blocking the exit," Dante said.
Eikichi did not move. His face was scarred. His eyes were dark. He was the shortest member of the crew. But he felt like the largest. "We move in one hour," Eikichi said. His voice was gravel. Low. Rough.
"I know," Dante said.
